Prologue
Little girls hate pitch-black bedrooms most of all. Especially little girls who sleep too much during the day and play too mischievously at night.
Rolling and rolling, tossing and turning—tonight, as always, little Qiong Fang covered herself with the quilt, tossing restlessly from side to side, yet couldn’t fall asleep no matter what.
“Annoying—I slept too much during the day.”
Ordinary children rise at dawn and sleep at dusk, always falling asleep as soon as their heads touch the pillow. But little Qiong Fang was completely different. Grandfather was busy, father was busy, and she had lost her mother at a young age. Precisely because there were few people to discipline her, she absolutely wouldn’t get out of bed during the day until the sun was high in the sky. The pitiful result of greedy sleeping and lazy rising was that in the middle of the night her eyes were bright and alert—everything she should and shouldn’t see entered her sight.
How suffocating! After covering her head with the quilt for half an hour and still unable to sleep, she wanted to jump out of bed and bounce around to play. Just as she lifted the quilt and poked her head out to look, she was startled to see an old woman staring at her, immediately frightening little Qiong Fang into a cold sweat.
Detestable… The old woman hung high on the wall, the corners of her mouth turned up in what seemed like endless cold laughter. Qiong Fang came to her senses and recognized it as an ancestral portrait hanging on the wall—seemed to be great-grandmother or great-great-grandmother. Who knows who had hung it in a ten-year-old girl’s room—truly detestable!
Familiar objects during the day all came alive at night—trees were tree demons, paintings had painting spirits, even tables and chairs would cast sidelong cold glances, waiting at any moment to scare her to death. Qiong Fang covered her head with the quilt, thinking: “Rooster! Rooster! Why aren’t you crowing yet!” Just as she was fantasizing about whipping the rooster to force it to crow earlier, she suddenly heard footsteps at the door, and the room door opened again. Who could it be in the middle of the night? The little girl felt alarmed, her heart pounding as she secretly lifted a corner of the quilt and stole another glance.
Moonlight shone on the door, casting a black shadow onto the bedside. The legendary faceless ghost paced back and forth, ready to walk in at any moment.
Little Qiong Fang was terrified and about to scream when she heard a voice from the doorway: “Has Fang’er fallen asleep?”
Close call, close call… Not a ghost, not a ghost! Little Qiong Fang patted her chest repeatedly and breathed a great sigh of relief. She wiped away the cold sweat and quickly pretended to be well-behaved, covering herself properly with the quilt and feigning deep sleep.
The dark shadow opened the door and walked in step by step. He came to beside the bed curtains and looked down at her. Little Qiong Fang’s lips held a smile, her right eye tightly closed while her left eye secretly opened a crack to steal a peek at that dark shadow.
In the dark, gloomy bedroom, there were eyes watching her. These weren’t the copper bell ox eyes of monsters, but a pair of beautiful phoenix eyes—very spirited, very gentle, warm and crystalline. Those were father’s eyes.
Though little Qiong Fang pretended to sleep, her heart began pounding rapidly.
Father had come home, three days earlier than expected, returning from the Imperial Clan Court in Nanjing. He indeed came first to see his precious little darling.
Father and daughter were connected at heart. Qiong Fang only wanted to rush forward and nestle in father’s arms, wanting him to hold and kiss her. Just as she was about to throw herself into his embrace, she suddenly felt angry.
No! She absolutely couldn’t make it that easy! Father was either busy with official duties or away for long periods. If she crawled over with a beaming smile, wouldn’t that be too foolish? Ten-year-old Qiong Fang secretly grew angry and plotted other mischief.
Here’s what she’d do—if father came over to give her a kiss, little Qiong Fang would pull up the quilt and suddenly cover him, giving him a good scare. Then father would definitely cry out “Ah ya!” in alarm and might even fall to the ground.
That’s it! Little Qiong Fang snorted inwardly and closed her eyes.
No choice—father, who told you to spend so little time with Fang’er? Don’t blame your daughter for bullying you…
Seeing father completely unguarded, just sitting by the bedside. Just as she was about to strike, she felt the quilt being tucked up a bit, making her more comfortable. Little Qiong Fang didn’t dare move rashly and continued pretending to sleep.
Just then father leaned down. Little Qiong Fang also smelled that most familiar scent of his snuff bottle. Her heart stirred and she secretly opened her eyes to peek at her birth father.
The father before her was very handsome and very melancholy. Except when arguing with grandfather, he rarely spoke normally. Only when looking at her would he smile like this. Father at this moment was truly extremely handsome…
In the darkness, father and daughter gazed at each other. Suddenly little Qiong Fang’s tender face felt ticklish—father had secretly given her a kiss! His whiskers pricked, tickling her to her heart and nearly making her laugh out loud.
Oh no! Little Qiong Fang suppressed her laughter and suddenly felt she had lost a move—she had forgotten to scare father.
Never mind, all was forgiven… As long as father was willing to stay with her, anything could be forgiven. With father by her side, the dark room wasn’t dark, and the old woman’s portrait was no longer frightening.
In the darkness, little Qiong Fang nestled in father’s arms, smelling the scent of his snuff bottle. The safe, warm feeling made her smile, her eyelids gradually heavy, slowly beginning to snore—she was truly going to sleep.
“Fang’er…” Suddenly she heard something in her ear—father seemed to have said something, but she couldn’t hear clearly. Little Qiong Fang drowsily opened her eyes but felt it was too late—father’s back was at the doorway, and he was leaving.
Father came quickly and left quickly. Qiong Fang couldn’t help but feel her eyes moisten, very, very angry inside. He wouldn’t tell his daughter stories or wait for her to fall asleep—what kind of father comes and goes so hastily? Unforgivable! The little girl angrily snorted and decided to give father a good scare. She tiptoed out of bed, put on her shoes, and followed father all the way.
Through the flower garden, past the artificial mountain waterfall, father didn’t enter the main house. He came to a large temple and gently pushed open the door under the moonlight.
Moonlight illuminated the red lacquered gate, reflecting points of bright light. Little Qiong Fang naturally knew this temple—it was the family temple and ancestral hall, enshrining the Qiong family’s ancestors. Every New Year’s Eve, father and grandfather would drag her inside, stuffing three incense sticks in her left hand and pressing down her little head with the right, making her kneel and bow before a pile of wooden tablets. It had always been the place little Qiong Fang most feared visiting.
What was father doing here in the middle of the night? Could he be celebrating New Year early? Little Qiong Fang was curious and quietly slipped to outside the ancestral temple door to steal a peek inside.
Father lit a fire and kindled red candles, then took incense sticks and burned them. Just like during New Year, incense smoke curled around father’s back. She vaguely saw him kneel before the tablets, bowing and kowtowing as if telling the ancestors something. Qiong Fang crouched on the ground just staring blankly. After a long time, father finally slowly rose. She saw him mysteriously take out a bottle of wine from under the altar table, then take an empty cup which he didn’t even wash before filling it to the brim for himself.
Even now, even at twenty-four, Qiong Fang couldn’t forget the appearance of that wine bottle—blue and white porcelain with velvet lacquered cork stopper, wound with golden silk thread, and painted with a large red phoenix on the bottle. It was imperial wine bestowed by the Empress Dowager of Jingfu Palace.
So that was it—father couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night because he had come to drink in melancholy.
Little Qiong Fang sighed. Precociously, she turned her snow-white face to gaze at father’s figure, feeling tender affection in her heart: “Father, you’re thinking of mother again, aren’t you…”
As if hearing his daughter’s call, father turned around to gaze at the brilliant starry sky outside the temple.
Nine chi tall, almost as high as the gate—the capital’s first-rank top scholar was extraordinarily imposing. The Qiong family ancestors came from horseback origins, and their descendants, whether grandfather or father, were all so mighty and robust.
Father held the wine with both hands, standing upright and solemn. That fearless, proud bearing immediately moved his daughter outside the temple. Qiong Fang gazed at father’s figure, unknowingly her heart pounding rapidly, her face already flushed with shyness.
She liked father at this moment—handsome, upright, fearless and undaunted. He was a proud man…
Father gazed at the starry sky, his brows serious. Under the starlight he took a deep breath, as if he had something to say to Heaven but couldn’t voice it. Qiong Fang was still young and couldn’t understand father’s expression. In her confusion, she saw father turn back to face the table full of ancestral tablets. Suddenly his shoulders trembled continuously, as if he were crying. Qiong Fang watched his back, feeling even more puzzled.
Father sighed and lifted the wine cup with both hands high over his shoulders. He stood motionless like a stone statue, the cup mouth facing the roof beams as if feeding mice in the rafters.
Little Qiong Fang had crouched too long—her feet were sore and legs numb. She grumbled: “Annoying—if you’re going to drink, drink quickly. My legs are sore.” Just as she was distracted patting her thighs, father seemed to hear his daughter’s urging. He raised his head and poured the wine into his mouth.
Gulp—little Qiong Fang swallowed her saliva as if she too had drunk a cup. She watched with a smile, seeing father motionless for a moment. Suddenly he stepped back. After one step, he couldn’t stop anymore—two steps, three steps, four steps… Father kept retreating, his upright back knocking over tables and chairs, staggering and swaying as if drunk.
Qiong Fang had seen father drunk and vomiting before, but never seen him this severely intoxicated. She kept rubbing her eyes, murmuring in confusion: “Father, father… what’s wrong with you?”
Soon father crouched down, clutching his stomach and emitting low, muffled groans.
Father… father… The calls grew more urgent, the voice more frightened, beginning to mix with sobs. Seeing father collapse to the ground, the little girl could no longer contain herself. She finally rushed through the door, threw herself on father’s body, and cried aloud: “Father!”