Chapter 5

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“I’m not drinking that, give me some wine.” Xi Ping pushed away the mind-calming decoction a page boy was offering him. When the paper money had come to knock at the door, he had been thinking about splashing lamp oil and engaging in a desperate struggle. Now the reaction had hit him, and he broke out in cold sweat all over.

He had only heard of Wang Baochang’s death at the pleasure boat ferry crossing, not seen it with his own eyes, but he had fully witnessed the sight of several living people being wrapped in paper money and turned into rotting flesh. However broad-minded he was, he still couldn’t avoid being shaken.

Now that both his body and mind had calmed down, Xi Ping was also puzzled—why him again?

Last night at the pleasure boat ferry crossing, you could have said it was coincidence. After all, the Flower Viewing Festival attracted attention; the pleasant and the repulsive had all come to play.

But now, what about this Young Master Dong from the Office of Protocol official’s family?

The corpse could have walked at any time, but instead it had chosen to cry out just after meeting him in Dangui Lane… Surely it couldn’t be that “Mr. Yu Gan”’s good name had spread down to the Nine Springs of the Underworld and even the walking corpses were lining up to sing for him and be judged?

Just then, a page boy came in to report in a flurry: “Lord Marquis, Heaven's Design Pavilion’s Assistant Commander is at the door with his people!”

The Marquis of Yongning froze. Hesitating slightly, he said, “Ask them in.”

Then he reached out to give Xi Ping’s shoulder a shove. “Go in and see your mom and the old lady.”

Before Xi Ping could react, the page boy continued: “The Exalted said in particular that he…wants to see our young master.”

Summoned by name by a walker in the mortal world twice in one day. Xi Ping simply thought someone had buried a signal gun in his ancestral tomb. If not, where would all this smoke be coming from?1

It smelled a little off to have Heaven's Design Pavilion coming to the door for a second time.

Zhao Yu, whose manner had been quite cordial in the morning, acted like he didn’t know him. Strictly businesslike, he questioned him about where he had been, whom he had seen and spoken to, and ordered an imperial guard standing by to note all of it down regardless of importance, intending to find someone to corroborate all of it.

The silver-belted Commander Pang looked him over with eyes like knives, as if he wanted to cut open his organs and give them a close look.

Young Master Xi was a donkey; if he felt uncomfortable, he was sure to kick, especially since this Pang character had knocked him off the wall earlier—so he expressionlessly shot back a retaliatory look, looking directly into Commander Pang’s eyes like a provocation.

But when he glared, Pang Jian smiled.

This man, who looked like wasn’t to be trifled with, in fact had a pair of smiling eyes. He asked, genially, “Were you well acquainted with the two victims?”

Xi Ping said, “I couldn’t get away from Wang Sidu, but I wasn’t very familiar with Dong Zirui.”

“Lord Dong’s son was elegant and refined, and studied at the Imperial College. He never had anything to do with this unworthy thing,” the Marquis of Yongning put in a timely word. Then, pointing at Xi Ping, he added, “I was always saying that if this devil could have a part of that young man’s talents, I would happily die a few years earlier, but now… Who could have guessed that the Dong family would meet with such a calamity! Everyone’s been saying that their oldest son was almost certain to enter the immortal sect this year… Ah, isn’t this a disaster for his parents?”

The devil Xi Ping lowered his eyelids and rolled his eyes under their cover.

The Dong family was upright and honest, and First Young Master Dong was a pinnacle of righteousness who had never fooled around…he had only kept a “beautiful confidante” outside the city.

Come to think of it, by coincidence, with the Grand Selection happening this year, this confidante had taken a chill from a passing wind at the start of the year and thoughtfully passed away.

It was said that Young Master Dong had been inconsolable on her account. He had worn a white jade hairpin in mourning for three full days.

Apart from the Marquis with his affectations, Xi Ping had never known another proper pampered beauty. At any rate, he couldn’t understand how a grown person could catch a chill from a passing wind—Jinping’s winters weren’t cold, anyway.

In his opinion, another version sounded more credible: it was said that the confidante had been sent on her way by a bowl of abortifacient drugs.

But he could tell that his dad was trying to get him out of this, so he held his tongue and didn’t rashly undercut him.

Zhao Yu calmly sighed and said in accordance with the Marquis of Yongning’s words: “In fact, it’s a pity.”

But Pang Jian, as if he hadn’t heard at all, was still staring at Xi Ping. He asked, “May I check your pulse, Viscount?”

As you like, Xi Ping thought, extending his arm. Do you want to check whether I’m pregnant?

Two heavily calloused fingers lightly touched his pulse. Next, a faint warm current flowed up his veins and throughout his body. Xi Ping gave a start.

The laughter lines at the corners of the Marquis of Yongning’s eyes smoothed at once. He said, grimly, “Exalted, is there something wrong with my son?”

“Nothing.” Pang Jian casually drew back his hand. “I suppose the young man likes to play around and often stays out late? He’s a little low on vitality.”

The Marquis’s expression relaxed slightly, but he heard Pang Jian continue: “Though I’m only a dabbler. After all, the Viscount brushed shoulders with a carriage full of corpse poison today. For safety’s sake, I’d like to invite him to spend the night at Heaven's Design Pavilion for a thorough inspection as insurance.”

What did that mean?

An inspection or an investigation? Was he being invited or arrested?

The Marquis’s face instantly froze over. “Last night at the pleasure boat ferry crossing, quite a few people encountered the corpse. As far as I can see, they’re all right. My son is willful and mischievous, the honor is too…”

Xi Ping spoke almost at the same time: “All right, then, when are we going? Should I take a page boy?”

The Marquis: “…”

Several gazes fell on Xi Ping, sheltered behind the Marquis of Yongning. Xi Ping, like an idiot who didn’t know good from bad, had no idea what “going to Heaven's Design Pavilion” meant; he casually said to the Marquis, “Dad, let me go, I’ve never been to Heaven's Design Pavilion.”

“Troublemaker!” The Marquis turned his head and scolded, “Heaven's Design Pavilion is no place to fool around!”

“Why shouldn’t I stay the night? It’s not like I’ll wet the bed.”

The Marquis was so angry his mustache curled.

Then Xi Ping said, “If I close my eyes now, I can still see that dead…still see Dong-xiong batting his eyelashes at me, and I feel chilled all over. I’ll certainly have nightmares tonight. So let the Exalteds take me to Heaven's Design Pavilion to pick up some of the immortal aura and build up my courage. I’ll take Haozhong with me. I promise I won’t make trouble for the Exalteds… Should I take my own bedroll, Exalted?”

Pang Jian smiled. “The head office has guest rooms.”

Hearing this, Xi Ping didn’t wait for the Marquis to speak. Without getting permission, he agreed at once: “All right, I’ll go send someone to pack my things!”

And this was the sole scion of the Yongning Marquis Manor: from childhood, he had been impervious to any kind of persuasion or coercion.

Normally when the Marquis chased him with the discipline rod, he was willing to run around a little out of respect for his father and to give the old fellow some exercise. When he was really fixed on some idea, he didn’t listen to anyone.

After he had agreed, Xi Ping didn’t even look at the Marquis’s face, which was black as the bottom of a pot. Swift as lightning, he sent someone to pack his things, then joyfully got into Heaven's Design Pavilion’s carriage. Before leaving, he even heartlessly stuck his head out of the carriage and waved at the Marquis. “Dad, I’ll be home to eat at noon tomorrow, leave me something good! His Third Highness has nothing but soup and porridge, I haven’t been able to eat my fill all day!”

If there hadn’t been outsiders present, the Marquis of Yongning’s curses probably would have reverberated off the Lingyang River.

Hearing him mention Prince Zhuang, Pang Jian’s gaze flickered. He said, smiling, “Not to worry, we won’t starve you.”

The walkers in the mortal world had come bearing fire and went like the wind, leaving behind only a series of armored imperial guardsmen closely surrounding Dangui Lane in case of further mishap.

On the south end of the street, all the houses sent brave servants to clean up the filth at their doorsteps. Quite a few people saw Heaven's Design Pavilion take Xi Ping away. But servants of great houses all know when to pretend to be deaf and mute. They glanced over and immediately looked down without making a sound.

Later that night, the south end of the street was still. When occasionally an imperial guardsman’s weapons and armor touched lightly, the clank sounded far off, startling many people out of sleep.

The middle-aged man waited until the courtyard was completely silent before taking out a wooden protection amulet.

He dipped a thin pin in water and wrote on the wooden amulet: Horn Tower heard mourning wail, arrived in the blink of an eye, six people. Xi has been taken.

His writing was crooked, like a child just starting to learn. The water didn’t soak into the wooden amulet. When he had written the last stroke, he bit through his index finger and pressed a drop of blood to the wood. Instantly, both the water writing and the blood were absorbed by the wooden amulet, and its surface was left as bright and clean as before.

After a moment, the wooden amulet warmed slightly, and three words appeared on it out of nowhere. These were in exquisite regular script, evidently penned by another hand. This hand wrote: According to plan.

The unremarkable protection amulet in the servant’s hand was actually an immortal tool that conveyed messages!

The middle-aged man closed his eyes and gently let out a breath. Then he wiped away the water droplets on the wooden amulet and wrote once more: Brother 32 died for the cause as he wished.

He paused, then used blood to send this sentence. Then, struggling to keep his finger from shaking, he wrote on the wooden amulet, one stroke at a time: The conflagration burns on, the cry of the cicada is without end.

The wooden amulet was silent for a moment. Then the person on the other end responded: Better to die in frost than to forsake one's convictions.

Meanwhile, Xi Ping, taken by Heaven's Design Pavilion, was still quite at his ease.

He was at his ease everywhere, as though he had been born without the concept of reserve. In the carriage, he impudently sized up Pang Jian—it was said that Heaven's Design Pavilion’s chief was in seclusion, and this Assistant Commander currently commanded the defense of the capital city and environs. He was a grand personage. There was normally no opportunity to get a look at him. Since he was here now, it would be a waste not to look.

Sitting upright, Pang Jian’s back was as straight as a pole. The hands laying on his knees had prominent knuckles. The veins wrapped around his wrists coiled slightly. There were calluses on his fingertips and palms, and quite a few old scars unevenly pitting the backs of his hands. Next to him, Zhao Yu sat minding his own business. His manner toward him was very respectful. When Xi Ping remembered the true nature of this youthful-faced “Grandfather Zhao,” he couldn’t resist wondering: So how old is Assistant Commander Pang?

Pang Jian said, “Do you have something to ask?”

Xi Ping grinned familiarly at him. “I was thinking that you threw that little flag and stuck it right into the south street flagstones, but you only look a few years older than me. How did you train to do that?”

Pang Jian answered, “By being a few years older than you.”

“How many years?” said Xi Ping.

Pang Jian unhurriedly answered, “Not many. Just another turn of the sixty-year cycle.”

Xi Ping: “…”

Excuse me, Grandfather Pang!

“But I’m curious—normally, when a person gets taken away by Heaven's Design Pavilion in the middle of the night, he’ll be a little nervous.” Pang Jian looked Xi Ping over. “Even the Marquis was troubled. But you don’t seem to have taken it to heart at all.”

“It’s just that our Marquis takes things too hard. Don’t take offense, Exalted.” Xi Ping crossed one leg over the other casually. “Two days in a row, I ran into someone who went and turned into a walking corpse. Can that be a coincidence? What happens if I really have picked up something unclean?”

Pang Jian hadn’t expected him to lay it out directly. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Xi Ping continued: “It’s one thing if I could just quietly pop off like Big…like Wang Sidu, at worst I’d become a ghost the next day and go get revenge. But what if I end up like Dong-xiong today and drag other people in before I die? Our Lord Marquis may still be nimble, but there’s my old grandmother, who’s in her seventies. For safety’s sake, I’d rather sit in prison at Heaven's Design Pavilion.”

This was intolerable. Zhao Yu wanted to protect him on Prince Zhuang’s account, but hearing this, he couldn’t resist giving a cough.

Pang Jian, smiling, said, “It won’t come to that.”

Xi Ping looked around. Now that he was done babbling, he showed off his cleverness: “I know. On His Third Highness’s account, you Exalteds won’t put me in an awkward position.”

Pang Jian really did feel a trace of increased respect for him.

On his first sight of the Viscount of Yongning, he had thought he was an idiot wrapped in gold and silver. Hearing him drag Prince Zhuang in as insurance before leaving, he had seemed like a pampered rich boy getting up to little tricks. Having attracted a bit of malice, he then plopped down and openly displayed his shamelessness, erasing his previous foolish act and his little schemes in one fell stroke.

“Bold, unbridled, and clear-headed,” Pang Jian inwardly appraised Xi Ping. “A naturally gifted scoundrel.”

Heaven's Design Pavilion was quite polite to Xi Ping. They led him to a guest room and indeed did not starve him. They gave him a midnight snack and some mind-calming decoction.

The blue-clotheser who had led him in kindly told him, “As cultivators, our residence is a little plain compared to the Marquis Manor, but sleeping a night here can calm the mind and cure a hundred illnesses. There’s no need to worry about having nightmares.”

Xi Ping lined up his small white teeth and gave this Exalted a stupid smile. He thought, If there is anything the matter, then I am the “hundred illnesses.”

But his conscience was clear. Even if he really did have some “illness,” it had been brought on him by someone else. Why should the victim feel guilty? Therefore he magnanimously called over the page boy Haozhong, and the two young fellows polished off the midnight snack that could have fed three or four people.

Master and servant were both broad-minded. After eating and drinking their fill, they were soon both still, one in the inner room and one in the outer room.

The glazed gas lamps hanging from the ceiling seemed to know that they were asleep. They dimmed on their own.

Dozing off, Xi Ping felt that there seemed to be something around him, watching him. But his eyelids were too heavy. He really couldn’t open them. He simply rolled over, letting those gazes enjoy the view as they liked.

Faint light came from the four walls, like a twilight glow. Then a strange “mural” seeped out of the wall—the drawing was of several monsters like big-eyed lamps. The eyes of the monsters in the “mural” could actually move. As their big eyes turned, their gazes fell together on Xi Ping.

Next, not only did their eyes move, the monsters’ bodies also began to scurry over the walls, turning circles around Xi Ping.

All of a sudden, one of them seemed to smell something. It leapt from the wall onto the bed curtain, changing from a “mural” to “embroidery” on the curtain.

The sinister “embroidery” quickly climbed down the bed curtain to the quilt and onto Xi Ping’s chest!

Just then, by chance, Xi Ping rolled over. Something he had dropped was chafing him. He dug around impatiently and pushed the thing aside, then curled back up under the quilt, coming right under the monster’s fangs, as if trying to catch the monster’s drool with his face.

The big-eyed monster, nose to nose with him, was almost embarrassed. It backed up a little and shyly sniffed around for a while, the anger on its face gradually changing to doubt. It gathered up its friends and crawled from the quilt onto the mattress. The monsters it had called over split up and searched inside the bed curtains. After a moment, one of the “big-eyed lamps” found the little silk brocade bag that Xi Ping had pushed to the edge of the bed.

The “big-eyed lamp” went over and sniffed, then recoiled as though it had smelled a pile of excrement; it shook its head hard a few times and scoffed toward Xi Ping, suspecting him of having produced it.

The monsters with eyes as big as dippers came close and surrounded the little silk brocade bag. They communicated silently for a moment, then finally decided that this thing, while its stench was unbearable, seemed to be harmless.

After examining Xi Ping from head to foot for half a shichen, the beasts’ bodies at last faded from the walls, quilt, and mattress. The strange murals and embroidery disappeared, and the faint light dimmed. Quiet was restored in the room.