That night, Tang Zhou slept uneasily. Just as dawn tinged the sky with pale gold, the haunting strains of a flute stirred him awake—low, mournful, and weighted with sorrow, as if the player carried the burdens of a thousand lost years.
He draped his outer robe over his shoulders and followed the sound instinctively. The courtyard, explored the night before, appeared deserted—but a new pit marred the earth, fresh and ominous.
Gripping his sword’s scabbard, Tang Zhou approached cautiously.
The pit was dusted with a thin veil of peach blossom petals—the very ones Master Shen had buried the previous night. Now they were dry and brittle. Carefully, Tang Zhou pried the petals apart with his sword. Beneath lay a hand, delicate as porcelain.
Could the person beneath still be alive?
Without tools to dig, he clawed at the earth with his sword. Soon, a face emerged—beautiful, serene, with eyes framed by graceful brows and lips curled in a faint, enigmatic smile. Three parts playful, seven parts demure, as though life still lingered within her.
A soft shuffle behind him made Tang Zhou freeze. He turned, brow furrowed. “How did you get out?”
Yan Dan appeared, holding a piece of talisman paper. “I told Miss Shen the paper outside the door was ugly. She tore it off.” Her voice was gentle as she peered into the pit. “What’s going on? Are you destroying the body?”
Tang Zhou’s gaze lingered. “Don’t you think she looks familiar?”
Yan Dan squatted, chin in hand. After a long moment, she whispered, “Yes… I’ve seen her somewhere.”
“This person looks exactly like you.”
Startled, Yan Dan rose. “Now that you mention it… they do. How could someone exist in this world who looks like me?”
Tang Zhou’s voice was measured, almost hesitant. “Not only do they resemble you—they emulate your expressions. Can such a coincidence exist?”
Her eyes darkened, filled with sorrow. “Then… I’m already dead, and didn’t even know it?”
Tang Zhou stayed silent, watching her struggle with a grief he had never seen before. Suddenly, she grasped his sleeve, her smile laced with despair. “It’s all your fault! How will you repay me? How could this have happened if not for you?” Pale fingers bled slowly, a crimson testament to her anguish.
He did not move. “What do you want from me? What must I repay?”
Her gaze locked with his, unwavering. “You owe me half your heart. Spit it out… give it back to me!” Her voice cracked into sobs. The anguish was palpable, echoing in Tang Zhou’s chest.
Then, abruptly, he awoke. Lying on the guest room bed, pillow on the floor, head throbbing from the impact with the headboard, he realized—it had been a dream. A nightmare within a nightmare, starring Yan Dan. Shaking off the lingering fear, he washed and dressed, preparing for the day.
Outside, birds sang, mingled with the silver laughter of a girl—Shen Xiangjun. Tang Zhou’s mind replayed last night’s events, hesitation brushing his features.
“Miss Shen, you’re up early,” Yan Dan’s gentle voice called.
“The early bird catches the worm,” Shen Xiangjun replied, smiling. “The bird woke me.”
“May I speak to your bird?”
“You may, but I doubt it will understand.”
Tang Zhou opened the door slightly. Shen Xiangjun stood with the spotted parrot perched elegantly on her shoulder, her smile a spring blossom.
“Bird, do you also find these scraps of paper an eyesore? Should I remove them?”
Tang Zhou’s heart sank as he realized—the lotus spirit was attempting to bypass the restrictions he had set with Shen Xiangjun’s help. Calm, he waited, curious.
Shen Xiangjun chuckled. “The bird thinks these papers are ugly. Why didn’t you tear them down sooner?”
Yan Dan’s voice carried both amusement and reverence. “These were drawn by my senior brother, to protect me from evil spirits. Annoying, yes—but it’s his effort.”
Stepping forward, she suddenly swayed, brushing against the door. Shen Xiangjun moved instinctively, accidentally tearing one talisman from the threshold with her foot.
“I’m fine,” Yan Dan said lightly, hiding her brief dizziness. Though smiling and graceful, even she froze for a moment when stepping beyond the threshold, then quickly masked it with cheer.
“You’re here early too, senior brother?” she asked, tilting her head.
Tang Zhou smiled. “I woke when Miss Shen arrived.”
Yan Dan’s laughter was warm. “So you worry I might bully her? I would never—if she became my sister-in-law, I would be happy.”
“You think too much,” Tang Zhou replied, lips twitching.
“Really? But still, I want her as my sister-in-law,” she persisted.
Shen Xiangjun tilted her head. “Sister-in-law? What is that?”
Tang Zhou, pulling her wrist gently, guided her out of view. Using a talisman, he restrained her powers once more.
“How many steps of restriction is this time?” she asked casually, testing the bracelet. “Even as senior siblings, men and women must avoid suspicion?”
Tang Zhou smiled faintly. “This time, we cannot leave the Shen estate.”
She considered this, then shrugged. “It’s fine.”
Walking toward the flower hall, he glanced back. “I forgot to tell you…”
Yan Dan, still adjusting her bracelet, looked up. “What?”
“When I drew the talisman yesterday, I realized restricting your movements wasn’t enough. I sealed most of your magic as well. If an evil spirit possesses you, the remaining seal will suffice.”
Yan Dan, ever mischievous, tossed a blade of grass, soil and roots clattering behind him. Tang Zhou dodged effortlessly, but she gasped when she noticed something in the soil.
“Come see!” she called.
Tang Zhou obeyed, recognizing her concern. Among the black earth peeked a white object—a finger bone. Memories of his dream flooded back. Yan Dan’s dark eyes met his, calm yet piercing, as though she could peer into his soul.
“Why are you turning pale?” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do people fear me because I look too majestic?”
“Not majestic,” Tang Zhou replied, brushing off the soil. “Just… a little frightening.”
She muttered softly, pouted, then smiled, “Will it hurt if I say something nice once in a while?”
Tang Zhou exhaled. “It doesn’t. But when I am forced, it makes me uncomfortable. Do you see?”
Yan Dan’s grin, though small, revealed her amusement. “You’re right.”
The Shen family’s breakfast was abundant, befitting their status. Yan Dan nibbled delicately at a lotus seed bun, devouring it quickly before moving on to a mutton bun.
Master Shen, observing, asked, “Miss Yan, have you been practicing Taoism? Can you go without food?”
“Seven or eight days, perhaps,” Yan Dan replied lightly.
Tang Zhou sighed. “Don’t believe her. Eight out of ten times, she’s joking.”
Master Shen was impressed, awe in his eyes. “Such cultivation at a young age is admirable.”
The morning progressed with laughter, light teasing, and shared buns. Yet when a figure entered the hall—a woman bearing Shen Xiangjun’s exact features but with a dark, fierce demeanor—Tang Zhou’s mind reeled. Last night’s encounter suddenly made sense: it was not Shen Xiangjun, but her elder sister.
Yan Dan, perceptive as ever, caught every nuance of Master Shen’s expression, noting his subtle fear. How could two people so alike inspire such different reactions?
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
