Chapter 8: The Girl Who Listens to Birdsong

 

Ling Xuzi frowned, stepping forward.
“Why do you say that, young lady?”

The girl in white tilted her head toward a bird perched on a branch. She chirped softly, then turned back with a serene smile.

“The bird said it will rain tomorrow and asked if I believed it. Of course I do. Do you?”

Tang Zhou glanced sideways at Yan Dan, who stood quietly, brows furrowed as though lost in thought.

Ling Xuzi raised a hand to stop his companion from drawing a sword. His tone softened.
“What else did the bird say?”

The girl listened again, nodding as if in conversation.

“The bird said, ‘Birds die for food, and people die for money. It has always been this way since ancient times.’”

Faces darkened at her words.

Suddenly, a portly woman rushed forward, panting.
“Miss, Miss, why are you here again? You never listen to the master!” She clutched the girl in white and bowed repeatedly. “Gentlemen, forgive her. My young lady was born dumb. Please don’t take offense.”

The girl struggled, glaring at the bird that had flown away.
“You scared it off! You must compensate me!”

The woman restrained her, apologizing again and again.

Ling Xuzi blocked their path politely.
“May I ask whose family this young lady belongs to?”

“My master’s surname is Shen,” the woman replied quickly. “He’s a merchant in town.”

Ling Xuzi nodded, recognizing the name. Shen was known for trading rare goods. A pity, he thought, that his daughter was considered a fool.

As they passed, the girl suddenly fixed her gaze on Tang Zhou.
“Do you believe I can understand bird language?”

Tang Zhou nodded.

Her smile bloomed like spring.

“Then listen. There is a ghost here—an evil ghost. It gnaws bones until nothing remains. The bird told me. But it also said ghosts aren’t the scariest thing. People are.”

The woman quickly covered her mouth, forcing a smile.
“She’s just talking nonsense. Forgive her.”

Yet Tang Zhou felt a chill. Fool or not, her words carried a strange weight.

Yan Dan’s eyes sparkled mischievously.
“I can understand fish talk. Do you believe that?”

Tang Zhou leaned closer, whispering dryly,
“I think you want to return to your magical instrument again.”

Yan Dan sighed.
“In short, you never believe me.”

Ling Xuzi coughed, drawing attention back.
“Let’s find the Queen’s tomb. Even if a fierce ghost exists, I can capture it. Do not panic.”

The others echoed in agreement. Yan Dan’s sharp eyes swept over their weapons and clothes.

Tang Zhou whispered,
“The swordsman on the left is Zhai Shang, the Soul‑Breaking Sword. On the right, Qin Mingyang, the Shadow‑Playing Sword. The three walking together are the Wu brothers. Apart from Ling Xuzi, those two are the strongest.”

Yan Dan leaned closer.
“Can I ask you something?”

“No,” Tang Zhou replied instantly.

“Why did you come to Qingshi Town?” she pressed. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep wondering, and it will weigh on me.”

Tang Zhou flicked his sleeve.
“Then wonder. Perhaps one day you’ll figure it out.”

Ling Xuzi crouched, brushing dust from a bluestone slab. With a single push, he revealed a dark tunnel.
“We’re not the first here. My junior brother once entered. He alone survived… but lost his mind. We never learned what he saw.”

Zhai Shang muttered, “I heard a female ghost ripped out his heart.”

“Nonsense,” Ling Xuzi waved it off. But his tone grew grave.
“This path is dangerous. Those unwilling may remain above.”

Qin Mingyang drew his sword. The Wu brothers exchanged glances, then shook their heads. None would turn back.

The group descended into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing against the stone.

Yan Dan whispered, “It’s pitch black, I can’t see a thing.”

A sudden glow lit her face—Qin Mingyang held up a candle with a faint smile.
“I still have over twenty candles. Enough to reach the end of the cemetery.”

Ling Xuzi nodded approvingly. “Young Master Qin is very attentive.”

But before anyone could relax, a gust of wind hissed through the tunnel, snuffing out the flame.

A gruff voice thundered in the dark.
“Who kicked me?!”

Another voice snarled, “If you dare, come out and fight!”

The air filled with the sound of fists and palms striking. Yan Dan stepped left—only to feel a cold, long‑fingered hand seize hers.

“Tang Zhou?” she called.

But Tang Zhou’s voice came from her right. Her heart lurched. Who was beside her?

A low chuckle brushed her ear.
“Anyone who touches my mound will be killed.”

The voice faded into the distance.

When light returned, Qin Mingyang lay collapsed, a crimson mark between his brows. His face was eerily calm, as though death had come without pain.

Tang Zhou examined him.
“The strike was fatal. But the body is already cold—he died long before now.”

Zhai Shang’s voice trembled. “Then… who was with us just now?”

Tang Zhou’s reply was chilling. “The one who spoke.”

Yan Dan sighed. “That means the real Qin Mingyang was killed earlier, and his killer disguised himself. If he can mimic one of us, he could do it again.”

Tang Zhou’s tone cut like ice. “Junior sister, you are too mischievous.”

Suspicion spread through the group. Ling Xuzi handed out candles. “At least we still have these. Let’s move forward.”

They pressed on until a stone door loomed ahead, engraved with five ominous characters:

Whoever attacks me will be executed.

Tang Zhou pushed it open. Inside, murals glowed under candlelight: a concubine at her mirror, kneeling before an emperor, armies clashing, and finally—her suffocation inside a coffin.

“She didn’t take her own life,” Tang Zhou whispered. “She was buried alive.”

Yan Dan’s voice was tight. “All for treasure. Cruel beyond words.”

Suddenly, laughter rang out, wild and echoing. Blood splattered across the mural as Boss Wu turned his blade on his own brother, eyes red with madness.

Chaos erupted. Tang Zhou’s sword flashed green, severing Boss Wu’s throat. The tomb shook violently, crossbows rattling in hidden chambers.

The floor gave way. Tang Zhou plunged into a smooth corridor, unable to grip the walls. Yan Dan was dragged down after him, her magic barely shielding her from injury.

She collided with something soft in the darkness, reaching out blindly.

A cold voice whispered beside her ear:
“Have you touched enough?”

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