Having examined the writing on the ingot, Xuanmin let it go. The wind whisked the ingot back, where it caught the last flicker of flame and was completely consumed.
The old lady poked at the remnants of the embers with her cane and murmured, “My health hasn’t been good this year. I can’t move my waist anymore, so there are fewer paper ingots compared to last year. Use them the best you can.”
Liu Chong sat quietly on the threshold, listening. When he heard this, he dashed back into the house and returned with a small stack of yellow paper. Then he hunched over and began folding, mumbling, “I-I can. I’ll do it.”
The old lady turned to him. Under the firelight, her eyes shone warmly, but they also seemed a little anguished.
Liu Chong was awkward when it came to most things, but he was quite adept at folding paper ingots. He clearly helped out often. After folding one, he held it and smiled up at the old lady, his expression expectant, waiting for praise.
The old lady rewarded him with a glowing smile. “My Chong-er’s ingots are even better than mine.”
“Here.” Liu Chong handed the ingot to her, telling her to toss it into the dwindling fire.
The old lady waved her hands. “No rush. Save it for next time. It doesn’t have a name, so you shouldn’t burn it. If you did, how would they know who it belongs to? Your great-grandfather wouldn’t be able to take it.”
Liu Chong nodded thoughtfully, then lowered his head, earnestly folding a new one.
The old lady tapped her cane against the ground, extinguishing the scant sparks lingering there. When she was finished, she started poking at the ashes again, making sure that any paper at the bottom would burn completely too. As she worked the ashes, she began to recite, “With lots of money comes food and play. Gold and silver, be at peace today.”
As Liu Chong folded the money, he unconsciously echoed her words, muttering, “Food and play, gold…and silver, be at peace today.”
Soon, the entire stack of paper ingots had been reduced to ash. The old lady tapped her cane, then pulled Liu Chong back into the house. But he seemed to run into something; right after they went in, a loud crash like the sound of porcelain shattering echoed from inside.
“Don’t panic. It’s fine, it’s fine.” The old lady’s voice came faintly from within. Perhaps Liu Chong had scared himself with his mistake and she was rushing to console him.
Not long after, the old lady and Liu Chong reemerged from the house. She was using the front of her padded robe to carry a few pieces of broken porcelain, while Liu Chong held…
Xue Xian squinted from behind the pillar for a long time before he realized it was a small bronze mirror.
Why a bronze mirror? He was genuinely puzzled.
He watched as the old lady instructed Liu Chong to dig a hole at the old tree next to the courtyard wall. They placed the broken porcelain inside, then set the bronze mirror down beside it.
While they buried the mirror, the old lady murmured two more lines. “We place the mirror, changing misfortune to blessing. May they all rest in peace.”
After burying both the shards and the mirror, they reentered the house. Liu Chong may have been disabled, but he had some understanding of filial piety. He helped the old lady inside before stepping over the threshold himself.
Xue Xian turned and whispered to Xuanmin, “This Life Gate is so odd. Will it only let us go after playing through all these old memories?”
Xuanmin’s brows pinched. He raised a finger to his lips, telling Xue Xian to be quiet.
Too late. Liu Chong, who had just stepped inside, seemed to hear something. He poked his head back out, his expression puzzled. He just so happened to look at the pillar, meeting Xue Xian’s gaze.
Logically speaking, the paper doll was tiny—it would have been hard to make out its painted face from four inches away, let alone a distance of seven to eight paces. But Liu Chong really seemed to have seen him. Xue Xian couldn’t tell if it was just his imagination, but Liu Chong’s foolish eyes seemed to suddenly sharpen. Those black pupils fixed right on him, sending a chill down his spine.
Within seconds, the wind in the courtyard stilled, before blowing again from an entirely different direction. The abrupt change was indescribably eerie. Liu Chong stepped out, and from within the house came slow, lumbering footsteps, stiff yet shuffling, distinctly different from the old lady’s gait.
Xuanmin stopped hiding behind the pillar. Right as Liu Chong stepped forward, the monk backed into the narrow door and quickly darted behind it.
The shuffling footsteps didn’t stop—in fact, they drew closer.
Scanning the area around them, Xuanmin resolutely chose the corridor on the right. He cut diagonally across the courtyard, avoiding all the main buildings. Instead, he strode over to a narrow door in a corner.
Xue Xian clung to his robe with a death grip. “Why did things suddenly change?”
He couldn’t resist stealing a glance backward, only to see the old lady and the young man following them through the first narrow door, their gait, posture, expressions, and movements imbued with a harsh, uncanny emptiness.
“I don’t know why, but the Life Gate became the Death Gate,” Xuanmin said, as he pushed open the second narrow door.
“So, the Eight Gates have changed from your initial calculations?”
“Mm.”
“What happens if we accidentally enter the Death Gate?”
“All the hazards will be triggered, and similar things will happen at all the gates. We must not let those people see us. The moment they do, they’ll pursue us.”
Xue Xian recalled the immediate change in the old lady and young man’s demeanors. “How long will they chase us?”
“Until we die,” said Xuanmin.
With that, Xuanmin crossed over the threshold and stepped through the narrow door. This time, it led to a hall. For some reason, three or four maids were gathered around the table.
One of the maids said, “The old lady hasn’t gotten any better. Her complexion is even worsening. Did that Jiang family prescribe the wrong medicine? Those quacks will get her killed!”
“No idea,” another round-faced girl said. “We don’t know anything about the prescriptions. We just have to take good care of her. I was really scared last night. She could barely breathe, but I found the courage to thump her back. The two of you are on watch tonight, aren’t you? Monitor her carefully!”
Before she could finish, another maid rushed in, breathless. “Quick! Get to the back! The old lady might—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Xuanmin spun around and exited the narrow door. Xue Xian couldn’t resist turning back for a glance, then slapped Xuanmin hard on the back. “They spotted us again! Hurry!”
As he spoke, the footsteps in the room abruptly changed direction, all pattering toward the narrow door. That was twice they’d opened a door to find themselves being chased by a bunch of bizarre entities. How great was that?!
Just then, Xuanmin pivoted to arrive at narrow door number three, completely undaunted.
Hey, Wise One, can you think first before opening another door?! Xue Xian screamed to himself.
At its core, Scribe Liu’s residence was a standard rectangular compound. The more one cared about feng shui, the less they could employ bizarre or outrageous designs. Although there were doors and walls everywhere, the eight cardinal directions still reigned supreme: east, west, south, north, southeast, southwest, northeast, and northwest. These eight cardinal directions corresponded precisely to the Eight Gates of the Qimen Dunjia: Initiation, Repose, Life, Injury, Obstruction, Scenery, Fright, and Death.
Of the Eight Gates, Initiation, Repose, and Life were usually auspicious, while Death, Fright, and Injury were calamitous. Scenery and Obstruction were neutral. For Xue Xian and Xuanmin, they could safely exit the array as long as they found the Life Gate.
But while the Eight Gates were simple to calculate in a static environment, things became troublesome if they were to shift for any reason. This was what plagued Xue Xian and Xuanmin now. The Life Gate they’d pinpointed had inexplicably transformed into the Death Gate. Not only was it no longer an exit, it had also released a horde of bizarre, dangerous entities.
Nonetheless, Xuanmin opened the new door without hesitation. Xue Xian didn’t even have the time to stop him.
If it’d been up to the old, able-bodied Xue Xian, he would have thought, Eight Gates, Smeight Gates! To hell with that Life, Death, Fright, or Injury nonsense! I’ll open them all. Let’s see if they can stop me from leaving! If it still doesn’t work, I’ll blast them all with lightning!
He’d had immense confidence in his power. There was no way he’d fall victim to such childish tricks.
Things were different now. Xuanmin was the one calling the shots, and Xue Xian was only a sheet of paper clinging to his shoulder. He hadn’t known Xuanmin for long—only a couple of hours. After these scant few interactions, Xue Xian was still in the dark about how powerful the monk actually was. He acted like a high priest, and sometimes he was quite good at intimidating others with his gambits. However, Xue Xian hadn’t seen him do anything substantial yet. For example, could he summon rain or thunder? Could he offer rest to wandering ghosts like Jiang Shining? When it came down to it, could he beat the array’s tiny old lady (possibly a vengeful spirit) in a fight?
Seriously. Not to put too fine a point on it, but could he beat the array’s tiny old lady (definitely a vengeful spirit) in a fight?!
Xue Xian had his doubts. After all, Xuanmin needed to use copper scraps to capture ghosts. He asked himself, Have you ever seen a high monk who caught demons by scooping them up? And then he answered his own question: Never!
Xuanmin knit his brows and shot the grumbling paper doll on his shoulder a quick glance. His slender, attractive fingers rested upon the door. Previously, he’d shown some restraint while opening the doors, keeping the action whisper-silent. Now, he seemed to throw caution to the wind. He unceremoniously threw the door open, and the crimson door struck the wall with bang.