The Keeper of Myths - Chapter 8

Tan Zhen dragged the sobbing, limp Si Nan back to the hospital room. Xia Tong was still sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed. Tan Zhen narrowed his eyes slightly; the little black shadow hiding in the corner and the half ghost face hanging upside down from the ceiling all turned to bare their teeth at him, then vanished with a shriek.

“Don’t go scaring ghosts for no reason,” Si Nan grumbled discontentedly. “That’s against the rules.”

“How could I?” Tan Zhen brushed him off.

The two walked over to Xia Tong’s bedside. The blind girl had keen hearing and woke up immediately.

“Xia Tong, right? My name is Tan Zhen. We met at the police station.” Tan Zhen pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her, adopting a posture for a heart-to-heart talk.

“Hello, Uncle Tan Zhen.” Xia Tong hid half her face under the quilt and spoke softly.

Tan Zhen didn’t care whether she could see him or not; he nodded reservedly, then burned a talisman paper and sank it into a glass of water right in front of the two. Si Nan got goosebumps all over and stared at Tan Zhen in disbelief.

Unlike the Talisman Water used by charlatans and fortune-tellers to fool people, Talisman Water made by a Celestial Master has a gut-wrenching effect on demons and evil spirits. This was once Pei Xueting’s specialty-though she used to mix Talisman Water into the fire hydrant supply.

“Thirsty? Have a glass of water.” Tan Zhen said kindly.

Xia Tong took the glass without any suspicion and drank it all in one go. Si Nan tensed every muscle in his body; he understood Tan Zhen’s intention. All reflective surfaces in the room had been covered, so how had he fallen under the Illusion Technique? Besides him, the only other person in the room was Xia Tong.

But nothing happened.

Xia Tong held up the now-empty glass and softly said she wanted more water.

Tan Zhen handed the glass to Si Nan, matter-of-factly saying, “Water.”

Si Nan glared at him and poured Xia Tong another glass.

—

Song Xiaoming nervously showed the Special Investigation Bureau credentials to the property manager and police at the door. Their gazes were hesitant, but after checking with their superiors, they left, reminding them not to disturb other residents. Song Xiaoming stammered his understanding, then closed the door under their increasingly suspicious stares.

“Do you know you look exactly like a guilty thief?”

The basement door was wide open. Pei Xueting had turned on every light in the Xia family home, as if she wanted to pry up every brick to check. On her left was the six-piece set of Eastern and Western evil-warding items Xia Jiang had bought; on her right was a pile of messy filming equipment.

Things involving the supernatural are usually old objects, but the oldest thing in the Xia family was probably that 1992 security door.

There was no sign of the mirror Pei Xueting had imagined.

Song Xiaoming didn’t dare respond to his superior, obediently sitting back down to review the Xia family’s surveillance footage. There were two cameras as Xia Jiang had said: one at the door, one in the living room.

The footage often showed only Xia Tong. Her favorite spot seemed to be by the floor-to-ceiling window facing the little garden. Xia Jiang and Cheng Hong came and went every day, never sparing her an extra glance. She never cried or made a fuss, just quietly leaned against the window.

Only when filming videos did the couple briefly show Xia Tong some affection.

“Ah-”

Song Xiaoming jumped in fright and looked up. Pei Xueting was fiddling with the filming equipment, her expression grave as she watched the screen and replayed a discarded video.

At the start of the video, Cheng Hong smiled gently and said the baby had learned a new piece to play for mommy and daddy today. Xia Tong’s expression was inexplicably gloomy; Song Xiaoming was amazed he could see “expression” in the eyes of a blind person.

But Cheng Hong and Xia Jiang noticed nothing.

Xia Tong sat upright at the piano and began playing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Halfway through, the melody suddenly soared and twisted into a chaotic tangle of notes that made one’s eardrums ache. Cheng Hong stared in surprise and told her to stop. Xia Tong ignored her, her expression faintly manic.

But Cheng Hong couldn’t take it anymore and forcibly pressed down Xia Tong’s hands. Her fingers struggled, striking a few sharp high notes on the keys. Cheng Hong glared at her, threw her onto the sofa, and forcefully stuffed chunks of mango into her mouth. Xia Jiang got up and turned off the camera.

“What-what is this?” Song Xiaoming was shocked. Was there a single normal person in this video?

“The second half is ‘Flight of the Bumblebee.’ There’s no way Xia Tong could have learned that yet. She can’t use electronic devices, and the braille sheet music at home is nowhere near that level.” Pei Xueting watched the video again and finally said, “This video was from the morning of the ninth last month. Check the living room surveillance from that day.”

That footage was quickly found. Pei Xueting pointed to the direction opposite the chaotic family scene-the floor-to-ceiling window-and said, “Zoom in.”

After zooming in, the reflection in the window was chilling. When Cheng Hong was pinning down Xia Tong’s hands at the piano, the clear glass showed the trembling figure of a little girl. She was covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she watched Xia Tong being force-fed mango.
The two identical little girls stared at each other in silence.

“The one inside the floor-to-ceiling window is Xia Tong,” Pei Xueting suddenly realized. “They can switch bodies through the mirror.”

Song Xiaoming was trembling as well. “Department Head Pei, I’ll cut out the part with the floor-to-ceiling window. Can I send the footage of them feeding Xia Tong mangoes to the police?” His eyes were red, as if he might burst into tears at any moment.

Pei Xueting was stunned for a moment, then impulsively ruffled his messy, nest-like hair. “What are you thinking? You are the police.”

—

The Special Investigation Bureau took over the surveillance of Xia Tong’s hospital room, watching her with airtight security, not allowing her to come into contact with anything that might connect her to the Mirror Demon. Xia Jiang was also interrogated repeatedly about the “old mirror” that Pei Xueting couldn’t find.

It had been two days since Cheng Hong was killed.

“When the Mirror Demon killed Cheng Hong, she made her strangle herself, instead of making her go up to the rooftop like Si Nan. Why?” Pei Xueting flipped through the classified files with a rustle, analyzing the case whenever she could. “She could have easily made Cheng Hong walk onto the street and get hit by a car. That would have looked more like an ‘accident,’ and we wouldn’t have paid so much attention.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that she didn’t want to, but that she couldn’t,” Tan Zhen said, sipping a cup of Xuanwu’s tea, speaking unhurriedly. “With her power at the time, it was probably hard to create such a large illusion. But after she killed Cheng Hong, her power grew, and her actions became more refined.”

Si Nan and Song Xiaoming listened in a daze, unable to join the conversation, so they could only lower their heads in shame and munch on their buns.

Xuanwu said leisurely, “So will her next target be Xia Jiang?”

This time, the two who had been talking fell silent.

After a long while, Pei Xueting finally said, “I don’t know.”

Si Nan shamelessly flattered her, “There are actually things even the boss doesn’t know?”

Pei Xueting shot him a glare and said seriously, “So-called demons will do anything to survive. It’s always been that way, from ancient times to now. Those who are not of our kind must have different hearts. They even eat their own kind-why would they pity a human girl? I really don’t understand this Mirror Demon’s motives.”

Si Nan corrected her, “Boss, you’re too narrow-minded. Haven’t you read Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio?”

“Those who are not of the same kind must walk different paths.” Tan Zhen glanced at Si Nan with a smile. “But if Little Qilin falls for some girl in the future, I believe Xueting would be happy to go propose marriage.”

Pei Xueting had been called “boss,” “brat,” and “debt collector,” but never had anyone addressed her as intimately and naturally as “Xueting.” It was so sticky and seamless that she couldn’t even find a reason to get angry. Especially when Tan Zhen turned to her with a seemingly casual smile, she found it even harder to say anything.

Si Nan was completely oblivious to his boss’s subtle psychological activity, still stewing in his own indignation at being teased. After a while, he finally remembered to ask, “Also, boss, when exactly did I fall under the Mirror Demon’s spell?”

Pei Xueting stared at him in disbelief. “You want to ask again? Why don’t you wait until your video of flying naked across the sky goes viral before you ask? You still don’t get it at this point?”

Tan Zhen, barely hiding his schadenfreude, maintained a dignified demeanor and said reservedly, “It was the eyes, wasn’t it?”

Xia Tong’s eyes.

The moment Si Nan entered the hospital room, his reflection appeared in Xia Tong’s invisible eyes, and he stepped right into the illusion.

—

“I still have a chance. Please, the company must believe me. I was wronged…” Xia Jiang paced anxiously around the room, chattering endlessly to the person on the other end of the phone, his expression more colorful and changeable than the lights in a nightclub.

The other party was thoroughly annoyed and hung up before he could finish pledging his loyalty.

Xia Jiang stood there in a daze. After his chest heaved violently twice, he suddenly hurled his phone at the TV feature wall. The phone shattered into pieces. Fortunately, he wasn’t in that old house now, so he wouldn’t attract the neighbors’ scolding.

He had just been bailed out by his lawyer, only to find that the video of him and Cheng Hong force-feeding Xia Tong mangoes had been leaked online, along with Xia Tong’s genetic test report.

The media went into a frenzy, besieging him from all sides, so he had no choice but to hide in this house he’d never visited since buying it.

“How did it come to this?” Xia Jiang stared blankly at the shattered glass TV wall.

He wasn’t smart enough, so he worked hard at his studies; not handsome enough, so he was patient and tolerant with Cheng Hong; his professional skills weren’t top-notch, so he found another way in the field. He had tried so hard to live a good life-how had things come to this?

“Come to what?”

A charming, gentle female voice.

Xia Jiang jerked his head up and saw the alluring Cheng Hong standing by the floor-to-ceiling window. She looked much as she had in her youth, her every glance and gesture filled with tender affection. Yet Xia Jiang felt no romantic thoughts at all-he nearly wet his pants.
“How can you be… Weren’t you dead?” Xia Jiang kept retreating, almost landing right in the pile of shattered glass.

“And how do you know you’re still alive?” Cheng Hong raised one eyebrow.

“You’re that evil spirit! You killed her, and now you want to kill me!”

Xia Jiang’s face twisted with malice. He gripped a long, sharp shard of glass and stabbed fiercely at her snow-white neck. The door lock clicked open with a “ka-da,” and Song Xiaoming, still holding a piece of wire, saw the scene and was so terrified his soul nearly left his body. He rushed forward and grabbed Xia Jiang around the waist.

Unfortunately, Song Xiaoming was the kind of weakling who got winded just climbing stairs, so he didn’t manage to stop Xia Jiang completely. The shard in Xia Jiang’s hand left a thin, long cut on Cheng Hong’s neck, and then, tangled together in that awkward posture, Xia Jiang and Song Xiaoming tumbled to the floor.

Song Xiaoming had been stationed outside this house on Pei Xueting’s orders. The whole night had been uneventful, but just now, all the sounds around the house vanished. As a staunch materialist, Song Xiaoming found himself a good excuse-“better surveillance of the suspect”-and, trembling, picked the lock open.

The moment he entered, he saw Xia Jiang about to stab Cheng Hong. In a flash, he remembered the way Cheng Hong had died and decisively intervened.

Xia Jiang, in a daze, felt a chill on his neck and reached up to find his hand covered in blood. But the sensation vanished instantly, and in the next second, both the wound on his neck and the blood on his hand disappeared without a trace.

“You can’t kill her,” Song Xiaoming said, panting. “Because you don’t even know if you’re killing her or yourself! That’s how Cheng Hong died!”

“Tsk,” “Cheng Hong” tilted her head and smiled. “What a bother, a little mouse has come in.”

“Cheng Hong” picked up the shard of glass from the floor and smiled, “Since you won’t kill me, then I’ll just have to kill you both.”

Her expression changed abruptly as she lunged at Song Xiaoming. Instinctively, Song Xiaoming raised his arms to shield his head. Just as she was about to touch him, a burst of golden light exploded from his chest. “Cheng Hong” screamed in agony, her whole body flung backward.

Song Xiaoming stared at his chest in shock and confusion. In the pocket on his chest was the business card Pei Xueting had casually slipped in earlier. It read “Air Conditioner Repair, Range Hood Cleaning, Professional On-Site Service,” but between the lines, intricate, ancient runes shimmered with light.

Pei Xueting had actually tossed him a Talisman. Song Xiaoming was so moved he almost cried. Just as his tears were welling up, the business card slowly turned to ash and vanished.

The Talisman was single-use after all.

“Cheng Hong” wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with one hand, sneered, and lunged again.

With the reflexes honed from his high school PE exam, Song Xiaoming dragged the limp, dog-like Xia Jiang into the room and slammed the door shut. He hadn’t even caught his breath when he heard the light footsteps of a woman inside the room.

Song Xiaoming stiffly turned his head. In the study, there was a display cabinet, its glass polished to a spotless shine-perfectly reflecting his stunned expression and “Cheng Hong” approaching, holding the glass shard.

Driven by desperation, Song Xiaoming suddenly grabbed his phone and smashed the glass to pieces. Immediately, he heard a mocking snicker in the thick, suffocating air. On the window glass by the door, “Cheng Hong” suddenly pounced.

Song Xiaoming, scared out of his wits, dragged the dazed Xia Jiang and rolled out of the way, watching helplessly as “Cheng Hong” closed in.

He knew there was no escape.

Why do you people have so much glass in your house anyway!

Song Xiaoming was filled with grief and indignation. Was he really going to die on the job less than a month in? He hadn’t even touched the quarterly bonus Pei Xueting had dangled in front of him like a carrot… What would his corpse look like? If it was like Cheng Hong’s, that would be too awful.

Resigned to his fate, Song Xiaoming closed his eyes.

Suddenly, the sound of blazing fire and scorching wind erupted, and a wave of heat shattered the window. Thin golden flames pierced through “Cheng Hong’s” body, winding from her heart around her bones. “Cheng Hong” tried to struggle, but every bone in her body creaked as if bound by ropes, burning with charred black marks.

Song Xiaoming’s vision blurred for a moment, and then he saw Pei Xueting.

“Yeah, yeah, just leave it at the door,” Pei Xueting said, one hand pulling a rope, the other answering a call from the delivery guy.

She stood imposingly on the shattered window, like a rogue breaking in to snatch a noble lady.

The rogue tipped her chin at Song Xiaoming and asked, “Do you eat snail noodles?”

Footnote:
1. Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio(聊斋志异): A famous collection of classical Chinese stories featuring supernatural elements, ghosts, and fantastical events.