The Night Watcher of Great Jing - Chapter 39

The maid who had begged Zhao Li for help was named Cuixiang. She was not a slave owned by the Zhao family, but had merely signed a ten-year indenture.

When Zhao Li heard that four children were involved, she could not turn a blind eye.

She told Zheng Lian to release her.

Lu Zhao took Lu Jianxing and continued their street patrol.

Zheng Lian and Li Qing followed Zhao Li, accompanying Cuixiang to a teahouse. They found a private room and went inside to question her.

Cuixiang sat trembling on a stool, clutching her cup. No one knew how long she had been consumed by worry, but she looked thoroughly haggard.

“My youngest brother is called Hutou. He is four this year. Someone from our village saw an old woman lure him away with spun-sugar candy and a pellet drum.”

Zhao Li considered for a moment before asking, “Do you know your brother’s Eight Characters of Birth?”

“I do.”

Cuixiang did not know why Zhao Li asked. She had sought Zhao Li only because she had seen her wearing a Flying Fish Robe—nothing more than a desperate appeal to anyone who might help.

In her panic, she recited the Eight Characters.

Zhao Li asked Zheng Lian to take her into the room next door, then sent Li Qing to borrow an old almanac from the teahouse proprietor.

After a quick divination, Zhao Li relaxed. The child had met with a great calamity, but his fate did not show an early death. He should still be alive.

The Four Pillars of his Eight Characters could confirm that much, but they could not reveal where he was.

In her old world, she could have submitted a report when she needed to find someone. A familiar spirit from the spirit-invocation department or a practitioner of rice divination could usually produce an answer quickly.

Here, however…

Zhao Li considered her options, and one person abruptly sprang to mind—the Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, Daoist Xuanxu!

Then she remembered how Daoist Xuanxu had repeatedly looked back and reminded her that she absolutely must visit the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. Zhao Li leaned out to check the position of the sun and decided to take this opportunity to go.

The Imperial Astronomical Bureau observed the heavens, surveyed the earth’s veins, and revised the calendar.

It occupied the tallest building in Shengjing.

Compared with the cold, austere Pacification Office, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau—with its golden glazed tiles and white jade stairs—appeared ethereal enough to house immortals.

Zhao Li sent Cuixiang home first. When she arrived with Zheng Lian and Li Qing, Daoist Xuanxu happened to be present.

They announced themselves to the guards at the entrance. Before long, the old Daoist came rushing down the long staircase, his hair and beard in disarray.

Looking at his slapdash appearance, Zhao Li could not decide whether to call him down-to-earth or simply careless.

“A-Li.”

The Yin-Gathering Pool and the Nether Script had raised Zhao Li’s favorability with Daoist Xuanxu to the maximum.

He had asked her countless times to join the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, and she had refused him just as often.

After repeatedly trying and failing to poach her in person, Shen Yan had placed him on the Pacification Office’s list of unwelcome visitors and stopped letting him through the gate at all.

Zhao Li stated her purpose directly.

Though Daoist Xuanxu still regretted her refusal, innocent children were involved. He set aside his attempts at persuasion and led Zhao Li and the others inside.

Eventually, they reached an isolated little courtyard.

Every plant around it was dead, leaving nothing but bare earth.

Before Zhao Li even approached, a bone-deep chill washed over her.

Hemp ropes strung with yellow talismans encircled the courtyard, as though binding something inside.

Could someone skilled in divination truly live here?

Zhao Li gave Daoist Xuanxu a skeptical look. She would have found it far easier to believe that a supernatural anomaly was sealed within.

Daoist Xuanxu received her gaze without comment. He stepped over the knotted rope, approached the door, and struck the beast-head knocker several times.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Four knocks?

Zhao Li paused, instantly going on guard.

Rustling footsteps soon came from behind the door.

It was opened by a thin young man with a hunched back.

“Director, is there something you wish to divine?”

The young man’s back curved at a terrifying angle, as though he could not raise his head. His head hung low while his eyes rolled upward to look at them.

An exaggerated, grotesque smile covered his face like a clown’s mask.

The corners of his mouth were stretched as wide as they could go. His eyes narrowed into crescents, their outer corners tilted upward.

The sight was frightening enough that Zheng Lian and Li Qing instinctively reached for their sabers.

“There is,” Daoist Xuanxu answered, plainly accustomed to the young man’s appearance.

The young man asked no further questions. Wearing that unnatural smile, he turned sideways and let them through.

Once inside, Zhao Li looked around and found the freezing courtyard unexpectedly full of domestic life.

Eggplants and peppers hung drying from racks. A swing had been tied to the branches of the large tree in the yard.

Beneath the eaves in one corner, Zhao Li also spotted a string of elegantly shaped rain chimes.

They entered the main room. A closed shrine occupied its most prominent position, concealing whatever was worshiped inside.

Before the shrine stood a sand tray for spirit writing and a planchette brush.

Acting as intermediary, Daoist Xuanxu introduced Zhao Li and her companions to the young man and explained why they had come.

The young man’s masklike smile remained unchanged, but urgency entered his voice.

“This is no small matter. Do you have the child’s Eight Characters of Birth?”

Zhao Li did not need to open the Mind’s Eye to know that something was wrong with him.

She restrained her curiosity and did not use the Mind’s Eye to peer at him. Yet the young man said gently, “Did I frighten you? I became like this after my wife passed away two years ago.”

Zhao Li frowned. “Have you never thought of resolving it?”

As though frightened by the suggestion, the young man waved his hands repeatedly.

“No, no, no. Things are good as they are. I can stay with A-Rui.”

His body remained stooped and his huge smile did not change, but when he spoke again, his voice turned impossibly tender.

“A-Rui and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together and were never apart. Things are good now. Even death cannot separate us.”

Having been single from birth through both her lives, Zhao Li could understand such deep devotion, but she could not approve.

“A supernatural anomaly lingering in the mortal world will ultimately harm itself and others. You will not live another two years.”

And that was without considering the risk that the anomaly might lose control.

The young man waved carelessly. “Even if I cannot live another two years, I accept it willingly.”

He lit incense, brought over the sand tray for spirit writing, smoothed out the ash inside, and set the planchette brush upright.

Then he folded the red paper bearing Cuixiang’s brother’s Eight Characters into a small square and placed it in his mouth.

Zhao Li watched this world’s spirit-writing ritual in silence, staring as intently as Daoist Xuanxu.

Zheng Lian and Li Qing, who had accompanied her, felt their skin crawl.

The young man entered the trance with extraordinary speed. Zhao Li had never seen a spirit-writing trance take hold so quickly.

Almost the instant his hand touched the planchette brush, his hunched back unfurled and straightened. He tipped his head toward the rafters, rolled his eyes back, and produced a rattling sound like ancient phlegm caught in his throat.

At the same time, the planchette brush hovering beneath his hand began to move across the tray of incense ash.

It drew line after line.

After a long time, the young man dragged in a great breath, and his back collapsed once more.

“The child is still alive.”

He seemed utterly exhausted and spoke between breaths, but his words filled the listeners with hope.

“I saw a dilapidated courtyard. There were many other children inside, and many large black earthenware vats nearby.”

When he finished, the young man panted heavily and coughed twice.

Conducting spirit writing was extremely draining. Now that they had obtained a clue, Zhao Li and the others took their leave.

The young man politely insisted on escorting them to the door.

He stood rigidly before it, still smiling.

Zhao Li slowed. She touched her brow, opened the Mind’s Eye, and looked back.

One glance stole the breath from her lungs.

A pair of legs curled over the young man’s shoulders. Two tiny feet, pointed like bamboo shoots, dangled over his chest, their weight forcing him to remain bent year after year.

Two deathly pale hands reached forward from behind him. The ring fingers hooked into the corners of his mouth and pulled them apart, propping up that grotesque smile.

“A-Lang, you must always be happy.”

An ethereal woman’s voice drifted to Zhao Li’s ears.