Though Guowei had assumed Ren was a normal corpse, I knew better. What condition was Ren in now? How long did he have before his qi faded? What if the spirit had already killed him? I bit the inside of my lip, refusing to believe it, to even dwell on such hopeless thoughts.
Rather than arguing as he had before, the baker simply grunted and disappeared out the door, folding it shut behind him.
In his absence, I glanced around the room, too awkward and tired to move. The furnishings were modest, with a sleeping mat and blanket rolled up against the far wall. Beneath the latticed window was a desk and a small two-drawer dresser painted with peonies. A clay vase sat on a cabinet to my right, bearing stalks of dried flowers reminiscent of the pressed blossoms my sister liked to collect.
I found a flattened cushion and stiffly knelt on it as I waited, my nose itching from a hint of dust. I breathed shallowly, head bent to still my throbbing skull.
The way Guowei had saidshe—almost with affection—made me suspect that he personally knew the evil spirit haunting Fuzhou’s forest. Perhaps he or his wife had information that could help me defeat her—information that was worth delaying Ren’s rescue.
The door unfolded, and a middle-aged woman stepped over the raised threshold, bearing a tray in her hands. Her white-streaked hair was pinned back in a low bun. The wrinkles lining her eyes matched the creases of her khaki ruqun, which appeared dusted with flour. Catching my gaze, the baker’s wife startled.
“Forgive me,” she said, laughing nervously. “My husband was right—youareyoung.”
I attempted a respectful bow. “I’m Kang Siying. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
I intentionally left out details of where I was from. While holy servants were accepted on both sides of the border, any mention of Sian could invite ill-timed antipathy.
The woman tutted and came closer, setting her tray on the floor between us. I briefly took in the contents—clean rags, a bowl of water, and a clay teapot paired with a cup already filled with steaming tea.
The baker’s wife examined my face and cringed. “My, my, dear. Even your ears are bleeding.”
I touched my right ear, my fingers coming away dark red. It must’ve been the evil spirit’s screaming, strong enough to knock me to the ground. No wonder my head spun.
Mistress Liu soaked a rag in water and held it toward my aching face. “May I?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I sat still while the older woman gently cleaned my wounds. Her careful touch brought to mind my own mother, and I recalled all the times in my childhood when I’d scraped a knee or cut my fingers while working too quickly with the Fu talismans. Mama would chide me for my carelessness, but as she dressed my injuries, her hands were always tender.
I inhaled, tucking my memories back into the locked chest in my head. Remembering my mother only reminded me of everything else I stood to lose.
When Mistress Liu finished, she handed me the tea, which had cooled enough to drink. “It’s jujube,” she said. “Good for blood loss. I added a bit of honey for your throat as well.”
“Mistress Liu,” I said after I’d taken a few sips of the lightly sweetened tea and felt my aches ease, “what can you tell me about the spirit who haunts the forest?”
The woman jerked, dropping the rag she’d been wringing back into the bowl of pinked water. Her trembling hands wiped at her skirt. After a moment of hesitation, she met my eyes with unexpected intensity. “So you truly are here to exorcise the ghost of Fuzhou Forest?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice steadier from the tea, “but it proved more difficult than expected. Any information you have would be a big help.”
The baker’s wife glanced at the door, as if expecting someone to burst in and stop her. When the night air remained still, she turned back to me and said, voice low, “What happens to an evil spirit when you exorcise it? Does it disappear? Or will it be able to move on to the next world?”
I recited what Baba had taught me. “Evil spirits are trapped here by their own lingering emotions—anger, grief, fear, and so on. Once purified, their emotional attachments will be severed, and their souls can peacefully depart into the next world.”
As for the remaining qi, it would either return to the earth—or be taken by one who needed it.
The relief on the woman’s face gentled her features, making her seem lighter. She nodded. “Very well. I’ll tell you everything, starting with the spirit’s name. It was—”
“Don’t say another word, woman.”
We both jolted at the sound of Liu Guowei’s voice. I’d been leaning forward, so eager to hear his wife speak that I’d failed to notice the man appearing in the open doorframe. I straightened, taking in his angry, grizzled face while my own lips pressed tightly.
“I told you to clean her up,” he continued, addressing his wife, “not to share private information with a stranger.”
“She’s a priestess,” Mistress Liu countered. “She can exorcise—”
“I know what she is.” He folded his arms, his disapproval evident even as he avoided looking directly at me. “But we already decided—”
“No,youdecided,” his wife spat with surprising bitterness. “You didn’t care what I thought, what with your foolish man’s pride. All you care about is vengeance. But our daughter deserves peace.”
