The corner of Ren’s mouth twitched, the slightest sign that he was perturbed. After a long pause, he confessed, “I’d like to find her killer, of course. But I can’t do anything until I’m fully recovered.”
I nodded. Though he said little, it was clear that even he had his own reasons for returning to Hulin. Surprisingly, I hoped he got what he wanted.
At nightfall, we returned to the road and traveled another full day. By the next sunset, the town of Guangli spread out across the landscape before us, its left wing tapering into a glittering lake. The lanterns lining the streets had already been lit, welcoming the evening quiet. The gauzy scent of smoke and mud tangled with the breeze.
I wanted to scout out the town before heading for its only mansion, which was rumored to be haunted by a former shamaness. My experience with Liu Chunhua had taught me to gather information instead of assuming what was true. I also wanted to be as prepared as possible should this spirit be even more dangerous.
As we entered the town, I realized that the residents hadn’t merely dotted the streets with light—they’d illuminated every corner and eave, every brazier and window. The town appeared to be made of lights, some pure white while others flickered red, gold, and green behind delicate dyed paper. Accustomed to the dark, my eyes took a moment to adjust.
Once they did, I noticed the stickers taped to each door and frame. I didn’t need to squint to recognize the protection charms inked across them.
Talismans. The town was covered in talismans.
“Excuse me,” I said, hailing a passing resident who bore a moon-round lantern in his hand. Politely, he stopped, although he appeared to be in a rush.
“Yes, miss?” he asked, too distracted to notice my priestess dress.
“Is there a festival happening?” I gestured to the lights glowing like the skies of the gods. “If so, where are all the people?”
Save for the man and a few stragglers wandering up and down the lane, the area was unnaturally empty.
“No, no festival, miss.” The man’s eyes darted nervously up the street. “We must light the lanterns every night to keep the evil away.”
An icy finger trailed up my spine. “What evil?”
“The evil that resides in Jing Mansion.” He shuddered, his free hand crushing the sleeve of his opposite arm.
“We’re actually here to visit the mansion,” Ren said. Once again, he had tucked his Fu talisman into his hood.
The man sucked in a sharp breath. He examined us more closely, his gaze lingering on my staff. “Are you exorcists?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“Then you may as well turn back. Every exorcist who has attempted to purify Jing Mansion has—”
“Failed?” Ren finished for him. “It’s all right. We’ve dealt with dangerous spirits before.”
“No, you don’t understand.” The man’s fear was palpable, like cold static radiating off his body. “They didn’t just fail. They never left the mansion.”
I frowned. “You didn’t send officers to investigate?”
“No officer dares step foot on the mansion grounds. Travelers won’t even enter our town boundaries, so terrifying is the power of that mansion.” He grimaced. “Lack of tourism has really dented our coffers, you know. The mansion has taken much from us—money, our dignity, peace of mind… The constant threat of war doesn’t help matters either.” He sighed. “Still, we can do nothing but light the lanterns.”
“Tell me about the evil in the mansion,” I said, speaking quickly before he tired of the conversation and decided to dash off. “Who or what haunts it?”
He glanced away again, fidgeting. “The mansion was once the grand estate of the Jing clan. They helped found this town alongside another family, the Chius. The Chius eventually left, but the Jings remained, their family bringing much joy and wealth to our town. Until last year.”
“What happened last year?” Ren asked, baited by the man’s dramatic pause.
“An inauspicious wedding, that’s what. The eldest son, JingRuchang, brought home a mysterious bride named Yuyan. At first, the whole town celebrated his happiness. Yuyan was beautiful and young, with a well-bred air that promised a strong match. But we realized too late the madness behind her pretty facade. She was a practitioner of dark magic, and she used her art to slaughter every resident in Jing Mansion, including her husband and, finally, herself. Now her spirit remains, threatening our town.”
“How terrible,” murmured Ren.
“Yes,” I agreed, “but why did she do it? What prompted her to commit mass murder?”
The man stared at me. “She was a shamaness—what reason did she need? The woman who discovered the massacre said the mansion was draped in blood and bodies. She ran away immediately but went mad shortly after. Yet another victim of the monster who lives there.”
I pressed my lips together, irked by his harsh rhetoric. He seemed particularly scornful of women who practiced the spiritual arts, women like Mistress Ming and myself.
