Chapter 9: A Meeting of Beauties
“Hmm?”
Lin Tianlu looked at the figure standing at his gate with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
It was a woman he had never seen before.
Her raven hair was pulled back in an elegant braid, secured with a jade hairpin. Her features were striking, her eyes large and expressive, her lips full and inviting. A subtle air of sensuality clung to her, a hint of mischief dancing in her gaze.
She was tall and curvaceous, her figure accentuated by a long, flowing robe and a high-waisted skirt. A sheer shawl draped over her shoulders, its delicate fabric clinging to her curves, revealing glimpses of smooth, creamy skin beneath the moonlight.
Their eyes met, and a flicker of surprise crossed the woman’s face. But she quickly recovered, bowing gracefully. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good… uh, may I ask what brings you here at this late hour?” Lin Tianlu asked, his tone hesitant.
The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I live in the house across the street, sir. My husband passed away some years ago, and I’ve been raising my daughter alone. It’s not proper for a widow to socialize freely, so I thought it best to wait until things were quiet before introducing myself. I hope you understand.”
Lin Tianlu nodded, a wave of sympathy washing over him.
Widows in this era faced considerable social constraints.
Even the slightest hint of impropriety could ruin their reputation, leaving them vulnerable to gossip and slander.
“I apologize for not visiting you sooner,” he said politely, returning her bow. “I was busy cleaning the house today. It seems I’ve made you go out of your way.” He paused. “May I ask your name?”
“Please, sir, there’s no need to apologize. You may call me Mao Ruoyu.” She shook her head gently, her voice soft and melodious. She reached into the folds of her shawl, retrieving a small, beautifully wrapped package. “Please accept this, sir. I baked these pastries myself. They’re still warm.”
Lin Tianlu stammered, flustered by her unexpected gesture. “This… this is too kind. I should be the one bringing gifts. You shouldn’t have…”
“It’s nothing, sir. I just wanted to make a good impression on my new neighbor. And I’ve heard whispers that you’re a scholar. Perhaps, if the opportunity arises, you could offer my daughter some guidance in her studies. These pastries are just a small token of my appreciation.”
Lin Tianlu hesitated for a moment, then accepted the gift.
“I’ll be sure to return the favor tomorrow,” he promised.
Mao Ruoyu smiled warmly. “If there’s anything you need, sir, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m quite familiar with Changling County. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
“Thank you, Madam Mao.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways. Lin Tianlu watched as she disappeared into the house across the street, her figure receding into the shadows.
…
“Women in this era… they dress rather daringly,” he mused to himself.
Despite the shawl, her attire had been surprisingly revealing, offering tantalizing glimpses of her ample bosom.
Thankfully, he had seen enough images in his previous life to maintain his composure.
He closed the gate and returned to the house, unwrapping the package carefully. A delicate fragrance wafted up, mingling with the warmth of the freshly baked pastries.
“She’s a good baker,” he thought, surprised by the quality of the treats.
He picked up a pastry, its white surface smooth and inviting. He took a bite, savoring the soft, melt-in-your-mouth texture. A subtle sweetness lingered on his tongue, followed by a refreshing coolness.
“Mint, perhaps? These are delicious. I should ask her for the recipe. Mastering the culinary arts of this world wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
He chuckled to himself, his mind wandering as he browsed the bookshelves lining the walls of his new study.
The previous owner had been an avid reader, his collection encompassing a wide range of subjects: history, philosophy, poetry, even tales of the supernatural.
Lin Tianlu scanned the titles, eager to find something that piqued his interest.
But as he opened a book, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Is this… regular script?”
He had forgotten that ancient Chinese used a different writing system.
He sighed.
He could still decipher the characters, with some effort. And the scholar’s memories were slowly merging with his own, making the task easier.
Whooooosh!
A gust of wind rattled the windows, sending a chill through the room. The candle flame flickered, threatening to go out.
Lin Tianlu grabbed the book he had been browsing and hurried over to the candle, shielding it with his hands until the wind died down.
“That was close. I don’t want to have to go searching for another source of light.”
Whooooosh!
“Huh?” He had just picked up another pastry when the wind returned, its icy fingers reaching through the cracks in the window frame.
The candle flame danced wildly, its light dimming precariously. But it held on, stubbornly refusing to be extinguished.
“This is getting annoying. No electricity, no light bulbs… life in ancient times is inconvenient. I can’t even open a window without risking plunging the house into darkness.”
He walked over to the window and slammed it shut, securing the latch firmly.
“That should do it… huh?!”
He stared at the candle, its flame flickering once more, and rushed back to shield it with his hand.
“What’s going on? Is there a draft in here?”
He examined the walls and windows, but he couldn’t find any obvious gaps or cracks.
“This is strange. Maybe the candle is faulty? Cheap materials?”
He returned to his seat, a puzzled frown on his face. He continued reading, one hand shielding the candle, the other holding a pastry.
“I’ll buy some new candles tomorrow. And maybe a lampshade.”
It wasn’t the most comfortable reading position, but it was manageable. It was certainly better than his days on Mount Taiyi.
At least he had a soft bed now.
He could stay up late, reading by candlelight, instead of collapsing into exhausted sleep the moment the sun set. Those weeks of living like a hermit had made him feel like an old man.
…
Meanwhile, in a dilapidated house across the street, cobwebs clinging to the rafters, Mao Ruoyu sat hunched over a table, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her fingers moved in a series of intricate gestures, her lips moving silently as she chanted an incantation.
“Extinguish! Extinguish! Extinguish!”
Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, her jaw clenched tight.
But no matter how hard she tried, the candle flame in Lin Tianlu’s study refused to go out. It flickered and danced, but it stubbornly clung to life.
“Why… why isn’t it working?! My Soul-Snatching Candle… it’s never failed me before!”
She had sensed the flame weakening, had even allowed herself a moment of triumph, only to see it flare back to life. The emotional rollercoaster was driving her mad.
Once or twice, she could have dismissed it as a fluke. But this had been going on for over an hour!
“Is the candle malfunctioning? Did the wick get damp?”
“Doesn’t he feel the chill? The ghostly energy permeating the room? Isn’t he afraid?!”
“He ate all those Bewitching Pastries… why isn’t he falling asleep?!”
“Stop reading those boring books! You’ll strain your eyes! Go to bed!”
Frustration and desperation etched themselves onto her beautiful features.
She clenched her fists, her teeth grinding together as she glared in the direction of Lin Tianlu’s house.
“I refuse to believe… that you can stay awake all night! The moment you let your guard down, I’ll show you… the true power of my soul-snatching magic!”
…
The next morning, Mao Ruoyu slumped over her table, her hair disheveled, dark circles under her eyes. She mumbled to herself, her voice thick with exhaustion.
“Why… wouldn’t he sleep?”
She had stayed up all night, channeling her energy, focusing her will.
But her efforts had been in vain. The Soul-Snatching Candle and the Bewitching Pastries had failed to have any effect.
She, on the other hand, was exhausted, her vision blurry, her mind foggy. She had even dozed off for a few minutes, despite her best efforts to stay awake.
