Chapter 11

The Ever-Burning Lamp cradled in the Old Abbot’s palm showed nothing out of the ordinary. Half a vessel’s worth of oil remained in the white porcelain dish, and the wick had fallen outside it, its surface covered in a layer of char.

“Since I’ve taken charge of the Buddha Hall, this is the first Ever-Burning Lamp to go out,” the Old Abbot said, his face etched with worry. “Will it cause any problems?”

“Don’t worry,” Xue Tong replied as she took the lamp vessel into her own hands. “All things arise and perish according to their own fate. It simply ran its course… Yuan Jie, you’re quite fortunate. These lamps have burned here for who knows how many years, yet despite your middling cultivation, you got to witness one flicker out.”

“…” Yan Qing held his breath, terrified that his boss might say something rude and offend the powerfully built abbot.

“Amitabha.” Yuan Jie smiled. “It must be my karma as a humble monk.”

“Also, there’s one more thing I must ask of you,” Yuan Jie continued, lowering his gaze demurely. He had carefully maneuvered Xue Tong into the temple precisely for this request. “Lately, otherworldly entities have been disturbing the area around Soaring Firmament Temple. They’ve already claimed one human life. I went down the mountain to investigate earlier, and the air was thick with resentment—but it was beyond my ability to handle.”

“Even you couldn’t deal with it?” Xue Tong frowned slightly. “No wonder they assigned the task to me.”

With that, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a single hyacinth flower, its petals a vivid blue-purple. The bloom was remarkably fresh, its petals soft and tender to the touch. Hyacinths never grew alone, though, so plucking such an isolated specimen must have taken considerable effort.

“What’s this?” Yuan Jie asked.

“A token,” Xue Tong said, turning to Xun Ruosu. “That little ghost Zhang Yue followed you here, which wasn’t originally my responsibility. But since you’re my half-body, exorcising him counts toward my merits. Whenever a job comes my way—something I can see—it manifests as one of these tokens.”

Xun Ruosu listened intently.

“After death, no matter what form a soul takes, its obsession clings to certain objects. Take Zhang Yue’s suona, for instance, or this hyacinth. Accepting the token binds you to the karma. Even if you try to back out, fate will conspire to drag you back in through one coincidence or another.”

“What if you don’t accept it?” Xun Ruosu asked, secretly tempted to do just that.

Xue Tong twirled the hyacinth between her fingers. “You could always try.”

“I won’t,” Xun Ruosu said, declining to tempt fate. “Xue Tong, have you noticed that whenever you’re trying to tease someone, the corner of your eye narrows just a bit?”

“…” Did it?

Even a fool like Yan Qing, with ears to hear, could tell by now that his boss had come to Soaring Firmament Temple with a purpose. She had no intention of leaving before nightfall, and all that talk on the way up about “broad daylight under clear skies” being safe had been nothing but smokescreen.

The other three spoke freely in front of him, sending Yan Qing’s hackles rising and his knees knocking. He began to wonder if he’d done something wicked in his life—

My boss has been so good to me—there must be a catch! Is she planning to sell me or eat me?!

Given the situation, Yan Qing figured the latter was more likely.

“B-Boss…” Yan Qing stammered, pointing at the blue-purple hyacinth. “What exactly do you do for a living?”

Exorcisms? Merits? And what was that about lingering resentment the old monk mentioned?!

Yan Qing had found the part-time gig online. The ad had said it was just private driving for the boss—no clocking in required. He’d fired off his resume in a broad-net approach to job hunting, and within hours, he’d gotten a call for an interview.

Xue Tong’s stunning looks were dangerously deceptive. As a young guy not yet twenty, Yan Qing hadn’t harbored any improper thoughts, but he’d let his guard down anyway. Over the two or three months he’d worked for her this semester, he’d tolerated her nocturnal habits and odd quirks. Only now, piecing it all together, did a chill run down his spine.

Perhaps sensing his rising panic, Xun Ruosu drew a copper coin from her sleeve and handed it to him. “Don’t be scared. Your boss isn’t a ghost—she’s worse than one.”

That’s a fierce ghost!

Yan Qing screamed inwardly.

“…Boss, I quit,” Yan Qing said, raising his hand.

“Sure thing,” Xue Tong replied with a friendly smile. “But the car you drove up is mine. Since you’re quitting, you’ll have to find your own way back.”

She paused, then added, “Taxis are easy to catch at the front mountain, but the back isn’t open to the public. No other vehicles can come up here. If you head out now and don’t get lost, you might make it to the front by nightfall.”

It was already past four, and even with summer’s long days, the light would fade by six or seven. Soaring Firmament Mountain was the tallest peak in Clear Canal County, and the land beyond the back temple gate was untouched wilderness, choked with trees and underbrush. Wandering in alone wouldn’t just mean failing to circle to the front—it could turn into a multi-day survival ordeal.

“…” Yan Qing deflated. “I won’t quit.”

“Amitabha,” the Old Abbot interjected. Ever the good soul, he stepped in to stop the two formidable women from terrorizing the young man. “We’ve prepared rooms in the temple, young benefactor. Rest easy—as long as you don’t wander at night, your life won’t be in danger.”

The Old Abbot lacked Xun Ruosu’s skill in sky-gazing divination. He’d assumed Xue Tong, with her luxurious tastes, rarely handled chores herself and might bring a driver up the mountain. He hadn’t anticipated Xun Ruosu as an extra.

Soaring Firmament Temple’s incense burned brightly, and its nunnery was open to the public like a guesthouse, taking online bookings that filled up a week in advance. A recent murder halfway up the mountain had prompted some cancellations, but it had also scared off guests from nearby hotels and inns, turning the temple’s vacated rooms into hot commodities.

The Old Abbot had pulled strings to secure just two adjoining rooms in the monks’ dormitory—quietly situated, one side bordered by a bamboo grove stretching miles, the other near his own abbot’s quarters.

A three-meter-high white courtyard wall separated the dormitory from the abbot’s quarters, though. With the gate shut, even thieves and prowlers would struggle to get in.

Xun Ruosu and Xue Tong stood before the rooms. None of the four spoke first. The Old Abbot adopted a hands-off stance: I’ve cleared the rooms—sort out the arrangements yourselves; I’m staying out of it.

Thus, all eyes turned to Yan Qing.

He wanted to cry. “The abbot said there’s only one bed per room. You dragged me up this mountain—surely I’m not sleeping on the floor?”

The place was too wild—who knew what snakes, bugs, rats, or ants might crawl around at night!

Yan Qing looked so pitiful, huddling near the courtyard’s locust tree as if it were his last ally in this den of thieves.

In a rare moment of mercy, Xun Ruosu said, “I probably won’t sleep tonight anyway. Sitting in the courtyard will do just as well.”

“…” What are you waiting for out there in the dead of night?!

The little voice in Yan Qing’s head screamed itself hoarse.

“You room with me,” Xue Tong said, a touch of impatience creeping in. “You don’t know the full story yet. According to the old monk, whatever’s haunting these mountains is most likely a resentful ghost—one that’s already killed. You carry a heavy yin energy; you’re a magnet for trouble.”

The little voice in Yan Qing’s head promptly hanged itself.

Though the Old Abbot had taken vows young, his years exposed him to plenty of worldly drama. True to his word, he washed his hands of the matter. Only once the three had sorted their rooms did he chant, “Amitabha.”

“Benefactors, the refectory opens for an hour and a half each for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Evening meal starts at five—Xue Tong has visited before, so she can guide you. You’re in the monks’ dormitory, close to my abbot’s quarters, and the neighboring courtyard houses other monks. If you need anything, just ask. We’ll do our best to provide.”

Xue Tong seemed faintly irritable, perhaps from the summer heat, and merely smoothed her lips without replying. Xun Ruosu spoke up instead. “If you could fetch me some yellow paper, a box of cinnabar, and a writing brush, Abbot—that would be ideal. And if the temple has any bronze artifacts—preferably cast copper coins—two of those as well.”

The Old Abbot nodded. “They’ll be delivered to your room after dinner… Please rest for now. Tomorrow morning, before the front temple opens, I’ll bring the temple warden to discuss the resentful ghost in detail. He saw some things with his own eyes.”

With that, the Old Abbot shouldered his cassock and withdrew from the small courtyard.

While they had been talking, the courtyard hummed faintly with life. Now, sudden quiet fell, broken only by the lonely rustle of wind through the bamboo. Yan Qing shivered.

He feared nothing in life—not even at seventeen, when he’d bravely intervened in a crime. But the word “ghost” chilled him to the bone.

“Tonight, no matter what noises you hear, lock the doors and windows, stay in bed without moving, and tuck the copper coin I gave you under your pillow,” Xun Ruosu instructed. She dealt with the living often enough to seem approachable, unlike Xue Tong, and added, “It might get cold tonight. Bundle up.”

Yan Qing nodded solemnly, his face as long as a horse’s, wishing he could jot her words down on paper lest he accidentally break some taboo and encounter a ghost in the night.

The two rooms faced each other across a square courtyard, dominated by a towering locust tree so thick two adults couldn’t encircle its trunk. It had to be at least a century old. Beneath sprawled a stone table and stools, the table square as well. Strangest of all, a square incense burner was welded atop it—a perfect cube.

The courtyard lay on the mountain’s shadowed rear side. The locust tree’s dense canopy blocked most sunlight, and with southern summer’s humid air deprived of warmth, only a clammy chill lingered. The feng shui here was downright peculiar; without profound blessings, any occupant could meet with disaster.

The Old Abbot had arranged it this way to let Xue Tong commune easily with ghosts.

“Hot?” Xun Ruosu finally asked Xue Tong once Yan Qing had been shooed inside, seizing a spare moment.

It had been two hours since they’d left the air-conditioned car.