Chapter 4: Origin

The tour guide found her question strange, so he stepped inside to take a look. Sure enough, in the corner of the room diagonally opposite the window on the right side just past the door, there were still traces of melted candle wax on the floor. His expression soured at once.

Lighting a candle in the corner was bad luck, after all.

Granny explained matter-of-factly, “Some outsiders wandered in here by mistake earlier. They must have left it there without thinking.”

Ye Chan poked her head into the room for a glance, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as she laughed it off. “Oho, Ghost Blows Lantern? Looks like the last backpacker who crashed here was a fellow fan. Sis, you superstitious about this stuff? No problem—we’ll just light it by the bed instead.”

Gu Xianwang pressed her lips together and said nothing.

The tour guide hurriedly smoothed things over with a couple of vague words, eager to get everyone settled and put this night behind them.

If it weren’t for the need to keep an eye on the group’s safety tonight, he’d have no desire to bunk down on the floor in this eerie place. Even crashing on the bus would beat it.

Ye Chan had caught a short nap on the bus earlier, and as a dedicated night owl, she was wide awake now—and ravenous. She craned her neck and called out, “Granny, got anything to eat around here? I’ll pay for it.”

Everyone had wolfed down a hasty group lunch to stay on schedule, so pretending not to be hungry would have been a lie. Real food would be a godsend.

The tour guide had been hoping to avoid any more hassle, but Granny took the initiative, chatting him up about it.

“Granny here’s got branded pot—grilled right over the fire pit outside. Who’s hungry? No charge; the travel agency’s covering it.”

The two young guys perked up at the mention of food and stuffed their instant noodle packs back into their bags, firing off questions about the menu.

These past few days, they’d been living on slurped noodles, stir-fried veggies, sour fish soup, and bean rice hotpot. Local branded pot was still on their must-try list. With the group’s spirits lifting, the lady even pitched in from the kitchen.

Sara and Long Li picked the inner room, right next to Granny’s. On this mission, they’d packed light—just the essentials in a single travel bag each, kept close at hand.

Sara dropped her bag, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Long, what’d you spot?”

Long Li stowed her own bag on the upper bunk, parted the curtains for a peek at the narrow canal out back, and gave the area under the bed boards a thorough once-over before replying slowly, “This village isn’t meant for the living. Bells dangle from all four corners of the room, paper lanterns hang at the door, and yellow paper Chen talismans are pasted beneath the bed. It’s rigged for travelers borrowing a spot on corpse-driving routes.”

“Oh.” Sara shrugged it off; corpse driving held zero interest for her. She scoffed. “And that woman?”

“Her eyesight is exceptional.”

Sara curled her lip. “Oho, exceptional enough to catch your eye? What, x-ray vision?”

Long Li fished a dagger with a cowhide sheath from her bag and tucked it into the side of her boot. “Night vision like that takes training from childhood. You must’ve heard of Southern Barbarian Treasure Spotting back in your Xisha days. It’s one of their signature child skills.”

“Heh, told you something was off about her. This morning at Basha Village, she clocked those carvings in the Ancestral Tree too.” Sara passed her phone over. “Check this out—info that came through right after you two got off the bus.”

The screen displayed a crisp photo of Gu Xianwang’s personal profile.

Born July 1987, Suzhou resident. Father: long-haul truck driver, deceased in an accident. Mother: schoolteacher, institutionalized long-term in a nursing home due to illness.

Occupation: …

“Just a performer.” Sara picked at the chipped black nail polish on her fingertip. “Small-time one, too. But her master? That’s someone—Shang Ruyun, the Capital City’s own Ninth Master Shang.”

Long Li knew little of the Pear Garden set and had zero interest in opera, but the name Ninth Master rang a vague bell. “Shang Ruyun?”

“Yeah. He’s over seventy and still going strong. Good luck digging up his early history—it’s been scrubbed clean. Word is he got his start in Tianjin, with shady ties to the Thieves’ Sect back in the day. Deep connections, that one. Eventually shifted to the stage full-time and built quite the reputation. Doesn’t take many apprentices; she’s one of the few.”

Thieves’ Sect.

Out in jianghu, beyond the Three Religions Nine Classes, lay the Outer Eight Professions: Gold Pointers, Beggars, Highwaymen, Thieves, Tomb Robbers, Mountain Walkers, Fire Leaders, and Water Divers—the so-called Five Trades Three Families. Shady business, all of it, dressed up in self-important lingo. Most had links to the Thieves’ Sect.

Treasure Spotting stood apart, though. Northern Xiangling, Southern Treasure Spotting: same game, hunting Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures from unclaimed sources. They steered clear of Thieves’ Sect entanglements.

The trade attracted lone operators, or so the saying went—fiercely independent types, impossible to pin down.

The biggest difference between Southern Barbarian Treasure Hunters and the North Faction’s Xiang Ling lay in their scouting techniques. It was much like how tomb robbing had branched into schools like Touching Gold and Move Mountain. The North Faction Xiang Ling also emphasized the arts of observation, listening, inquiry, and palpation, and they preferred to operate in groups. But the key to Southern Barbarian Treasure Hunting was a pair of eyes honed by the Eye Technique.

Legend had it that any Treasure Hunter initiate was locked in a dark room before the age of three to train, until they could discern objects clearly even in total darkness. Then they had to learn the Turtle Pearl Vein Method from their master, enabling them to see the aura of treasures invisible to ordinary eyes. Only then could their Eye Technique be considered complete.

In the chaotic early Republican era, with fish and dragons mingling freely and Tianjin Port as a major hub, if Ninth Master Shang had truly started out from Tianjin, it meant he had real skills. Combined with his upbringing in Pear Garden, where he had trained in the opera arts from childhood, it wasn’t impossible for his disciple Gu Xianwang to have picked up some Treasure Spotting techniques.

“If she’s really a Treasure Spotter, her showing up here isn’t good news,” Sara said, cupping her ear to listen to the sounds in the courtyard, her voice low. “We might as well just do her in. She’s got no family or ties anyway, and her background’s probably shady. Out here in these deep woods, who would know what kind of accident it was?”

Long Li shot her a sidelong glance and handed back the phone. “This trip is far more perilous than before. Don’t stir up unnecessary trouble.”

“Heh, I was just talking off the cuff. She’s only a little opera girl—it’s not like she can turn the world upside down on her own. But… whatever we’re after, no one else can even think about touching it.”

Her final words carried a sinister edge, and there wasn’t a hint of jest in them.

Long Li made no comment, simply walking past her and opening the door. “Let’s go.”

~~~

The fire in the courtyard blazed vigorously, with a round iron griddle set over the fire pit at its center. In the middle melted snow-white lard they had rendered themselves. The firewood pot heated up quickly, and soon the white fat turned into golden oil. Granny first added a plate of neatly sliced, paper-thin pork belly, frying it until the aroma rose. Then she tossed in onion segments, garlic cloves, and green peppers for a quick stir-fry, infusing the rich oil scent with new layers of fragrance.

Besides the fresh pork belly, there was beef tenderloin and lesser cuts, plus homemade cured bacon from the New Year holidays. The soaked bacon, sliced into translucent sheets, sizzled in the oil, its fragrance enough to make anyone stamp their feet in delight.

There weren’t enough little stools and wooden chairs, so Granny and the ladies sat while the rest held plates and stood around the edges to eat. Still, the scene buzzed with lively energy.

With hot food warming their bellies and cups of mountain-brewed liquor as clear as highland stream water, the faint awkwardness between the group members seemed to melt away like the misty vapor rising from the crackling orange-red night fire.

Auntie had downed half a cup of liquor, her face flushed red, her voice booming. Spotting Long Li and Sara arriving fashionably late, she hurriedly handed them plates and dipping sauce. “Perfect timing—the tofu’s just done frying. Look at that crispy edge! Hey, Xiao Ye, check if the inside of this potato’s cooked through?”

Without giving them a chance to refuse, she piled each of their plates with a chopstickful of beef, a big slab of fried tofu, and some celery segments.

Sara despised the taste of celery and dodged it while eyeing Auntie, who was blissfully unaware of her own overzealous hospitality.

“Really? Those backpackers never found it afterward?” Ye Chan, seated by the griddle, shoveled in another chopstick of large intestine, chased it with a gulp of baijiu, and raised her voice to ask.

Granny hunched over, flipping the food with wooden chopsticks in one hand. “Mm, never heard a thing. Those folks snuck off with stuff from the Ancient Stockade and ran into the woods there—Dead Man’s Ditch. Even we don’t dare go. It’s been years, and no one’s ever found a trace.”

Ye Chan was a little tipsy now, rubbing her heated, flushed eyes. “Yeah, coming to a place like this means sticking with a proper tour group. What were they thinking, wandering off on their own? No way to call for help if something goes wrong.”

She reached out with her chopsticks again, picking up a piece of potato strip fried to a crisp crust and placing it on Gu Xianwang’s plate nearby. “Sister, try this. These potatoes are the most fragrant.”

Sara snorted with laughter. “You’re right about that. If you don’t have the diamond drill, don’t take on the porcelain job. Folks who don’t know their limits usually end up dying horribly.”

Ye Chan turned her head and glanced over, seeing Sara’s almond-shaped phoenix eyes narrowed like a fox’s as she sized up Gu Xianwang. Ye Chan pitched her voice higher in kind. “Hey, sister, have you ever run into those types who—hiss—half-ass everything? They’re nowhere to be found when there’s work to do, but the second it’s time for chit-chat, they pop up like they’re everyone’s dad?”

Gu Xianwang had changed into a fresh set of clothes earlier and removed her makeup. Now she wore casual Arc’teryx gear, her soft black hair tied back in a ponytail, with one loose strand curving around her neck to rest against the exposed half of her collarbone. Her legs, slender as jade bamboo, were crossed neatly. She looked utterly clean and pure, like a classmate alongside Ye Chan.

Lost in thought about something, she blinked vaguely at the words, lifting her eyelids slightly. “Hm?”

Gu Xianwang’s features were already classically refined, and this upward glance lent her an air of innocence, like a yellow oriole. It tickled Ye Chan’s heartstrings, making her giggle and lean in closer.

“What I mean is, some people eat too much salt and love minding everyone else’s salty business.”

Everyone at the table had gotten a taste of Ye Chan the Chatterbox’s relentless chatter over the past few days. When they saw the tattooed beauty shut down like that, the guys nearby didn’t dare say a word. They all pursed their lips, dying to laugh but holding it in, their eyes glued to the food sizzling on the iron platters.

Sara clenched her fist at thin air and slammed her plate down. “Stuff yourself too full and you’ll end up with indigestion.” She spun on her heel, rolling her eyes at the group. “Long, I’m heading back.”

And off she went.

“Tch. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough to go around anyway. Perfect.”

With Sara gone, Long Li didn’t stick around much longer. The driver excused himself next, saying he needed to check on the bus again.

Granny stood up after that. She swept a glance over everyone’s plates, thumped her legs, and announced that she was getting on in years and needed her rest. She warned them not to wander around at night before shuffling back to her room.

The late-night snack dragged on until a little past midnight. The others trickled away one by one. Ye Chan was the holdout, yanking Gu Xianwang into endless small talk to close out the night. When they saw the tour guide stuck cleaning up alone, they took pity and pitched in to help.

By the time the two women made it back to their room, Gu Xianwang halted abruptly in front of the door.

Ye Chan blinked in confusion. “What’s up? Why not go in?”

Gu Xianwang eyed the slip of white paper fluttering from the crack under the door but said nothing.

She eased the door open with a gentle push. The room was pitch black inside, their luggage right where they’d left it. She made her way to her lower bunk and checked the zipper on her travel bag.

The zipper pull had swung to the other side.