They found his body? Gu Xianwang froze. Did that mean all her earlier suspicions about the tour guide had been off the mark?
Not only that—she bore some responsibility for his death. After all, she was the one who had led him to the Yelang Clan’s altar, and she hadn’t managed to get him out in the end.
Ye Chan pocketed her phone and mustered a comforting smile. “We don’t have the details yet. Once this wraps up, I’ll head back and dig around. Sister Gu, you mustn’t blame yourself.”
Gu Xianwang shook her head. She had felt a flicker of guilt over the tour guide’s fate, but her mind quickly pivoted from his misfortune to Long Li’s safety. Everyone still trapped in that altar, their lives hanging in the balance, had been like unopened blind boxes to her before. Now the first one had been revealed, and she could no longer kid herself into hoping for the best. What if they were all dead?
In that moment, she itched to book the next flight back to Guizhou. Dead or alive, she needed to see it with her own eyes.
Impulse aside, though, all she could do was sit there twiddling her thumbs. For one thing, she had to wait out this so-called auction. For another, the sinkhole was still under excavation, which meant the tomb raiders hadn’t pulled out yet. If she rushed back now, her master would probably haul her home the second she stepped off the plane.
At the heart of it, her real problem was a lack of connections and intel. If only she had an inside contact among the tomb raiders, she wouldn’t feel so helpless. Her gaze drifted once more to the pair occupying the prime seats up front.
Ye Chan fired off a few more texts before picking up the thread. “I checked with my brother. The finale isn’t some object—it’s a piece of intelligence.”
“Intelligence?”
“Yeah, he made it sound all mysterious. Remember those nosy parkers in the jianghu who make a living selling secrets? The Flower Fair sometimes gets anonymous submissions for intel sales. After vetting, they auction it off like this.”
Gu Xianwang frowned. “But if it’s intelligence, why sell it out in the open?”
The stuff was sweet nectar to one buyer and bitter poison to the next—priceless only to those who needed it.
Ye Chan nodded. “That’s the real genius of the Flower Fair. It started as straight-up gambling: pick one of the thirty-four Flower Fair names, hit it right, and claim the pot. They use the same setup to throw people off. Those folks sitting stone-still? They’ve got preliminary scoops on this intel already and are here to dip a toe in.”
Gu Xianwang was still foggy on the details when the intermission ended. The stagehands cleared the display and erected a wall of bamboo joints—seven in a row, each split down the middle and bound with red cords that dangled like tassels. Every one bore the name of a Flower Fair etched on it.
Ye Chan leaned in. “Point is, the tomb raiders don’t vouch for the intel’s authenticity. Any outfit hooked by the teaser can roll the dice. Each joint ties to a different price tier for questions. Twists and turns galore—I don’t pretend to have it all figured out.”
Gu Xianwang caught on. “So we’ve got zero shot at glimpsing the real intel, huh?”
Ye Chan mulled it over. “Right. Buyer pays up, and the slip inside goes straight to them—no sharing.”
Then what was the point of them hanging around all this time?
Already, a few folks nearby were rising to leave. Ye Chan glanced their way. “Those must be the ones passing on the intel. My brother says not every Flower Fair peddles secrets. Sans intel, it’s all about the cocktail hour—networking, schmoozing, drumming up business.”
Gu Xianwang eyed the back door swinging open, torn. Ye Zhen wasn’t here; even if she wanted to buy in, she wouldn’t know how. No hope of cracking the intel now—sticking around was just burning time.
“Want to head out?”
“Huh? We’re this close to the end. Let’s see it through?”
Gu Xianwang half-rose, wavered, and sank back into her seat. The host had taken her place by the Flower Fair wall. She had just grabbed the mic when the hall’s speakers screeched with a teeth-grating burst of static. Before she could tweak it, the noise vanished—and a voice, warped through a modulator, boomed out.
“Hey there, jianghu friends. Burnt out from the monkey show yet?”
Ye Chan blinked in confusion. “What the hell? Some kind of immersive act?”
“No,” Gu Xianwang said. She saw Third Sister Red quickly stand up, the emcee’s face on stage turning grave. At the same time, the front and back doors of the entire hall slammed shut, security guards blocking every exit and not letting a single person leave. “Something’s gone wrong.”
As staff rushed about, the hall’s speakers and projector cut out for an instant, only for the audio to blare back to life moments later. Simultaneously, a crisp image appeared on the massive curtain behind the stage. Murmurs rippled through the crowd in sporadic bursts.
The image was a human skin map.
“Come on, Third Sister Red—we’re all jianghu folk here. Do you really need to charge brothers for a single human skin map? Let this little brother take the liberty of broadcasting it to everyone, free of charge. You know the rules of the trade: losses from your own screw-ups can’t be foisted off on outsiders.”
By now, camera flashes from phones lit up the room like a sea of stars. Ye Chan, never one to miss out, discreetly shielded her device with her arm and snapped a few shots—free was free, after all.
Third Sister Red’s face was a mask of ice as she raised a hand toward the ceiling. At once, two burly men clambered atop each other like a human ladder and tore down the projector.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. No wonder they say the richer folks get, the stingier they turn. A prime Long Family human skin map like this, and only your crew’s cashing in—”
The voice from the speakers died abruptly. The crowd stood around, phones still raised, exchanging baffled glances. Third Sister Red vaulted onto the stage, cupped her fists all around, and declared, “My apologies, everyone. An internal lapse on our end caused a network glitch. I’m afraid today’s Flower Fair has to wrap up here.”
“To make it up to you, every brother and sister here today gets a Red Pavilion gift voucher. Kindly show your invitation at the exit and collect yours from our staff.”
She cupped her fists once more, offered a slight bow, and vanished backstage.
Gu Xianwang had figured types like Yang Baibai—who’d traveled from out of province just for this—would gripe. To her surprise, the promise of Red Pavilion vouchers lit up every face; they seemed downright thrilled with the consolation prize.
As the throng funneled toward the exits in snaking lines, Ye Chan tugged Gu Xianwang’s sleeve and drew her aside. “What now? We don’t have invites—we can’t claim the vouchers.”
Gu Xianwang had been eyeing the commotion at the doors for ages. Gravely, she said, “Vouchers? Take a look at that line of ‘staff’ out there. You think they’re handing out prizes?”
Ye Chan blinked rapidly. “Then what? They wouldn’t actually nab us, would they?”
“She just might.” Gu Xianwang flicked an impassive glance at the bolted front doors. “Someone clearly hacked the Flower Fair’s central controls. Their first power outage flopped, which means the intruder had backup juice. This is no prank.”
That sank in for Ye Chan, and she caught the whiff of trouble. She stuffed her phone back in her bag, voice tight. “Re-checking invites now—it’s to round up suspects, isn’t it?”
Gu Xianwang nodded. Third Sister Red was a real operator, she mused. A fiasco like this at the North China Flower Fair, and the woman hadn’t flinched. Plenty of folks had jolted when the hacker name-dropped the Long Family human skin map, yet she’d skipped explanations entirely, pivoting straight to vouchers. Smart cover to screen for troublemakers—a true jianghu veteran.
With a third of the crowd already cleared out ahead, Ye Chan panicked. “While it’s still packed, let’s just blend in and push through with them? We haven’t done squat wrong—no need to sweat their checks.”
The girl was thinking college cafeteria lines. Gu Xianwang pressed her lips thin. Ye Chan had nothing to fear from a trade verification, but she herself? She’d snuck out entirely. Caught and snitched to Master, and her Guizhou trip was toast.
Squeezing through looked impossible from the lockdown up front. Hide in a hall corner till the place emptied, then pick the lock and ghost? That’d blow her four o’clock curfew back home all the same—busted either way.
What to do?
“Hey.”
A sleazy drawl cut in from the side as she mulled it over.
Yang Baibai strolled up, hands jammed in his pockets. “You Gu something?”
Gu Xianwang hadn’t pegged him for sticking around, let alone hunting her down. Face frosting over, she grabbed Ye Chan’s arm and aimed for the line.
“Hey—I’m talking to you. Deaf or what?”
Ye Chan, all hot temper and zero chill, had pegged him for a loser from the jump. She spun on him, spitting fire. “Hey yourself—what’s with the ‘hey,’ huh? That’s your family name?”
If it weren’t for Sister Gu holding her back, Ye Chan definitely would’ve taught Little Bro a lesson about basic human decency. The guy had already joined the line, but she was still fuming, muttering under her breath, “What the hell is his problem? Big deal if he’s from the Yang family. Tch, tch, tch—he looks like a scarecrow in a melon patch to me, nothing but a phony show-off.”
“Who are you calling a phony?”
She looked up to find Yang Baibai right there at the edge of the line again.
Gu Xianwang was fired up too. She pulled Ye Chan behind her and faced him head-on, her voice icy. “The name’s Gu. Got a problem? Young Master Yang, you’ve been tailing us since earlier, but you still haven’t scraped together your compensation fee. Planning to shake down two defenseless women like us?”
The sparks flying between them were sharp as needle points clashing with wheat awns, drawing curious glances even from the people ahead. Gu Xianwang truly had no desire to stir up more trouble just then, but if trouble insisted on finding her, there was no dodging it. In that case, no one needed to worry about saving face.
Yang Baibai’s face drained of color, fury twisting his features. “Do I look like I need to borrow money from you? As if. I wasn’t sure before, but now it’s clear—no other Gu family member has a mouth as sharp as yours. Heh, after all these years without a peep, I thought…” His eyes flicked slyly. “Hmph, your master certainly raised you well. Women have it easy, don’t they? Just latch onto a man and—”
“Excuse me.”
Spit flew midway through his tirade when someone suddenly yanked the back of his collar. Only then did the figure beside him come into full view—she stood a touch taller than him. She hauled Yang Baibai backward a few steps like a wayward chick, then stepped in front of Gu Xianwang with a light chuckle. “Little brother from the Yang family, you’re about to head out, so how come you haven’t cleared your compensation fee with the staff yet?”
This debt collector. Yang Baibai wrenched free of her grip, snapping irritably, “It’s just pocket change—think I’d welch on you? Since you recognized the Snake Spirit Pearl, you clearly know your stuff. Tell you what: I didn’t bring anything with me this time. Once I’m home, I’ll bring over a few treasures for you to check out. If any catch your eye, they can cover the debt. Deal?”
“Treasures?” The woman’s expression remained unmoved. She shook her head. “Words are cheap. Put it in writing first—an IOU.”
The moment he mentioned an IOU, Old Six Zhuang up front whipped around with a mocking grin. “Well, well, who do we have here? The young master of the Yang family, stooping to IOUs? Looks like the Southern Barbarian Treasure-Hoarding Lineage hasn’t exactly been thriving these past years.”
Yang Baibai shot him a venomous glare, inwardly boiling, and grumbled, “Fine, IOU it is. Wait till I’m out, and I’ll write one for you. You think a Yang family man would skip town? Feh.” With that, he flicked a sidelong scowl at Gu Xianwang and Ye Chan, shook out his sleeve, and trudged to the back of the line.
Gu Xianwang eyed the woman, tempted to offer thanks but holding back in case she was truly just here to collect her debt—making any gratitude seem presumptuous. In the heavy silence, Ye Chan nudged her elbow and whispered excitedly, “This sister’s the best—so satisfying!”
Whether the awesome sister overheard or not, she arched a brow and finally spoke up. “Terribly sorry, but I’m in a rush. Mind if I cut in?”
“Hm?” Gu Xianwang blinked, only to find Ye Chan had already tugged her back a step.
She hurriedly waved the woman forward. “Of course it’s fine! Cut right in, Sister—Sister Gu’s always happy to help out.”
Gu Xianwang: ?
Gu Xianwang stared blankly at the woman’s back, relieved she hadn’t thanked her after all. The newcomer said nothing more once she’d joined the line, confirming she was probably only there for the debt.
Faintly, a subtle sandalwood scent wafted from her, evoking the hush of a temple hall. It inexplicably soothed the lingering agitation in Gu Xianwang’s heart. The calm felt oddly familiar. She inched forward a small step, now separated from the woman by mere inches—a distance far too intimate for her tastes, close enough to sense the subtle warmth radiating through the fabric of her clothes, brushing against her cheek.
She only wanted to catch that fragrance more clearly. That had to be it.
Even as she reassured herself, the person ahead shifted aside, flooding the space with light. Gu Xianwang looked up straight into the security guard’s stern face. “Hello, please present your invitation.”
