Chapter 87: Girl in the Bottle (Part 1): Master, Help Me Bathe! Part 2

Two monkey paws grabbed at her collar. Shang Shan touched the flower bundle by her ear and smiled. “Paper ones really won’t wilt.”

The two kids went off to play with the monkey. Mu Qian Tan scanned the room and found it narrow and simple, a far cry from her own room in quality.

The entire Monster Play Troupe probably had this kind of setup, except for her—this Immortal who had helped find the killer of his father. There had already been quite a few expenses upfront. He wasn’t well-off to begin with, yet he gave her the best room. It showed his gratitude was truly sincere.

Mu Qian Tan didn’t care where she stayed as long as there was a bed, but not enjoying the good stuff when available would be foolish. She didn’t say anything—after all, the room fee troubles weren’t hers to pay.

Over there, Hu Xinsu went into the room and pulled a flat package from the cabinet. He unwrapped it to reveal a sketchbook. He brought it over and flipped open the hard cover, exposing the contents.

The first few pages were casual sketches of Monster Play Troupe members at daily play with their little demons. The lines were simple, but the expressions and actions of humans and demons alike were vivid and lifelike, full of energy. Some on the road, some in courtyards, some indoors—the dozens of drawings recorded the troupe’s wandering path, capturing the rare harmony between mortals and demons, and the precious friendships.

As the troupe leader’s own son, he should have inherited the Monster Play Troupe, but due to his poor health, he couldn’t participate in troupe affairs. So he recorded it all from a bystander’s perspective with his drawings. It counted as a form of participation.

The later pages were individual portraits, with even finer brushwork that made it possible to recognize who was who. The very last page was of Hu Zhong, who had already died, his expression stern and fierce, with Fur Flower curled at his feet as a small gray lump.

Spotting herself in the sketchbook, Fur Flower chirped and patted the paper, then patted her own chest. Shang Shan said, “Yes, yes, that’s you. But that one’s Ugly Fur. You’re Fur Flower now.”

Fur Flower bared her teeth in a grin and clapped.

Mu Qian Tan finished looking through the sketchbook and had to admit it was much better than hers—probably not far off from the male protagonist’s, at least usable. She glanced back and took the bottle from Shang Shan’s hand. One hand under the bottom, one covering the mouth, she reminded him, “Are you afraid of ghosts?”

Hu Xinsu was momentarily stunned, unsure how to answer. He said slowly, “I… haven’t seen one.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “I’ll be direct. What I want you to paint is a ghost.”

At those words, a faint gulp came from the man in front of her as he swallowed.

Since it was the Immortal’s request, it was bound to involve demons and ghosts. Hu Xinsu dealt with little demons year-round and accepted it quickly. His pupils trembled, and he said, “Alright.”

Mu Qian Tan moved her hand. “Come out.”

A wisp of green smoke drifted from the bottle mouth, condensing into a vague smoky shape. Mu Qian Tan paused for a second, realizing it was time for her manifestation limit. She set the bottle on the table and made her appear again.

When Little Baldy tumbled out of the green smoke, even though Hu Xinsu was prepared, he still jumped in fright and nearly toppled backward. He steadied himself by grabbing the table.

Ghosts gathered yin energy, and their appearance affected those nearby. Ordinary people without spiritual power would feel unwell upon encountering them. For the frail Hu Xinsu, the oppressive feeling was even stronger. But with the steady-aura Immortal standing by, it was somewhat neutralized—not enough to make him collapse.

His face was pale and weak. Shang Shan quickly asked, “You okay?”

Hu Xinsu steadied himself. “I’m fine.”

He still looked a bit dazed, but it didn’t hinder him. He flipped the sketchbook to a new page, dug out his own brushes and paints from the package, washed a brush, and added some water. Seeing his movements swift and sure, Shang Shan relaxed.

Fur Flower climbed all over her, nearly knocking off the flower. Clutching her head, she cried out. Shang Shan hurriedly soothed her and casually asked, “Does Flower Flower still perform?”

Hu Xinsu mixed his paints and replied upon hearing, “No more shows for now. I checked—her mouth and throat are badly injured. She won’t be going on stage anytime soon. We generally don’t let demon pets practice such harmful techniques. It was just Brother Zhong who…”

He trailed off there. Fur Flower seemed to understand and drooped her head, clearly disappointed about not performing. Shang Shan stroked the back of her head, thought for a moment, and said, “She can perform. Put me on. I’ll perform the sword swallowing.”

Hu Xinsu’s eyelids twitched. He didn’t get it. “What do you mean by that, miss?”

“Let Flower Flower keep performing on stage. Have her train me. She’s the master, and I’ll swallow the sword.” Shang Shan was proud of her idea. “Who says it has to be humans playing demons? Can’t demons play humans? Everyone’s used to humans playing monkeys, but a monkey playing a human? That’s rare.”

Ordinary people would never accept a demon stepping on their heads. Even members of the Monster Play Troupe clearly distinguished between master and pet. As humans, even if they didn’t think about it deliberately, they would subconsciously believe themselves superior to demons. Who would so openly admit to being beneath a demon?

This girl didn’t care about any of that at all. She must have truly believed there was no hierarchy between humans and demons. But swallowing a sword wasn’t child’s play. Hu Xinsu smiled wryly. “Miss, don’t joke around.”

Shang Shan said, “It’s not a joke. You’ll know when the time comes!”

Hu Xinsu shook his head, assuming she was just speaking in the heat of the moment. Tan Que burst into laughter at the sight.

After the laughter died down, the colors were all prepared. Hu Xinsu packed up his bundle but revealed a corner of it—several tin cans, exactly the dye from before. Shang Shan had sharp eyes and spotted them. She asked repeatedly, “Can this be washed off? I’ve scrubbed these off my body so many times and they still won’t come off!”

With the earlier liveliness, Hu Xinsu had shaken off his fear of the ghostly being. He even laughed easily. “I thought you liked this color, so you deliberately didn’t wash it off.”

He pulled another tin can from his bundle. “Here, use this to wash it off. It’s a special remover I mixed.”

Shang Shan hurriedly took it. “Thank you, thank you.”

She no longer had to be a little blue person!!

She handed Fur Flower to Tan Que to hold, grabbed the tin can, and dashed off. Hu Xinsu watched her disappear. “So full of energy.”

Mu Qian Tan frowned. “Too much energy.” Only after she spoke did she realize that, for the frail Hu Xinsu, such vitality was probably something he greatly envied.

Finally taking one last look, Hu Xinsu sat down at the table. He smoothed the paper with his hand. When he gazed at Little Baldy, his smile had faded considerably. He murmured, “So ghosts really exist in this world… Then where is my father’s soul wandering now?”

He spoke so softly that Mu Qian Tan, standing nearby with sharp senses, barely caught it, but she said nothing.

Hu Sheng had died a violent death, betrayed by someone close. His soul was filled with resentment and unwilling to dissipate. If they returned to the East-West Inn now, they might still find Hu Sheng’s soul and let father and son meet one last time. But Mu Qian Tan had no intention of wasting effort on such matters.

In the original story, the Monster Play Troupe was merely an introduction to Pot City and Tan Que. Their role should have ended shortly after entering Pot City, with maybe one more appearance later. Hu Xinsu was an even more insignificant side character, not even worth calling cannon fodder.

There was no need to waste time on such a character. If he was willing to help, it saved trouble. If he refused or went back on his word, she could always threaten him with his father’s soul.

After murmuring, Hu Xinsu got to work. Mu Qian Tan found a chair and sat down. She crossed her legs, propped her forehead with her fingers, and considered whether to go back and sleep. But she worried Little Baldy might turn back into a puff of green smoke, making painting impossible. After some thought, she decided to stay.

She needed to catch up on sleep properly tomorrow.

Detailed paintings often took a long time. Moonlight flowed outside the window, and distant music drifted in, making Mu Qian Tan drowsy.

She could rest by closing her eyes, but this wasn’t her room, and there were two unfamiliar people present. It wasn’t an environment she considered safe, so she endured the sleepiness, rubbing her temples to stay alert.

Tan Que, that carefree child, had no such concerns. She had played wildly with Shang Shan, that stupid dragon, all day, and stayed up frolicking into the night. For a child, her energy had long been spent. At that moment, she lay on the floor, hugging Fur Flower, fast asleep.

Mu Qian Tan sighed softly and pondered whether to read a book. The door opened quietly, and Shang Shan returned.

She had washed off the blue from her face, revealing creamy white skin like lotus root and a clean face fresh as a lotus emerging from water, still dripping water drop by drop.

Afraid of disturbing Hu Xinsu’s painting, Shang Shan moved very lightly. She had come in to find Tan Que but, seeing the girl already asleep, turned her attention to Mu Qian Tan instead. She sidled up to the chair and whispered, “Master, I can’t wash the back. Help me out.”