Not long after dinner, the sky gradually turned gloomy, and soon, a figure holding a lantern stepped into the courtyard—it was Du Huai himself who had co: "These are the things the three of you will need tonight, everything is ready."
Inside the cloth bag were three sticks of Soul-Attracting Incense and three head coverings. The rules remained unchanged: everyone had to return before the incense burned out.
Before departing, Du Huai did not forget to remind them that the one chosen to go to the boudoir must set off quickly. Once the sky was completely dark, even the ancestral ho might not be safe.
"Who is the fortunate one who will let see?" Du Huai asked with a smile, his gaze sweeping over Tong Han and Mi Shu.
"It’s ," Mi Shu spoke up.
After sizing up Mi Shu for a mont, Du Huai nodded, "Miss Mi’s countenance is very auspicious, at first glance, she seems to be a person of great fortune and nobility. I hope everything goes smoothly tonight. Do you still rember what I told you?"
"Whatever I hear at night, especially if sothing calls my na behind , I must never look back." Mi Shu had heard this advice until it beca trite.
"As long as you rember, my good intentions will not have been in vain." Du Huai stepped back and saluted them solemnly, "Take care, everyone. On behalf of all the villagers of Du Family Village, I, Du Huai, thank you for your great kindness and virtue."
"Mr. Du is too polite," Yang Xiao and his companions returned the greeting in kind.
Not long after Du Huai left, Mi Shu was ready to depart. She had no Soul-Attracting Incense, not even a dirty head covering—her task that night was to walk towards death.
Mi Shu took a deep breath and stepped outside, fully aware that she might never return. All the previous tis were just guesses, but the villagers of Du Family Village, neither human nor ghost, were not easy to deal with. After struggling in a nightmare for so long, perhaps... perhaps this was her final resting place.
Looking up at the dim sky, Mi Shu felt not so much fear, but a hollow feeling in her heart, an indescribable sensation. There was so reluctance and regret. She didn’t want to die in this filthy place. These feelings also made her steps slightly hesitant.
"Tat tat tat..."
Footsteps rapidly approached from behind. Mi Shu quickly turned around, alert. The next second, a pair of arms embraced her, "Be careful, and wait for you to co back." Tong Han rested his chin on Mi Shu’s shoulder and whispered.
For a mont, Mi Shu’s body shook violently, and big tears stread down her face. She hugged Tong Han tightly. She had a lot to say but in the end, it all condensed into three words, "Survive."
In such a world, "wait for you to co back" and "survive" might be the best blessings.
Mi Shu left, and everyone watched her disappearing figure. Yang Xiao could feel that Mi Shu’s steps were much firr than before.
What surprised Yang Xiao was also Tong Han. She stood alone in the courtyard outside the door, watching Mi Shu leave. Such a desolate silhouette was a far cry from the image of the Evil Cultivator Yang Xiao had originally conceived. People were too complex; not all in the ranks of Evil Cultivators were violent, bloodthirsty lunatics.
The sky was not yet completely dark, but lanterns had already been hung up inside the ancestral ho, sothing that had never happened before. Soon, Mi Shu noticed that these lanterns were prepared for her, marking only the area along her path. So were hung outside the courtyard doors, others on the branches of withered trees, seemingly worried that she would lose her way in the dark.
A gust of night breeze rushed in, disheveling Mi Shu’s bangs, yet the pale Paper Lantern swayed only faintly from side to side, adding an eerie hue to the thin night.
Mi Shu was a very sensitive person, and her steps quickened, her expression becoming increasingly panicked. She glanced around from ti to ti, possessing an indescribable feeling as if sothing had been watching her the whole way, and it was very close, yet she could not locate it.
Indeed, tonight was no simple affair; Mi Shu wrapped her clothes tighter as if to fend off the unexplained chill and continued to pick up her pace.
Shortly after Mi Shu left, a sharp "rip" sounded through the empty courtyard. A Paper Lantern hanging from a tree branch, as if unable to bear the burden, split open, revealing an evil eye that stared fixedly in the direction Mi Shu had disappeared.
Elsewhere, Mi Shu finally arrived at Miss Du’s boudoir, where a light still shone within. She gently pushed the door, which creaked open slowly, revealing a gap. It was rely ajar, not locked, and the room was empty. Only two candles on the dressing table burned softly, one on each side. The unease in Mi Shu’s heart surged instantly; this arrangent was almost identical to the night Liu Haiping died.
It was apparent that the boudoir had been thoroughly cleaned. The floor was spotless, and the air was free of any hint of blood, as if the prior events were all an illusion.
The dressing table had also been ticulously cleared. The jewelry boxes and rouge pots had disappeared, leaving the tabletop uncluttered. In the center, so papers were spread out, with an inkstone to the left and a writing brush nearby. Closer inspection revealed that the ink had been prepared.
Mi Shu, being very cautious, first checked the whole room for any hiding intruders before she closed the door and proceeded to examine the papers on the dressing table. There was a thick stack of them, each inscribed with esoteric scriptures that Mi Shu barely understood. Even after trying to read them for a while, she suddenly felt dizzy without reason.
The characters on the paper were outlined, no writing skill was needed, rely tracing the edges was sufficient. Mi Shu flipped through the pages roughly; there were enough scriptures for her to write all night.
Turning her head, Mi Shu looked towards a corner of the room where it was darker, a blind spot. A folding screen stood sideways there, and she rembered the teachings of Yang Xiao and the others, maintaining her distance. But if it ca to a life-or-death mont, she resolved to throw caution to the wind, topple the screen, and perish along with any Du Family mbers who might rush in to kill her.
Liu Haiping had died here, and perhaps she too would soon suffer a tragic fate in this boudoir, but she hoped Tong Han wouldn’t.
Out of three people, at least one must survive.
Mi Shu sat in front of the dressing table, where the chair wasn’t as cold as she had imagined, seeming to retain the warmth of Liu Haiping’s body. She lifted her gaze, staring at her reflection in the copper mirror, feeling strangely unfamiliar for a mont.
Clearing her mind of those chaotic thoughts, she took a deep breath, picked up the brush with her left hand, and dipped its tip into the ink, moistening it. There was sothing she hadn’t ntioned; her calligraphy was excellent, and she could write with both hands—a skill she had learned from her grandfather.
Focusing her concentration, the instant the brush touched the paper, it beca saturated with ink. The beginning was not bad. Mi Shu wrote one character after another swiftly, soon finishing the first page. Turning the paper, she noticed so ink had bled through slightly onto the next scripture, but she didn’t mind and continued to write calmly, as if she were back on a night more than ten years ago in her grandfather’s old study in the countryside, the rich scent of ink mingling with the chirping of insects outside the window, everything imbued with the sweet aroma of mory.
The more she wrote, the more proficient she beca. Her hand was quick and steady. Gradually, Mi Shu entered a trance-like state, greatly easing her tension. After an indeterminate period, her brushstrokes finally changed, and her fingertips involuntarily tightened. She heard sothing, footsteps rustling in the courtyard.
The footsteps were light and fast, clearly not just one person. They quickly dispersed; so circled behind the window, and many gathered outside the door.
"Mi Shu,"
"Mi Shu?"
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