Chapter 121: Extra Four: Storming the Gate 2

At his words, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji traded a single glance, and Lan Sizhui felt his spirits sharpen.

Wei Wuxian said, “I'd be glad to hear it in full.”

After a moment's thought, Young Master Qin said slowly, “There isn't much to tell, in truth; I never knew the man well. In my youth I was raised at my grandmother's house, a mountain village in a far province. He was one of her household servants, and being close to me in age, he played and grew up alongside me as a boy.”

Wei Wuxian said, “That makes him a childhood friend — how could you not know him well?”

Young Master Qin: “Because as the years went on, we grew apart.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Think back — was there anything you ever did that wronged this servant?”

Young Master Qin said, “There was one matter, though I cannot say how deeply it wronged him.”

Lan Wangji said, “Speak.”

Young Master Qin said, “This servant attended my grandmother the year round, always at her side; nimble of hand and close in age to her grandsons, he was a favorite of hers, and she often praised his cleverness. From this he took on a certain arrogance, forever trailing after us young men of the clan, heedless of the line between master and servant. Later my grandmother even let him sit in on our lessons.

“One day the teacher set us a problem, a thorny one, and as we debated it someone arrived at an answer the whole class was praising aloud — when that servant suddenly said it was wrong.”

Young Master Qin said, “By then the servant had attended lessons a month or two at most, while we clansmen had studied two or three years already; who was right and who wrong scarcely needed asking, and someone rebuffed him at once. But he was terribly stubborn, insisting over and over that the earlier answer was mistaken, demanding to show us his own solution, until at last he had vexed the whole room, and together we drove him out.”

Hearing this, Lan Sizhui could not help saying, “Young Master Qin, even if he was vexing you all, he did nothing so out of line... why drive him off?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Young Master Qin, this sounds as though a whole crowd of you clansmen provoked him. Did you hold some special place among them? Otherwise he'd hardly come after you alone — he'd surely make a round of the lot of you.”

Young Master Qin said, “I was the first to tell him to get out that day — said in passing, really, but it turned out everyone had long been displeased with him, and it got out of hand. And the man had a fierce temper: he went back and told my grandmother he wouldn't go anymore, and so he never went again.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Two more questions, Young Master Qin, and you must answer me truthfully.”

Young Master Qin said, “Ask.”

“First question.” Wei Wuxian's eyes were very bright. “You said just now that 'someone arrived at the first answer.' This 'someone' — was it you?”

After a pause, Young Master Qin said, “Does that matter so much?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Then, the second question — that problem's solution: who, in the end, was right, and who was wrong?”

Young Master Qin's face soured; with a flick of his sleeve he said coolly, “It is an old affair, years gone by now; forgive me if I cannot keep every detail fresh. But in fairness — who, in the heat of youth, has not done some inexplicable things, met some inexplicable people? Pray do not dwell on it. All I want now is to be rid of this matter, thoroughly and soon.”

Wei Wuxian said, smiling with his eyes narrowed, “Of course. I understand, I understand.”

Lan Wangji said, “When did this man die.”

Young Master Qin said, “Around two years ago, I'd say.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Two years? Not bad — not an old corpse, but not a fresh one either. How did he die? Suicide?”

“No. They say he was out drinking and roaming in the dead of night, lost his footing, and fell to his death.”

“Not suicide — then it's a touch better. Young Master Qin, nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

“Then please go back for now; a Paper Talisman will be sent to your manor shortly. If you recall anything else, do remember to tell us at once.”

Back at Little Bamboo Pavilion, Lan Sizhui shut the door, turned, and let out a breath. “That Young Master Qin... is truly... is truly...”

Lan Wangji said suddenly, “Two years.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Right — the two years is a bit odd.”

Lan Sizhui said, “Odd?”

Wei Wuxian drew a blank talisman paper from his sleeve. “When Evil Spirits bear a deep, festering grudge, they usually come to torment on the night of the Seventh-Day Return. A little later — within a year — is common enough too. Since it had already turned into a Fierce Corpse, why drag it out two whole years before coming to his door?”

Lan Sizhui ventured a guess. “Could it be that for two years it simply couldn't find where Young Master Qin had moved to?”

He pictured the corpse knocking on door after door, household after household, every night, peering in to see whether Young Master Qin was within, and felt a faint chill crawl up his back.

But Wei Wuxian said, “No. This Fierce Corpse had an old acquaintance with Young Master Qin; tracking him by scent would be no hard thing. And besides — if it were as you say, then in his search it would surely have knocked at the wrong houses a fair few times, and there'd be more than one such uncanny tale of a Fierce Corpse pounding at doors. Lan Zhan, you've read more case-records than I, and remember them more completely — in these two years, have you come across any such account?”

He went into the study; Lan Wangji said, “Nothing relevant.”

Wei Wuxian said, “There you have it... Lan Zhan, I can't find the cinnabar.” He pulled out a brush. “I just used it last night! Did any of you see the cinnabar?”

Lan Wangji went into the study as well and found the cinnabar; Wei Wuxian dipped the brush-tip twice in the dainty little dish, poured himself a cup of tea, and sat down at the table, drinking with his left hand and wielding the brush with his right, scrawling wildly across the talisman paper without once looking down, and said to Lan Wangji, “If you don't remember it, then there certainly was none. So its leaving Young Master Qin untouched for two years must have some other reason. There — done.”

He peeled up the talisman from the table, its cinnabar strokes still wet, and handed it to Lan Sizhui. “Take it to him.”

Lan Sizhui took it and looked it over front and back, able to make nothing of it at all — never in any book had he seen talisman-marks so deranged, so tangled, so utterly without rule — and could not help saying, “Senior Wei, this... you didn't just scribble it at random, did you?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Of course I did.”

“...”

“I never use my eyes to draw talismans.”

“...”

Wei Wuxian said, smiling, “Don't worry, it absolutely works. Speaking of which, Sizhui — you don't much care for this Young Master Qin, do you?”

Lan Sizhui thought it over. “I'm not sure, myself,” he said honestly. “He has done nothing greatly wicked; only I might find it hard to get along with a temperament like his. I don't much care for his tone when he speaks of 'house-servants'...”

Here he stopped. Wei Wuxian, wholly unaware, said, “Common enough, common enough. Most people in this world look down on servants to begin with. Sometimes even the servants look down on themselves... why are you both looking at me like that?”

Halfway through, caught between laughing and crying, he said, “Stop — what are you two imagining? It's hardly the same; Lotus Pier was no ordinary household, and as a boy I beat Jiang Cheng far more times than he ever beat me!”

Lan Wangji said nothing, only drew him quietly into his arms. Wei Wuxian, unable to hold back a smile, returned the embrace, his hands sliding a few times down the line of Lan Wangji's spine. Lan Sizhui coughed once; seeing Wei Wuxian so perfectly composed, plainly not the least bit sensitive to the words 'house-servant,' his heart was set at ease — Anxin, settled at last.

Wei Wuxian added, “Still, I'm afraid he'll be back again.”

Lan Sizhui started. “It can't be settled even today?”

Lan Wangji said, “He has not told all.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Just so. It's hardly the first time anyway — there's no helping a man like that; the truth has to be pried out a piece at a time. Let's see whether, once he's through tonight, he tells it all in one go tomorrow.”

Sure enough, the next morning, while Lan Sizhui was practicing his sword in the courtyard of Little Bamboo Pavilion, Young Master Qin came again.

The moment he arrived he burst out, all in one breath, “I don't care!”

Lan Sizhui hurried, “Young Master Qin, a moment! My two seniors are sleep— are in cultivation! At a crucial juncture in their cultivation — they mustn't be disturbed!”

At that, Young Master Qin did not force his way into the courtyard, but still he poured the whole of his grievance down over Lan Sizhui's head: “I don't want to hear about treating roots or symptoms! I want this thing never to come after me again!!!”

That second night, Young Master Qin as ever could not sleep, and sat reading late in the main hall by lamplight. Before long the Fierce Corpse — that servant — came as before.

Still it could not get inside; it leapt to and fro beyond the door, hurling itself against it now and then, yet neither the wooden window nor the paper pane gave way. Before long the commotion drew off into the distance. Young Master Qin, who had not closed his eyes properly in days, could hold out no longer; off his guard, drowsiness welling up, his head lolled to one side and he fell fast asleep where he sat.

Drifting in a haze, he did not know how long, when suddenly there came three crisp raps at the door. His whole body went taut, his spine snapped straight, and he woke with a jolt.

Beyond the door a woman said, “Husband.”

Young Master Qin had been sleeping so dead to the world he'd not have known his own father; hearing Madam Qin's voice, he rose to open the door. But a few steps on, he suddenly remembered: Madam Qin had spent these last days weeping and quarreling that life here was unlivable, and only yesterday had packed up and gone back to her parents' home. If she'd gone home out of fear, where would she find the nerve to come back alone in the dead of night?

A woman's slender figure was thrown against the paper window, and it did indeed resemble his wife's shape. But Young Master Qin dared not be careless; he quietly drew his sword and asked, “Madam, why have you come back? Are you no longer angry?”

The woman beyond the door said in a flat voice, “I've come back. I'm not angry. Open the door.”

Young Master Qin dared not open it rashly; leveling his sword at the door, he said, “Madam, you'd be safer back at your father's. What if it hasn't left yet, and is lingering somewhere near this house — what then?”

A silence beyond the door.

Cold sweat seeped from the hand that gripped the sword.

All at once the woman pitched her voice into a shriek: “Open the door already! A ghost is coming! Let me in, quick!”

Beyond the door, the Madam Qin who might be true or false clawed at the paper window and screamed. Young Master Qin's scalp prickled in waves; clutching the talisman Wei Wuxian had sent him, a surge of blood rushed up in him, and with sword raised he charged out the door —

Young Master Qin said, “And then a heap of things came flying at my face and knocked me out cold.”

Wei Wuxian said, “What things knocked you out?”

Young Master Qin pointed at the table. Wei Wuxian looked, and could hardly contain himself. “Why is it fruit?”

Young Master Qin, furious: “How should I know!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Of course you know — no one knows but you. Evil Spirits are deeply vengeful; did you once throw fruit at him too?”

Young Master Qin held a grim silence. One look at his face and Wei Wuxian knew he'd guessed near enough; but the man would never admit it, so he pressed no further. And sure enough, when Young Master Qin spoke again he changed the subject. “I sent someone this morning to ask at my father-in-law's — my wife never set foot outside their house last night at all.”

Wei Wuxian said, “That was a thing made to break the protective wards of a yang dwelling, a house of the living, seldom found in the notes of earlier men or in the old texts. In itself it does no harm, but it can mimic the voice and likeness of those dear to a household's master; it often works hand in hand with an Evil Spirit that cannot get through the door, helping the spirit by coaxing you into opening it yourself. That Fierce Corpse found itself a fine helper indeed.”

Young Master Qin said, “Whatever it is, knowing makes no difference now. Sir, the second door is broken, the thing is already in my main hall — may I ask, are you about to tell me again that nothing need be done?”

“Young Master Qin,” Wei Wuxian said, “let's be reasonable: this second door, you opened yourself. Were it not for that talisman of mine, what shape you'd be in now, I wouldn't dare say.”

Young Master Qin choked, then flared up: “If this goes on, won't I wake one day to find the thing standing at the head of my bed!”

Wei Wuxian said, “If you truly want to sleep soundly, Young Master Qin, you'd best hurry and think whether there's anything you've forgotten to tell. This time, do not hold anything back — for tonight, ha-ha-ha, and I'm not trying to frighten you, it'll be right at your bedroom door.”

Left no choice, Young Master Qin had to tell one more thing.

“The last time I saw him was two years ago, when I went home to pay respects to my parents and ancestors. I returned to the clan's old residence for the rites, and I wore a jade pendant.”

Young Master Qin said, “He recognized it as something my grandmother had owned in life, and asked to borrow it for a look. Thinking he likely wished to mourn her, I gave it to him. But he had not looked at it long before the pendant was lost.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Lost — meaning? Did he mislay it, or take it off to sell?”

Young Master Qin hesitated a moment. “I don't know. At first I assumed he'd taken it to sell, then lied that it was lost. But...”

He did not go on; Wei Wuxian, very patient, said, “But what?”

Lan Wangji, whose face had stayed cool throughout, said, “Speak freely.”

Young Master Qin said, “But — thinking on it now, my grandmother's things, he would not have stooped to sell.”

“Later I heard the man was fond of drink; likely he overindulged one night and lost it, or it was stolen. In any case I was angry at the time, and gave him a scolding.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Wait. Young Master Qin, in a matter of life and death there can be no vague words. 'Scolding' can be light or heavy; the difference can be vast. Just what manner of 'scolding' was it?”

Young Master Qin's brow twitched; he added, “I recall... it was a small beating.”

Wei Wuxian blinked. “This... that lame leg of his — it wasn't broken by you, was it?”