Volume Two: Turbulent Times Chapter 113: The Haunted Theater — Settling Scores After the Autumn Harvest

Yang Chengzi sensed that something was amiss. He told Uncle Pan to wait outside the door while he went inside to give some instructions. Then, taking the Qing Sword with him, he set off alone. Chen San had wanted to come along, but Yang Chengzi forbade it. He didn’t believe the matter involved a great demon, so he went on his own.

“Was the person male or female? How did she die?” Yang Chengzi asked as they walked, eager to understand the situation.

“She was a woman, named... ah, it’s late at night, better not say her name—it’s unsettling. She was a supporting actress, but not a prominent one, always rather low-key. The day she died, blood flowed from all seven orifices, a truly horrific death. Exactly how she died, we don’t know. The authorities never even saw the body, let alone figured out the cause of death.”

“Was she alone? Did she have any family?”

“Apparently, she had a mother, but she was only mentioned in passing. We never asked further, and the mother never came around. After she died, we didn’t know who to report the death to, so the matter was just left hanging. At first, we were a bit scared since the body disappeared, but nothing happened for two years, and we almost forgot about it. Then, just a few days ago, a few nights in a row, the sound of someone singing opera drifted through—ah, you know...”

Hearing Uncle Pan’s account, Yang Chengzi found the disappearance of the body quite suspicious. Why had nothing happened in the first two years, and now suddenly this? Blood flowing from all seven orifices—could it have been a vengeful spirit’s doing? A host of questions swirled in his mind as they talked and walked. By the time they neared Panjiayuan, he had pieced together most of the story.

The gate to Panjiayuan was open. Two young men paced back and forth near the entrance, each holding a torch. Seeing Uncle Pan and Yang Chengzi, they hurried over.

“Come, come, Li Zi, Qiang Zi, this is the Taoist who exorcised the demon at Tianxiang Courtyard. I’ve brought him here,” said Uncle Pan.

“Greetings, Taoist. Glad you came. We can’t stay in the yard anymore. We should have invited you sooner, but we were afraid something would happen here, so we’ve been guarding the entrance with torches,” replied Qiang Zi. Having grown up as an errand boy in the opera troupe, he struck a more worldly tone.

“Aren’t you afraid after all this? Why stand at the gate instead of staying indoors? For ordinary folks, you have quite a bit of courage,” Yang Chengzi remarked.

“No, it’s not that we don’t want to stay inside. Being alone indoors is worse than the two of us standing outside back to back with torches. It feels safer that way.”

“Let’s go, see exactly where the problem lies.”

Yang Chengzi followed the three as they circled Panjiayuan twice but heard no singing. Puzzling. Had the spirit fled?

Li Zi and Qiang Zi scratched their heads. “Taoist, the singing has stopped. It used to come in short bursts every now and then, but it’s been a long time. Tonight, I don’t think it’ll sing again.”

“When did she usually sing? Till dawn?”

“Not always. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes near dawn. But once daylight comes, the sounds stop. If you ask when exactly, it’s hard to say.”

Yang Chengzi closed his eyes to sense the surroundings. Faint traces of ghostly energy drifted throughout Panjiayuan, though he couldn’t pinpoint its source. He wished the spirit would sing a few more lines so he could catch her tomorrow night. Otherwise, he’d have to return again.

But fate rarely cooperates. Not only was there no singing, dawn broke earlier than usual. Before he could say much, the sky grew pale, the sun nearly rising. The ghost would not appear now. It was time to leave.

With a plan forming, Yang Chengzi said, “The sun is about to rise; no ghosts will appear now. I’ll come back tonight, maybe earlier, and hopefully catch her then. You don’t need to come anymore. I’ll handle it.” He pulled out a stack of talismans from his bosom.

“These are protective charms. Give each person in the yard one. Return any extras tomorrow. Keep them under your pillow; they’ll keep you safe for a while.”

“Thank you, Taoist. Thank you. Here’s some compensation for your trouble. We, the whole Panjiayuan community, are deeply grateful,” said Uncle Pan, presenting a silver ingot. Yang Chengzi accepted without hesitation.

It wasn’t that Yang Chengzi was greedy. For most Taoists, especially those within the inner sect, silver was almost as common as stone. But since he was entrusted with their affairs, not accepting compensation would create karmic debts to be repaid in this life or even the next. So when offered, he took it; if they couldn’t pay, there was nothing he could do but leave it unsettled.

Back at Cuiwei Tower, the others were still asleep. Chen San slept as deeply as if nothing had happened. Yang Chengzi shook his head, thinking that this guy had slipped by him again. It seemed Chang Yu and the others were used to his roguish ways.

Stripping off his clothes to rest, he noticed that despite the late hour and the events at Panjiayuan, no one had slept well. His gaze fell on Chang Yu, who bit her lip, propping her head up, her alluring eyes fixed on him.

It would have been fine not to look, but once he did, a chill ran through Yang Chengzi’s scalp, making him shudder.

A hundred possibilities surged through his mind, and he recalled the soft lips of Chang Yu at Tianxiang Courtyard. Yet, with Chen Xin and Chen San present, he was sure the girl wouldn’t make a move. Smiling awkwardly, he slipped back under the covers.

Chang Yu nearly rolled her eyes to the back of her head, silently fuming. She kept wondering when she might have a chance to become Mrs. Yang. Such a handsome Taoist, fair as Pan An, always lingering by her side—it was like meat just out of reach, tormenting her with desire.

An hour later, everyone but Yang Chengzi was up. Chang Yu and Chen Xin were ready to confront Chen San.

It had been late when they let him off the hook last night. Now, with no pressing journey and nothing else to do, they had plenty of time to settle accounts with him.

“Last night was late, and sister was tired, so she didn’t mind your teasing of Sister Chen Xin. Now, tell us, when exactly did you wake up?”

“I, I, I woke up and saw a beauty lying beside me... could I resist?” Chen San stammered, flustered and pleading.

“Oh my, you even know how to say ‘beauty.’ You have potential; really, I must praise you. Look at your blushing face,” Chang Yu said scornfully, glancing at the shy Chen Xin beside her.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, it hurts...” Chen San suddenly clutched his head, moaning, sneaking glances at them.

Chang Yu wasn’t buying it, but Chen Xin felt sorry for him. After all, she would marry him someday. Seeing Chen San in pain made her anxious, so she gently stroked his head.

Chang Yu frowned in disbelief. “You believe this? Even with my toes, I’d know he’s faking. Why are you comforting him?”

“Sister, he really seems to have a headache; it’s swollen here,” Chen Xin said, looking at the bump on Chen San’s head, who nodded miserably.

“I, I, where’s my sword? I’ll cut you! I said you’re faking! Damn it, I haven’t even become Mrs. Yang yet, and you’ve already tasted the sweetness,” Chen San shouted, about to pull his sword from Yang Chengzi’s bed.

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold on! Before you cut me, I feel like I’ve forgotten something,” Chen San said seriously, as if pondering deeply, looking quite foolish.

Chang Yu glared at him, pointing a finger in his face. “You’d better remember quickly. If you don’t, no one can save you.”

Chen San really did seem to have forgotten something. Looking around himself in surprise, he said, “Where are my clothes?”

“You think I’m an idiot? Do you think you’re running around naked?” Chang Yu snapped, suspecting him of stalling, her eyes blazing.

Her anger was justified. At Tianxiang Courtyard, if Chen San hadn’t driven Chen Xin away, she’d have become Mrs. Yang long ago. Add to that his feigning ignorance and taking advantage of Chen Xin, old and new grievances alike demanded a reckoning.

“My skirt, my skirt! My silver tickets?” Chen San suddenly jumped up, remembering something crucial. His hard-earned silver tickets from Tianxiang Courtyard were gone.