Chapter 17

Jiang Yu didn’t go in right away. She watched from afar, trying to think of a way to bring this place up to Shen Anzhi and the others without seeming suspicious.
She turned to leave.
A fingertip pressed lightly between her brows, halting her step.
“Where is Senior Sister going?” Following the long, narrow line of the hand, she looked up and saw Shen Anzhi. He still smelled faintly of soap, clean, cool, and understated.
He lowered his gaze and noticed the new hairpin nestled in her bun: a hollow-carved butterfly in pale gold and lotus pink. His fingertip nudged one wing, and the little butterfly trembled as if it might flutter away. He didn’t remember her ever wearing an ornament like that before.
His eyes moved on to the herb cottage. Out of the corner of his eye, he studied the scarlet figure beside him.
The corner of his mouth curved. “Has Senior Sister discovered something?” There was curiosity in the depths of his gaze.
Jiang Yu hadn’t expected him to find this place so quickly. For once, things had gone smoothly, but how was she supposed to explain?
“I was just wandering,” she said. “This place feels strange. What do you think?” She paused deliberately. “I saw injured people go in just now.”
On the way out of the inn, Shen Anzhi had already examined the surrounding demonic aura. Traces of sticky, bluish residue clung to the cracks in the windows and doors, and the compass had led him straight here, this was where the demonic energy gathered, then vanished.
He had his own methods and tools. But how had Jiang Yu found it?
Shen Anzhi pushed the wooden door open with a casual hand. The hinges creaked. He gave her a sidelong glance and stepped over the threshold. “Aren’t you going in, Senior Sister?”
From the doorway, Jiang Yu could see inside the courtyard. Potted plants were arranged with deliberate care; someone clearly tended to them regularly.
At the center of the yard stood a paper figure facing the main entrance, a paper child with rouged cheeks, painted red lips, and black eyes. From afar, it looked almost alive. Up close, it was enough to make one’s scalp go numb.
In broad daylight, the whole place felt unsettlingly eerie.
Shen Anzhi’s expression didn’t shift. When he noticed her slight flinch, however, his lips curled, and something like excitement flickered, sharp and quick, in the depths of his eyes. He moved forward, putting his body between her and the paper doll, blocking part of her view.
Inside the main hall sat another paper child before the prescription desk. Its brush-wielding hand stilled as it turned in a stiff arc to “look” at them.
“Are either of you unwell?” it asked. Even the voice was jerky, neither male nor female, thin and strangely soft.
“No. Just looking around,” Shen Anzhi replied, arms folded, gaze drifting.
Jiang Yu’s eyes blurred for a moment. When she focused again, she saw two swirling clumps of dark purple energy on the paper doll’s body, and in its left eye, the same kind of aura she’d seen around special herbs before.
“Customer, please help yourself.” The paper doll stared at them for a few seconds, then turned back, its stiff hands resuming their work with the medicine. Its cold, painted eyes dropped back to the patient as it continued its diagnosis.
“What is that?” Jiang Yu tilted her head up to peer around him. Moving a little closer, she leaned from behind his shoulder. Her hairpin chimed softly as her hair shifted. She lowered her voice. “It looks very wrong.”
“A puppet,” Shen Anzhi said.
He glanced at the person now leaning at his side, her scarlet sleeve brushing his black one. Her scent coiled into his lungs, sweet, like peach blossoms soaked in morning dew.
His hand clenched slightly. Without another word, he flicked his sleeve and headed toward the back.
Seeing his sudden quickened pace, Jiang Yu hiked up her skirt and hurried after him. “How powerful is it?” she asked, heart thumping as she tried to recall how little detail the original novel had given this part.
They reached the backyard in a rush. The patient who’d just entered was now yelling, teeth gritted, as another paper doll wrenched his leg back into place. The cracking of bones and the man’s howls echoed against the walls, making the whole scene even more terrifying.
Shen Anzhi passed by without breaking stride, one hand on his sword. He didn’t spare the puppet a glance as he pushed open the rear door.
A narrow, dim alley stretched beyond, completely empty.
The last traces of demonic aura were fading away, dispersing in coils of invisible mist. Shen Anzhi clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Ran fast, didn’t it.”
“What were you looking for?” Jiang Yu stared at the empty passage.
“Demons.”
She blinked. “It treats demons too? No discrimination?”
“The puppets have no minds of their own,” Shen Anzhi said casually. “Without consciousness, they don’t distinguish good from evil.”
“Oh.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully like a curious bird, and for a moment he had the strange impression of a small red sparrow hopping after him.
Perched at his shoulder. Staying within reach.
Realizing where his thoughts had wandered, Shen Anzhi folded his arms, fingers rolling the coin faster against his palm. Irritation prickled through him at the unfamiliar, unwelcome emotion.
“Let’s go back,” he said.
Jiang Yu couldn’t help thinking she might be imagining it, but… Shen Anzhi did seem a little nicer to her today.
Noticing her dazed expression, he suddenly smiled, a lazy huff slipping from his lips. “What’s Senior Sister spacing out for?”
She snapped out of it and smiled brightly. She really was overthinking things. Shen Anzhi was still Shen Anzhi.
If he ever truly changed his opinion of her, she’d bang drums and set off fireworks in celebration.
As they left, she glanced back one more time,
All the paper figures in the hall lifted their blank, white heads at once. Their ink-black eyes were like whirlpools, pulling at her soul. The chill in those gazes seeped through her skin, burrowing into every pore.
Her head swam. Her left eye, especially, burned like it had been struck.
Stiff-backed, she forced herself to look away and stumbled after Shen Anzhi.
What was that, could paper dolls hypnotize people now?
She clutched her chest, fighting the waves of dizziness.
Sensing something wrong, Shen Anzhi extended an arm, bracing an invisible hand at her waist to steady her. His shadowed gaze swung back to the paper dolls. The copper coin whistled through the air and thudded against an invisible barrier in front of them, unable to go further.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked on them before flicking to Jiang Yu’s discomfort.
He hadn’t expected the puppets to use illusions. Closing his eyes, he covered hers with one hand. “Don’t look. Close your eyes. Come with me.”
He murmured the Cleansing-Heart Incantation and tapped between her brows. His fingers brushed her skin, he paused for a heartbeat, then slid his hand down to circle her wrist.
“Let’s go.” Calling the coin back, he led her toward the front. His memory was perfect; it was easy to retrace their steps.
Once they were out of the puppets’ range, Jiang Yu’s dizziness melted away.
“I’m fine now,” she said, blinking up at him.
Her long, curled lashes brushed against his palm as she opened her eyes. Each flutter sent a faint shiver through his hand, as if a butterfly’s wings were beating against his skin. His palm tingled. He abruptly closed his fingers into a fist and turned toward the inn. “Walk faster.”
Jiang Yu adjusted to the light, lifted her hem, and hurried after him.
“Thank you, Junior Brother.”
“Thank me?” Shen Anzhi’s interest in the herb cottage, and its puppets, only deepened. “If you want to thank me, meet me at midnight.”
“Can I… not go at midnight?” she asked weakly.
The phrase pitch dark, middle of the night flashed through her mind. But leaving Shen Anzhi alone bothered her even more. She was just about to reply when he asked, voice low and hoarse, “Is Senior Sister afraid of death?”
He seemed to bite down deliberately on the word death.
She instinctively took a step back, then nodded solemnly. “It’s human nature.” Inspiration struck at the last second, and she added, “But if I’m with Junior Brother, then I’m not afraid.”
Smiling faintly, she lifted her eyes, earnestly meeting his.
He pressed down the restless stir of emotion in his chest and lowered his gaze. His little finger skimmed through a strand of her hair. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, I won’t let Senior Sister die… easily.”
Jiang Yu forced a smile. Internally: Ha. Ha. Ha.
“Then I’ll be in your care.”
“No need to be so polite.” His little finger traced the outline of the butterfly-shaped silver ornament at her hair. Jiang Yu shivered, fighting the urge to jerk her head out of reach.
Above her, she heard him exhale, a slow, heavier-than-usual breath. She glanced up, startled.
Shen Anzhi’s hand uncurled, releasing the strand of hair.
Folding his arms, he bent slightly, looking down at her. “If you die, it’ll be terribly troublesome for me,” he said. “After all, I’m still waiting for you to find my herbs. And dying is far too dull. Senior Sister had better live well.”
Jiang Yu muttered silently to herself: There he goes again, moody demon that he is.
They returned to the inn and went back to their rooms.
Jiang Yu immediately asked the waiter to bring hot water. After a long soak, she pressed her hand to her right eye and tested the left one alone, scanning the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She let out a breath.
After a bowl of pumpkin millet porridge, she kicked off her shoes and sprawled on the wooden bed in a starfish pose, staring up at the bed curtains until she drifted off.
In her dream, she groped forward in darkness, only for a pale, glowing paper figure to appear out of nowhere. The child’s eyes were gone; its face split open into a bloody maw as it crawled toward her, clutching at her skirt.
From its empty sockets, twin streams of blood began to leak, snaking down its face like blood-tears. Terrified, she spun and ran.
She didn’t know how long she ran, lungs burning, legs shaking, until she finally stopped, panting, hope lighting her face.
Far ahead, she saw Shen Anzhi standing with his coin-sword in hand. His gaze wasn’t mocking or amused as usual, no laughter at all in his eyes.
She didn’t dare pause. Heart leaping, she sprinted straight toward him, racing for a door just ahead.
Then a tall shadow loomed over her from above, blotting out everything like a bank of storm clouds.
She skidded to a halt, breath coming in ragged gasps, sweat dripping down her back. When she looked up, she met Shen Anzhi’s gaze, relaxed, almost amused. His brow lifted; he let out a hoarse little laugh.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, Senior Sister?” he asked softly, drawing out the last two words on purpose. “So scared already…”
“Shen Anzhi, the paper doll is almost on us!”
“Then let it catch up,” he said, the roughness in his voice smoothing out as it drifted down from above, like an executioner’s decree. “You can’t run anyway.”
“You said you wouldn’t let me die,” Jiang Yu burst out, looking up at him. Her beautiful eyes shimmered with tears, her voice taut and close to breaking.
His forefinger tapped lightly against her forehead. Seeing the faint redness at the corners of her eyes, he suddenly found himself caring in a way that unsettled him. He leaned in a little, smiling. “Does Senior Sister not trust me?”
She instinctively tried to take a step back, only to realize she couldn’t move at all. Not even an inch.
Something was wrong.
She understood then. This was a dream.
Right. She was dreaming, so why couldn’t she wake up?
Lying there, staring up at the dream-Shen Anzhi, she felt a wave of utterly irrational grievance. Was she not even allowed to control her own dream?
Caught between humiliation and anger, she refused to choose humiliation.
“Shen Anzhi, I trust you,” she said.
His body stiffened, just for a moment, as if the words had brushed against something inside him.
In the dream, his fingertips hovered at the corner of her eye, gently brushing against the reddened skin there.
The grotesque paper doll drew close behind her; Jiang Yu squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face, whispering, “Shen Anzhi…”
The coin-sword rose.
Sword light flashed, merciless and cold.