Achan seemed oblivious to Bai Xiuming’s gaze, calmly walking to the table and sitting on one of the two wooden stools.
Bai Xiuming unhurriedly ladled plain porridge from a clay pot, placed a spoon in the bowl, and pushed it toward Achan.
Achan sipped the porridge slowly, her eyes longingly fixed on the four dishes and a smoked chicken before Bai Xiuming—the very kind sold by Old Man Hu on the street.
The aroma of the smoked chicken teased her nose, making her mouth water.
“You’ve just recovered from a serious illness. For now, you can only have porridge,” Bai Xiuming said, as if reading her thoughts, cutting off her hopes before she could reach for her chopsticks.
Achan sighed inwardly, reluctantly tearing her gaze from the smoked chicken, lamenting once again how tough it was to be human.
After finishing the bowl of porridge, her hunger eased, and she felt some strength return.
As Achan set down her bowl, Bai Xiuming also put down his chopsticks.
Neither moved. Feng Yang, ever perceptive, stepped forward to clear the dishes, then left with the items.
Outside, the sunset’s glow was fading, leaving only a final streak of light in the sky.
Achan propped her chin with one hand, gazing outside. Bai Xiuming sat quietly, not disturbing her.
Only when the last ray of light vanished, and day turned to night, did Achan turn her head. “Lord Bai, what do you want to ask me? Go ahead.”
“Lichen, grave soil, and hollow locust wood, what are they used for?”
“You already know, don’t you? They’re for making incense.”
“And their purpose?”
Achan blinked. “If it were someone else, I wouldn’t tell them, but since you saved my life last night, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
She leaned forward slightly, her demeanor playful, as if sharing a small confidence.
“They’re for rituals, said to guide the departed.”
“Said to?” Bai Xiuming raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I found it in my memories. I don’t know if it works.”
“If you don’t know if it works, why try it?”
Achan was slightly surprised. Bai Xiuming’s tone wasn’t as aggressive as before, though he still suspected her.
She thought he must have seen her frail state and taken pity on her weakness.
“What, is that question hard to answer?” Bai Xiuming pressed.
“Not hard. I just think you might not believe my answer,” Achan said, her voice tinged with dejection. “The day I went to mourn my aunt, I saw that Madam Su. The next day, at my aunt’s funeral, early in the morning, my uncle’s family brought in someone to perform a ritual, saying my aunt had become a vengeful ghost who would harm the family. They sealed her in the coffin, saying her resentment would dissipate, and she’d be freed after a century.”
She glanced quickly at Bai Xiuming. His expression was unreadable, giving no hint of whether he believed her.
“Lord, she was my aunt, the only one who gave me money after I fell so low. I couldn’t stop my uncle or seek justice for her, so I just wanted peace of mind.”
“For peace of mind, you nearly died of illness. Was that part of your plan?”
Achan felt a flash of irritation. Her throat, not fully recovered, carried a slight rasp from speaking too much. “That was an accident. I rested well during the day. Who knew I’d suddenly fall ill?”
Her voice lifted slightly, her mood seeming to recover. “Thanks to you, I’m much better now.”
Bai Xiuming looked at Achan’s lively expression, recalling what Physician Huang had said last night.
Even with careful nurturing, she had only twenty or thirty years left.
“Lord?” Achan found his silence odd.
“You still have some of that incense, don’t you?” Bai Xiuming refocused, speaking again.
“There are dozens left, stored in my bedroom. If you want to inspect them, you can take them,” Achan said cooperatively. “The ritual process is simple. I can tell you everything.”
Achan explained the ritual in full detail, even describing the incense-making steps and mentioning the yin willow stake in the corner of the room.
Bai Xiuming asked no more, took the remaining soul-guiding incense from Achan, and left.
Achan stood at the door, watching his figure vanish into the darkness, feeling a bit puzzled. Bai Xiuming had been unusually easy to talk to today. She’d expected a longer confrontation.
After seeing him off, she decided to heat some water to wash up, but upon closing the door, she found the bolt missing.
Other than Bai Xiuming, who somehow entered her house last night, no one else would tamper with her door bolt.
Fuming, Achan searched her home and finally found a shorter wooden strip to serve as a temporary bolt.
After taking Achan’s incense, Bai Xiuming didn’t return to the Mirror Division but went to the Imperial Observatory.
The Observatory Director was still there and, surprised to hear the Mirror Division’s Commander sought an audience, personally went to greet him.
Bai Xiuming bowed upon meeting the Director, his greeting casual. “Is the Director well?”
The Director, close to Prince Ming and a frequent visitor to his residence, had known Bai Xiuming since he was brought to the Prince’s household over a decade ago, until Bai was sent to Youzhou.
“No one visits the Three Treasures Hall without a reason. What’s on your mind, lad?” The Director led him to his private resting room, asking casually.
After sitting, Bai Xiuming opened the box he carried.
The Director glanced inside, seeing a pile of poorly crafted incense, and lost interest. “Who made this? Such shoddy work.”
Bai Xiuming found it amusing, thinking Achan would be furious to hear this.
“It was confiscated. I’d like you to examine it and tell me if there’s anything wrong with it.”
Hearing this, the Director picked up a stick, sniffed it carefully, then crushed a piece between his fingers and tasted it.
“Hmm, heavy yin energy, but the materials are nothing special. Who came up with this?” he asked Bai Xiuming.
Bai Xiuming didn’t answer, exasperated by the Director’s erratic thinking. “Just tell me, what’s it for?”
“Useless. If you burned a hundred sticks at once, the gathered yin energy might attract some low-level ghosts.”
“Useless?” The answer surprised Bai Xiuming. He recounted the ritual process recorded by the scouts. “With this ritual, it’s still useless?”
“What’s the ritual for?”
“Guiding the departed.”
“Hah, big talk,” the Director laughed. “If burning incense could casually send souls to the underworld, monks and priests wouldn’t bother with elaborate rites.”
“So it’s really useless?”
The Director rinsed his mouth with tea. “At least in my knowledge, no ritual is this frivolous. You could try it—grab a vengeful ghost, write its birth details, burn the incense for seven days, and see what happens.”
Bai Xiuming had planned to test it anyway, but the incense in the box wasn’t enough, and more would need to be made.
“I hear you’re skilled at making incense, Director?”
The Director pointed at Bai Xiuming, knowing the lad never visited without a motive.
Following Bai Xiuming’s instructions, the Director meticulously crafted over a hundred incense sticks, which, upon inspection, were identical to Achan’s.
Seven days later, the ritual ended with no results.
The confined vengeful ghost was neither summoned nor sent away.
The Director, curious, came to check on the final day, and as expected, nothing happened.
“Given up yet? Told you it was useless. No ritual is that simple. Even our Observatory spends a year preparing to honor heaven and earth,” the Director said smugly, standing beside Bai Xiuming.
Bai Xiuming wasn’t disappointed; he’d anticipated this outcome.
Yet, his instincts still harbored doubts about the ritual.
“I once heard that in ancient times, before incense, people used fragrant wood to worship heaven and earth?”
“You know quite a bit,” the Director said, happy to explain. “There’s indeed such a saying, but those ancients weren’t just anyone. You’ve heard of the legendary Witch-Demon War, haven’t you?”
“What does that have to do with what we’re discussing?”
“Those ancients who could casually stick a piece of wood in the ground to worship heaven and earth and receive their blessings were collectively called witches.”
“Witches? The Witch Clan?”
“Yes, they didn’t consider themselves part of the human race, believing their ancestors were the ancient Witch Clan, on par with the Demon Clan. These witches revered nature and the heavens, with their own simple yet effective rituals, but we can’t use them.”
“Why not?” Bai Xiuming asked, intrigued.
“Previous Observatory Directors studied this. The Witch Clan’s souls carried a unique power they called ancestral strength. As long as one had Witch Clan blood, they could tap into this ancestral power during rituals, making the ceremony itself less critical.”
“Sounds impressive, but why haven’t I heard of this before?”
The Director sighed. “The last Witch Clan branch was wiped out two hundred years ago. You’re young; of course you haven’t heard.”
“Who did it?”
“The Demon Clan. Back then, they were powerful, establishing a Demon Kingdom that rivaled Great Xia. Their Demon Emperor had a strong animosity toward the Witch Clan and sent an army to the wilderness to exterminate them.”
“Not a single one left?” Bai Xiuming was surprised.
The Director said regretfully, “Not one. They used a Demon Clan sacred artifact to track them by bloodline, killing every last one. Even the sages of the time sent people to search for survivors but found nothing.”
The Director’s words thoroughly extinguished Bai Xiuming’s doubts.
Perhaps that fox demon had heard or read about the ritual somewhere, or maybe it was indeed tied to the Witch Clan, but neither demons nor humans could use it.
Could it really be, as Ji Chan said, that she did all this just to ease her conscience?
In the blink of an eye, ten days passed. Achan had recently started making incense pellets at home. She blended three scents using the most common recipes and the cheapest materials.
She added a small amount of jade powder, bought from the West Market, to the incense mix. Once the pellets were made, they proved highly effective at repelling snakes, insects, rats, and ants.
Placing one pellet in the kitchen kept rats away for those ten days.
Achan planned to open an incense shop, using the pellets to break into the market. Though she had some gold jewelry and silver, she couldn’t keep spending without income. Her mother’s dowry was a distant prospect, so she needed a source of revenue.
A few days ago, she heard from her neighbor, Boss Xu of the bookshop, that his shop was plagued by rats. He’d brought in a black-and-white kitten, but its destructiveness rivaled the rats’, ruining two books. Furious, Xu chased the cat around.
Hearing this, Achan gave him an incense pellet. Within two days, Xu noticed its benefits and came today to buy two more.
The materials for the pellets weren’t costly. Achan calculated that each pellet cost twenty wen—slightly expensive for common folk but affordable, especially given their excellent pest-repelling effect. Surely some would buy.
Boss Xu happily paid forty wen, taking two pellets from Achan.
It was Achan’s first time earning her own money. As she counted the coins, she saw Bai Xiuming approaching, dressed in a moon-white robe.
“Lord Bai, it’s been a while,” Achan said cheerfully, in high spirits from her earnings, greeting him with a smile.
Bai Xiuming nodded slightly, stepping forward and handing her a wooden box. Achan opened it to find not only her original dozens of soul-guiding incense sticks but even more than before.
Glancing at Bai Xiuming, she thought, as expected, his suspicion runs deep. It took him this long to return, likely because he tested the ritual.
But since she’d dared to share every detail of the ritual, she was confident he’d find nothing.
Some rituals, even when known, were useless.
After a quick look, Achan closed the box, planning to store it inside. The incense might come in handy someday; she couldn’t waste it.
Bai Xiuming didn’t leave after returning the incense, seeming inclined to chat. “Were you selling something just now?”
“Yes, incense pellets.”
Achan pulled a pellet from her pouch and offered it to Bai Xiuming, hoping to legitimize it in passing.
As Bai Xiuming took the pellet, something darted out from the black ring on his index finger, roaring at the pellet in his hand.
Achan stared at the dark little thing for a while before cautiously asking, “Lord Bai, is that… a dragon?”
“A dragon soul,” Bai Xiuming explained, then asked, “What’s this made of?”
“You remember the jade used by the snow needle snake? I bought some, ground it into powder, and added it to the pellets. It’s great for repelling pests.”
Bai Xiuming nodded, saying nothing. The jade fragments were harmless to humans, or the Mirror Division would have confiscated them long ago.
He hadn’t known they could repel pests.
Achan’s attention had shifted from her pellets. Staring at the ring on Bai Xiuming’s finger, her eyes gleamed as she probed, “You have a dragon soul on your hand. Have you ever killed a dragon?”
“Curious?”
“Can’t you tell me?”
“I killed a fourth-realm black dragon.” It was the battle that made his name, known to all in the court.
That victory secured his position as Commander.
Achan was astonished. Dragons, proud of their noble bloodline, never mingled with other demons. Their arrogance was backed by their strength.
In the same realm, a dragon’s formidable physique made them nearly invincible.
She didn’t know Bai Xiuming’s cultivation level, but it was surely below the fifth realm. Even if he was fourth-realm, killing a black dragon of the same level was no small feat.
And he looked young, likely not even fourth-realm when he killed it.
Achan suddenly understood why demons feared humans so much. Bai Xiuming, not yet thirty, had reached such heights. For a demon to match that cultivation, without bloodline advantages, would take a thousand years.
Humans were indeed favored by heaven and earth.
“Since you’ve killed a dragon, you must have its materials too?” Achan asked indirectly.
“Get to the point.”
Achan stepped closer. “Last time, Captain Feng said you’re still hunting the snow needle snake. Have you caught it?”
Bai Xiuming looked at Achan, her bright peach-blossom eyes dimming slightly. “You have a way?”
Achan’s lips curved up. She’d been worrying about money, and now opportunity had come knocking.
“If I can help you catch the snow needle snake, can you do me a favor?”
Bai Xiuming paused, then understood. “You need materials related to the snake and dragon?”
“Yes.” Achan had nothing to hide, nor did she fear Bai Xiuming would press for her recipe and then betray her.
As expected, he didn’t probe, only saying, “What favor do you want? Let’s hear it.”
“I’d like you to help me retrieve my mother’s dowry.”
Bai Xiuming stared at Achan for a long moment, making her uneasy. Was her request too difficult?
It shouldn’t be.
Finally, he spoke. “Do you know what it means if I help you claim that dowry?”
Achan understood. Even as a non-human, she knew how others would view her relationship with Bai Xiuming afterward.
Gossip could be fearsome, but she didn’t care.
“I know. I don’t mind.”
“Getting tied to me won’t do you any good,” Bai Xiuming warned.
Achan’s eyes widened. “Are you worried my reputation will ruin your marriage prospects?”
“You’re thinking far ahead,” he scoffed, clearly not meaning that.
“I have enemies everywhere. Are you sure you can handle it?”
He didn’t care about rumors, they couldn’t harm him. But if Ji Chan got entangled, his enemies wouldn’t care whether the gossip was true or false.
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