SES Chapter 35 V1

Chapter 35 

With the weather warming up, Lijiang saw a surge in tourists. Business at the bar boomed, and Mu Dai was almost constantly roped into helping out by Uncle Zhang.

Technically, she was the co-owner of the bar, but in reality, Uncle Zhang still called the shots. As Yiwansan once privately grumbled to Cao Yanhua, “If we let the little boss lady run the place, we’d be living off air by now.”

“Helping out” basically meant one thing: carrying trays, taking orders, taking more orders, carrying more trays.

That night, Mu Dai dropped off yet another tray of empty glasses at the bar and sighed in exhaustion, “This isn’t the life I want.”

Uncle Zhang, busy helping Yiwansan behind the counter, chuckled. “Then what kind of life do you want? You’re the boss lady—we’ll all back you up.”

Mu Dai looked even more discouraged. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what kind of life I want. I’m worse off than Fatty Cao.”

Every time Cao Yanhua finished his training, he would solemnly pull out his wallet, open it, and salute Jackie Chan’s photo. No need to ask—he was working toward his idol. Unrealistic or not, at least he had a goal.

Uncle Zhang sympathized. “Maybe it’s time you found someone to marry?”

Forget that—waiting tables seemed more practical.

Scowling, Mu Dai loaded a tray with drinks and wobbled off with it. Uncle Zhang watched and couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re being this lazy? Just make two trips!”

And what would that change? It’d still be tiring.

On her tray were open bottles of Baileys, mixed cocktails in all kinds of glasses—tall stems, short stems, some with lemon slices on the rim, others with tiny umbrellas. The drinks shimmered in different colors, swaying slightly with each step. Occasionally, the glasses would clink together with a soft chime.

Mu Dai kept her eyes glued to the tray, barely daring to breathe. She repeated mechanically, “Excuse me, coming through.”

As someone passed her, they joked, “Mu Dai, you’ve gained weight.”

Mu Dai didn’t register it at first, took a few more steps, then suddenly froze.

Wait, what?

Was that… Luo Ren?

When did he get back? Why didn’t he tell her?

And—hold on a second—what did he mean by gained weight?!

Luo Ren had just arrived. After Uncle Zheng brought Ping Ting inside, he praised how clean the house and yard were.

If Cao Yanhua had heard that, he probably would’ve been thrilled.

Once Ping Ting was settled in, Luo Ren figured the bar was still open and decided to drop by.

Sure enough, it was buzzing—neon lights, music, packed with people.

Yiwansan saw him and seemed a bit awkward, giving only a quick nod of acknowledgment. As the bar’s top bartender, Luo Ren didn’t disturb him. After scanning the room, he sat down across from Cao Yanhua.

“Mu Dai’s running herself ragged, and you’re just sitting here?”

Cao Yanhua extended a trembling arm. “Look at this hand—shaking like I’ve got Parkinson’s. Anything I carry ends up smashed.”

Then he remembered to greet him. “How’s Ping Ting doing? Was the surgery okay? And that thing…”

He dropped his voice suddenly and gave Luo Ren a knowing look.

Luo Ren nodded. “I brought it.”

Cao Yanhua sucked in a sharp breath. “Can it be contained?”

Hard to say. It was like a ticking time bomb—you never knew when it might go off again.

“Cao Yanhua,” Luo Ren said, “have you noticed anything… unusual lately?”

Cao Yanhua shook his head. “Not really. Just tired. Training is exhausting. My dear Mu Dai…”

He was about to complain, but then spotted her nearby taking an order. His voice suddenly jumped an octave. “But hey, strict training makes great students!”

His words echoed overhead and earned him an eye roll from Mu Dai.

Luo Ren frowned, slightly disappointed, but asked again, “Have you… seen any strange visions?”

“No, I—wait, what?!”

Cao Yanhua suddenly sat up. “Did you just say… visions?”

By the time the bar closed, it was past midnight. Luo Ren and the others sat around a table. Uncle Zhang, disinterested in their conversation, washed glasses behind the bar. The splash of water and occasional clinks only made their talk sound even more eerie and surreal.

“What Cao Yanhua saw sounds like what I did,” Luo Ren said. “What about you, Yiwansan? Did you see anything?”

“See what? Little people?” Yiwansan shrugged. “Nope. I drew everything I saw.”

“Not sure if they were little people,” Cao Yanhua recalled. “Looked like it. There were just too many. Honestly, if there had only been four, I would’ve thought it was the Journey to the West—the one in front looked like he was riding a horse.”

Then he turned pale. “Why are we seeing these visions now? Don’t tell me… we’re infected?”

It wasn’t a good thing, yet Mu Dai looked oddly jealous. “So you’ve all seen something—why am I the only one who hasn’t?”

Luo Ren said thoughtfully, “Maybe it’s not that you haven’t seen anything. You just didn’t notice. We all noticed ours by accident.”

Yiwansan saw himself in the reflection of water. Cao Yanhua glimpsed him through a puff of dust just before collapsing. Luo Ren spotted his on the blade of a knife he was absentmindedly toying with while on the phone with Mu Dai.

All easy-to-overlook moments.

Luo Ren’s eyes lit up. “Did you notice? Yiwansan saw him in the water. Cao Yanhua, in dust—that’s earth. Mine was on a steel blade—that counts as metal.”

Cao Yanhua nodded excitedly, though he struggled to express it clearly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I mean!”

According to the Taoist mystic, the deadly bamboo slip hides on purpose, but the Phoenix Lock gives them clues, and its core relates to the five elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth.

Mu Dai stared at the wooden table. If her last name is “Mu” (wood), then maybe she’d see something in wood? This table’s wooden, right? Maybe it’ll show her something…

Then Luo Ren suddenly remembered something. “Yiwansan, can I ask a favor? Back at Xiaoshang River, we all saw watery reflections. But when that mystic visited, we didn’t see anything. Maybe it’s because you weren’t there.”

Later that night, when everyone else was asleep, Luo Ren led the group to a locked room on the second floor. He pulled out a key and flipped on the light.

The room was empty except for a central table, on which sat a large box.

It wasn’t the same box from Xiaoshang River. Yiwansan glanced at Luo Ren, who didn’t deny it. “Just to be safe, I had another one made.”

The box was made of lightning-struck jujube wood—a material known for warding off evil. It was a deep purple-brown color and covered on all sides with tiny gold script. Cao Yanhua leaned in to read, “The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao…”

“Copied the Tao Te Ching in gold powder,” Luo Ren admitted.

Mu Dai nearly burst out laughing. He even used the Tao Te Ching? Turning to another side of the box, she tried harder not to laugh—he even had a drawing of Laozi riding an ox on it.

Luo Ren didn’t care. Laugh if you want, he thought. This is all trial and error anyway. If he could’ve found Laozi’s actual handwriting, he’d have pasted it on the box too.

When they opened the lid, it looked like a box of dirt. But Luo Ren reached in and lifted out a square-shaped mud pack wrapped in mesh, tied at the top for easy lifting.

Inside was a sealed glass tank. At the bottom of the water lay the bamboo slip, dead silent.

Even though this wasn’t the first time seeing it, everyone tensed up. Mu Dai unconsciously stepped back, brushing against Luo Ren’s hand.

Without looking, Luo Ren reached over and held her hand.

Mu Dai’s mind went completely blank, the numbness traveling up to her arm. What did that mean? Did he grab the wrong hand? What if Cao Yanhua and Yiwansan saw?!

Luo Ren didn’t react. Mu Dai vaguely heard Cao Yanhua ask something, and Luo Ren calmly answered, “There’s no fire. I’m not sure how to safely add fire to the setup. Maybe tomorrow I’ll put oil lamps around the box.”

Mu Dai wasn’t paying attention—he’s still holding her hand. Does he even realize?

Everything that followed passed in a blur. The lights went off. Everyone checked for reflections on the water’s surface. This time, they all saw something—but no one saw as much or as clearly as Yiwansan did.

Was it because he was there? And because he represented “water,” so the rest of them saw less?