SES Chapter 175 Part 2

Meihua Jiuniang’s tone softened. “Mu Dai, think carefully about what I’ve said. Don’t answer just to sound good—I mean, truly doing it. Can you?”

Mu Dai thought it over seriously, then nodded. “Master, I won’t make absolute promises—but I swear I’ll give my life to fulfilling what I’ve agreed to.”

Meihua Jiuniang smiled. After a moment, she motioned for Mu Dai to come closer.

“From now on, this Guansi Paifang belongs to you.”

Mu Dai nodded. “Senior Brother said the same thing, it’s just that…”

She hesitated.

“Just that what?”

“Why is this place called Guansi Paifang? There isn’t even a single paifang archway here.”

Meihua Jiuniang said, “Because it isn’t Guansi Paifang. It’s only been given that name.”

Mu Dai was confused.

Meihua Jiuniang didn’t explain. “Go. Open the cabinet by my bedside. There’s a brocade bundle inside.”

Mu Dai followed her instructions. Opening the hidden drawer, she indeed found a small brocade bundle. It wasn’t heavy, but its shape felt strange.

She brought it to Meihua Jiuniang, who didn’t take it, only said, “Open it.”

Mu Dai carefully unfolded the cloth.

A… bat?

Holding it by the wing, she raised it to the light. It was a wooden bat, dark red as if lacquered, clearly old, polished smooth in many places from handling. The wings seemed jointed, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t move them. Even stranger, its eyes were covered with an eye mask.

Why would a bat wear an eye mask? Batman? Mu Dai nearly laughed and reached to remove it, but Meihua Jiuniang said calmly, “Don’t touch it.”

So she wasn’t allowed to. Mu Dai exhaled softly and was about to wrap it back up when Meihua Jiuniang said, “Look again.”

Mu Dai knew she must have missed something.

She examined it closely once more and finally noticed that carved into the bat’s belly was a tiny but vivid image of a wooden bird.

What did that mean?

Meihua Jiuniang spoke. “You’ve heard of Lu Ban, the master craftsman of legend, haven’t you? It’s said he once built a wooden bird that could fly for three days and three nights without landing.”

So…? Mu Dai stared at the bat, then suddenly realized. “Master, are you saying… this bat was made by Lu Ban?”

Meihua Jiuniang didn’t answer, but her expression made it clear.

Mu Dai laughed awkwardly. “Then this bat can fly too?”

“Yes.”

Mu Dai stopped laughing.

Was her master serious? Or had she… lost clarity?

As if reading her thoughts, Meihua Jiuniang said, “Take off the bat’s eye mask.”

Mu Dai hesitated, then removed it. To her surprise, the bat’s eyes were silver beads, set into the sockets and seemingly able to rotate. At the moment the mask came off, the wings—which had seemed locked—suddenly fluttered with a rattling sound.

Startled, Mu Dai nearly dropped it.

Meihua Jiuniang said, “Mu Dai, I didn’t live long enough to see it. I don’t know whether you will in your lifetime.”

As she spoke, her gaze grew distant, as if piercing the walls, the town, the layers of fog, returning to the past.

That night long ago, her own master lay mortally wounded, bandages soaked through with blood, clinging to his last breath as he whispered instructions to her.

—Perhaps one day, someone will bring seven keys…
—This silver-eyed bat will lead you to the true Guansi Paifang…

Meihua Jiuniang slowly stood up from the wheelchair. “Come, Mu Dai. Follow me.”

Still dazed, Mu Dai followed her through the passage beneath the canopy bed, out of the residence, and into the cold, fog-shrouded night, where she could barely see her own fingers.

Only Meihua Jiuniang’s voice drifted beside her.

“They say Master Lu Ban was brilliant but stingy—afraid others would learn his mechanisms. So the silver-eyed bat he made can only fly at night, and only on nights like this, with no light and thick fog where nothing can be seen.”

Mu Dai stumbled, nearly tripping. The fog seemed to seep straight into her eyes—she could see nothing.

“Mu Dai, use your blood. Smear it on the silver-eyed bat’s eyes, and it will lead the way.”

Blood? Feeling her way along, Mu Dai scraped her fingertip hard against the wall, then slowly smeared the bleeding pad of her finger over the bat’s silver eyes.

Looking down, the bat in her palm was first nothing but darkness. Then two points of light appeared—silver tinged with red. Suddenly, her hand felt lighter. With a rapid flutter of wings, the bat flew forward into the fog.

Meihua Jiuniang whispered, “Follow it.”

Something slammed violently against a window—thump, thump, thump.

Yan Hongsand groggily woke up and checked her phone. Two in the morning.

Why had she woken up? Her mind was blank.

What was that noise outside?

The next second, realization hit her. “Cao Jiefang!”

The lights were on downstairs. She vaguely heard Uncle Zhang shouting. Yan Hongsand didn’t even have time to put on shoes—she ran downstairs barefoot.

Oh no, oh no. Uncle Zhang had said that if Cao Jiefang made noise again tonight, he’d throw it into the pot and cook it. That little beast—so noisy! Its beak was taped shut with clear tape, and it had still come up with a new trick, crashing into windows. Was it actually trying to get itself killed?

Downstairs, she first saw Uncle Zhang standing at the gate with a broom, cursing furiously. “Absolutely shameless! Trapping cats and dogs wasn’t enough—now they’re after chickens!”

Huh? So Uncle Zhang wasn’t angry because Cao Jiefang had disturbed his sleep?

Looking into the courtyard, she saw Wan San up too, squatting in a corner with his phone flashlight on. The faint glow flickered painfully in the dark.

Yan Hongsand walked over, her soles aching—only then did she remember she wasn’t wearing shoes. Too lazy to go back upstairs, she endured the pain and squatted beside Wan San.

“What happened?” she asked.

Wan San pointed the phone light at the ground. “Look.”

More than a dozen chicken feathers!

Yan Hongsand stammered, “Wh—who plucked our Jiefang’s feathers?”

“I told you not to look at the feathers—look at this!”

She leaned closer. It was rice, scattered in small piles.

“Smell it.”

Yan Hongsand dipped her finger into a few grains and sniffed. “Alcohol?”

“It’s called drunk rice. Used to trap birds and chickens.”

Yan Hongsand was puzzled. “How do you know that?”

Wan San snorted and ignored her.

How did he know? Back in his impoverished youth, the reason he could sometimes afford roasted chicken wings was precisely thanks to tricks like this.

He looked at Yan Hongsand. “Someone went to a lot of trouble just to trap Cao Jiefang. Why? It’s not exactly a rare breed.”

Why? Yan Hongsand didn’t have time to think. She spotted Cao Jiefang perched on the bar’s windowsill, feathers trembling. More than a dozen feathers lay on the ground—it looked like someone was about to pluck their Jiefang bald.

“You poor thing…” Yan Hongsand said.

She held out her arms, and Cao Jiefang fluttered straight into them.

Wan San stood up too. “That was close. Good thing Cao Jiefang didn’t eat the drunk rice. Otherwise, it would’ve been trapped and taken away—lost in the vast sea of chickens forever.”

Yan Hongsand patted Cao Jiefang’s little head and praised it. “Good chicken! Not tempted by ill-gotten food—such integrity!”

Cao Jiefang glared up at her, its beak still wrapped in clear tape, which gleamed even more brightly under the light.