SES Chapter 203 Part 2

Where a photograph would normally be placed, sat Plum Blossom Ninth Lady’s ash urn, made of black sandalwood. Above it lay a plum-blossom silver hairpin, polished to a brilliant shine.

It had likely been cleaned by her senior brother. Mu Dai felt a bit regretful about that—patina built up layer by layer with time, and polishing it until it gleamed always felt like something was lost.

One by one, Luo Ren and the others stepped forward to kneel and pay their respects. Mu Dai returned each bow. After the charlatan finished, he took a cloth-wrapped bundle from his pocket and presented it to Mu Dai with both hands.

—To whoever reads this letter: deliver it beneath the Yun Ridge, to the Four Archways.

This step was finally complete.

At the end, Mu Dai kowtowed three times before the spirit tablet and said, “Master, I still have things to do, so I won’t keep you company until dawn.”

She had knelt too long—when she stood up, she stumbled. Luo Ren reached out to steady her. Leaning on his arm, she rubbed her knees and said, “They’ve gone numb.”

She looked up at everyone. They were all ready. It was time to depart.

Mu Dai went to the side of the bed, opened a hidden door carved with intricate patterns, stood on tiptoe, and felt around in the upper compartment. She brought out a silver-eyed bat.

The charlatan was thrilled. He took it, barely daring to breathe.

Dark red, as if lacquered, the material was the same as the seven keys from Yin Erma’s house. Some parts were polished smooth from handling. Two silver beads were set into the eye sockets; when touched, they could even rotate slightly. As the light shifted, the beads changed in hue, eerily resembling living eyes.

How on earth had Lu Ban made these things?

An image rose in his mind: wood shavings scattered everywhere, a newly carved bat taking shape, and beside Lu Ban’s hands, the freshly filed seven keys…

The charlatan pulled out a tape measure, eager to record the dimensions.

Mu Dai said, “Take photos and measurements after we get back. We’ll have plenty of time.”

That was true. Reluctantly, he put the tape measure away, eyes full of longing.

Mu Dai reminded them, “Fog has already risen outside. Don’t use flashlights. The silver-eyed bat’s light is limited, and strong light will wash out its guiding glow.”

Really? Everyone hurriedly stuffed their flashlights back into their packs.

They set out, passing through the narrow passage beside the canopy bed, opening the back door, and stepping into boundless night and thick fog.

The silver-eyed bat’s main function was to help people avoid sensory deception. Normally, when walking, people rely on habits, experience, and visual judgment—thinking one path is impassable, another a dead end, deciding to detour or retreat.

But in the darkness, you think of nothing. You simply follow that single point of guiding light. Thinking about it carefully was terrifying—it might lead you close to a cliff, across a deep ravine, or through a twisting yet solid path in a trackless swamp.

Paths like these, in broad daylight, you would recoil from instinctively, thinking, No. Absolutely not. This is suicide.

To avoid accidents, Luo Ren took out a long rope from his pack. Following mountaineering practice, they tied it around their waists, becoming truly “ants on the same rope.” Mu Dai led, Luo Ren brought up the rear. Even if one person slipped, the combined strength of the other five would be enough to pull them back.

They couldn’t compare to the time Mu Dai and Plum Blossom Ninth Lady had gone together—both were masters of lightness kung fu, leaping and maneuvering as easily as breathing.

Cao Jiefang tried to trot along at first but quickly lost his sense of direction, often ending up under someone’s feet and causing several close calls. Eventually, Cao Yanhua picked him up and set him on top of his backpack. Cao Jiefang happily accepted the ride, stomping a dent into the pack and sitting as steady as a rock, looking for all the world like a hen brooding over eggs.

They walked with their heads down, no one in the mood to talk. For a while, the only sounds were footsteps crunching leaves and snapping dry branches.

Total silence wasn’t good either—it made people uneasy.

Especially with someone like the charlatan in the group.

His emotions and tastes always flowed against the current.

First, he started humming.

“Yi’er ah, yi’er yo, the stars in the sky attend the Big Dipper…”

Completely off-key—and of all things, singing about the Big Dipper.

Wan San pushed him from behind. “Don’t sing.”

He stopped.

After a pause: “You know, nights like this are when things tend to happen. Last time—none of you believed me—something flew out, whoosh, like an alien. I had a cleaver in my hand, chop chop chop—”

From the back of the line, Luo Ren coughed sharply. “Quiet.”

The charlatan stopped “chopping,” but he couldn’t stay quiet for even two seconds.

“When people walk in a long line like this…” he whispered mysteriously. “You know that Hong Kong subway ad with the kid on the train? The little radish walking last—what if he keeps walking and suddenly realizes someone is trailing behind him? Scientifically speaking, this kind of thing is actually—”

Yan Hongsha screamed.

Cao Yanhua was walking in front of her. Someone suddenly screamed behind him, making him jump. Distracted, he bumped into the person ahead, panic flaring. When he stopped abruptly, those behind couldn’t brake in time and collided into a mess. Cao Jiefang flapped wildly in alarm, wings beating overhead. Wan San was smacked in the face, shouted angrily upward, and the silver-eyed bat—almost sentient—stopped moving forward and instead hovered in midair, waiting.

Half annoyed and half amused, Luo Ren put in a great deal of effort before finally restoring order.

Once things settled, they realized it was nothing serious—just scaring themselves.

Luo Ren laid down rules for the charlatan.
“No talking. No ghost stories. Otherwise, two options: one, we tie you to a tree and come back for you tomorrow night; or two, like what we did to Cao Jiefang before—we tape your mouth shut.”

The charlatan muttered under his breath, apparently surrendering.

Cao Yanhua wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and asked Mu Dai, “Little Master, we were walking just fine—why did you suddenly stop without saying anything?”

Mu Dai smiled awkwardly. “Nothing. I just spaced out for a moment.”

Still shaken, she glanced to her right.

In the dense fog, faint outlines of trees appeared—thin branches like countless people with distorted proportions.

I must be mistaken, she told herself.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the uneasy thoughts, but by her ear came faint rustling sounds, like the voices from that nightmarish dream.

—Hide, hide.

—Don’t let her find it…

—Don’t worry. She won’t find it. None of them will.