Volume One: Carefree Journey Amidst Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Eighty-Six: Massage

Yang Ning felt that Wei Tong was merely pretending to be mysterious and laughed, “What nonsense are you speaking? If there truly were ghosts in this house, would you all dare to live here?”
Wei Tong explained, “The vengeful spirit only appears within that courtyard. As long as you don’t go near it, nothing will happen.”
“You said two people died here—how did that happen?” Yang Ning asked with curiosity. “If you claim there’s a ghost in that courtyard, has anyone actually seen it?”
Wei Tong glanced at the courtyard and spoke in a low voice, “Everyone in the old mansion knows about this. Not only do they know there’s a ghost, but they often hear strange sounds.”
“Sounds?” Yang Ning frowned. “What kind of sounds?”
“The sound of a flute!” Wei Tong replied. “Every year, once or twice, you can hear flute music coming from that courtyard. It plays through half the night, and each time it lasts for two or three nights before disappearing. The melody is eerie and chilling—it makes your hair stand on end.”
“A ghost playing the flute?” Yang Ning was surprised. “Has anyone seen it?”
Wei Tong said, “I mentioned earlier, two people died because of that haunted courtyard. The first was over ten years ago. At that time, I worked in the mansion alongside him. The old marquis was away, so the rules were less strict. One night, we’d been drinking, and just as the flute sounded from the haunted courtyard, we began talking about it. Everyone knew it was haunted. That night, one fellow drank too much and grew bold. He wagered with us, saying if he dared spend a night in the haunted courtyard, each of us owed him an ounce of silver.”
“He went in?”
“We were all drunk, minds muddled.” Wei Tong sighed and smiled bitterly. “Everyone thought he was boasting, but he really did sneak into the courtyard that night, emboldened by the wine…”
“What happened afterward?” Yang Ning asked, intrigued.
“He died.” Wei Tong said, “Early the next morning, we found him lying outside the wall of the haunted courtyard. Not a scratch on him, his eyes wide open, breathless. His eyes were truly terrifying…”
Yang Ning frowned. “Was he frightened to death?”
“A death in the old mansion, of course the chief steward wouldn’t let us spread word. But he quietly brought a physician to examine the body. The doctor said there were no injuries, nor was it caused by excessive drinking. Judging by his eyes, he really might have died of fright,” Wei Tong whispered. “But the chief steward forbade further investigation and ordered us to keep silent. So except for those in the old mansion, no one knows about this.”
“How did the second person die? Also from fright?”
“The second one died just last year, not long ago,” Wei Tong said. “By then the chief steward had moved to the city, and Steward Qi was in charge here. It was a busy time; the mansion had just hired several workers. One young man, bold beyond measure, heard tales of the haunted courtyard and, sneaking about, climbed in at midnight.”
“He was found dead outside the wall the next day?”
Wei Tong shook his head. “His death was even stranger—he was found hanging from a tree…” He pointed toward the haunted courtyard. “Young master, do you see that old locust tree?”
Yang Ning looked over. Some seven or eight steps to the left of the entrance stood a tall, flourishing locust tree. Though its leaves had fallen, the branches were thick and sturdy, clearly aged, having weathered many years, like the old mansion itself.
“He was found hanging upside down from that tree,” Wei Tong said, shivering involuntarily. “After Steward Qi learned what happened, he warned everyone in the old mansion to stay away.”
Yang Ning thought, if Wei Tong spoke the truth, both deaths were truly bizarre.
How could such a place exist in the grand Qi family mansion?
“You said the flute music comes every year?” Yang Ning mused and asked, “How long has this been happening?”
“I’ve served here for seventeen years. Every year, once or twice, the flute sounds. Each time it lasts two or three nights, then nothing more.”
“Couldn’t it just be someone playing tricks?” Yang Ning doubted.
Wei Tong replied, “Young master, as far as I know, the flute music existed even before I came. If someone were playing tricks, who would persist for decades, never missing a year?”
Yang Ning found it equally perplexing. If it were a prank, it could not have lasted decades, nor would it lead to murder. Could the old mansion truly be haunted?
“Young master, it’s best not to linger here,” Wei Tong urged. “Back then, the old marquis forbade anyone from approaching that courtyard. There must have been a reason. The ghost in that courtyard must have stayed for many years and refuses to leave.”
“Do you know who first lived in that courtyard?” Yang Ning asked quietly. “It’s quite large and isolated from the other courtyards. There must be a story behind it.”
Wei Tong shook his head. “I don’t know. Few speak of it; it’s an ominous place, no one wants to be involved. The vines have grown thick, yet no one dares clear them.” He clearly wished to avoid the topic. “Young master, the meal is ready. Let’s eat.”
Yang Ning followed Wei Tong to the dining room. Gu Qinghan was still in the accounting room. Wei Tong said he’d sent food there. After eating, Yang Ning returned to the accounting room and found Gu Qinghan still sorting through the accounts, bent over her abacus, fully absorbed. The meal sat untouched at her side, with Zhao Yuan and a young servant attending her.
“You two go eat,” Yang Ning waved his hand, signaling Zhao Yuan and the servant to leave.
They bowed and quietly withdrew. Yang Ning did not disturb Gu Qinghan but wandered slowly by the wooden shelves, hands behind his back. He picked up an account book and flipped it open, seeing densely written accounts, almost like essays, making for arduous reading. He opened several more—each was equally cumbersome. He frowned and shook his head after a while.
No wonder the account books nearly filled half the room. He noticed the records were quite detailed, but perhaps too much so, with numbers written out in words—making everything complicated and inconvenient.
In his previous life, he had been a businessman. Though not a professional accountant, he was familiar with basic financial statements. By his estimation, these dozens of pages could easily be condensed into two pages if recorded as a numerical report.
“Ah…!” As Yang Ning pondered, Gu Qinghan’s voice suddenly sounded behind him. He put down the account book and turned. Gu Qinghan sat in her chair, her head tilted to one side. He hurried over. “Third Madam, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t move…!” Gu Qinghan’s head was still tilted, her body rigid. “I… I can’t move my neck. Ning’er, don’t come any closer…!”
Yang Ning was startled but instantly understood—Gu Qinghan was suffering from cervical spondylosis, brought on by too long at her desk. When she suddenly lifted her head, the pain flared.
“Third Madam, don’t move.” Yang Ning stood behind her. Though he could not cure the condition, he could quickly relieve the pressure and restore her movement. He placed one hand on her fragrant shoulder. Gu Qinghan protested, “What are you doing? Don’t move, it hurts…!”
“I know it hurts,” Yang Ning replied. “Let me massage it, you’ll recover in no time. Stay still.” He placed his palm gently on her fair neck, his thumb pressing the cervical vertebra. Gu Qinghan shuddered, uncomfortable, and as her body moved, the pain in her neck intensified, eliciting a soft cry.
“I told you not to move, Third Madam. Be good,” Yang Ning scolded her like a child. His left hand pressed firmly on her shoulder to keep her still. Gu Qinghan was unsure what Yang Ning was up to. Though it seemed improper, Yang Ning’s thumb began to gently knead the bone, starting softly and gradually increasing pressure. Gu Qinghan felt the tension in her neck ease under his touch.
After a moment, Yang Ning’s hand moved gently back and forth over her delicate neck. Her skin was smooth and resilient. Though the pain was greatly relieved, Yang Ning’s caress made Gu Qinghan feel an unusual sensation, both physically and emotionally.
Qi Third Master had died for the country, and for many years she had lived as a widow. She was in the prime of her life, and as the third lady of the Marquis of Jinyi’s residence, decorum and fidelity were a given. Yet she was made of flesh and blood; to claim she felt no loneliness would be unrealistic. She often bathed in cold water, which had made her skin even tighter and more elastic.
Now, with Yang Ning massaging her neck—not an especially sensitive spot, but still—it stirred strange feelings in her.
If it had been before, perhaps she’d have felt nothing special. But now, knowing the young master was grown, her feelings had changed.
“That’s enough… enough…!” Gu Qinghan felt her face flush and whispered, “It’s much better now, no need… no need to keep massaging.”
Yang Ning withdrew his hand, seeing Gu Qinghan could turn her neck again. He smiled, “Looks like I have some skill. Third Madam, you have cervical spondylosis. Massaging often will help you recover.”
Gu Qinghan thought, this time there was no choice but to let you touch me. Next time, there will be no such opportunity. Afraid Yang Ning might notice her expression, she deliberately coughed and said, “These are all account books. If you don’t want to stay here, go for a walk. This is our old mansion; who knows when you’ll be back again.”
“I’ve already walked through the mansion,” Yang Ning replied, sitting down in a nearby chair. He glanced outside the door to confirm no one was around, then lowered his voice: “Third Madam, do you know about the haunted courtyard in the old mansion?”