Chapter Twenty-Seven: Zhou Ning'er

Xiao Wu, seeing Jiang Pingchuan wave his hand to stop him from throwing the mugwort in his arms into the pit, tossed it back into the storeroom and returned to stand beside Jiang Pingchuan, awaiting his instructions.

“Xiao Wu, nothing in this courtyard can be used anymore. The mugwort in the storeroom has long since been tainted with sinister energy. Go to another household and fetch some fresh mugwort,” Jiang Pingchuan said, watching as dusk slowly descended. The courtyard, already chilly, now felt as if it were bathed in the cold winds after autumn rain, sending shivers through one’s bones.

“Pingchuan, about my daughter…” Manager Zhou began, his voice trembling as he watched Xiao Wu run out to search for mugwort. He stood next to Jiang Pingchuan, staring at the intricately carved wooden door plastered with talismans by Daoist Wu. Every night, he would keep vigil at the door, but the low growls that drifted out from his daughter’s boudoir filled him with terror. Not only had he been unable to help her, but now his wife was behaving strangely as well. He feared that, given enough time, he too would lose himself.

“Manager Zhou, tonight I can rid your daughter’s chamber of the evil things within, but…” Jiang Pingchuan paused, glancing at the boudoir not far away. Manager Zhou slapped his forehead as understanding dawned.

“Pingchuan, rest assured—so long as you can drive out these demons and spirits, I will reward you handsomely,” Manager Zhou said, grasping Jiang Pingchuan’s hand fervently. He had already paid Daoist Wu a fortune, but all Daoist Wu did was talk about exorcising evil; in truth, he offered no real solution. Now, seeing Jiang Pingchuan identify the problem simply by entering the backyard, Manager Zhou found him far more reliable than Daoist Wu.

“Manager Zhou, Pingchuan acts out of the heart of a cultivator, not for money. Please don’t say such things again. I only want you to know that, to clear this courtyard of evil, I must enter your daughter’s chamber. I have never considered any reward,” Jiang Pingchuan said sternly, his tone tinged with annoyance. Manager Zhou’s face turned red with shame, but in his heart his respect for Jiang Pingchuan grew. He had never before seen such integrity.

“Pingchuan, don’t be angry—it was thoughtless of me. If, as you say, entering my daughter’s chamber is necessary to rid her of evil, then I have no objection. I am not so unreasonable,” Manager Zhou replied apologetically.

Manager Zhou’s voice was full of regret. Jiang Pingchuan was only helping out of his devotion to the Dao, yet he had misunderstood his intentions. For a moment, standing before Jiang Pingchuan, Manager Zhou didn’t quite know how to face him. After all, cultivators were known for their eccentricities.

“Ahem, Manager Zhou, don’t take it to heart. If you really want to thank me, just waive the cost of that bowl of plain noodles,” Jiang Pingchuan said with a laugh, patting Manager Zhou on the shoulder. Manager Zhou gave a little start, then nodded vigorously.

“Oh, Pingchuan, what’s a bowl of noodles? It’s nothing, not worth mentioning!” Manager Zhou replied, nodding repeatedly. In his view, he was truly fortunate that Jiang Pingchuan came to eat noodles at his family’s shop. In fact, he should be grateful that Jiang Pingchuan had no money to pay, otherwise he would never have encountered such a remarkable man.

Jiang Pingchuan strode over to the door of Manager Zhou’s daughter’s room and, without hesitation, tore down the mess of talismans covering the door. As he crumpled them in his hand, he nearly stumbled and fell. It turned out Daoist Wu had not only scrawled carelessly, but hadn’t even used proper talisman paper—these were just ordinary yellow grass sheets. As that little rascal Maoqiu would say, Daoist Wu was simply spouting nonsense.

“Hey, Pingchuan, those talismans cost me a fortune! Why are you tearing them all down?” Manager Zhou exclaimed in distress, quickly gathering up the torn scraps and looking at Jiang Pingchuan with pain in his eyes.

Jiang Pingchuan’s face filled with mock astonishment. He pointed at the talismans in Manager Zhou’s hand, then at himself. Manager Zhou pursed his lips, looking aggrieved.

“Haha, Manager Zhou, you’re joking, right? These aren’t real talismans. Frankly, even ghosts wouldn’t understand what’s written here. If you look closely, you’ll see—they’re mostly blessings for a bountiful harvest and prosperous livestock. And this one—would you believe it?—says ‘three wives and four concubines,’” Jiang Pingchuan said, slapping one of the talismans onto Manager Zhou’s face.

Manager Zhou pulled it off and, sure enough, saw the words “three wives and four concubines.” Looking at the rest, he found “bountiful harvest” and “prosperous livestock” written as well. Furious, he threw the talismans to the ground and stamped on them, muttering curses under his breath.

Jiang Pingchuan watched the angry Manager Zhou with a chuckle. He couldn’t blame the man—anyone would be desperate in such circumstances, seeking help wherever they could.

In such times, who would have the mind to scrutinize what the talismans said? Jiang Pingchuan gently pushed open the door, but both men froze in surprise.

Standing at the threshold was a woman in a white gauze gown, hair loose and disheveled, her skin deathly pale, lips curled in an eerie smile. Jiang Pingchuan drew a sharp breath. The woman was beautiful, but her pallor made it hard to see clearly.

“Ning’er, this is Pingchuan, the extraordinary cultivator here to free you from the torment of evil,” Manager Zhou said, swallowing nervously as he glanced at Jiang Pingchuan.

Jiang Pingchuan smiled reassuringly at Manager Zhou, then looked back—only to stumble inwardly. Manager Zhou’s daughter had vanished without a trace, and he hadn’t noticed at all.

“Pingchuan, my daughter, she…” Manager Zhou trailed off, looking at his child.

Where was his once lively, beloved daughter? She was like a corpse now—cold to the touch, eyes vacant, footsteps silent, movements stiff.

“Manager Zhou, she’s fine for now. When Xiao Wu returns, we’ll immediately begin the burning. Remember: once the moon rises, fetch me the largest of those seven ash urns by the pit. If you feel you owe me, just prepare another bowl of plain noodles tomorrow,” Jiang Pingchuan said, glancing at the seven urns by the deep pit before giving his final instructions and entering the room, closing the door behind him.

Inside, Jiang Pingchuan circled the chamber, ignoring the pale and exhausted Zhou Ning’er sitting blankly on the bed. He took his time examining the boudoir. Finally, he sat cross-legged before Zhou Ning’er, made a funny face at her, stuck out his tongue, and then closed his eyes, paying her no further attention.