The Den of Dissipation

Lu Xun breathed in the abundant spiritual energy without restraint.

It was as if a tiger had returned to the deep mountains, a dragon to the sea.

The setting remained the small courtyard.

The old peach tree stood bare, its branches stripped by the chilly wind that swirled through, sending dried yellow leaves tumbling to the ground.

The bleak autumn breeze painted the distant mountains a fiery red, evening clouds streaked across the sky, laying out a layered tapestry of clouds like mountain ridges.

Lu Xun paced the courtyard, a plastic bag in hand.

His immediate concern was to find something to wear.

He had sacrificed many things to bring over three pounds of crafted objects.

Sensing movement nearby, Lu Xun reverted to the form of a three-legged old cat, clutching the plastic bag in his mouth.

Emerging from the main hall was an elderly man, locking the door and preparing to leave when he suddenly froze, exclaiming, “Three Legs!”

Lu Xun almost failed to recognize him; the old man with the dry tobacco pipe was Old Cheng from the magistrate’s office.

Now, Old Cheng wore a deep blue tunic and a black cap, the lines on his face had deepened, chiseled like sword strokes, and his clouded eyes sparked with light upon seeing the four-foot-long black cat.

The transformation of age seemed instantaneous.

The last time they met, Old Cheng was aged, but not like this.

Since they were old acquaintances, Lu Xun did not feign ignorance, instead shifting his head to that of the Five-Tongue Mountain Lord and stepping forward.

“It really is you.”

Old Cheng had hesitated to believe his eyes.

Though four-foot-long black cats were not unheard of, only this one could transform from an ordinary feline into a great demon.

Upon seeing the demon again, Old Cheng felt none of his past wariness, only the joy of reuniting with an old friend. He said, “I’ll fetch two jugs of good wine, wait for me, just wait.”

He hurried out, bought two jugs from the tavern, and a cloak from the tailor.

A jug of cloudy wine marked the joy of reunion.

Old Cheng took a deep drag of his brass pipe, white smoke curling from his nostrils, and asked with a smile, “When did you return, and where have you been these past six months?”

Lu Xun, gazing at the reflection in his cup, fell silent.

He did not wish to lie, yet had no idea how to answer.

Fortunately, his body was that of a great demon, and his words emerged as a raspy beast’s tongue incomprehensible to ordinary folk, sparing him much tedious small talk.

He raised the cup and drank it in a single gulp.

Old Cheng hadn’t expected a reply; he continued, “Chief Zhao led them to the prefecture city to take up their posts. If you wish to visit, you can go to Jiujiang Prefecture and find them.”

“I’m old now; the last injury left me with ailments, so I stayed in the county to watch over the house for Chief Zhao.”

So half a year had passed; Lu Xun mused thus.

He silently calculated the days spent at the general store.

Lu Xun dipped his finger in tea and wrote two characters on the stone table.

“Literacy”

“Writing”

Then pointed to himself.

“You want to learn to read?” Old Cheng guessed, half deducing.

Lu Xun nodded. He needed to systematically study the language and script of this world.

Old Cheng pondered, “There are academies and private tutors in the city, and every village has its own schoolmaster.”

“Their learning is limited, but if you truly wish to master something, you must go to White Deer Cave Academy at the southern foot of Five Old Peaks. The headmaster is a scholar renowned across the land.”

“Many students travel thousands of miles to study at the academy.”

As he puffed his dry tobacco, Old Cheng’s eyes lit up. “You know Clear Spring Temple, right? That old temple in the city that was confiscated. I’ve heard White Deer Cave Academy is planning to open a branch school there, and they’re recruiting a batch of students in the county.”

To set up a school in Meilan County, they naturally had to curry favor with the local gentry, so the academy intended to make a gesture.

As long as one could pay the fees, anyone could study at the academy for a few years.

The wealthy families in the city were delighted.

Even their idle sons could spend two years gilding their education.

This was an opportunity. Lu Xun tilted his head at Old Cheng.

Old Cheng said, “It’s happening soon, the notice is still posted on the county office’s announcement wall.”

Donning his cloak, Lu Xun decided to take a look. He took five quail-egg-sized pure beads from the plastic bag and handed them to Old Cheng.

Old Cheng forgot to keep smoking; he felt immediately overwhelmed by the glittering jewels as Lu Xun’s beastly paw extended them.

“I’ll keep one, and send the other four to them in the prefecture.”

Good.

Lu Xun nodded slightly.

As dusk deepened, Old Cheng departed with hands behind his back, leaving the key to the east wing for Lu Xun.

Lu Xun used the key to open the lock and entered the east wing; the furniture and bed were still there, the bedding filled with the scent of sunlight.

He pried up a floor tile, hid the plastic bag beneath it, and drew three beads from inside. After sealing the floor tile, he faced a solid wooden chest, which held ordinary clothes.

Lu Xun donned the head of “Chen Sheng,” found suitable clothes, dressed himself, tucked the three quail-egg-sized beads into his pouch, locked the door, buried the key in the hollow of the old plum tree, and left the courtyard.

Night had fallen, and thousands of lights began to shine.

The pale-faced burly man headed straight for the east of the city. As the evening deepened, the east grew ever brighter; painted barges illuminated the long river, their reflections shimmering, the grandest being a three-story mountain building that cast half the city in golden red light.

The Drunken Tower—a proper den of vice.

Sadly, it dealt in nothing legitimate.

Rumor had it the gold and silver piled inside could not be measured by weight.

The voices of the girls greeting and bidding farewell carried far into the night.

Standing not far away, Lu Xun inhaled the scent of powder and perfume, feeling his body grow hot.

His large hand stroked the three pure beads at his waist, and he was about to step forward, but recalling his mother lying in a cold treatment pod, that flicker of fire was doused by true energy.

Gambling and prostitution went hand in hand.

The gambling dens were equally lively, and with them came pawnshops. Gamblers, after losing everything, would pawn their possessions, and when those were gone, they would sell their children and wives—daughters to brothels, sons to work mines in the southern seas, wives to wealthy lords for childbearing.

Lu Xun targeted a pawnshop, lifting the heavy curtain.

Behind the tall counter, a lazy clerk slouched, his eyes half open, and said blandly, “What do you wish to pawn, sir?”

Lu Xun took a pure bead from his pouch, but the imagined scene of the clerk gaping in awe did not occur; nor did he invite Lu Xun into the inner hall. The clerk, unfazed, said, “One foreign night pearl, no light, no color, cloudy glass, worth fifty taels of silver. Sir, do you want a live pawn or a dead pawn?”

“Fifty taels!” Lu Xun erupted, springing onto the counter, his stout hand grabbing the clerk’s collar, pulling half his body out.

He snorted coldly: “You think I’m some naive heir from a grand household, trying to cheat me?”

His fist, like a clay pot, clenched with a grinding sound.

The clerk, thoroughly frightened, had lost all composure.

This man was clearly a hardened ruffian, reeking of water from the lakes and rivers.

The clerk spilled everything he knew: “No, no, how could I dare cheat you, sir? Normally, such a pearl would fetch two or three hundred taels, but lately too many have been pawned, they’re no longer rare. The boss is worried about how to sell off the jewelry in the storeroom, planning to exchange them for gold in the prefecture.”

Lu Xun asked suspiciously, “Many people have been pawning jewels lately?”

“What kind of people?”

“Mostly fishermen from the river, dark-skinned from the sun.”

“Others?”

“There was also a scholar.”

Lu Xun grew increasingly puzzled.

He did not doubt the clerk’s ability to judge people.

When unusual things occur, there’s always something behind them. He suddenly thought of the Five-Tongue God who robbed the tax silver.

Could it be the work of some other demon?