Chapter Fifty-Two: The Enchantress

Jiang Pingchuan followed Horse-Face to a small bungalow nestled within a grove of plantains. The plantain grove lay to the east of the house, facing the windows directly. Perhaps the owner designed the house this way to conveniently observe the growth of his plantains, or perhaps it was simply the house’s natural layout.

The windows were tightly shut, for reasons unknown, refusing to let the sunlight stream inside. Most of the plantain grove had already been burned, leaving behind fields of charred blackness; only a scant few intact trees remained.

“Why would someone set the plantain grove on fire?” Jiang Pingchuan gazed at the blackened remains. From what was left, it was obvious that the grove had thrived, promising a good harvest in the future. It was a pity it had all been ruined by a single blaze.

Horse-Face looked at Jiang Pingchuan in surprise, while Gao Yao strode to the edge of the grove. He crouched and touched the ashen debris with an air of seriousness that almost made one laugh.

Gao Yao returned to Jiang Pingchuan, rubbing the ash from his hands, his expression thoughtful. Jiang Pingchuan, seeing Gao Yao’s confident demeanor, couldn’t help but sway his head slightly, waiting for him to reveal the answer.

“Brother, how did you know the grove was burned on purpose? I can’t tell at all,” Gao Yao asked, picking up a plantain leaf to wipe his hands, his tone careless.

Jiang Pingchuan and Horse-Face both glanced at him darkly; all that show of confidence had been for nothing. Gao Yao, it turned out, had no clue. Jiang Pingchuan could only curse inwardly.

“Are you blind? There’s half a burnt torch lying at the edge of the grove,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, rolling his eyes and gesturing toward the boundary. Following his gaze, Gao Yao finally spotted the half-burnt torch. Embarrassed, he chuckled awkwardly.

“How awkward... I was thinking maybe Uncle Ma here had done something terrible, and the heavens couldn’t stand it anymore, so they struck his grove with lightning,” Gao Yao said, hugging his broadsword, his face flushed.

Suddenly, a chill filled the air beside him.

“Gao Yao, you—” Horse-Face’s voice was cold as he stared at the grinning young man.

“Me? What about me? It’s my mouth, I’ll say what I like. You have no right to stop me,” Gao Yao shot back defiantly, cutting him off and revealing his reckless, wayward nature. A fire flared in his heart; he didn’t believe Horse-Face would dare strike him in front of Jiang Pingchuan.

“Gao Yao, that’s enough,” Jiang Pingchuan said, realizing Horse-Face was truly angry now. Any further provocation, and Gao Yao would likely suffer for it. He believed that once roused, Horse-Face wouldn’t give him any face at all. To spare Gao Yao from disaster, Jiang Pingchuan cut him off before he could say another word.

Gao Yao, seeing Jiang Pingchuan’s stern face, wisely said nothing more. Horse-Face snorted, pushed open the door, and stepped inside, with Jiang Pingchuan following.

The house was built carelessly, without any concern for auspicious placement. Inside, the furnishings were old and sparse, a testament to the owner’s modest means.

Jiang Pingchuan followed Horse-Face’s gaze to the bed, where a man lay, his face pallid. At the sight of him, Jiang Pingchuan immediately understood the situation.

The unconscious man was the one Jiang Pingchuan had seen in the noodle shop—the one with the heavy aura. He’d tried to approach him then, but Wang Daniu had interrupted. The man on the bed was the so-called Uncle Ma, whom Gao Yao had just mentioned.

“What’s wrong with him? Lying half-dead in bed just because his plantain grove burned? Is he faking it?” Gao Yao muttered, not caring about Horse-Face’s darkening expression. He fiddled with his knife as he approached the bed.

“Hey Uncle Ma, stop pretending. Hey, what—” Gao Yao leaned in, but before he could finish, he let out a startled yelp.

Horse-Face, his face grim, moved to intervene, but he paused when he saw something fall from Gao Yao’s hand—the five jade coins.

Horse-Face hesitated, his anger fading, and glanced abashedly at the stunned Gao Yao.

Jiang Pingchuan realized Gao Yao hadn’t intended to mock Uncle Ma but had been trying to retrieve five jade coins from his pocket to offer him. Something must have startled him so much that he dropped both coins and blade.

Gao Yao slowly turned, his face blank, and leaned against Jiang Pingchuan’s chest with a long, shaky breath. Jiang Pingchuan frowned, puzzled by his reaction.

“What did you see?” Jiang Pingchuan asked, patting his back in comfort. Gao Yao straightened, casting a wary glance at Horse-Face. When he saw no signs of anger, he relaxed.

“Uncle Ma’s... is too large. And it’s purple-black. Is it from too much... activity?” Gao Yao said, and then, seeing Horse-Face’s face darken further, quickly raised his fists defensively. “Hey, don’t get mad—I’m telling the truth! He’s lost control from excessive indulgence!”

Horse-Face sighed and shook his head. Gao Yao grinned and patted Jiang Pingchuan’s chest as if to say, “See? I’m not lying.”

“Horse-Face, is what Gao Yao said true? What happened to Uncle Ma?” Jiang Pingchuan asked.

Even with anger boiling inside, Horse-Face refrained from striking the tactless Gao Yao; clearly, what Gao Yao had said wasn’t without basis.

“You see, my uncle was born with an ugly face. He’s over thirty and still unmarried. He was anxious. Once, he asked me if there were any bewitching creatures in this world that could mingle with humans. I didn’t think much of it and told him that any living thing with enough years could become a spirit,” Horse-Face said, gazing at the unconscious man on the bed. As he spoke, he rubbed his eyes, and Jiang Pingchuan noticed something strange: one eye was pitch black, the other pure white—eyes of yin and yang.

So that was it. Horse-Face could walk between the realms of the living and the dead; he was a medium.

“In dreams, I can traverse both worlds. I know a bit about such spirits. I joked with him that plantain groves are particularly prone to attracting them—perhaps he could find a ghostly bride among his trees,” Horse-Face continued, his eyes filled with loathing as he looked at the charred grove.

“My uncle asked how he could see such spirits. I told him: Tie a red thread under the moon to the seventh node of the tree that bears the best fruit each year, and the other end to his big toe. Then, just lie quietly on the bed, and he would see the spirits in the grove.”

He pointed at the tightly shut window; a fragment of red thread still clung to the sill. That must have been the medium used to summon the spirit.

“Well, well, Uncle Ma really dared to dabble with spirits,” Gao Yao exclaimed, giving Horse-Face a thumbs-up. Horse-Face glared at him, but Gao Yao only grinned wider, secretly wondering when he might have his own encounter. He’d heard spirits could be absolute beauties.

Just the thought was enough to excite him, and Jiang Pingchuan, noticing his reaction, said nothing, knowing Gao Yao’s excitement would soon fizzle out.

“My uncle really tried it. He summoned a female ghost from the plantains, and they spent every night together. He finally experienced what it was like to live as a normal man. But as time passed, he realized his actions were wrong. Yet he couldn’t resist her temptations, and soon lost all control...”

“Incredible, incredible! Brother, was this ghostly woman beautiful?” Gao Yao interrupted, nearly dancing with excitement.

“Horse-Face said she was exceptionally alluring—a rare beauty even among spirits,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, watching Gao Yao with some amusement.

“Does she have a name?”

“She is called the Enchantress.”