Chapter Four: The Three-Eyed Taoist

Seeing Xi Chi nod, Yin Xun felt a surge of suspicion but maintained a calm expression. She feigned a cough. “Young master, I wrote your name, so out of courtesy, you should write mine as well.”

Xi Chi paused briefly, then took the wolf-hair brush Yin Xun offered and wrote “Jiang Lan” in a delicate hand on another corner of the white paper.

“People often say that one’s handwriting reflects their character, but I don’t believe it now. These characters are so elegant and charming—nothing like you at all.” Without caring what expression flickered across Xi Chi’s face, Yin Xun couldn’t help but laugh.

She was a little disappointed that the young maid, teased so, didn’t even blush. Had her flirtatious charm truly declined so badly?

After pondering, Yin Xun concluded the problem must lie in her appearance. She really was sickly and thin, her complexion sallow and her skin tone far from healthy. That wouldn’t do—she needed to recuperate. Even if she was now a young master and couldn’t openly tease the handsome men around her, there was no harm in doting on a lovely girl.

At that moment, a serving woman peeked in from outside.

Yin Xun noticed and frowned. “What is it?”

The servant bent respectfully. “This servant came to see if you’d finished your medicine, and whether you’d like a little snack to chase away the bitterness.”

Yin Xun’s brows smoothed slightly. “You are thoughtful. Next time, bring them together. For now, there’s no need.”

“Yes, this servant will remember for next time.”

“You may go.”

“Yes.”

As the woman left, she deliberately glanced at Xi Chi, who stood silently behind, her eyes clouded and unreadable.

After all this commotion, Yin Xun felt weary and dismissed Xi Chi as well.

Reclining on the wide bed, Yin Xun carefully recalled the day’s events. The humble yet clever maid, the timid but deep servant, and this young master disguised as a man—her courtyard alone was rife with secrets, not to mention the vast mansion beyond.

If she truly was a “young master,” why were there only three distinct breaths in the courtyard besides her own?

And what exactly was Jiang Lan’s fervent wish, the one for which she’d sacrificed herself? According to the booklet the little fox gave her, she should have received guidance when her soul descended, or at least some message. Why had Jiang Lan left nothing behind?

Why was her body riddled with wounds—who wanted her dead, and would they try again?

Although she had been granted a new life by fate, her human body was now devoid of spiritual power. She was stronger than most, yes, but the only thing she’d brought with her was that which followed her soul.

If real danger arose, it would be of little use. The most urgent task was to uncover who had tried to kill the original owner.

Under the moonlight, faint golden light shimmered on the exposed skin of Yin Xun’s right hand, flowing beneath the surface like water…

When she awoke the next day, it was not to the irksome sun but a room filled with the glaring yellow of Daoist talismans. Her brow furrowed.

Everywhere she looked—bedhead, curtains, screens, tables—was awash in that garish hue.

She pulled a faded green robe, jade belt, and coronet from the wardrobe, dressed herself neatly, tore off one talisman, and opened the door.

As expected, the courtyard was a scene of lively chaos.

Without spiritual power, her senses had dulled. She was displeased to realize that someone had plastered her room with talismans overnight without her noticing.

Looking up, she saw a Daoist priest in black and white robes, brandishing a peach-wood sword and reciting incantations. A crowd had gathered, chattering so loudly she couldn’t make out his words. As the priest finished, he made a gesture in the air, and with a bang, a cloud of smoke exploded from the altar.

The onlookers jumped back, startled, then, regaining their composure, erupted into applause.

“Marvelous, Master Daoist!”

“Such prowess!”

Yin Xun only sneered, holding the torn talisman to her nose. “Black dog’s blood—really?”

Did they take her for a monster?

She was an officially reincarnated soul, not some spirit usurper!

She leaned against the door, arms folded, eyes fixed on the so-called exorcist, determined to see which so-called master dared lay a hand on her today.

Yin Xun yawned, annoyed that her rest had been disturbed. Instantly, all eyes turned to her.

A moment ago, everyone had been captivated by the spectacle. Now, seeing Jiang Lan emerge, they scrambled to hide behind the priest, forming a long, shivering line.

“Oh? I thought you all wanted to play a game with me?”

The household servants shook their heads vigorously.

Seeing the young master, who days before had been gravely wounded and at death’s door, now descending the steps with a lazy smile, the more timid among them fainted outright. The family had already prepared the coffin and funeral clothes; to see the young master alive and well, they could only believe he’d been possessed by a demon.

The more they thought of it, the more terrified they became.

“Impudent demon! Leave at once and relinquish the young master’s body. If you refuse, don’t blame me—Sanmu Daoist of Mount Zhongnan—for dealing with you!”

The priest’s eyes bulged like copper bells. Whether or not he could subdue a demon, his posture was certainly fierce.

“You call me a demon? Then tell me—what kind of demon am I?”

Seeing their fear, Jiang Lan no longer advanced but sat casually on the steps, watching the blustering old priest with amusement.

“Er… um…” The priest stammered, rummaging through a small yellow book from his bag, setting aside his peach-wood sword as he leafed through its pages, mumbling all the while.

“A water demon?” He glanced at Jiang Lan, then shook his head. “No, no traces of the aquatic clans.”

“There are so many flowers and plants here—could it be a tree spirit or a flower sprite?” Again, he dismissed the thought.

Back and forth he went, eventually sitting right on the ground, thoroughly engrossed in his search, more like a scholar preparing for the civil service exams than a Daoist priest.

“What have you found, old Daoist?”

“I think… ah!” The priest, startled to see Jiang Lan squatting beside him, realized she was peering intently at his “family’s secret manual.”

He hastily closed the book. “Ahem, my skills are insufficient. I’ll take my leave now.”

With that, he sprang up and dashed away, vanishing in a flash.

Yin Xun stood as well, gazing at the huddled, cowering crowd pressed against the wall. With a rakish air, she twirled a lock of hair and flicked it aside. “He admits defeat. Do you want to invite another?”

Everyone shook their heads frantically, then bolted in unison.

At that moment, the limping Xi Chi appeared, carrying a brass basin, her head lowered as always. “Please, young master, it’s time to wash up.”

Yin Xun lifted her sleeve slightly. “Did they beat you?”

Xi Chi neither confirmed nor denied it.

Yin Xun frowned, then turned back inside. After rummaging through drawers, she finally found some healing ointment and saw the girl, stoic with pain, tearing down the talismans plastered everywhere.

Yin Xun pressed the medicine into her hand. “Go. Don’t linger in front of me—you’re irritating.”

Xi Chi paused, surprised. This was the first time she’d ever looked directly at her young master.

It lasted only a heartbeat before she lowered her head again. Just as she reached the door, a voice called out impatiently from within.

“If all you know is how to endure, you’re not fit to be one of my people.”

Xi Chi didn’t look back, and Yin Xun didn’t spare her another glance.

Sitting on the bed, Xi Chi gently lifted her bloodied wound, gasping in pain. Rubbing the smooth bottle in her hand, a spark of light flickered in her usually dull eyes.

“Is that so, young master?”

The morning’s events seemed to Yin Xun a mere trifle. She paid little heed, but the other courtyards buzzed with rumors.

“That Sanmu Daoist—he fled with just a word from the young master! Amazing!”

“They say Second Master took Second Miss’s money, lined his pockets, and picked up a fake priest off the street.”

“Did Second Master lose at gambling again?”

“Of course! You saw how Second Miss frowned over the account books.”

“Sigh, the young master has nothing to his name but the title and that arranged marriage to Princess Ningyuan. Second Master is no better. What a shame…”

“If only the Marquis and Lady were still alive, the old Duke wouldn’t have lost his leg…”

On the rooftop, Yin Xun replaced a loose tile and melted into the night.