Chapter Four: Someone Knocks at the Door at Night

"It's done!"

In the warmth of the room lit by the bronze brazier, Qi Xiu, sporting dark circles under his eyes, an unkempt beard, and a face etched with exhaustion, revealed a trace of joy in his gaze.

Seventeen days had passed.

He had finally managed, albeit barely, to imitate the brushwork of the monk Huai Seng.

Though his imitation captured only sixty percent of the spirit, to the average eye, it was already strikingly similar—enough for Qian Yuze to shine alone at the upcoming birthday banquet.

Now that the task was complete, I must allow myself a proper rest. This half month had almost drained me dry, he thought, a bitter smile flickering as he slowly sank into his chair, his body aching all over. He massaged his sore back.

For seventeen days, save for eating, sleeping, and the occasional trip to the privy, he had spent every waking moment studying the rubbings and replicas, working over sixteen hours a day. It was as if he had returned to those relentless 9-9-6 days.

With the birthday banquet little more than a month away, Qian Yuze, though he said nothing, would visit two or three times each day, his presence a constant source of pressure.

Had it been someone else, they might have long since buckled under the strain.

Fortunately, Qi Xiu possessed his own growing proficiency. Each round of copying and study steadily, inexorably advanced his mastery of calligraphy. Knowledge and insight surged in his mind, seeping into his very limbs and bones. The iceberg that was the "Authentic Work of Huai Seng" was slowly being melted by his burning perseverance.

"These two weeks have been grueling, but the rewards are not inconsiderable."

With a thought, he summoned his ink-and-wash script panel.

Calligraphy (First Realm): 67.4%
Culinary Skills: 7.6%

After half a month of burning the midnight oil, his calligraphy proficiency had soared by nearly seventy percent, propelling his artistry forward like a rocket.

The most obvious change was how much easier it had become to replicate the "Authentic Work of Huai Seng." He could now write without relying on the model, even inventing characters not present on the rubbings.

His mastery of the [Zhen] character had also improved dramatically. Previously, writing this mystical glyph required him to concentrate for thirty breaths to trace the structure and another thirty breaths to carefully inscribe it—an entire minute for a single character.

Now, with his skill advanced, the process had been halved. In just fifteen breaths, he could produce it.

Creak—

The door swung open, and a swirl of frigid wind swept in from outside. The chill roused Qi Xiu at once.

"Ziyuan, how goes the progress?"

Stepping across the threshold, Qian Yuze entered, carrying a food box in his hand.

Qi Xiu's courtesy name was Ziyuan. Over the past fortnight, the two had grown familiar, and their manner of address lost its former stiffness.

"Fortunately, I have not failed you. Today, I can claim slight success," Qi Xiu replied, handing over the imitation essay on the table, pressing his lips together.

"Oh? Let me see," Qian Yuze said, a glimmer of delight in his eyes as he took the essay.

With just over twenty days left until his father's birthday, time was tight. Still, the task was daunting, so he hadn't pressed Qi Xiu too hard.

As Qian Yuze unfolded the paper and his gaze landed on the script, his heart gave a jolt.

Excellent!

The brushwork was crisp, imbued with spirit and clarity. To most, it would be impossible to tell this was an imitation.

Such progress in merely half a month—my judgment was not mistaken.

Qi Ziyuan is truly a hidden gem!

"Ziyuan, you are a jade unpolished. Had I known of your talent, I would have brought you into my study long ago as my chief scribe," Qian Yuze said. Seeing Qi Xiu complete the task, the gloom that had weighed on him these days suddenly lifted.

"You are too kind, sir. If all goes well, we can begin as soon as tomorrow," Qi Xiu replied, his brow furrowing slightly.

Imitating Huai Seng's brushwork was but the first step. The key now was to teach Qian Yuze himself. This young master, after all, did not possess Qi Xiu's growing proficiency. For him to learn in a short time would not be easy.

"Yes, that's fine. Time is indeed pressing. We'll start tomorrow, then. For today, get some rest first. I've had the kitchen prepare you a meal," Qian Yuze said, opening the food box. A rich aroma wafted out at once. The steaming, delicately arranged four dishes and a soup immediately awakened Qi Xiu's hunger.

"Oh, and one more thing. Don't go out at night for the time being. I'll have the servants bring you a night bucket. Sleep early and bolt the door. If someone knocks late at night, do not answer."

Hmm?

A knock at the door? Who would knock?

At these words, Qi Xiu's eyelid twitched, an uneasy chill creeping up within him. Something about Qian Yuze's tone was off.

"Don't worry. There have been some burglaries recently—thieves sneaking into the estate at night. I just don't want you to get hurt. Be vigilant, that's all," Qian Yuze said, giving a few more instructions before taking his leave.

Watching Qian Yuze's retreating figure, Qi Xiu's expression grew complicated as he sat back down.

Burglars stealing things... who knock on doors?

...

Night fell.

In the dimly lit room, the candlelight flickered uncertainly. Qi Xiu tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

If someone knocks at the door, do not answer...

Qian Yuze's warning from earlier echoed in his mind like a curse.

I won't be able to sleep until I figure this out.

Sitting upright, Qi Xiu rubbed his brow and glanced toward the door and window. On the cracks of both, he had pasted white slips inscribed with the mystical, ancient [Zhen] glyph he had copied.

He had no idea if they would work.

Leaning by the bedside, he rested his chin on his hand, staring at the corridor outside. The lanterns swayed faintly, casting a dull yellow glow. Drops of wax fell from the lamp.

Night deepened.

Though unease gnawed at Qi Xiu, exhaustion after half a month of toil finally overwhelmed him. Despite trying to stay awake, his eyelids drooped, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Hiss—

The candle burned to the end, and the room was plunged into darkness.

He did not know how much time had passed; the moonlight had faded, and outside, a biting wind suddenly swept through the corridor. One by one, the lanterns beneath the eaves were extinguished.

Hollow, murky darkness surged in like a tide, engulfing all.

Shhh... shhh... shhh...

Faint, eerie footsteps echoed down the dim corridor.

A numb, stiff figure emerged into the sparse moonlight.

It was a man, his face expressionless, skin iron-grey and mottled with livid corpse spots. He wore a long robe, his feet bare, his eyes ashen and dead, utterly devoid of light.

He stood there, eerie and unnatural, for several minutes.

Then, with a mechanical, puppet-like movement, the man in the long robe took a step forward.

After half a minute, he stopped in front of Qi Xiu's door, turning woodenly to face it.

His ashen, lifeless eyes slowly rolled, their vacant gaze peering through the lattice at the slumbering Qi Xiu within.

He raised his corpse-mottled right hand.

Hiss—

The instant his palm touched the door, the [Zhen] glyph pasted on the other side blazed with golden light.

Amid curling white smoke, a mysterious, ancient power forcefully repelled his hand.

He glanced down at his hand, now pushed away, and stood motionless for a while.

After a time, the man in the long robe turned stiffly, his eerie footsteps resuming as he approached the next room.

...

The following morning, daylight flooded the sky.

Yawning, Qi Xiu rubbed his eyes as he woke.

It seems I was overthinking things. Nothing strange happened last night.

He slipped on his clothes, got out of bed, and poured himself a cup of water. His gaze happened to fall upon the door.

The [Zhen] glyph affixed there remained, but most of the ink had faded—barely a fifth remained.

Clang—

Startled, he nearly dropped the teapot.

Face pale, Qi Xiu strode to the door and tore down the slip bearing the [Zhen] glyph.

The paper was intact, but the ink had vanished as if by magic.

So something really did come last night.

Only the power of the [Zhen] character kept it outside.

Swallowing hard, Qi Xiu felt a chill prickle at his scalp despite the bright daylight.

He opened the door.

A servant carrying a bucket hurried past.

"Excuse me, did anything happen in the estate last night?" Qi Xiu stopped the servant to ask.

"How did you know?" The servant froze, then quickly waved his hands in denial. "Nothing, nothing at all." He hurried away, giving Qi Xiu no chance to ask further.

Something's not right.

There's definitely some unspeakable secret in the Qian household.

His unease grew heavier. Returning to his room, he quickly changed clothes, then hurried through the corridors toward the inner quarters.

...

"Hurry up—we must have everything cleaned before the master wakes!"

Handkerchief covering his nose and mouth, the Qian family steward barked orders at the busy servants, urging them on.

A dozen servants, armed with buckets and mops, shuttled in and out of a side courtyard.

Clear water went in.

Bloody water came out.

"Old Zhao, was there another incident last night?" Sun Biao, the captain of the guards, approached, flanked by four burly men, his brow furrowed.

"Captain Sun, I'm glad you're here. Two more gone last night—looked even worse than the last ones. All their organs scooped out, the room awash in blood. Hurry and get the bodies out before the master sees, or it'll be a disaster."

"Understood. Let's move, brothers."

With practiced efficiency, Sun Biao and his men entered the room. Soon, they emerged carrying two corpses shrouded in white cloth.

To avoid being seen, they deliberately chose the side paths, steering clear of the main avenues.

"Boss, more and more people are dying—can't this be dealt with?"

"Dealt with? How? Every exorcist we've hired was useless—ended up dead themselves. That thing comes and goes without a trace; it's impossible to catch."

"Then why don't the masters just move out instead of waiting to die?"

"Who knows? I heard the second master brought in a real expert from his sect. Maybe there's hope."

"For our sakes, I hope so. Otherwise, we're in danger too. I haven't even married yet, let alone continued the family line."

"Ha! If you spent less time at the brothel, you'd have a wife by now. Careful you don't catch something filthy."

"What do you know? I go there to drink and relax."

"Sure you do."

...

By the withered rock garden beside the side path, a scholar in a blue-grey robe stood with sleeves drawn, half-hidden behind the rockery.

As Sun Biao and his men passed, a gust of wind whipped the cloth off the corpses, revealing two bodies twisted in agony, faces contorted, chests and bellies sunken in.

The metallic tang of blood lingering in the air, Qi Xiu clenched his fists within his sleeves.

This Qian estate is no place to stay.

...