HCAW 103

Chapter 103: Thunder Rumbles Through an Empty Gut

In the guest hall, several grand armchairs were arranged in the center. Calligraphy and paintings adorned the walls. Outside the lattice windows, bamboo shadows rustled gently. The air was filled with a sweet, honeyed scent.

Several prominent figures were seated. The old woman introduced herself to the group—she was the younger sister of the former Bi Bao Guard. After her elder sister’s disappearance, she had taken over the position of Xian Mountain Guard, and thus could now be called the new Bi Bao Guard.

Xiao Jiao sat off to the side, clearly uneasy. Her fingers twisted the sleeves of her robe into a cord.

The new Bi Bao Guard noticed her discomfort and said cheerfully, “Good girl, no need to be so nervous. Let’s sit and have some tea, talk slowly. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Her voice was kind and gentle, putting others at ease. Xiao Jiao let out a small breath of relief but still sat stiffly, pressed against the chair’s rim. The Bi Bao Guard smiled at Fatty Ji and said, “It’s been so long—Your Highness has grown so tall.”

Fatty Ji responded with mock humility, “Just aged a few more years.”

“I watched Your Highness grow up with the former Bi Bao Guard, step by step. Back then you were like a tiny bean sprout—and now look how strong and sturdy you’ve become.” The old woman smiled kindly. “From the time you were little, I believed you’d one day sit firmly upon the dragon throne.”

Fatty Ji beamed with pride at such praise. The Bi Bao Guard went on, “In short, Your Highness’s ascension is a great joy. I have no objections. As long as the Bai Huan Guard agrees, the ceremony can proceed shortly.”

At this point, everyone turned to look at the Bai Huan Guard—but her seat was empty. The Bai Huan Guard was elusive as moonlight in water, always appearing and disappearing like a mirage. Fatty Ji laughed it off: “No rush. I’ll visit the lady myself on another day.”

The Bi Bao Guard stood slowly and shuffled around the guest hall, handing everyone red packets. She chatted warmly with Gu Bi Guard, then took Xiao Jiao’s hand and spoke with deep care. Her hands were rough and short-fingered—not the hands of a pampered lady, but like those of a hardworking farmwife. For a time, the guest hall buzzed with chatter, and everyone felt comforted by the old woman’s approachable nature.

Even Xiao Jiao found herself dazed. She had grown up without family, raised by Fang Jingyu. Though he had always treated her well, his face was hard and wooden—never as warm as the Bi Bao Guard’s. Watching her now, Xiao Jiao’s heart felt warm, and she couldn’t help but think: if she’d had a grandmother like this when she was little, how wonderful it would have been.

Just then, a flash of white crossed her mind. She vaguely recalled fragmented images: a dimly lit stone chamber, a small pale hand tightly holding hers, a clinking string of beads… A long-buried memory was slowly surfacing. But when she tried to remember more, it slipped away again.

Suddenly, she gasped and saw—within the peaceful hall—a black shadow standing at the crevice in the wall, silently watching them.

For a moment, Xiao Jiao thought she was dreaming again. These past days, she’d had a recurring nightmare—a black figure, claws outstretched, stealing the lives of all it encountered. She tried to cry out, but her throat felt stuffed with straw.

The shadow slowly stepped forward. No one else seemed to notice—they kept chatting, smiling.

The figure stopped behind the Bi Bao Guard, eyeing her like a sly wolf or fox stalking prey. Suddenly, it swelled in size, maw gaping wide, drooling with sharp teeth—about to bite down on her head!

“Stop!”

Xiao Jiao screamed.

In a flash, the shadow vanished.

Silence fell. Everyone turned to look at her in shock. Xiao Jiao, drenched in cold sweat, clutched her forehead and said, “Sorry—I dozed off and had a fright. I didn’t mean to startle anyone.”

Gu Bi Guard had already heard she’d been unwell recently and wasn’t surprised. He covered his mouth with a fan, obscuring his expression. “The Divine Maiden isn’t feeling well today. It’s best you rest a while. Tonight’s banquet is to welcome the Bi Bao Guard. There are guest rooms in the manor—if you’re feeling better, we’d be glad to have you join us.”

Xiao Jiao, aware of her outburst, forced an embarrassed agreement. The Bi Bao Guard gently patted her back. “Poor girl—your face is as pale as an eggplant in autumn! I’ve brought some medicine for headaches. I’ll find it for you later—guaranteed to help you sleep well tonight.”

So Xiao Jiao took her leave and didn’t bother seeking out Fang Jingyu or the others. Under the maid’s guidance, she went gloomily to her room. But the moment her head hit the pillow, her headache worsened—like an awl stabbing from a corpse’s foot straight into her skull. Writhing in pain, she cried out on the bed—when a few knocks came at the door.

A short, plump old woman stepped deftly over the threshold—it was the Bi Bao Guard.

She carried an old cloth satchel on her back. Seeing Xiao Jiao writhing in pain, her heart ached. She hurried forward, opened her bag, and pulled out a bright yellow oil-paper bundle. From it, she poured several black pills into her palm.

“These are ligusticum pills—with a few added herbs for pain relief. If the Divine Maiden doesn’t mind, please try them.”

Xiao Jiao was in such pain that she didn’t care what they were—she’d have eaten mud pellets off the floor. She grabbed them and swallowed them down, chasing them with a big gulp of strong tea. Her throat stretched—and soon, she felt much better, her limbs lightened.

The Bi Bao Guard saw the color return to her face and was relieved. Xiao Jiao, now breathing easier, grasped her hand. “Grandma, your medicine really works!”

The old woman’s brows eased, her smile gentle. “If the Divine Maiden feels no more pain, this old woman’s heart is also at ease.” She added, “Good girl, lie down and rest now. It’s important to regain your strength.”

Xiao Jiao lay down, her wide, unfocused eyes peeking out from under the blanket. Uneasy, she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I took your medicine—what if you don’t have enough for yourself?”

“I’m strong as a horse—hardly need any medicine,” the Bi Bao Guard laughed, her wrinkles bunching like blooming petals. She took out another pouch and told the maid outside to brew it. “This one is for calming the spirit and chasing away fright. Drink it, and the Divine Maiden will sleep soundly tonight.”

Xiao Jiao was deeply grateful. Soon, the maid returned with the brewed medicine. Xiao Jiao drank a bowl, and already felt more refreshed. “Grandma, I’m much better now.”

“I’m glad it’s working. I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep,” the Bi Bao Guard said with a smile, gently stroking her forehead.

Xiao Jiao blushed. “Grandma, you don’t have to…”

But the old woman didn’t leave. She sat on a painted stool by the bed and began to softly sing a lullaby:

“Round as jade, shining bright,

Lift the curtain, wash your clothes light.

Scrub them clean and smooth and neat,

Wear them proudly to see your sweet…”

Her voice was smooth as satin. In that old, familiar tune, even the light seemed to soften and warm. Listening, Xiao Jiao’s headache gradually eased. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something. The Bi Bao Guard noticed and asked with a smile, “What is it?”

“I just wanted to say… Grandma, you really don’t seem like a Xian Mountain Guard,” Xiao Jiao said with a bit of shyness. “I wish you really were my grandma.”

Bi Bao Guard laughed. “In my eyes, it’s you, Divine Maiden, who doesn’t seem like a Divine Maiden.”

“Have you been here long, Bi Bao Guard?”

“A long time—twenty years or so. Back then, I wasn’t yet the Bi Bao Guard.”

“Was Emperor Bai also here twenty years ago?”

At that question, Bi Bao Guard suddenly shivered. After a long pause, she slowly said, “Yes, he was. That’s quite an old story now.”

“I want to hear that story, Grandma—tell me.” Xiao Jiao clutched her hand, coaxing her like a grandchild. Unable to resist her insistence, Bi Bao Guard chuckled and began gently:

“Long ago, this place wasn’t the Three Xian Mountains yet, just a great island, plagued by snowstorms and covered in ice.”

“And then?”

“Then, one day, the scorching sun blazed down, and the ice and snow melted all at once. A massive flood swept the land, swallowing up the Xian Mountains.”

Xiao Jiao covered her mouth. This tale matched the account Zheng Deli had read from the bone fragments—it confirmed it must be true. “Oh no! What did they do then?”

“The flood drowned every corner of the Xian Mountains. Crops died, plagues spread. Thankfully, Emperor Bai stepped up and commanded that a new foundation be built upon the back of a giant turtle in the sea—thus, the Three Xian Mountains were born. That’s why the records say: Daiyu has suffered three calamities—fire, flood, and ice. Now we’ve built this city, so there are no more floods, but snowstorms still plague us.” Bi Bao Guard sighed deeply.

“Then why not go beyond the city gates and find a way to stop the storms?”

Bi Bao Guard’s expression suddenly changed. She cried out, “Ah—good girl! Mind your words!”

Xiao Jiao blinked, confused.

“Didn’t Emperor Bai fail in that very attempt? Don’t you know why he hung eleven blood bait locks on the gates of Daiyu?”

A chill wind rose from the veranda. Branches and leaves swayed eerily, raising goosebumps on their skin. Bi Bao Guard’s tone turned grave:

“Because all the storms come from beyond the gate!”

Xiao Jiao shivered involuntarily. Bi Bao Guard waved her arms, her squat shadow stretching under the dim sky like a dancing demon.

“Guixu—that place where ice never melts, forever frozen in ancient cold—it’s the root of all the snow disasters that strike the Xian Mountains!”

_____

After seeing off Bi Bao Guard with kind words, that very night, Xiao Jiao had a dream.

She saw a world half black and half white—like a great yin-yang formation. She hovered above it like a drifting cloud, overlooking everything. Only later did she realize the black half was the vast and boundless Ming Sea, and the white half was a towering snow-covered mountain. That must have been Guixu.

Perhaps it was the ligusticum pills and calming soup—this time, she didn’t have a nightmare, but a beautiful dream.

In the dream, it was New Year’s. She was sitting in the breezy square courtyard in their home in Penglai. Firecrackers roared in the street like earth dragons turning over, molten sparks flying, and a fragrant mix of scallion and vinegar filled the house.

She sat at the table, tapping her chopsticks against her bowl and whining, “You sour gourd, are they ready yet?”

After a moment, the curtain shifted. Fang Jingyu came in, head wrapped in a kerchief, sleeves rolled up, carrying a dish with a cold face. He set a plate of dumplings in front of her. “They’re done.”

Xiao Jiao cheered and reached out to grab one, only for Fang Jingyu to catch her fingers with his chopsticks. “Use your chopsticks.”

She huffed, grabbed the chopsticks—but then he clamped their tips. “Wipe that frozen snot off your face.”

Xiao Jiao shouted, “You damned gourd, are you going to let me eat or not?!”

Fang Jingyu replied coldly, “You lazy brat—I rolled the dough, boiled the water, cooked the dumplings—you just sit there stuffing your mouth, looking like a total mess. How’s that acceptable? Today’s New Year’s. The ancestors’ spirits are coming to visit—we should at least look presentable.”

Hearing that, Xiao Jiao was a bit cowed. She went to wash her face in the warm water basin he’d prepared. When she sat back down, she pleaded, “Can I eat now?”

“Go ahead,” Fang Jingyu said.

Outside, firecrackers burst in the sky. Inside, the aroma of pepper wine filled the air. Xiao Jiao devoured the dumplings eagerly—but then slowly paused, her chopsticks halting mid-air.

“What’s wrong?” Fang Jingyu asked.

“I just realized… it’s been so long since I’ve had a day like this.”

“What kind of day?”

Xiao Jiao said, “A day like this, with you—eating plain food, shivering in the cold wind…” She was gradually remembering she was dreaming.

Fang Jingyu gave a faint snort—just the barest curl at the corner of his lips, but his expression came alive. “Since you think traveling with me is no fun, why did you insist on coming in the first place?”

“There’s fun in traveling, and peace in staying,” Xiao Jiao said. Then she shook her head. “No… that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“It’s not like I need to stay in this little courtyard forever. As long as someone is here to talk with me, celebrate the New Year with me, eat dumplings together—I’d be perfectly happy.” Xiao Jiao spoke with a quiet joy. “I don’t remember much from before, but I vaguely recall living in a tiny, dark cellar when I was little, all alone with no one by my side. Compared to that, things are much better now.”

“Then you’re really happy now?”

“Yes, I really am.” Xiao Jiao nodded.

The room fell briefly into silence. Outside, the northern wind howled, rustling the faded New Year’s prints pasted on the window. Suddenly, Xiao Jiao grabbed her chopsticks and shattered the stillness with a spirited shout:

“I’m going to eat dumplings until I burst! Sour-mouthed gourd, don’t you dare try to stop me!”

In the dream, Fang Jingyu looked at her with a smile in his eyes and made no move to stop her. He simply said, “Eat slowly—there’s a lucky surprise hidden inside.”

Xiao Jiao froze for a second—but then there was a crunch in her mouth so loud it nearly cracked her teeth. She spat it out and saw a piece of silver. She cursed, “You damn ladle (Empty-headed or foolish)! Trying to assassinate your great-aunt!” But she swiftly pocketed the silver, grinning all the while. During past New Years, Fang Jingyu often hid a coin in one dumpling—whoever found it would have good luck for the year.

But this year, that stingy man was unusually generous. Xiao Jiao bit into five or six dumplings in a row and found a silver bit in each. The cabbage and minced meat filling was delicious, though the constant crunching on hard objects soured the mood a bit. Eventually, she chipped half a tooth. She spat it out—only to find a whole silver ingot. Furious and delighted at once, she cursed Fang Jingyu again and tucked it away.

By the time the meal was done, Xiao Jiao’s belly was round with food and her heart content. Fireworks lit up the sky outside, flashing silver and gold, dragons dancing in midair. Thousands of homes overflowed with festivity. Though theirs was a small household, it held a peace all its own. Xiao Jiao suddenly said:

“Sour-mouthed gourd, I want to live like this with you for the rest of my life.”

Fang Jingyu crossed his arms. “You clinging dodder vine—you just want to leech off me and empty my rice jar for life.”

Xiao Jiao slumped onto the table, grinning at him with her chipped tooth showing. “You don’t want to?”

Fang Jingyu paused, then smiled faintly. “Well, I was the one who brought you through the door, after all. Inviting a calamity god in is easy—seeing one off is hard. If you want to stay, stay. If you want to go, go.”

“Alright, it’s settled then.” Xiao Jiao blinked brightly. “I’ll stick with you forever.”

Outside, a brilliant firework burst like the sun shattering in midair—molten light flaring in every direction. White light swallowed everything, washing away Xiao Jiao’s dream. The chilly Fang family courtyard disappeared. Fang Jingyu disappeared. Xiao Jiao thought, It’s time to wake up.

That morning, she woke feeling clear-headed and refreshed. The black shadow and man-eating nightmares hadn’t come. Instead, she’d had a beautiful dream of celebrating New Year’s with Fang Jingyu—likely thanks to the calming medicine Bi Bao Guard had given her. Her mouth ached, probably from too much meat and wine. She slowly got out of bed, deciding she’d ask Bi Bao Guard for more medicine today.

A basin of warm water had already been prepared. After washing and dressing, she called out a few times—but no maid came. She grew puzzled. Peeking the door open a crack, she saw the breeze rustling willows outside. Then she remembered—she was staying in Fatty Ji’s manor. Yesterday she’d been unwell and had rested here, not expecting to sleep through the entire night.

But now the sky was overcast, the manor filled with urgent noise. Servants rushed about, faces stricken with panic. Screams and muffled sobs drifted from the distant guest rooms. Something terrible had clearly happened. Xiao Jiao’s heart sank. She hurriedly stopped a passing servant and asked:

“What’s going on? Why is everyone in such a rush? What happened?”

“R-Reporting to the Divine Maiden,” the servant stammered, drenched in sweat. “S-someone… one of the honored guests… has passed away!”

Xiao Jiao’s body jolted. “What did you say?”

She leapt over the threshold in one bound and grabbed the servant by the arm, shaking him hard. “Who?! Who are you talking about?!”

“I-it’s… the B-Bi Bao Guard, my lady.”

It was like a thunderbolt struck her from a clear sky. Xiao Jiao stood frozen, trembling from head to toe. The servant dared not withhold anything and continued in a shaking voice:

“After last night’s banquet, Her Highness arranged for Bi Bao Guard to rest in a guest room. But this morning, we… we found her dead inside…”

“What happened?” Xiao Jiao murmured. Her face had gone ghostly pale. “She was perfectly fine yesterday! She even brought me medicine for my headache!” She suddenly grabbed the servant’s collar. “You’re not mistaken, are you? Speak!”

The servant dropped to his knees, kowtowing again and again. “I wouldn’t dare lie to the Divine Maiden! It’s true—Bi Bao Guard was found dead in her room. Her whole body looked as if it had been mauled by a beast. Blood everywhere… it was horrific…”

“What about the guards? Didn’t they notice anything?”

The servant shook his head. “The night was quiet—no one expected something like this! How could a man-eating beast be lurking in a royal manor?”

Suddenly, Xiao Jiao remembered the shadow she’d seen in the hall the day before. It had crept behind Bi Bao Guard—mouth wide, ready to strike. Could that have been a premonition of this tragedy?

She shook her head, steadying herself, and asked, “Why do you think it was a beast that attacked her?”

The servant replied, “B-because… near the pool of blood beside her body, there was half a broken fang… probably snapped when the creature bit too hard and broke its own tooth.”

Xiao Jiao froze.

She let go of the servant. “Take me to see it.”

The servant didn’t dare disobey. He scrambled up and led the way.

The sky was leaden. The wind was dim and sullen, as if the heavens themselves were collapsing. White walls and grey tiles stretched along the corridor in endless rows, like a prison with no end. Behind the servant, Xiao Jiao followed, one hand slowly rising to her mouth.

Last night in her dream, she’d gorged herself—bit into dumplings and cracked a silver ingot, chipping her tooth. This morning, her jaw ached. She touched her lips—and pain pulsed at the root of her tooth.

Half of her right canine tooth was broken.