Chapter 149: Why Not Smile
Liu Ruyi had a small supply of water and a bit of food. The tomb guardians in Shuiniu Town would periodically bring her provisions; these were the rations she had saved over the past few days.
Xie Jing’s face was pale. Liu Ruyi poured some water for him. “The water isn’t poisoned. You can drink it.”
Xie Jing lifted the cup and took a sip.
Seeing the tips of his fingers, exposed from the gauze wrapping his right hand, turning slightly blue, Liu Ruyi paused before asking, “Your hand… does it look like it’s dyed dark bluish-black, something you can’t wipe off, even with water?”
Hu Da was surprised. He unwrapped Xie Jing’s hand and asked her, “Is it like this?”
Liu Ruyi grabbed the oil lamp from the table, bringing it closer to check, then nodded. “Yes. On the way here, Manager Xie probably came into contact with the mycelium.”
Hu Da looked around, then asked anxiously, “We’ve been together the whole time. Why did the young master get infected but not us?”
Liu Ruyi explained, “I’ve heard from the townsfolk that this substance grows from miasma. It fears light and thrives in damp, rainy weather. Judging by your accents, you’re from Shu, right? Perhaps living here for so long has made you somewhat resistant to miasma. Even if you had contact, it wouldn’t be severe.” She looked at Xie Jing’s hand, noting the wrist and forearm were worse. He had been injured earlier at Yunmeng Mountain, and the pale blue seemed to creep upward along the wound. “Manager Xie had an injury not long ago, and the arm wound was already there. After arriving in Shuiniu Town, where did you go?”
Hu Da thought for a moment. “We didn’t wander in town. We only went up the mountain to search for someone.”
Liu Ruyi asked, “The mountain… was there a ruined temple?”
Hu Da nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes!”
“That’s it. The last time I ran out, I escaped through a collapsed earthen chamber in the underground palace to that same ruined temple on the mountain. It’s very damp, very easy to pick up the mycelium.” Liu Ruyi, after inspecting, had no other options but to reassure them: “If you have alcohol, you can wash the wounds a few more times—it helps.”
Hu Da had some alcohol in his water pouch. He quickly poured some to clean Xie Jing’s arm, then carefully re-bandaged it, avoiding any contact with unclean surfaces.
Liu Ruyi cautioned, “This mycelium is potent. Be very careful.”
Hu Da felt a chill and asked, “Is it serious? Can it kill him?” His voice trembled on the last word.
Liu Ruyi shook her head. “No.”
Hu Da asked, “How do you know?”
“People in Shuiniu Town have been taking it for three years. Look at me—I’m still alive. Outside, a few days in the sun can help it fade. Here, it’s dark and sunless, so it may take a few days to improve, but it won’t be fatal.”
Over the years, she had barely survived in Shuiniu Town’s underground tunnels. In the rare moments she was conscious, she had thought of escaping—and even of dying.
Any normal person confined in this dark tomb would go insane within days, let alone years.
But the tomb guardians had given her a type of mycelium with strong hallucinogenic effects. For long stretches, she could only see what she wanted to see. The cold tomb was unlike her previous home. The guardians and the once-seen old mayor were hideous, entirely different from Master Cao—how could she have mistaken them?
It was all because of the mycelium.
She had thought she married Cao Yunzhao.
For three years, she had performed a solo play in a stupor.
Xie Jing rested on the side. Perhaps because his wounds had been washed with alcohol, he looked a bit better.
Hu Da, worried about the young master, grew increasingly anxious, wanting to find an exit. He asked Liu Ruyi many questions about the living tomb, but she didn’t know much. She recalled the townsfolk’s fear of the underground office tombs. Normally, no one descended; only a one-eyed tomb guardian occasionally brought her food and water every three to five days.
While Hu Da asked questions, Xie Jing noticed Liu Ruyi’s ankles. Suddenly, he spoke: “Unbind her.”
Hu Da and the others had knives. The chains were thin, but several cuts failed to break them. In the end, Xie Jing took matters into his own hands, telling them to step back. He drew a gun from his waist and shot the chains around Liu Ruyi’s ankles, breaking them.
The shot came suddenly. Liu Ruyi, a weak woman unaccustomed to such force, instinctively recoiled, stumbling against the stone bed. Her chest raced, her feet free, but she couldn’t tell whether the pain came from the chains rubbing her bones or the gunshot’s scorching heat.
Xie Jing held the gun, stunned for a moment.
Hu Da cautiously supported him. “Young master?” He reached for the gun, but Xie Jing reflexively drew it back, keeping the knife at his waist in hand as well.
Xie Jing placed his hand at his waist, shook his head, the red in his vision deepening. Using the last thread of clarity, he said, “Lord Bai Jiu said he’d arrive by evening at the latest. Make worst-case plans. Hold on for a day and a night—it’s enough for him to come save us.”
Liu Ruyi asked, “You… have helpers?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure they’ll come for us?”
Xie Jing said nothing.
Liu Ruyi, recognizing a northern acquaintance, felt slightly braver and asked cautiously, “Is Young Master Cao with you? Did he come here too…?”
Suddenly, Xie Jing stood and walked toward her.
Frightened, Liu Ruyi fell silent. She tried to retreat, but the carved edge of the stone bed struck her, and she tumbled onto the bed edge. Xie Jing approached, pressing one hand to her arm and the other to remove her clothes. Terrified, she clutched her collar, shouting: “Manager Xie! What are you doing? Let go of me!”
Xie Jing, strong, quickly removed her waistband and red bridal gown, then—under the horrified eyes of Liu Ruyi and the others—put the gown on himself.
He wore it carefully. The red clothing gleamed. What was slightly large on Liu Ruyi now fit him, and he arranged the folds neatly, sitting upright on the stone phoenix bed, hands on his knees.
Liu Ruyi scrambled away, shivering in a thin water-red undergarment.
The Sichuan men, preparing to restrain Xie Jing, froze, unsure what to do next.
The candlelight flickered weakly.
Xie Jing, on the bed, eyes not fully clear, heard distant voices calling his name. He felt annoyed—these weren’t her, nor the others; the sounds were all wrong.
Frowning, he tossed a teacup, which shattered with a crisp ceramic sound.
Hu Da and the others tensed. But the “teacup” wasn’t a teacup—it was a shining dagger, planted near his feet. Any closer, and it would have cut off half a foot.
Hu Da noticed another dagger sheathed at Xie Jing’s waist, and the gun.
Steeling himself, Hu Da slowly approached. Xie Jing, with a single hand, flipped the dagger, cold light reflecting, blade against Hu Da’s wrist.
Hu Da swallowed and whispered, “Young master?”
Xie Jing flipped the dagger again, using the flat side to push Hu Da away. Coldly: “Hands aren’t clean. Don’t dirty my gown.”
Hu Da froze, looking from Xie Jing to Liu Ruyi, ignoring the bruise the dagger caused on his own hand. “What’s happening?!”
The Sichuan men instinctively pointed guns at Liu Ruyi, suspecting her.
Liu Ruyi, tearful, shook her head. “No, it’s not me. I don’t know why Manager Xie suddenly did this…” Then noticing Xie Jing’s injured arm: “The mycelium! It’s the mycelium causing this!”
Hu Da remembered Liu Ruyi saying those infected with mycelium would hallucinate, only seeing what they most wanted.
On the phoenix bed, Xie Jing tilted his head toward the candlelight, pondering.
Why was he here? Right—today was his wedding. He was to be married.
He smoothed the red gown, cherishing it. He remembered feeling red floating before his eyes; it was the red wedding silk tied in the mansion. The brightest red piece was this bridal gown—now on him. It made perfect sense.
He faintly heard drums and music, yet everything felt strange.
The surrounding area was silent.
He looked toward several figures opposite. Their faces were unclear, but they seemed familiar. The gem-studded dagger spun in his hand, suddenly pointing at them. He asked, confused: “It’s my wedding day. Why am I not smiling?”
Hu Da and the others were terrified, sweat on their brows. Never had they encountered such strangeness. Forcing a smile, the others copied him.
But Xie Jing was still dissatisfied. He scanned the empty phoenix bed and stone tomb, as if inspecting what he “saw”: “The five-colored mandarin duck quilt, the feathered screen, the cloud-patterned boots… yes, more boots, soles thicker but not too hard. And these red lotuses, golden pumpkins…” His gaze rested on the figures on the wall, frowning. “On an auspicious day, we should be joyful. Why are you not smiling?”
He walked toward them with the dagger. Hu Da panicked, shouting, “Young master?”
Xie Jing: “Who are you calling?”
Hu Da stammered, “I-I’m calling you.”
Xie Jing asked again, “Where is this?”
Hu Da guessed, “It’s… Upper City in Sichuan…” Seeing Xie Jing’s cold glare, he quickly added, “Eastern Courtyard! This is the Eastern Courtyard!”
Xie Jing stopped, expression calm. “Eastern Courtyard.” He softly repeated it, nodded, and sat back down.
He was completely satisfied—no longer feeling anything strange.
Because this was what he had sought all his life.
Author’s Note – Little Scene:
On the wedding requirements—
Xie Jing: “Be happy, smile.”
Hu Da: “Ha, ha, ha!”
Liu Ruyi: …
