Chapter 41 Rui
Rui
Jagged stones cut through the thin fabric of her socks and into her feet as Rui floundered along the uneven path. She didn’t
remember what happened after she’d jumped from the balcony into the darkness, just that she had woken in shadow.
Color had been stripped from her vision, and all she saw was shades of gray. Heavy mist shrouded her surroundings, snaking
between the tall bamboo and canopy of leaves above. She could no longer feel the presence of her spiritual weapons. Her teeth
chattered incessantly as the cold seeped through the thin fabric of her dress. She walked on, looking for a way out, sensing
with growing fear that the chill spreading inside her might be more than a problem of temperature.
Yin was replacing yang. The realm of the dead was claiming her, consuming whatever was left of her life force. Keep going. Keep moving. She cocked her head in surprise.
Music.
The forlorn strains of an erhu drifted in the air. As the melancholic two-string instrument sang a plaintive lullaby, Rui’s
eyelids grew heavy and her footsteps slowed. She was so cold, so tired. The music grew louder. Her legs buckled, succumbing
to fatigue, and she hit the ground with a thump. The smell of dirt and the putrid rot of the dead was so strong it made her
sick.
Exhausted, she lay there, the erhu’s mournful tune whispering thoughts of despair. All traces of energy draining away, her
willpower was leaving her. She didn’t want to fight anymore. Not for her city, for Zizi, or even for herself. She couldn’t
save herself from the underworld, and no one was coming to save her, and she was so, so tired.
Do not sleep, however tempting . . .
What harm could a little nap do at this point? Rui curled up on the dirt, her mind drifting. Sleep would be a relief from her burdens. A release—
True revenge is surviving. Remember that, Cadet Lin.
Ash’s voice sounded so disappointed.
Rui’s eyes flew open. Some of the fogginess in her mind cleared. Scrubbing at her face, she struggled to sit up. What was
wrong with her? It wasn’t over. She wasn’t dead yet. She wanted to see her father, and Ada, and everyone again. As long as
she was still alive, the fight for survival, for the mortal realm and for Zizi, would continue. She had defied death once—twice,
even—and she would do it again.
She’d be damned if Hell took her before she was ready.
Something sparked inside her, like a match being lit in the dark. A gentle warmth spread from her stomach to her fingertips.
She pressed her hand to her chest. Her heartbeat felt stronger, steadier. Was it possible to regenerate yangqi while she was
in the underworld? It seemed unlikely, but she couldn’t waste what little strength she had questioning things. She had to
find a way out of this godsforsaken place, but she saw only the same shadowy bamboo around her. For all she knew, she might’ve
been going in circles.
The erhu’s song stopped. Rui tensed, her Exorcist instincts kicking in. Had the music been a lure? A ploy to keep her in the
realm of the dead? If so, what was coming next?
The mist thickened, its tendrils wrapping around her legs and arms like creepy fingers dragging her down into the ground.
Without her weapons, she had to rely on brute strength. She pushed herself to her feet. Every step was a battle, every movement
felt like she was bogged down by a ton of weights, but she soldiered on, grunting with effort, reminding herself of what was
at stake. She didn’t know how far she’d gone when she came upon a small clearing.
The mist receded suddenly with a soft hiss. Either it had given up trying to restrain her, or something worse was coming her
way.
Color returned to her sight as she passed the clearing and went deeper into the forest. The trees here were different.
Gone were the slim stems of bamboo. In their stead, thick masses of intertwining roots trailed from the ground up, leading to more bulbous ones covered in rough bark, and finally, the trunks and bare branches fanning out under a cloak of dark sky. An ominous red hue permeated the air.
Rui’s eyes followed the unusual roots. Some formed unnatural right angles, while others reminded her of limbs, like the legs
of giants who had sat down to rest. It took her a few moments to make sense of what she was looking at.
The trees had invaded an ancient structure, absorbing it and fusing themselves into it until they became a single entity.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the reddish hue, she made out the silhouette of a temple. A curtain of stringy roots hung down
from the dark entrance, like mysterious drapes hiding secrets within. Wind fluttered in and out from the opening in a steady
rhythm, as if the temple itself was alive and breathing.
Bells tinkled.
The small hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She couldn’t decide if the sound was a warning to her or an announcement
of her presence to whoever or whatever was inside.
More wind drifted out of the temple, and voices slowly formed coherent shapes.
. . . you’re finally here . . . I’ve waited for you . . .
Rui gasped. “Mom?”
But how could it be? She must be imagining things. She heard the voice again.
Ru-er—
Was her mother’s soul calling out to her?
Frantically, Rui pulled aside the roots by the entrance. The sinister mouth of the ruined temple gaped at her, and she rushed
in.
“Mom! Where are you?”
The altar in the empty prayer hall was cracked, and the eerie red hue peeked through cobwebs hanging from rotting wooden beams on the ceiling.
Paint was peeling off the old murals of gods and beasts that lined the walls.
There were also drawings of terrified mortals sawed in half, their entrails dripping out of their stomachs and their tongues cut out; grotesque creatures, half man and half beast, doing unspeakable acts of violence to humans; naked bodies skewered by sharp blades splayed across a mountain of knives.
The images looked so realistic that it felt as if the violence was being carried out right at this moment in front of her
eyes. Rui jerked away, suddenly afraid that if she stared for too long, the murals would come to life.
. . . you are finally here . . . I miss you . . .
There was that voice again, the one that sounded like her mother’s. Rui ran toward it. Incense smoke trailed in the air, leading
down the corridor. She followed the gray wisp to another prayer hall that was smaller than the first. There were murals here
too, but the paint was fresh, and the altar shone with gold and red lacquered wood, and there were even offerings of fruit
on the table.
A woman was kneeling on a red cushion in front of the incense pot. Her back was facing Rui, but her dark wavy hair fell over
her shoulders in a familiar way, and she was dressed in the same clothes that Rui had last seen her in.
Rui started to tremble. She wasn’t sure if she wanted the woman to turn around. A single word croaked from her parched throat.
“Mom?”