Chapter 6 #2
When she didn’t respond, I took a step toward the oak, my staff held firmly in my hand.
Then I took another step, and another. The closer I went, the more an invisible force pushed against me, like a layer of frost clinging to my skin.
Though my ears detected nothing but the whistling of wind, I heard a vicious no reverberating in my skull. Chunhua was still resisting.
But she was weaker now, jarred by the reminder of her daughter. Her light in life. Possibly her light in death.
I stood a foot away from the oak’s wide trunk. My eyes traced the lines of the aged, flaking bark. I reached for my purification talisman. At the same time, the eyeless face of Chunhua’s spirit flashed before me, just inches from my nose. I sucked in an involuntary breath.
I can’t go yet!
I gave her a stern look. “Neither can you stay.”
Before the spirit could scream, I thrust the Fu talisman through her chasmal mouth, skin tingling against the pinpricking cold, and placed it against the tree trunk. As the paper touched bark, I stamped my staff against the earth, my chants harmonizing with the ringing bells.
The spirit evaporated.
Warmth shot up my fingers, spreading across my body. It seemed to come from everywhere—the earth, the air, the tree before me whose lines suddenly appeared less jagged, less threatening.
And then the oak began to glow, illuminating the dark-red characters running down the yellow talisman.
A relieved sigh brushed against my hair, so different from the angry presence from moments ago.
It wasn’t quite like forgiveness, but it was freedom no longer tethered by human cares.
I felt invisible fingers trace my cheek, soothing the ache.
And then the spirit of Liu Chunhua left, off to reunite with her child.
But her qi remained.
Purified, it no longer radiated a frigid, evil aura.
Instead, the energy, once powered by intense hatred, manifested itself as thick white tendrils of smoke sweeping off the tree and gathering into a floating, dense mass.
Just like the qi released by the jiangshi I’d encountered on the abandoned battlefield.
Quickly, I turned to Ren’s unmoving form and shook my staff again. “Rise.”
His body obeyed, unfolding into a tilted but standing position.
At the movement, he let out a tortured groan, eyes still closed.
Our connection pulled at my energy with just the tiniest tug, a sensation that, normally, I hardly noticed.
The once lively prince now looked like the reanimated corpses I was accustomed to, stiff and gray, awaiting my commands.
A few days ago, I would’ve thought nothing of it. But in that moment, it just felt wrong.
Shaking off my unease, I bid him to approach the ethereal qi, which was about ready to dissipate back into the universe from which it’d come. “Take it,” I said.
Ren’s arms obeyed, stretching forward so that his hands could cradle the condensed qi despite the odd angle of his elbows. As soon as his skin made contact, the smoke seeped into his palms, spreading across his body. Ren inhaled sharply, as if he’d been in the throes of drowning.
The glow from the qi vanished, and the clearing fell back into darkness, save for the flickering of the lantern on the ground. I shuddered against the sudden chill—but this chill was natural, autumnal. Nothing I couldn’t easily bear.
Then Ren crumpled to the ground with a pained moan. His body was still broken.
I’d once watched Mistress Ming fix a farmer’s dislocated shoulder and remembered the clunk as the bone slid back into place. I doubted I could replicate the method perfectly, but the least I could do was try. I didn’t have the strength to drag Ren out of the forest and find a physician.
I laid Ren flat on his back and straightened his limbs as best I could, grimacing when he let out a half groan, half whimper.
“Bite on this,” I said, easing a stick between his teeth so that he wouldn’t hurt his tongue. He was in too much pain to protest. Taking advantage of his distraction, I grasped his left wrist and gently moved it perpendicular to his body. Then I slowly but firmly yanked.
Ren’s eyes flung open and he released a startled cry, the sound muffled by the stick in his mouth. But I heard the bone thud into its socket.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered, already moving to his other side. His agonized sounds clawed my stomach. “I’ll make this as quick as possible. Just hang on a little longer.”
He could do little but moan as I worked through each dislocated limb.
It took two attempts on his right shoulder and three on his knee to relocate the joints.
After what felt like an entire night, I finally worked my way through each injury.
I didn’t doubt that Chunhua’s qi helped with the recovery.
I stretched my back while he rested. Sweat dotted his brow, his breathing heavy from the pain.
“What … happened?” he finally managed to say, his voice more lucid than before.
“I saved your life.” I retrieved the lantern and placed it on the ground between us, then sat down beside him.
The change in Ren’s appearance was startling.
The old cut on his jaw, once scabbed and bruised by death, was now a mere pink scar.
In fact, most of his injuries had faded, including the gray tinge of his skin.
When he pushed up the torn Fu talisman, his eyes shone bright with life, despite the drying tears.
“Why … why did you come back?” he asked, gaze narrowing in on my face. “You could’ve forfeited our agreement.”
I shrugged, looking slightly to his right so that our eyes were no longer locked. “You offered me more than Official Yi.”
“So you came back for money.”
“Of course. Why else would I risk my life?”
I expected him to be affronted. Instead, the shadow of a smile crossed his lips. “Why else, indeed.”
His implication that there was more to my reasoning had the strange effect of sparking warmth in my cheeks. It both startled and irritated me. I made an impatient noise, then said, “Well? After all the trouble I went through, how do you feel?”
“I feel…” He breathed in through his nose, then rolled back his shoulders with a slight wince. His fingers found the mala beads inside his coat, and he pulled them out, his movements slow and stiff. “I feel as alive as I used to. Is it the qi?”
“Yes.” I reached out to count the beads, and my fingers brushed his as he moved to do the same. I flinched at the heat of his skin, weak but very much present.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back.
I cleared my throat, then touched the beads again and counted sixteen newly warmed ones. Twenty-one total out of the fifty-four needed. “If we keep building—”
I broke off as Ren tore the tattered talisman from his forehead. He remained awake and alert. Still, I burst out, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t need it anymore,” he replied.
“Of course you need it,” I said, my voice coming out more strained than I intended. “Did you forget what Mistress Ming said when she gave you the necklace? You’ll continue to need a talisman until you’ve gathered enough qi to maintain a human soul.”
“But I feel fine.”
“For now.” I pulled a new reanimation talisman from the folds of my clothing. “If you continue without, the qi inside you will eventually be lost. Including the qi that Mistress Ming gifted you.”
Guilt flickered across his expression, and he finally nodded in agreement. Still, he turned his face away when I stretched the talisman toward him. “But must it be directly on my face? I quite enjoy my eyesight.”
“The head is a central part of the body’s functions, so yes, it must be on your forehead for its power to be fully effective.
” I gripped his chin to keep him still and planted the fresh talisman on his head.
But I placed it slightly to the right, allowing one eye to peek out. The look it gave me was unamused.
“Is that not better?” I said, smug.
“Oh, yes, a tremendous improvement.”
It was then that I noticed that I was still holding his face in my hand, the new warmth of his skin seeping into my fingers. He’d been objectively handsome before, but with the fresh flush in his cheeks, he became even more attractive.
“Mistress Kang?” he said, breaking me from my thoughts.
I dropped my hand and reached for my staff. Then I quickly rang the bells, reciting the incantation to activate the talisman.
“Don’t remove it again without my permission,” I ordered, hiding my embarrassment.
“I don’t feel a difference, though.”
“Consider it a bandage sealing in your energy. It can only do so much, but it’ll suffice for now.”
He started to shrug, then winced again. “So what happened after you disappeared? And how did you exorcise the spirit?”
His questions reminded me of what I’d learned from Chunhua about her death. The terrible truth of why she’d become an evil spirit.
I couldn’t tell her parents. They’d already been hurt enough.
But maybe there was something I could do.
Before departing from Fuzhou, I left a letter at the town’s inspection bureau—a confession from an anonymous witness who’d seen Chunhua’s unconscious body being carried out of her husband’s family property the night of her alleged suicide.
It wasn’t much, but perhaps the letter would prompt officials to search for the sleeping draught that Chunhua had been given and reopen the case of her strange death.
I also left a gift at her in-laws’ home, a corded rope hanging from the frame of their front gate.
I’d let their superstitions interpret that as they pleased.