Fang Thirteen

Before Steward Xu died suddenly, Madam Zhu had confronted him, accusing him, as the bookkeeper, of conspiring with others to embezzle the household’s fortune. From this, it was clear that “Zhusa” had come to avenge her mistress.

But Zhusa was no longer Zhusa. Then who was she?

Collecting herself, she asked, “So how did Zhusa become the master’s wife?”

“After Miss’s father was beheaded, she fell ill and developed chronic headaches, often confined to bed. Zhusa was beautiful and flirtatious, and seduced the master. Once the master made his fortune and became head of the household, he cast aside his former promises, and shamelessly indulged with Zhusa in broad daylight, paying no heed to Miss. Within a few months, Zhusa bore him a bastard child. Miss could not bear such humiliation; her headaches only worsened. The servants, seeing the master’s favor shift, began to neglect their duties, taking less and less care. In the end, when Miss was gravely ill, the master told everyone she had an incurable disease and forbade her medicine. Every day, her pain was so severe she would wail and bang her head against the wall. By the time she was found, she had already been dead for some time, her body stiff. Even now, the memory chills me to the bone…”

Qingyin listened, her heart cold with terror. Lin Zifeng’s cruelty was beyond belief, truly venomous. And earlier, Madam Zhu had accused Steward Lin of depriving Miss of both food and water—Lin Yiran had been tormented to death by them. Even after her death, the servants dared to break her corpse’s spine to fit her coffin, proof of how much she was despised and abused!

Suddenly Qingyin asked, “Sister Luokui, you served Miss too—did you ever try to sneak her some food?”

Luokui’s face changed drastically at the question. She sprang to her feet and shouted, “How do you know I didn’t? I was loyal to Miss, don’t you dare say such things!” She stomped her foot fiercely, turned, and ran off.

Her outburst startled little Yunye, who woke from his nap and began to wail. Qingyin hurriedly soothed him, muttering, “I only asked a question—no need to get so angry…”

Luokui soon returned, rushing in, bolting the door, and curling up on the bed, shivering under the covers. Qingyin asked, “What’s wrong, Sister?”

Tears shimmered in Luokui’s eyes as she replied in a trembling voice, “Two more have died. Two…”

Qingyin was alarmed. “The same as before—their heads completely empty?”

Luokui nodded. “They were servants who once slighted Miss. It must be her vengeful spirit taking lives. It must be. Qingyin, there’s something I’ve long suspected, but I never dared to say. Ever since Madam returned from her parents’ home, she’s been different—her eyes aren’t the same. Back home, she began using the late Miss’s belongings… Do you think, is it possible, could it be…”

Her words faltered, fear choking her voice. Qingyin finished for her, “Are you saying Madam has been possessed by Miss’s vengeful spirit?”

But Luokui shook her head. “That’s what everyone in the manor is saying these days, and on the surface it makes sense. But I just don’t think it’s true.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been with Miss since I was six. I know her mannerisms and speech very well. At first, I thought maybe Miss had ‘returned.’ But on closer look, the gaze, the manner, the tone—none of it matches. Miss was gentle and soft by nature; even as a ghost, she wouldn’t be so fierce.”

Qingyin fell silent, thinking: That’s right—even if Madam Zhu were possessed by a vengeful spirit, she wouldn’t have grown a tail. So what exactly is Madam Zhu? Why is she seeking revenge for Lin Yiran? And why is she using such ruthless, exterminating means?

She hugged little Yunye tighter, unable to suppress her fear. Four people had died already. Was everyone in the Lin household to die one by one like this? Whether it was a deadly illness or dark magic, she had to escape—she could not wait for death.

At that moment, Yunye, who had been absorbed in playing with his fingers, called out in babbling tones, “Sister, sister.” He was over a year old now, just starting to speak. Curiously, his first word was “sister” instead of “mother.” Qingyin had grown fond of him over these days, and could not help but be delighted.

Luokui, watching, reached out to tease his chubby cheek. Yunye giggled, but suddenly Luokui’s expression changed. She drew back in alarm, her eyes on Yunye, now tinged with fear. Qingyin noticed and quickly looked down at Yunye’s face, but saw nothing amiss. “What’s wrong, Sister?”

Luokui pointed with a trembling finger. “His teeth… his teeth…”

Puzzled, Qingyin lifted Yunye’s little chin for a better look. He pursed his lips in protest, impossibly cute. “Be good, Yunye, open your mouth.” He babbled for a bit, then suddenly broke into a smile. The sight nearly made Qingyin drop him in shock.

His tiny mouth was sprouting new teeth. Qingyin had seen her younger siblings’ milk teeth emerge before. Typically, the two front teeth came in first. But Yunye’s front gums were still bare—it was the canine teeth, sharp and pointed, that had emerged first.

Yunye continued to smile sweetly, his gaze clear and innocent like any young child’s. Yet those little fangs hinted that he was like a young wild beast, not yet grown.

Luokui, flustered, asked, “What’s going on? I’ve never seen a child’s teeth grow in like that…”

Qingyin cut her off sharply, “What’s so strange about it? Some children get their front teeth first, some get the side teeth—teeth are teeth! Don’t make a fuss!”

Qingyin was usually mild-tempered; Luokui had never seen her angry and was left speechless. “Is… is that so?”

“Of course!” Qingyin replied, annoyed.

She set Yunye on the bed and went to prepare hot water. Luokui asked, “What are you doing now?”

“I’m going to bathe Yunye.”

“But he’s already had two baths today—once by Madam, and once by you…”

“There’s a plague in the house; it won’t hurt to keep him extra clean! And don’t tell Madam I’m bathing him again.”

“Oh…” Luokui, cowed by Qingyin’s sternness, dared not protest.

Suddenly a chubby little hand pressed onto her knee. She turned to see Yunye had crawled over, patting her leg and begging to be picked up. Luokui edged away, refusing to hold him. For some reason, those sharp little teeth unnerved her.

Qingyin bathed Yunye in water laced with detoxifying herbs, scrubbing him with increasing anxiety. She knew those sharp canines were no accident. Though she detoxified him daily, his body was still undergoing these strange changes. And those were only the visible ones—what other horrors might be lurking within? She had tried her best, but this had still happened. She didn’t know what else to do. Her hands grew rough, scrubbing him red until he whimpered in distress, his eyes brimming with tears.

Qingyin’s heart ached. She hugged the damp little boy to her.

What am I to do? I can’t save you.

The next morning, after feeding Yunye his rice porridge, she took him for a walk in the garden. She noticed the tall courtyard walls were topped with shards of sharp porcelain—she was skilled at climbing, but even she would risk getting cut. Cradling Yunye, she wandered into the bamboo grove near the wall and looked up at the tall bamboo. Instantly, she pictured herself escaping by climbing up the bamboo, using its bend to vault over the wall.

She could climb to the top, bend the supple stem, and let it spring her over the barrier with ease.

As her gaze traveled, she suddenly spotted the black cat on the wall. Its body was still wrapped in the bandages she had put on it. It stood atop the jagged porcelain, eyes fixed on her.

The cat’s peculiar gaze sent a tremor of doubt through her. It seemed to have guessed her plan, standing sentinel on the wall to watch her.

She quickly set those thoughts aside, placed her hand on the bamboo, and willed herself to climb. Instantly, a strange suction arose between her palm and the stalk.

Her power was still there.

She could escape alone, without difficulty. But… if she tried to flee with Yunye, she couldn’t guarantee his safety. She looked down at the child in her arms. He looked like any infant, but had already begun to change, sprouting those odd, sharp teeth. Who knew what he might become? There were still so many important things she had to do. She would have to abandon this child, who had nothing to do with her.

She looked intently at the baby in her arms. He was drooling, his pitch-black eyes wide with curiosity, his cheeks soft, his breath gentle—a little creature brimming with life.

She hesitated for a long moment. Then, hardening her heart, she set him down in a clearing, didn’t look back, and turned away. Her hand gripped the bamboo, ready to climb to safety at the slightest effort.

The tale of the half-immortal sigil continues—Fangs, chapter thirteen, completed!