34 The Enigma of the Brand

Her hands were locked tightly, unable to run, unable to shout; all she could do was struggle desperately.

“Stop wriggling. If you keep it up, you’ll be entirely exposed.” The cold, impassive voice of Mo Tu drifted into her ear, utterly devoid of any crude intent.

Qingyin froze, then fell still. Indeed, the black robe had only been carelessly draped around her, and if she continued to twist, she’d shed it completely. Now she could only hold herself rigid, wide, panicked eyes staring up at Mo Tu, who loomed over her like a thundercloud.

Yet Mo Tu’s gaze was calm and intent. His eyes did not wander to forbidden places, but remained fixed on her exposed shoulder.

“What is this?”

“What?” Qingyin was still lost in her panic.

“Here.” Mo Tu released the hand covering her mouth, and with his fingertip, lightly touched her shoulder.

The gentle touch made her cheeks flush crimson, but she realized what he meant. He had pinned her not to violate her, but because he’d glimpsed the brand on her shoulder and wanted a closer look.

If he wanted to see, he could have just asked! Was all this force and intimidation really necessary?

Face burning, Qingyin gritted her teeth and hissed, “It’s my family’s brand—probably some kind of clan emblem. Let go of me!”

He released her, and she scrambled to her feet, hurriedly wrapping herself tightly in the quilt.

He sat at the edge of the bed, frowning in thought. “A clan emblem? Are you certain?”

“Well, everyone in the family has this mark. It’s burned on at birth.”

“If it’s a clan emblem, do you know what it symbolizes?”

“I don’t. No one ever told me,” Qingyin shook her head.

“If it is a clan emblem, it must have profound meaning—something the children would remember for life. Why would no one explain it? Besides, this symbol resembles the script of the Celestial Realm, yet not quite so. I wonder what connection it might have?”

“The Celestial Realm?” Qingyin blinked in surprise. “Our entire family are mere mortals. How could our clan emblem be a celestial symbol? And if we truly were connected to the Celestial Realm, how could we have ended in such destruction?”

Mo Tu was equally puzzled. Glancing over, he saw Qingyin bundled so tightly she looked like a cocoon and asked, “Why are you wrapping yourself up like that?”

At this, the indignation that had been momentarily suppressed reignited within Qingyin. Still swaddled in the quilt, she bounced once on the spot, snapping, “Let me warn you again! Don’t barge in while I’m bathing! Don’t!” But then she remembered there had been a reason for his intrusion and added, “Even if you must, avert your eyes, and you absolutely cannot pin me to the bed…” Her words grew more and more absurd.

Mo Tu frowned, clearly displeased. “We’ve lived together for so many years, sleeping side by side every night. What’s wrong with seeing?”

Qingyin was momentarily stumped. The way he said it, it was as if she and this beast were already as intimate as could be. Divine beasts had no concept of human etiquette or decorum. They might understand the words “propriety” and “avert your eyes,” but they regarded them with disdain.

Trying to reason with a beast was so very difficult. Qingyin persevered, trying to instill a sense of morality. “We may be close, but not that close.”

Mo Tu’s expression darkened, the air around him growing heavy and oppressive, as if a storm were about to break. He slashed a fierce glance at her, sharp as a blade.

Qingyin shrank back, swallowing nervously. She was the one admonishing him—so why was he glaring at her so murderously, making her feel inexplicably guilty?

Then, with a growl, he spat, “If you want to look, then look! What of it?!” He rose, flung his sleeve, and stormed out.

“Eh…?” Qingyin was left speechless. Her attempt to impart morals to a divine beast had apparently failed. Educating a divine beast was truly an arduous task.

In truth, Mo Tu hadn’t gone far. He merely bolted the door and, transforming into a black cat, leapt back onto the bed. Seeing her still awkwardly bundled in the quilt, his anger only deepened. He pounced, scratching at her shoulder until she was forced to expose a graceful arc of bare skin, then, with a huff, curled up beside her pillow to sleep. His bristling back made his irritation unmistakable—let me look! I insist on looking!

Forced to sleep with a bare shoulder exposed, Qingyin’s thoughts were a tangled mess, impossible to express in words.

What was she to do, saddled with such a temperamental cat?

Mo Tu’s bad mood lasted into the next morning. Dong Zhanchu, coming to knock at the door, was unlucky enough to bear the brunt of it. As he approached the room, he saw the black cat sitting on the steps and reached out to shoo it away. To his surprise, the cat sprang up—almost level with his head—and raked a claw across his face.

Inside, Qingyin heard a scream and hurried to open the door. She found Dong Zhanchu clutching his face and stamping his feet in pain. “What happened?” she asked in surprise.

“That cat scratched me!” Dong Zhanchu exclaimed, lowering his hand to reveal bleeding claw marks on his cheek.

Qingyin glanced down at the black cat, who was licking its paw with utter indifference. She looked back at Dong Zhanchu and said coolly, “It’s a cat.”

Of course, Dong Zhanchu knew it was her cat. But seeing her so unperturbed—as if she were chiding him for making too much noise—left him with no room to complain. He had come seeking her help, after all. “It’s nothing, nothing,” he said hastily.

The black cat seemed quite pleased with Qingyin’s response, finally venting its frustration after stewing all night.

Qingyin stepped aside to let Dong Zhanchu in, then pointed at the hole in the roof. “Young Master Dong, your household seems less than peaceful.”

He looked up, startled. “That—”

“Last night, some monstrous thing was spying on me.”

He apologized at once, “I’m sorry you were disturbed.”

She eyed him. “So you know what was spying?”

He hesitated, then shook his head vigorously. “I don’t. I’m just an ordinary man—how would I know about such things?”

Qingyin smiled and let the matter drop. Dong Zhanchu stood in the middle of the room, shifting uneasily, his gaze flitting left and right.

“Is there something you wish to say, Young Master Dong?” Qingyin prompted.

Startled, he composed himself and asked hesitantly, “Immortal Yin, with your abilities, you must be able to see spirits and monsters?”

“Of course,” she replied confidently. No matter how well a demon disguised itself, she could always spot some trace of its true form.

Dong Zhanchu stepped closer, lowering his voice nervously. “Could you… open your spiritual eye and see if there’s a ghost following me?”

His words, spoken in a tense, eerie whisper, sent a chill down her spine. Though Qingyin was certain nothing was amiss, she couldn’t help glancing behind him.

There was nothing but empty air.

She steadied herself. “Young Master Dong, there’s nothing following you.”

Dong Zhanchu wiped the sweat from his brow, relieved. So the ghost that had been haunting him hadn’t followed him inside? Was it frightened off by Immortal Yin’s power?

“Why do you ask?” Qingyin inquired.

“It’s nothing. I was just being paranoid,” he replied. “But Immortal Yin, today is the eleventh of the seventh month…”

“I know you’re anxious.” Qingyin said, “We’ll begin the ritual today and try to help your young master survive his ordeal. We’ll need to find a suitable place to set up the altar—let’s tour the manor and find the right spot.”

He hesitated.

“What, is that not acceptable?” Qingyin frowned.

“As long as it saves Yin’er, anything is acceptable,” he said quickly.

He led Qingyin outside. The black cat hopped onto her shoulder, its tail curling warmly around her neck.

As they stepped out, they encountered an elderly man. Dong Zhanchu stopped and bowed. “Father.”

It was the Prefect of Jiaozhou, Dong Sihe.

The prefect fixed Qingyin with a cold, shadowed gaze. Qingyin met it, her own eyes even colder.

Five years ago, on the night her family was slaughtered, it was this gaunt old man, along with another, who had appeared at the scene.

He was one of the murderers.

For five years, this was the first time Qingyin stood face to face with her enemy. She longed to sever his head and crush it beneath her heel.

Her hands clenched within her sleeves, veins bulging, and a trace of murderous red flickered in her eyes, making the prefect start in surprise.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder—Mo Tu was pinching her, a warning to regain control.

She took a quiet breath, closed her eyes, and forced down the hatred. When she opened them again, her gaze was clear as water.

Dong Zhanchu explained to his father, “Father, this is Immortal Yin from the capital—she may be able to save Yin’er.”

The prefect spoke at last. “We don’t need your help. Kindly leave, Immortal Yin.”

Even his harsh voice was all too familiar. Qingyin’s lips curled into a cold, ironic smile. She turned to go, but Dong Zhanchu hurried to block her path. “Immortal Yin, please wait, please—”

In his haste, he brushed her arm. The black cat, displeased, swiped at his hand. Ignoring the pain, he blocked her way, raising his voice. “She’s here at my invitation, Father, please don’t interfere! To be blunt, either Immortal Yin finds a way to save Yin’er, or before disaster strikes, I’ll end his life myself—I will not let Yin’er meet a fate worse than death!”

The prefect’s face turned ashen, his beard trembling with rage. He flung his sleeve and stormed off.

Dong Zhanchu, now alone with Qingyin, bowed. “My father has a strange temper. Please don’t take offense, Immortal Yin. Wait here, I’ll return shortly.”

He dashed off, soon returning with a nursemaid holding Yin’er.

Qingyin looked at the child in confusion. “What’s this?”

“I have to keep Yin’er with me at all times to feel at ease,” Dong Zhanchu replied.

But to Qingyin, it seemed more as if he feared the prefect would try to steal Yin’er away. Yin’er was the prefect’s own grandson—so why would the prefect oppose saving him? There had to be more to this than a “strange temper.”

Qingyin harbored suspicions but knew it wasn’t yet time to ask. She’d use the excuse of choosing a site for the altar to explore the Dong manor.

Wherever they went, the nursemaid held Yin’er close, and Dong Zhanchu’s eyes never left the child, as if afraid he’d vanish the moment he was unattended. His nervous manner left Qingyin silently uneasy.

Author’s Note: This cat is a beast by nature, so it’s only natural for him to sometimes act beastly, hahaha…

The plot is getting a bit strange. By now, can you guess what has really happened in the Dong household? Take a guess~

Chapter 34: The Mystery of the Brand—completed!