The Tree of Forty-One Immortal Fruits

What they saw was the face of a woman faintly protruding from Dong Zhanchu’s back, like an extra lump of flesh growing there, or as if someone was pushing out from inside his body. The face possessed all its features, eyes and mouth tightly shut, as if in deep slumber.

Was this the unseen presence Dong Zhanchu had been anxiously searching for, glancing forward and back? Mo Tu raised a finger, pointed to Dong Zhanchu’s head, and an invisible current of air sliced through with a soft hiss. Dong Zhanchu, who had been spinning about in panic, suddenly froze, motionless, as though struck at an acupuncture point.

Mo Tu spoke to his back, “I’ve cast a spell of confusion on him. You may speak now.” The woman’s eyelashes quivered; slowly, her eyes opened.

The sight was so horrifying that Qing Yin clung tightly to Mo Tu’s waist, burying her face in his chest with eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to witness any more.

The lips of that face moved, and a woman’s voice echoed, sorrowful and plaintive: “Miss…”

Mo Tu and Qing Yin were both startled. Who was she calling “Miss”?

Again, the face called, “Miss, do you not recognize me?”

Mo Tu frowned. “Who are you calling ‘Miss’?”

The face replied with mournful longing, “I call Miss Qing Tan.”

Qing Yin’s body jerked violently.

Qing Tan. This was her true name. It hadn’t been spoken in so long. Shocked, she forgot her fear, raised her face, and stared at the strange visage on Dong Zhanchu’s back, voice hoarse, “Who are you?”

The grotesque face looked at her, tears streaming from its eyes. “Miss, I am guilty. I have wronged the Zhou family… I am Fang Ai.”

Fang Ai! After the Zhou family’s massacre, Fang Ai vanished from the list of the dead—her maid who had disappeared without a trace.

A piercing ring filled Qing Yin’s ears. When it finally faded, she realized she was trembling all over. Mo Tu held her tightly and whispered soothingly at her ear, “Don’t be agitated—listen to what she has to say.”

She forced herself to master her turbulent emotions and gazed intently at the strange face. In her memories, Fang Ai had been a beautiful maid; now, upon their reunion, she had become a monstrous face on someone’s back. Looking closely, she could still discern traces of her former features among the twisted contours, deformed by her unnatural attachment.

Suppressing her fear, Qing Yin rasped, “Fang Ai. Tell us the entire story, clearly and completely.”

The grotesque mouth opened and closed, and she began, recounting from the moment she first arrived at the Zhou household, word by word.

Back then, Fang Ai’s father was imprisoned for corruption, the men of her family exiled, and the women sold as servants. The Fang family still had some connections in official circles, who secretly sought good families to take in these women, helping them suffer less.

Governor Dong knew Old Master Fang; though they had no deep friendship, Dong unexpectedly offered help, suggesting that a prominent household in Jiaozhou could purchase Fang Ai. That family was surnamed Zhou, renowned as wealthy medicine merchants, reputed for their generosity and kindness.

Fang Ai had no other options and agreed. The person sent to escort her to Jiaozhou was Dong Zhanchu, the governor’s son. On their journey from the capital, Dong Zhanchu unexpectedly asked her for a favor.

He requested that, after entering the Zhou household, she secretly observe whether there was any hidden chamber or similar arrangement. Fang Ai asked, surprised, why. Dong Zhanchu explained his father was investigating a theft: a precious artifact had gone missing, and the Zhou family was highly suspect, but there was no evidence. They needed someone inside as a spy. The Zhou master was cautious and reluctant to accept outsiders, but since the Fang family had fallen, the local governor helped place a colleague’s daughter as a maid, which seemed reasonable, so the Zhou family agreed.

Fang Ai was uncertain. Dong Zhanchu was asking her to spy. She was just a young woman—how could she dare such a thing?

Seeing her hesitance, Dong Zhanchu quickly offered an exchange: “My father says, once the case is solved, he’ll use his connections to release your father from prison, reuniting your family.”

Hearing this, Fang Ai didn’t hesitate for a moment and nodded eagerly. She was a powerless girl with no hope of saving her father; now, seeing a lifeline, she clung to it desperately. To save her father, she’d endure anything—even spying. And wasn’t Governor Dong simply seeking justice?

Thus, Fang Ai entered Qing Yin’s family. The Zhou family found her delicate and pitiful, remembering she’d been a noble daughter, and could not bear to make her do rough work, assigning her only to serve tea and water.

Though treated kindly, she never forgot her wish to rescue her father, and kept vigilant. She noticed that Qing Yin’s father, Zhou Yishu’s study was a forbidden place, rarely allowing others inside. But as the one who served tea, she occasionally entered.

Over time, she discovered a secret: beneath Zhou Yishu’s jade desk was a mechanism shaped like a handprint, carved from his right hand—only Zhou Yishu himself could activate it. One night, peering through a crack in the window, she saw Zhou Yishu press the mechanism. The central tiles of the study parted, revealing a square opening; a stone pedestal slowly rose, bearing a pure white jade box surrounded by swirling purple mist, dazzling and mysterious—she didn’t know what treasure it held.

She guessed this must be the stolen object Dong Zhanchu had mentioned. She tried to see more, but Zhou Yishu seemed to sense her, hurriedly shutting the chamber. She quickly slipped away.

Later, she found an opportunity to leave the mansion and meet Dong Zhanchu. Fang Ai stayed with the Zhou family for about a year, meeting Dong Zhanchu periodically to update him on her findings. This time, she brought concrete news, for which Dong Zhanchu was deeply grateful. As they met more often, affection quietly grew. One day, Dong Zhanchu confessed his feelings, and Fang Ai was both shocked and delighted. She was a disgraced daughter, now a lowly servant—marrying the governor’s son would be a turn of fate, a light after darkness.

Dong Zhanchu didn’t let her return to the Zhou mansion, taking her to live in his own home.

A few days later, Fang Ai learned of the Zhou family’s massacre. She had entered the Zhou house as a spy, and Dong Zhanchu’s accusation of theft had prejudiced her, but after a year, she felt the Zhou family was kind, not evil.

Yet, the investigation was real, and she had witnessed the hidden treasure—so one could never trust appearances. Most importantly, she had helped Dong Zhanchu uncover the truth; he had promised to rescue her father.

But she never imagined the Zhou family would meet such a fate. Terrified, she asked Dong Zhanchu why it happened. His answer: “the strong devour the strong.” Yet she felt instinctively that the disaster was inseparable from Governor Dong—and from herself.

She gradually understood that, in the tragedy, she played a terrible role. The longer she stayed at the Dong residence, the more she discovered its strangeness, with eerie and sinister events occurring from time to time.

Who was righteous, who was wicked—she couldn’t tell, nor did she dare to. She lacked the courage to face the truth. Only in the dead of night, haunted by the vengeful spirits of the Zhou family, did she nearly lose her mind.

The deed was done; she was involved, her soul stained with blood, never to be cleansed.

Dong Zhanchu never spoke of marrying her properly. She knew her status was low, and her hopes faded. Whether maid or concubine, she accepted her fate. Dong Zhanchu was her only support; her imprisoned father, her only thought.

Whenever she pressed Dong Zhanchu, he promised he was working to free her father, spending much silver, saying it would happen soon. That slender hope stretched toward the capital, always vague amid his promises and excuses.

Until the news came that her father had died in prison—her last hope snapped.

Dong Zhanchu apologized endlessly, giving countless reasons, leaving her unable to blame him. Heartbroken and despairing, she wanted to die, but discovered she was pregnant with his child.

The faint stirrings of life in her belly stopped her from ending it all.

When the child was born, lively and adorable, it brought warmth to her bitter life. Yet Dong Zhanchu seemed troubled, unable to rejoice, as if weighed down by some secret.

He named their son Yin’er. Fang Ai asked why, and he replied, “I hope he can hide his presence and grow up safely.” The gravity in his expression made her suspicious.

When the child was two months old, Fang Ai happened to pass the study and overheard Dong Zhanchu quarreling with the governor.

About Yin’er.

About the demon tree.

About the forbidden soul altar.

About the ginseng fruit.

The “Ginseng Fruit Tree” in the rear garden.

The great tree in the back garden—Dong Zhanchu had told her it was called the “Ginseng Fruit Tree.” She remarked that it must be a thing of immortals; how could it grow in the mortal world? Perhaps it was just an ordinary tree with a grand name.

Dong Zhanchu smiled mysteriously and told her that every year, the tree bore a single fruit—a genuine ginseng fruit. This immortal fruit was not for just anyone; the Dong family merely tended the fairy tree, and the fruit was to be picked and sent to the immortals.

Fang Ai was astonished that the Dong family had ties to immortals, though she didn’t believe it. Until one day, she saw the ginseng fruit with her own eyes.

Author’s note: Love you all. Happy Women’s Day~

“Half-Immortal Seal 41: Ginseng Fruit Tree” complete!