7. Old Possessions

When dinner was served, Master Lin Zifeng did not appear. The only one dining was Lady Zhu. The dining hall felt empty and hollow. After the meal, Lady Zhu instructed, “Qingyin, come with me to the study.”

Qingyin carried a lantern, following Lady Zhu to a small building. Lady Zhu paused briefly at the door, then pushed it open. Inside was a spacious study, with bookshelves lining three walls, stacked high with volumes. In the center stood a broad desk, behind which sat a man in his twenties, features delicate and refined. An open book lay before him, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere, for when Lady Zhu entered suddenly, he looked startled, as if pulled from a reverie.

Seeing Lady Zhu, his brows knit in displeasure. “Why didn’t you knock before entering?”

Lady Zhu arched her brows, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We are husband and wife—why be so constrained?”

Qingyin guessed this must be Master Lin Zifeng. She had thought, given Lady Zhu’s youth and Lin Zifeng’s reputation as a renowned physician with such a prosperous household, that he would be at least fifty. She had heard countless tales of old husbands and young wives since childhood, but never expected him to be so young.

Facing his beautiful wife, Lin Zifeng showed none of the joy of a reunion; instead, his expression was impatient. “What is it?”

Lady Zhu stepped forward, placing her hand on the desk, leaning ever so slightly toward him, her fragrance wafting around. “We’ve been apart for days—does my husband not miss me?” Her gaze was languid, seductive, and her tail swayed enticingly behind her.

Lin Zifeng ignored the flirtatious question, instead pondering aloud, “What perfume are you wearing?”

Lady Zhu replied, “It’s a secret family scent gifted by my mother when I returned home. Do you like it?”

He didn’t answer if he liked it, only murmured, “Why does it seem so familiar? I feel as if I’ve smelled it somewhere before.”

He brushed aside this vague suspicion, looked up at Lady Zhu’s alluring face without a trace of infatuation, his impatience clear. “I need to draft a prescription tonight. I won’t be coming to bed.”

“Oh—when you first seduced Zhusha, you insisted on sleeping together every night. The pleasures of the bed were such that even when Miss burst in and stood at your bedside, you were unwilling to stop.” As she spoke, she reached across the desk, her slender fingers caressing his face seductively.

Lin Zifeng reacted as if struck at a sore spot, suddenly standing with such force that he overturned an inkstone. Perhaps rising too hastily, Lady Zhu’s long nails scratched his cheek, leaving a red mark.

She said tenderly, “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scratch your face.”

He ignored the wound, trembling all over, his face pale as death, eyes bloodshot as he glared at her, his voice hoarse and low, “Zhusha, what nonsense are you spouting!”

“Nothing,” Lady Zhu replied with a sweet smile, “Just reminding you, lest you forget the love you once shared with Zhusha.”

She turned gracefully and left, leaving the furious Lin Zifeng trembling in a study filled with lingering perfume.

Lady Zhu walked briskly, her slender waist swaying, and Qingyin had to trot to keep up. Lady Zhu seemed intimately familiar with the winding garden paths of the Lin residence, turning and twisting until she arrived at a waterside pavilion. There, she stopped, gazing at the moon reflected in the pond, her voice soft and mournful, “The times we once enjoyed the moon together here were so happy. Who would have thought it would end like this.” Her lips moved silently, whispering more words, her face shimmered with tears, her tail hung low behind her, a picture of sorrow.

Qingyin thought: She must be reminiscing about the days of affection with Lin Zifeng. But who was the “Miss” she mentioned in the study? Why did Lin Zifeng become so enraged upon hearing those words? Her little mind couldn’t untangle such complex matters.

Seeing Lady Zhu lingering by the water, gazing at the moon, Qingyin grew worried—if Lady Zhu suddenly decided to absorb the moon’s essence, what should she do?

Thankfully, Lady Zhu made no such strange gesture, but simply turned and returned to Purple Pearl Garden. The night passed in silence.

The next evening after dinner, Lady Zhu had Qingyin call for Luokui as well, and instructed, “You two, gather all the household items from this room and burn them in the courtyard.”

Luokui asked in amazement, “Madam, why?”

Lady Zhu replied coldly, “Don’t ask questions.”

Luokui hesitated, but couldn’t help asking, “If everything is burned, what will Madam use?”

Lady Zhu was silent for a moment. “Where are Miss’s belongings?”

Luokui was startled. “They’re piled in the empty house in the north courtyard.”

Lady Zhu said, “Bring them all back and use them.”

Luokui’s voice trembled. “Using the possessions of the dead—isn’t that unlucky? Besides… wasn’t it you who ordered them thrown out?”

Lady Zhu fixed her with a cold stare. “Take them back the same way they were thrown out.”

Luokui quailed under her gaze, finding Lady Zhu’s words and actions increasingly strange, dared not ask further, and quickly assented, “Yes, Madam.”

Lady Zhu walked off into the darkness beyond the courtyard, neither taking a lantern nor asking for company, her slender figure vanishing into the night.

Luokui watched Lady Zhu’s silhouette disappear, and forgetting her earlier quarrel with Qingyin over Lady Zhu’s favoritism, grabbed Qingyin’s hand, trembling. “Qingyin, don’t you think Madam is acting oddly?”

“Yes,” Qingyin thought. Strange is an understatement—she’s almost monstrous.

Luokui said, “Why would Madam suddenly want to use Miss’s things? When Miss first passed, Madam was so eager to throw out all her clothes and belongings—we all saw it. What’s gotten into her today?”

Qingyin couldn’t resist asking, “Who is this Miss you speak of?”

Luokui glanced furtively around, whispering, “Miss was the Master’s former wife, her maiden name was Lin Yiran. Zhuzha—oh, that’s our present Madam—was Miss’s maid since childhood, so we still call her Miss out of habit. The Master fell for Zhuzha, and they had a child. Half a year ago Miss died in anger, and Zhuzha became Madam. The day Miss left… even now, it’s terrifying to recall.”

Suddenly, a chill wind arose, and Luokui shrieked, clutching Qingyin tightly, her voice quaking, “Enough, enough! It’s too strange! Let’s hurry and get this done before Madam returns and scolds us.” She dragged Qingyin back into the house.

The two collected bedding, curtains, cosmetics and hairpins from the dressing table, teapots and cups from the desk, embroidery and crafts from the bedside, and washing utensils, piling everything in the courtyard. Luokui busied herself, reminding Qingyin not to miss anything.

Qingyin said, “You’re very thorough, sister.”

Luokui replied, “We did the same when throwing out Miss’s things last time, so I remember how.” As soon as she said it, she startled herself, freezing in place as a sense of foreboding swept over her.

Qingyin saw her dazed and asked, “What’s wrong, sister?”

Luokui recovered. “Nothing. Just… retribution never misses its mark… pfft!” She slapped her own mouth, spitting, “What nonsense, how did such unlucky words come out!”

They finished gathering everything, doused the pile with lamp oil, and set it aflame.

Soon, thick smoke drew a crowd of servants, each carrying buckets and brooms, shouting, “Fire! Fire!” When they rushed into the courtyard and saw two maids burning things, they were baffled.

One male servant asked in surprise, “What are you doing?”

Luokui answered, her expression uneasy, “Madam instructed us to burn everything in the room.”

“Why?”

“Madam… insists on using Miss’s things.”

At that, everyone’s expressions changed. They knew ‘Miss’ referred to the late Lady Lin Yiran. Lady Zhu burning her own possessions at midnight to use the belongings of the dead—such a thought sent chills down their spines.

For a moment, silence reigned, an eerie atmosphere settling over all.

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