Chapter Twenty-One: The Third Daughter of the Zhang Family

Just as Liaochen and the second Zhang sister were about to leave the courtyard, someone Liaochen had not expected rushed out and clung tightly to the second sister’s sleeve, refusing to let her go. It was one of the wives from the Mo family, her face sallow and thin, marked by the same suffering and misery. But now, she gripped the second sister with desperate resolve, her eyes full of pleading, unwilling to let another soul in distress escape while she herself remained behind.

Liaochen understood her intent. Yet he was not a saint; he could not leave the second Zhang sister behind merely to make things a bit easier on this woman. Selfishness is a part of human nature, but she was wrong to try and step upon the second sister’s misery to rescue herself from her own torment. Liaochen gently pried her fingers away and gave a light push. The woman flew back like a kite with a severed string, collapsed to the ground, and fainted away.

After this, no one dared to bar their path. Liaochen cast a cold glance at the humble farmhouse. If this family believed the matter was over, they were celebrating far too soon. If the Zhang sisters could recover, so be it; but if more tragedy befell them, none involved in this affair would escape retribution.

Without a word, Liaochen led the second Zhang sister by the hand, leaving the dreadful little village under the complex gaze of all its residents. The second sister remained silent, her eyes blank, following mechanically. Liaochen could not fathom what she had endured these past three years to become so numb and lifeless. Once in a secluded place, he concealed their presence and, with the swaying monkey and fox on his shoulder, ascended into the clouds.

High above, Liaochen resumed his appearance from three years before, hoping to elicit some response from the second sister. But her numbness remained, as if her soul had fled, leaving only a living husk before him.

He settled her in an inn and began divining the whereabouts of the third Zhang sister.

He had not expected the third sister to have wandered so far. Flying for two full hours, more than a thousand miles from where he began, he finally descended into a bustling city. Adopting his old attire, he entered the city of Suzhou, nestled in the misty south.

Following the direction revealed by his divination, he made his way through the city. But as he drew near, his heart grew cold. If he wasn't mistaken, this was a street of pleasure houses.

He paused before the entrance of the Fragrant Smoke Pavilion, hesitating over whether to enter and take the third sister away. The truth was almost too cruel to bear. Liaochen did not know how he could face her, or even if he should.

He lingered for a long time, clenching his teeth before finally approaching the entrance, only to be stopped by the doorkeeper. Liaochen knew the reason: his peasant’s garb. He smiled, unconcerned. With a subtle gesture, he summoned several silver ingots from the government treasury and, using an illusion, concealed the official marks upon them from the doorkeeper’s eyes. Seeing the hefty silver, the man bit into one to test it, then, beaming, ushered Liaochen inside.

It was near dusk, and the brothel had only just opened its doors for the night. By chance, Liaochen became the first patron of the evening. The sight of the heavily painted madam disgusted him, but he tossed her a large, unmarked ingot and, with his spiritual sense, swept through the entire house. Ignoring the madam’s eager attentions, he went straight upstairs, turned left, and paused before a certain door. There, he hesitated, uncertain if he could bear what awaited beyond. He did not know if the Zhang family’s misfortunes were truly tied to him, but he knew his departure had been the beginning of it all.

As he wavered, the madam had stealthily followed him upstairs. Though Liaochen’s appearance was far from that of a wealthy man, the silver spoke for itself. Seeing him hesitate outside one of her girls’ rooms, she fancied she understood the situation and hurried to open the door for him.

Liaochen was stunned. The third Zhang sister, busy at her dressing table, was stunned as well. Disbelief flickered in her eyes, and as she recognized him, her face drained of color. Her lips moved, but no words came. Liaochen recovered first, producing several more heavy ingots to quickly send the madam away, forbidding her to return.

In the third sister’s eyes, there was not the least trace of happiness—only utter, infinite despair. Liaochen entered the room and shut the door, at a loss for words, approaching her slowly.

“Don’t come any closer!” she suddenly shouted, seizing a long pair of scissors from the dressing table and pressing them to her throat.

“Why didn’t you come sooner? Why did you even come at all?” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks, hands trembling as she drew a thin line of blood across her neck.

Liaochen dared not take another step. He could not force her; no matter how profound his powers, he was powerless against a heart set on death.

“Why has it come to this?” he asked softly, voicing the question in his heart. If he never found the answer, he feared he might truly lose himself to rage, slaughtering all those involved.

“I don’t know, I really don’t know why things turned out this way,” the third sister wept, collapsing to the floor. Now, with nothing left but hatred and confusion, she had no will to live.

“I’ll help you find the answer. Whoever owes you, I’ll make them answer for it,” Liaochen said firmly, turning to leave the room. Facing the madam, he said, “The woman just now is an old acquaintance. I wish to redeem her freedom. How much will it cost?”

“Sir, to be honest, I dearly love my girls here. For her…” The madam’s eyes gleamed with greed at the mention of silver, her mouth running on. Liaochen, suppressing his disgust, said, “Just name your price.”

“Five thousand taels!” she declared, her gaping mouth like a bloodthirsty maw. Liaochen nearly laughed in exasperation—she certainly dared to ask. Still, he did not haggle. “Please wait, I’ll bring the silver at once.” With that, he left.

Finding a secluded spot, Liaochen folded a piece of paper and, with a breath, transformed it into a lifelike porter. He made two more, then summoned carrying poles and chests. Five thousand taels of silver weighed nearly five hundred pounds; the porters each shouldered two heavy chests filled with tax silver from the government treasury, the official seals concealed by his spells.

Liaochen returned to the Fragrant Smoke Pavilion, having been gone less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense.

“Count it if you wish. I’ll be taking her away today,” he said, standing before the madam as the porters set down the four heavy chests. She was astonished at how quickly he had produced the full sum—she had only named such a high price as a bargaining tactic. Yet here was a true spendthrift. She opened each chest, the gleaming, thread-marked silver dazzling her eyes, her wrinkled face blooming into a smile. After the accountant and several aides had verified the sum, she promptly produced the third sister’s deed of sale, and began bustling about, preparing a dowry for her “daughter.” Liaochen cared nothing for this. He produced a shining gold ingot and said, “If you can tell me who sold my old friend to this place, this gold is yours.”