Chapter Four: Taoist You Schemes to Resolve Misfortune, The Xu Family Unites to Ward Off Evil

Everyone’s expressions changed drastically.

Stories of men and women appearing suddenly in rooms, seducing the bewildered into union—these tales were common enough in Deer and Crane Ravine. The endings were usually grim: “the victim’s heart and liver hollowed out,” or “by morning, only a withered corpse remained on the bed.”

That Xu Wenshan was alive and sitting here was already a stroke of fortune.

Xu Wenshan finally sensed something was wrong. He stammered, “Yesterday… there was a woman in my room. I… I thought my father had arranged it…”

Xu Changshui stood up and barked, “Nonsense! Since when do I arrange such things without a word?”

At this, Xu Wenshan felt the mystery deepen. He asked, “Then, Father, why did you look at me so strangely yesterday?”

Xu Changshui was so angry his beard trembled. “When did I look at you strangely yesterday?”

“Then why did you have a table full of kidneys and chives made for dinner?”

This time, the second concubine, who managed the kitchen, replied, “Butcher Zhang slaughtered two pigs yesterday, and we got a good amount of offal. I brought back some kidneys.”

The third concubine interjected, “Last night the master dined with the second concubine. Wenshan, those kidneys and chives were not for you.”

So it wasn’t meant for Xu Wenshan after all, but for the old master. Xu Wenshan could only laugh at himself for his wishful thinking.

Of course, the third concubine’s words subtly accused the second concubine of appropriating the best for herself, using her position for personal gain. Who at the table didn’t catch her meaning? Laughter rippled around, and the second concubine flushed scarlet, shooting a venomous glare at the third.

Though outsiders were present, Xu Changshui took no offense; his vigor undimmed by age, he sat a little taller in his seat.

At last, Xu Wenshan’s mother couldn’t bear it any longer. She coughed softly, signaling an end to the banter. The concubines fell silent at once—the authority of the head wife still held sway.

The Taoist waved his hand, urging them back to the matter at hand. He turned to Xu Wenshan. “What did you do with the woman last night?”

“I don’t remember. Only that, in the end, we fell asleep together.”

“And today? Where did she go?”

“I… don’t know,” Xu Wenshan replied. “I remember nothing else.”

The fourth concubine trembled as she spoke, “It must have been a demon, no doubt. The master scolded Wenshan harshly today for rising so late.”

Xu Changshui’s lips worked, but he could not speak.

The Taoist, however, smiled. “I know what kind of demon this is. There’s no need for alarm. The young master has been drained of his vital essence, but his core energy remains intact; his body is unharmed. This is not a murderous spirit. I can say with confidence, this is a Temple Maiden.”

“A Temple Maiden? What is that?”

The Taoist stroked his beard with a smile. “A Temple Maiden is a clay idol from the temple brought to life. She delights in luring men to union, but because she feeds on incense offerings, she rarely takes lives. Still, her desires are single-minded: once she comes, if you do not refuse her, she will return again and again. Those ensnared lose all desire to marry or have children, ha ha…”

With this explanation, Xu Changshui’s expression softened, but a new worry took its place. To lose the will to marry and continue the family line would be as bad as death—utterly unacceptable. He pleaded with the Taoist to rid his son of this demon.

The Taoist pondered. “To expel this spirit is not difficult. You must gather three kinds of water, three kinds of earth, and three kinds of roots. With these, the demon will reveal her true form.”

The three waters: rootless water, whetstone water, and willow dew.

The three earths: yellow clay, red clay, and trampled roadside mud.

The three roots: apricot root, peach root, and wild chrysanthemum root.

Rootless water is rainwater caught before it touches the ground. Rain falls from the sky and takes root upon landing; water caught in the air is rootless.

Whetstone water is the water that runs off when sharpening a blade on a whetstone; it contains iron, mingling the force of stone and steel, carrying the intent to vanquish.

Willow dew is the morning dew on willows and poplars—fragrant, often gathered by the wealthy to cleanse the face.

Yellow clay is the earth used to mold clay idols; red clay is for their coloring—both essential for crafting such figures and thus the source of the Temple Maiden’s body.

Trampled roadside mud is the mire beneath wagon ruts, soaked by rain and crushed by countless wheels—regarded as the basest of earth.

Apricot and peach roots are both spirited woods, best for making ritual water.

Wild chrysanthemum is a strange variant of the common herb; its roots drive away evil.

The Taoist gave instructions: once the nine items were gathered, wait for nightfall, and then perform the ritual as directed. This would ensure the Temple Maiden’s removal.

Xu Changshui, anxious beyond measure, dispatched his servants to collect the materials. By dusk, all nine had been found. Common enough, they took much effort to gather. Nearly every servant, maid, and even the concubines themselves ran ragged, talking and haggling to obtain what was needed.

The Taoist worked swiftly, preparing all before dinner so they would be ready when the Temple Maiden arrived, to force her back into her true form.

Despite the tension—every member of the Xu household on edge—they followed their usual routine and ate as normal. This, too, was the Taoist’s instruction: though the Temple Maiden was wanton, she was shrewd. Should she sense anything amiss, she would not come.

At dinner, Xu Changshui barely touched his food, his mind fixed on the night’s ordeal. In his life, he had performed exorcisms many times, but never had he been so nervous as this.

Night soon fell.

Lamps were lit.

Xu Wenshan, as heedless as the night before, walked into his room.

He had been nervous earlier, but the Taoist’s explanations had calmed him. Now, it was his father and the concubines who were in a panic.

It wasn’t that Xu Wenshan was braver than most; he simply had a scientific mind.

By this, it is not meant that he did not believe in demons—rather, he suspended judgment. Until he could prove their existence with his own hands, he kept an open mind. What could be explained, he explained; what could not, he doubted but did not deny. This, too, is a kind of scientific spirit.

He touched the leather pouch at his waist, thoughts swirling. The pouch, crafted by the Taoist, held the ritual water made from the three waters, three earths, and three roots. It would ward off evil and subdue spirits. When he saw the demon, he need only crush the pouch, seize a handful of the water, and strike the demon’s temple—a touch, and her true form would be revealed.

But the Taoist had warned again and again: do not meet the Temple Maiden’s eyes, or else he would fall under her spell.

At last, he reached his chamber and looked carefully at the bed. The quilt was puffed up—clearly, someone was lying beneath it.

Or rather, something.