Hong Xiu didn't know how the mute boy did it.
But she gradually noticed that those in the Music Registry who tried to trip her up, whether openly or covertly, met with misfortune one after another.
One broke a leg, another was caught stealing by a steward and handed over to the authorities, and yet another drank too much at a banquet, babbled nonsense, offended a noble, and was dragged out and beaten to death.
None of these incidents had anything to do with her, and she was perfectly cleared of any involvement in each case.
Hong Xiu never asked about them.
The mute boy never tried to take credit either. After each incident, he would still squat beneath the corridor pillar, still feed those stray cats every day, and still follow her quietly.
Hong Xiu would only occasionally cast an extra glance at him whenever she walked past.
He was too thin, but those eyes of his were always clean.
Hong Xiu felt this arrangement was quite good; after all, none of it had anything to do with her.
Even if the mute boy were to be exposed eventually and the truth came to light, she could easily throw him under the bus.
Picking up this dog had indeed been highly worthwhile.
That memory had now come to an end.
The surrounding illusions were fading away layer by layer. The vermilion corridor pillars, the mottled window frames, and the red silk lanterns hanging under the eaves slowly dissolved, preparing to form a new scene.
Meanwhile, Hong Xiu's actual self stood calmly beneath the moon gate of the Music Registry's backyard, watching for a long time without a single ripple of emotion in her eyes.
Plague Rat stood a few paces behind her, scratching the back of his head. The more he looked at the silhouette of that mute boy, the more familiar it seemed.
That scrawny frame, that curled-up posture, and that quiet presence that bordered on non-existence—it was as if he had seen it somewhere before.
He rubbed his nose and couldn't help but mutter, “Why do I feel like I've seen this kid somewhere before...”
Hing Xiu let out a soft laugh upon hearing this. “Of course he looks familiar. You've already crossed paths with him many times.”
Plague Rat was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
Hong Xiu slowly turned her head and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her lips curved up slightly, though the smile didn't reach her eyes at all.
“He is Lou-Metal Dog.”
Utterly shocked, Plague Rat let out a loud curse as his brain practically began to smoke.
Only after a long while did he stammer out, “That white-furred beast that's been chasing and biting us for so long?”
“Who else?”
Hong Xiu withdrew her gaze, letting it fall back onto the dissipating illusion in the distance, specifically onto the stone slab by the woodshed door that was fast fading away.
Involuntarily, the image of her brief glimpse of Lou-Metal Dog in the graveyard flashed through her mind.
That canine silhouette had sat perched upon a shattered stone slab, quietly watching her with amber vertical pupils through the vast, gray torrent of ghosts.
Even then, she had found those eyes familiar.
But she hadn't given it much thought.
After all, she was a malevolent ghost.
After entering the Xuandu Ghost Mansion, throughout her long, seemingly endless existence, she had seen too many people and killed too many.
So many that she would never bother to remember a face that had long since faded.
It was only when she felt the inexplicable grief within the array, walked to that graveyard, reached out to touch the dirt mound that was nearly buried under weeds, and saw that scrawny figure curled up in the corner of the woodshed.
Only then did everything connect.
So it was him.
Out of all the dead souls in the Myriad Ghost Array, and all the experiences and people she had encountered in her past life, there had to be a reason why the fragments of her memory displayed this specific segment.
The array wouldn't summon a useless memory of a deceased soul for no reason, let alone with such perfect timing.
Hong Xiu was not stupid.
Thus, the moment she saw the curled-up figure of the mute boy in the graveyard, her mind had instinctively pieced together all the details from before and after.
That was why she had turned around at that moment and said those words to Chen Zhou.
“Young Palace Master.”
“Should we kill him?”
Her tone had been remarkably steady when she asked that.
She had never hesitated.
He was merely an acquaintance from her past life, someone whose name she didn't even know.
Picking him up, keeping him around, and ordering him about back then had been nothing more than a whim. She had simply found the dog quiet enough, obedient enough, and convenient to use.
Had she not entered this Myriad Ghost Array and witnessed these illusions, Hong Xiu would never have remembered that such a person had ever existed in her life.
And now, he had become the enemy of the Young Palace Master, a stumbling block in front of the Great Emperor's Palace.
She had absolutely no reason to show him mercy.
She remembered who she was at every moment—one of the Seven Evils of the Xuandu Ghost Mansion. A malevolent ghost's duty was, naturally, to sever any existence that posed a threat to the Great Emperor's Palace.
Long before her death, she had already learned to freeze her heart until it was harder than stone.
Plague Rat scratched and clawed at his ears for a good while before finally straightening out the logic.
“So that mute boy is Lou-Metal Dog... But since he followed you for so long, did you really never give him a name?”
“No,” Hong Xiu said. “He was just a dog. Why would he need a name?”
The moment she finished speaking, the illusions stopped shifting, and a new scene emerged.
It was around late autumn, and rain was falling from the sky.
It wasn't heavy, just a drizzle that hung overhead like a shroud of grayish-white mist.
The rain persisted, and soon, Southern Tang was struck by floods.
The floodwaters swept in from the west, wiping out over a dozen counties. Linhe Town and its surrounding areas were completely submerged.
An endless stream of refugees flooded into the capital. Rice prices doubled by the day, long queues formed outside grain shops, and news of people starving to death came daily.
Yet, the high officials and nobles of the capital continued to feast and make merry as usual.
The Grand Preceptor hosted banquets at the Music Registry for three consecutive days, claiming to pray for the court and ward off the disaster. Yet, not a single dish or cup of wine was missing from the tables, and every songstress and dancer was present.
Hong Xiu sat in a private room on the second floor, her fingers idly plucking at her zither strings as her gaze drifted out the window.
On the streets of the capital, one could see distant plumes of smoke and bustling crowds. The refugees had set up shelters in the southern part of the city. Those who froze to death during the night were carried away at dawn, lined up row after row along the base of the city walls.
The mute boy squatted at her feet, following her gaze to steal a glance outside.
He suddenly stood up and walked out.
Hong Xiu didn't ask where he was going.
About two hours later, he returned. In his hands, he held two steaming coarse flour buns wrapped in clean oilpaper, carefully presenting them to Hong Xiu.
Hong Xiu looked down at the two buns, then looked up at him.
A bit of flour dusted the corner of his mouth and his cuffs; he had clearly snuck into the kitchen to steal them.
With a look of utter disdain, Hong Xiu took the buns, broke one in half, and handed it back to him. “Eat it yourself.”
The mute boy shook his head, pushing the bun back toward her.
Hong Xiu stuffed the half-bun into his hand. “I told you to eat it, so eat it.”
Holding the half-bun, his lips twitched slightly. He lowered his head and began to nibble on it, taking tiny bites.
Hong Xiu turned around to look at the gray sky outside. The remaining half of the bun lay on the table beside her, completely untouched.
She disliked coarse grains, finding them too rough and hard to swallow.
But she didn't throw it away either.
Rate on N.U.
