Chapter Two: Crimson Magnolia Chapter Five: The First Meeting at the Scales

Page 1/3

In the early morning, the mist rose gently. Sunlight glimmered on the dew perched atop blades of grass, casting crystalline, dazzling brilliance that captivated the eye. Yet for all its beauty, this scene had no audience.

For within this patch of woods lay its true master. Look—deep white bones could be seen scattered throughout clumps of weeds, standing half the height of a grown man!

Half-shrouded by the wild grass, the bones lent the place an eerie, deathly air that sent chills down the spine. It seemed as though a ghost might pass by at any moment, setting every nerve on edge. Even the scurry of a field mouse would startle one into alarm, and the very grass and trees appeared to bristle at any disturbance. The place, known as the Cursed Forest, was aptly named—a veritable mass grave, where even in broad daylight, the hair on one's neck would stand on end.

The Cursed Forest was not only infamous in Qinghe Town; throughout the entire Tang Empire, it was recognized as a forbidden place. Eight years ago, after a gruesome murder occurred here, every official sent by the imperial court to investigate met a fatal end. Even commoners passing through could not escape death’s grasp.

For eight years, countless martial artists had ventured into this place to uncover its secrets, yet none had returned. Day by day, the white bones in the grass grew more numerous.

Now, eight years later, someone had finally entered once more. Would she become the first survivor in the Cursed Forest in all this time?

From the mist and wild grass, a girl of seventeen or eighteen appeared, her beauty both rare and unearthly: brows like ink, eyes as soft as silk, a nose delicate as jade, lips gently parted. Her skin was fairer than snow, her figure graceful, her every movement as light as a startled swan. Subtle makeup adorned her brows, her gaze clear as autumn water, her lips tinged with a hint of a smile. She wore a white dress with a simple hairpin and skirt, her long black hair partly tied up, with a single white jasmine blossom tucked by her temple.

She was dressed as a maid, a bamboo basket hanging from her arm, filled with incense, candles, and offerings for the dead. Her slender feet tread softly on the thick layer of fallen branches and leaves, producing a crisp “creak” with each step, as though composing a lighthearted tune in the mountains.

As she drew near, her gaze swept the woods, finally settling on an old carriage nearly buried beneath the wild grass. She could not look away. Biting her lip hard, tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry. Her presence in the Cursed Forest seemed at once poignant, sorrowful, and mysterious.

A light breeze carried with it the stench of decaying corpses mixed with the earthy scent of soil, and made the ruined carriage groan in protest. The carriage’s cloth canopy, long since bleached by sun and rain, fluttered in the wind, its original color lost to time.

The girl in white stopped before the carriage, her gaze lingering with deep affection as she cried out in sorrow, “Father, Mother, Aunt Die, Uncle Li! Ling’er has come to see you!” A single tear slid down her cheek, quivered on a blade of grass, then vanished into the earth.

After setting down her basket, the girl—calling herself Ling’er—reached out with trembling hands to gently caress the tattered canopy, pressing her cheek lovingly against the worn fabric, as if to relive the laughter and happiness that once filled this place. Slowly, she knelt.

She did not need to summon those bitter memories; they surged in unbidden. Her parents’ words resounded in her ears once more:

“Ling’er, remember what your father says—never seek revenge! Unless the dynasty falls, otherwise innocent people will be drawn in! Do you understand?”

Eight years ago, before the Cursed Forest became so fearsome, when these hills were but lonely wilderness, this battered carriage rested along the only scenic mountain path that connected to the outside world.

It was the third month of spring, as the sun set toward the west. A sapphire-blue carriage rolled along the path from Luoyang, carrying a ten-year-old girl on her way to celebrate her grandfather’s seventy-seventh birthday. Her father and mother sat beside her, along with Aunt Die, who had cared for her since childhood, and Uncle Li, Aunt Die’s husband, who could run across rooftops with ease.

Page 2/3

She had always thought they were merely traveling to her grandmother’s house for her grandfather’s birthday celebration. Who could have foreseen it would become their final journey together? The events of that night remained vivid in her memory.

“Ask nothing, Ling’er. Some things you’ll understand when you’re older. Take these, and never let anyone find them! Do you understand?” Her mother’s face was filled with anxiety and reluctance as she spoke these words eight years ago. Perhaps she already sensed the presence of the assassins.

“Ling’er, do you know? Aunt Die’s heart aches so much she can barely breathe!” Aunt Die’s lips were stained with blood, her tears bitter with grief and helplessness. Uncle Li had been the first to die! But at the time, Ling’er was too young to understand.

“It’s your doing! You all deserve to die! Every one of you! ...Die, I’m sorry! Yun Niang can’t stay by your side anymore! Husband, your wife must leave first!” Her mother collapsed before her eyes, while she could only struggle, weep, and resist in vain.

“You want what I carry? Then follow me to the underworld and take it yourself!” Her father, in utter despair, shouted these final words before ending his weary life. All Ling’er could do was watch, powerless to do anything but cry.

A gust of wind swept across her cheek, tenderly brushing away her tears and calling her back from her memories.

From her basket, she took some paper money for the dead, lighting it as she wept before the swirling smoke and the familiar faces within. “Father, Mother, are you well over there? Ling’er misses you so much, so very much! Don’t worry, I am well now. My mistress is kind and always looks after me—good people are rewarded with good fortune. She will be married tomorrow, and her fiancé is a good man, the son of a wealthy merchant. Why am I not beside her? Mother, I can’t be there—I miss you too much! Only when everyone is busy with the wedding could I slip away to see you, without arousing suspicion.”

This girl in white, lighting incense and candles, was none other than Yu Bing, the famed personal maid of Qiu Haitang, the celebrated “Harp Fairy” and head courtesan of the Qingfeng Pavilion in Qinghe Town. Her name carried special meaning.

Although the massacre in the Cursed Forest eight years ago had shocked everyone, no one imagined the sole survivor lived quietly in their midst. Even Qiu Haitang, who treated her as a sister, never knew her real name was Di Lingxue.

“Aunt Die, I borrowed the name of the Divine Sword hidden inside the Purple Jade Flute without your permission—will you forgive me? Don’t worry, when I see Brother Feng, I’ll return the flute to him. I won’t keep it for myself!” A trace of mischief danced across her tear-stained face as she spoke.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she gazed up at the sky, where drifting white clouds resembled the gentle, loving faces of her lost family.

Softly, as if consulting with them, she said, “Father, I intend to unravel the mystery of the Cursed Forest. I can’t let it harm anyone else! Eight years have passed! So many have died here—could it be the ‘Heavenly Powder’ still lingers in the woods? Mother, the Heavenly Powder doesn’t affect me. Maybe my blood can neutralize it! Whether I succeed or not, I must try!”

As the paper offerings turned to ash, she drew a silver needle from her waist. With a delicate prick, she opened a wound on her hand. Instantly, the scent of fresh grass wafted through the air, and the stench of decay noticeably lessened.

After binding her hand, she gazed solemnly at the bones scattered across the forest, vowing silently, “No matter the cost, I will see justice done for you! I will track down every one of the murderers!”

Planting the incense in the earth before the carriage, she stood, her eyes sweeping once more over the lost souls hidden in the forest. She swore to the heavens, “No matter who you are, I—Di Lingxue—will see every blood debt avenged!”

Tears welled in her eyes again, and blood seeped from her lips where she bit them hard, but she refused to cry. Her father’s dying words still puzzled her. Why forbid her from seeking vengeance?

He had forbidden her even to touch the case. Was she to simply watch her parents be murdered and feel nothing? She could not.

Was it wrong to avenge her family, to bring justice for the dead? Had not enough innocents perished already?

Page 3/3

And so, she resolved: No matter how dangerous this case, no matter how powerful the killer, she would pursue the truth to the end, bring justice for the dead, and offer an answer to the people.

Her resolve set, she realized dusk was approaching. Tomorrow was her mistress’s wedding—so much remained to be done! She had stolen a precious half-day for herself; now, she must hurry back.

As she thought of this, she grabbed her empty basket, slung it over her arm, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and hurried down the mountain.

“Creak…crack!” As she walked, she faintly heard something struggling not far away. She paused to listen, but the sound vanished.

She smiled wryly to herself, thinking it must have been her imagination. But just as she was about to move on, the weak sounds of struggle came again—“creak…crack…snap!”—as if something had rolled down from above, accompanied by stifled groans.

Driven by a healer’s heart, she followed the sound, hoping she was not too late. As she searched for the source, she gathered some common medicinal herbs to keep in her basket.

Heaven rewards the diligent—at the foot of a steep slope near the Cursed Forest, she finally found him: his body covered in blood, dressed in a white linen under-robe and a sky-blue outer garment, a deep blue sash at his waist, from which hung a jade pendant shaped like a dragon, now stained with blood. Blood spotted his entire body, and several messy strands of hair fell across his handsome face. In his hand, he gripped a folding fan made of neither wood nor bamboo.

He bore three knife wounds—deep, but not fatal. Yet he had been injured too long without treatment; blood loss had brought him to the brink of death.

He lay on his side atop the grass. Seeing his dire state, Yu Bing immediately knelt to turn him onto his back. She gently smoothed his unruly hair behind his head and saw his true face: long brows furrowed in confusion, eyes closed, his pale features delicate, lips pressed together in pain.

Without hesitation, she drew from her sash a set of silver needles—three inches long, more pliant than gold; a single stroke could take a life a thousand miles away, or revive the dying across ten thousand leagues. These were the legendary Soul-Chasing Needles, coveted by every master of medicine.

With steady concentration, her hand flashed across several major points on his chest. Three gleaming needles formed the character “品” over his heart, and in an instant, the bleeding stopped. So swift was her work the eye could barely follow, and her tense face finally relaxed into a smile. With a tap of her finger, she withdrew the needles.

She drew her basket close, selected several herbs for relieving pain and regenerating flesh, and, channeling her inner energy, ground them to powder in the blink of an eye. She opened his robe to bare the wounds, sprinkled the powder over them, then tore some cloth to bind each one securely.

Her task complete, she dusted her hands and glanced around, hoping to find shelter from the rain for the gravely wounded man. Soon, she smiled.

There, beneath a protruding rock, was a modest little hollow—small, but better than nothing. With effort, she helped him to his feet, guiding him step by step until he was safely leaned against the rock wall, protected from the rain.

She checked his wounds again to be sure they had not reopened, then fetched water from a mountain spring with a large leaf and gently gave him some to drink. She gathered leafy branches to shield him from view, scattered some insect-repelling and detoxifying plants nearby, and finally, satisfied all was well, departed from the wilds.