Translator: Cinder Translations
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Upon hearing this, everyone's footsteps halted, and You Qi's expression suddenly changed. "The young master I saw was lying down," he said.
Moments later, the group, which had just calmed down, was thrown back into panic. After cross-referencing their observations, a terrifying scene began to emerge.
The posture of Young Master Huang kept changing.
As more people entered the room, his position became increasingly bizarre.
You Qi was the first to go upstairs. At that time, he saw Young Master Huang lying flat on the bed.
Shi Liaozhi was the second. He saw Young Master Huang lying face down.
The third was a woman named Zuo Jing. She reported that Young Master Huang was leaning sideways against the bed.
An Xuan was the fourth, but he was lagging far behind the group, carrying the unconscious Tang Shirou on his back. Qin Jian was not far from him.
Since Tang Shirou had not woken up, she was the only one not wearing a costume.
An Xuan seemed intent on minimizing Tang Shirou's contact with the others, keeping her firmly under his control.
No one chose to disturb them, and everyone turned their attention to Jiang Cheng.
After all, Xia Meng, who was fifth in line, had already clarified what she saw. According to her, Young Master Huang was sitting up at that time.
"He was crouching there," Jiang Cheng said, mimicking the posture from memory. He slightly bent his knees and leaned his upper body forward, giving the impression that he was gathering strength.
Jiang Cheng even added a grimace, further fueling everyone's imagination of the scene behind the curtain.
"Roar!" He suddenly lunged toward Shi Liaozhi, who was so lost in his own imagination that his face turned pale. The sudden movement made Shi Liaozhi's hair stand on end, and he nearly screamed.
"Are you out of your mind?" Shi Liaozhi stammered pitifully. "If you weren't the second-to-last to come out, I'd suspect you were a ghost in disguise."
This statement seemed to break the final barrier, and everyone instinctively glanced at Qin Jian, who was trailing behind.
His black funeral attire fluttered in the wind, making him stand out starkly.
The looks in everyone's eyes became more complex.
Before leaving, the middle-aged woman had taken away their original clothes, forcing them to wear these cumbersome and strange costumes. Walking around in them felt awkward.
As Jiang Cheng put it, it felt like there was a draft blowing up from below from time to time.
He shamelessly asked Xia Meng if she also felt the draft, but she shot him a glare, and he turned to bother Zuo Jing instead.
By the time they returned to their lodgings, it was almost noon. Although the sun was shining brightly and warming their bodies, the earlier events left everyone in a somber mood.
The middle-aged woman left after saying that lunch would be served in the pavilion.
Her steps seemed slow, but she moved quickly, giving off an eerie, floating sensation. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.
Watching the direction in which the middle-aged woman disappeared, Fatty couldn't help but gulp nervously.
Walking along the lake, they arrived at the pavilion. As expected, the previous meal had been cleared away, replaced with a new, even more sumptuous spread.
In the center of the table was a fish.
Each person's place was set with a bowl of fish soup, still warm to the touch.
Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes slightly. The meticulousness of the Huang family's servants gave him the feeling of being back home, with Fatty waiting on him.
The fish soup had a thick, white texture and smelled incredibly fragrant.
"This fish soup smells amazing," Tang Shirou said. Not long ago, An Xuan had managed to wake her up using some method, and he had been supporting her as they walked over.
The bond between the two seemed strong. An Xuan occasionally whispered instructions to her, which she listened to attentively, nodding from time to time.
An Xuan smiled gently. "Miss Tang, your body is weak. It wouldn't hurt to have some more fish soup," he said, placing his own bowl in front of her.
He watched with a doting expression as she sipped the soup.
Fatty gulped, not daring to touch the fish soup in front of him.
Although the soup smelled delicious, his life was more important. Having once worked in a restaurant, he knew that the soup's aroma was almost too perfect—so enticing that it could captivate someone just by its smell.
He sneakily glanced at Jiang Cheng and noticed that he hadn't touched the soup either.
Xia Meng was sitting across from him. From his angle, he could see her gaze occasionally drifting toward the lake behind him.
Fatty quickly realized that everyone was likely worried the fish had been caught from the lake.
"Ahem..." Someone cleared their throat.
Shi Liaozhi, who had been reaching out to pick up some food, trembled and nearly dropped his chopsticks, quickly pulling his hand back.
It wasn't surprising, given that the cough had come from Qin Jian, who was dressed in funeral attire. He sat there with a solemn expression, looking almost like a corpse.
No one responded, so Qin Jian lowered his voice and continued, "Everyone, did you notice anything unusual when we went to see Young Master Huang today?"
"Unusual? You're the most unusual one here!" Fatty thought to himself, though he maintained a calm expression.
Qin Jian's gaze slowly swept over the group, indicating that he had more to say.
"Old Master Qin," An Xuan set down his chopsticks and stared at him quietly. Only when Qin Jian's eyes met his did he continue, "Have you noticed something?"
He deftly redirected the question back to Qin Jian, showing his skill in handling such situations.
Tapping the table with a finger, Qin Jian asked unhurriedly, "Has anyone heard of 'The Tale of Jiao Hong'?"
"Old Master, what... what do you mean?" Tang Shirou, who had already finished two bowls of fish soup, blinked and asked.
"Are you referring to the opera Young Master Huang was singing earlier?" You Qi's voice was muffled.
"Exactly."
"Then why didn't you mention it earlier?" Zuo Jing's voice cut in abruptly. She stared directly into Qin Jian's eyes without hesitation. "Last night, we also heard the opera. Why didn't you bring it up this morning and waited until now?"
Her words immediately heightened the tension at the table. Speaking so boldly to someone who might very well be a ghost—was she tired of living?
Almost instinctively, Shi Liaozhi, who was sitting next to her, quickly distanced himself, fearing he might get caught in the crossfire.
"Last night's singing was too ethereal. It only sounded familiar, but I couldn't be sure. It wasn't until just now, after getting closer, that I clearly heard the lyrics and confirmed that Young Master Huang was singing 'The Tale of Jiao Hong,'" Qin Jian replied flawlessly.
"'The Tale of Jiao Hong' sounds like a story," Xia Meng chimed in. "Old Master Qin, could you enlighten us younger ones about its meaning?"
(End of the Chapter)
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