The merchants below were engaged in heated discussions—debating contract terms, profit margins, and future trade routes.
"Let your sister come negotiate!" one merchant snapped, his face darkening after being lowballed. "I’ve always worked with the Zhao Family at this price. How come you’re cutting it so much now?"
The young woman, radiant as a peach blossom, stood her ground despite her age. She slammed a hand on the table. "The weather’s been poor lately, mulberry leaves are scarce—haven’t you heard? The cost of silk has skyrocketed. If we stick to last year’s prices, our workers might as well drink the northwest wind! Everyone knows the Zhao Family’s fabric is the finest. If you don’t want to negotiate, I’ll find another partner!"
The merchant had assumed this girl would be easy to intimidate, but she didn’t budge an inch.
He considered putting on a show of arrogance to scare her, but one glance at the black-cloaked guard beside her—face hidden, exuding an eerie stillness—left him the one unnerved instead.
Zhao Shuxing raised a brow. "Are we negotiating or not? Why keep staring at my guard?"
The merchant swallowed hard. "Then… let’s talk further."
From above, Chu'he observed the scene, stroking her chin. "That guard feels familiar somehow."
Ninth, cracking open another pine nut, glanced over. "The flower on his heart hasn’t withered yet. How rare."
Chu'he suddenly remembered. "That’s Gao Fei! Then the girl he’s guarding must be the second young miss of the Zhao Family!"
Peering through the curtains, she wondered, "I wonder if the eldest Zhao sister is here too?"
The clamor of negotiations gradually quieted as Chu Sheng stepped forward, announcing the next event: the auction.
At the word "auction," Chu'he nearly choked on her tea. Covering her mouth, she coughed violently while Ninth abandoned his pine nuts to pat her back. "A’he, even three-year-olds know how to drink properly."
She shot him a glare. Once she caught her breath, she gasped, "How does something like an auction exist in this era?"
From the neighboring booth came a youthful voice. "A hundred years ago, a young lady proposed the idea at a trade conference. The guild leader thought it brilliant, so auctions became tradition—lasting to this day."
Chu'he frowned. "How have I never heard of this?"
"Shame on you, a local, knowing less than a reclusive, refined gentleman like myself. Clearly, you’ve never cared for family business."
Chu'he deadpanned, "Ninth, doesn’t that voice sound familiar?"
Ninth tossed a teacup in his hand, then flicked it toward the neighboring booth. A yelp followed instantly.
Moments later, a fuming figure stormed over.
"After all this time, you two are still insufferable!"
The young master, no older than fourteen, was draped in gold and silver, his exquisite longevity lock gleaming. Handsome yet haughty, he scowled. Behind him stood a silent, restrained man holding the teacup that had been hurled at them.
Chu'he smirked. "Refined gentleman?"
Ninth snorted. "Little worm."
Su Lingxi bristled. "I’m a grown man, not little!"
Wuya placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Compose yourself."
Su Lingxi hated being treated like a child. He wanted to retaliate, but one look at Ninth’s eerie crimson eyes made him hesitate.
"Hmph. This young master is magnanimous. I won’t stoop to your level."
Chu'he invited them to sit. "Weren’t you returning to the Red Mansion? Why are you back in Yangcheng?"
Su Lingxi’s expression shifted. He glanced between Chu'he and Ninth, lips parting as if to speak—but held back, burdened by some unspoken caution.
Chu'he sensed his hesitation. Remembering rumors of Su Lingxi’s ability to glimpse the future, unease prickled her spine.
"The first item up for auction is a portrait left behind by a painter from a century ago."
Chu Sheng unveiled the scroll, drawing gasps from the crowd.
The signature read "Siyan Scholar"—a master artist whose surviving works were rare. This piece, impeccably preserved, depicted its subjects with lifelike vividness.
Under a ginkgo tree, a woman in yellow robes turned slightly, her gaze playful yet penetrating, as if she might step out of the canvas. Beside her stood a man in dark Miaojiang attire, his silver hair cascading like snow, their hands entwined.
"Ancestor, forgive this unfilial disciple!" Painter Gao wailed backstage, kneeling. "I’m starving! I had to sell your painting to escape the Chu Family! Their young mistress only likes pretty freeloaders—I feared I’d be forced to sell myself for a meal!"
Chu Sheng narrated the tale. "A century ago, plague ravaged Yangcheng. The woman in yellow descended like a deity, saving the people. Siyan Scholar immortalized her in this portrait."
"Later, to quell the Miaojiang’s curse, she and her lover—the then Miaojiang heir—leapt into the Gu Pool. But the cowardly heir crawled out alive, forgetting her entirely as he wed and sired children."
"A tragic end for a beauty. This painting isn’t just a relic of the master—it’s her only surviving image. Its value speaks for itself."
Though precious, only collectors would splurge on such an artifact.
"That woman’s face…" Chu'he shuddered, gripping Ninth’s hand. "The physician we met in Canghaizhou—Lin—looked exactly like her! And Lan Yingying… I always thought Lan resembled Lin, but no—she resembles the woman in the painting!"
Ninth brushed a stray lock from her temple. "A’he, don’t panic."
How could she not?
"That woman lived a hundred years ago. How could anyone remain unchanged? Was the Lin we met human… or a ghost?"
Ninth mused, "Perhaps a ghost wearing human skin."
Chu'he’s hands turned ice-cold. Staring at the white-haired, red-eyed youth before her, her throat tightened—she forgot to breathe.
After a long silence, her voice came out hoarse. "If it really is a ghost, refusing to move on to the afterlife and instead wandering among the living—who is it trying to drag down to hell?"
Her fear wasn’t for herself, but for those she cared about.
Ninth’s previously indifferent demeanor vanished in an instant. His heart pounded violently—a flutter born from the realization that someone held him in their thoughts. Light yet unmistakable, it was enough to make him shed all his defenses.
He should have known. She always had an uncanny sensitivity in the most unexpected moments.
Ninth reached out and gently poked her cheek, his crimson eyes crinkling with amusement as a carefree laugh escaped his lips.
"Silly Chu'he, didn’t I promise you? Even if I were to fall into hell, I’d claw my way back to find you. So what’s there to be afraid of?"
