Chapter 44 – Beneath Lantern Light
The town had not changed.
Laughter floated like incense over the market stalls, mingling with the scent of roasted chestnuts and fried scallion cakes. The winter wind had a bite, but it did not reach the townspeople's faces, all bright with the indulgence of daily life. Children chased paper kites beneath crimson lanterns. Vendors called out their prices in sing-song voices. Housewives haggled. The inn's red tassels swayed in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across its golden doors.
It was, in every way, a town that did not appear to know fear.
Hua Ling returned to this scene in silence, walking the streets in civilian robes. As he passed through the gates of the luxurious inn, he noticed a performer being hauled roughly offstage by two guards, his struggling body half-hidden by the heavy curtains. A crowd had gathered, whispering, but no one dared speak too loudly.
He did not understand what had happened, but his steps quickened.
Inside the inn, Chen Xinyu was already rising from the table. He had pushed aside his half-finished bowl of rice and was walking toward the back where the performer had vanished.
Before he could reach the door, a hand grabbed his arm.
Xinyu turned, startled. "Your Highness—"
Hua Ling didn't let go. His voice was low. "We need to talk."
At the table behind them, Lingque was still stuffing her mouth with steamed buns, completely unaware that anything significant was happening.
They walked together through a side corridor that opened onto a quiet balcony overlooking the town. Far below, the lanterns shimmered like drifting stars. The wind stirred their hair and fluttered the hems of their robes. Somewhere, a chime rang.
Hua Ling's gaze lingered on the town below. "Something isn't right," he said at last. "There's a demonic presence here. It's not faint. It's thick, as if it has rooted itself in the bones of the earth. And it's… familiar."
Xinyu's voice turned grave. "I believe you, Your Highness. Earlier today, I met a local butcher—Tu-laoban. He told me he's been living here for several months. At first, everything was normal, but then, one by one, young people began to vanish. Not just once or twice, but every few days. They'd come to his shop, laugh, buy meat, and never be seen again."
He paused, jaw clenched.
"He said it's been happening quietly. And the worst part? No one talks about it. They all act as if it never happened. Even that storyteller just now—he started to tell a tale about sacrifice and some so-called god. But as soon as he reached the climax, the guards came and shut him down."
Hua Ling frowned, deeply. "So they know. Or worse… they believe in it."
Xinyu nodded. "That's what I fear. Whatever is happening, it's something the whole town has chosen to ignore—or worship."
Behind them, footsteps staggered against the wooden floor.
They both turned. Mochen stood a short distance away, his steps crooked, his cheeks flushed an unhealthy red. His robes were rumpled, and he reeked of wine.
He hiccuped, clapping his hands slowly. "Yu-ge," he slurred. "Good job."
Xinyu blinked. "Shidi…?"
Mochen kept clapping, drunkenly theatrical. "Yu-ge is a very bad person."
Xinyu's brows furrowed. "What did I do now?"
Hua Ling's face darkened, his patience thinning. "Throw him into his room. He's embarrassing."
Mochen staggered up to Xinyu, staring at him with a pitiful look, as if seeing through him.
"You're a bad person," he repeated, more softly. "You stole everything."
Xinyu caught his arm to steady him. "Alright, alright, I'm bad. But you're drunk. Let's get you to bed."
He half-dragged Mochen away while Hua Ling turned to lean back against the balcony rail, his eyes shadowed beneath his lashes.
Inside the room, Mochen slumped onto the bed with a thud. His grip on Xinyu's wrist tightened suddenly, unwilling to let go. He pressed his forehead against Xinyu's chest, clinging like a child.
"You stole everything," he murmured again, the bitterness in his tone so old and sharp it felt like a splinter embedded in flesh.
"Everyone looks at you. Talks about you. Wants to be near you. Why? I don't want that ?"
Xinyu didn't speak.
Mochen lifted his head slightly, eyes glassy. "You even got close to my enemy what did you do to him?"
Xinyu's lips parted, then closed again.
A pause. A bitter silence.
Xinyu patted him gently. "Sleep it off, shidi. Whatever I did… I'm sorry."
He extricated himself from Mochen's grip and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.
The hallway outside was still.
Xinyu ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "What did I do to him…? Who is his enemy anyways?"
He wandered back downstairs, footsteps drawn almost unconsciously toward the spot where the performer had been dragged. A quiet suspicion had settled in his chest, gnawing at the back of his mind. If this was all connected—the disappearances, the story, the fear—then the performer might know something.
Two guards stood at the far end of the hallway, speaking in hushed tones. One of them glanced up and noticed him approaching, and their conversation abruptly ceased.
Xinyu offered a polite smile. "Evening, sirs. I was hoping to speak to the storyteller from earlier. He seemed to be in distress."
They did not answer.
Xinyu stepped closer. "It's a simple inquiry. I—"
Before he could finish, a hand caught his wrist from behind. Warm, firm.
He turned, startled.
Hua Ling stood behind him, eyes sharp as a drawn blade.
"I knew you'd come here," he said quietly.
Xinyu opened his mouth, but Hua Ling gave a small shake of his head, silencing him.
"This is no longer just a mission," Hua Ling said. "There's something rotten buried in this town, and I think we've only scratched the surface."
Xinyu's throat tightened.
They stood in silence for a moment, two shadows in the hallway lit only by the flickering of lantern light. From outside came the sounds of music, laughter, and the gentle wind rustling paper lanterns.
Xinyu's voice dropped low. "If we keep digging, we might not like what we find."
Hua Ling's hand tightened slightly on his wrist. "Even so, I want to know. Don't go alone next time."
For a long second, Xinyu looked at him, expression unreadable.
Then he nodded. "Alright."
—
To be continued.