The Secret

Chen Mo followed Hu San to a small, two-story building.

The doors were tightly shut, with several dark blue lanterns hanging from the eaves. A plaque with gold characters on a black background hung above the lintel, inscribed with three bold, vigorous strokes:

Rain-Listening Pavilion.

Hu San stepped forward and knocked rhythmically on the door a few times.

A moment later, the heavy wooden door opened inward without a sound, revealing a narrow gap.

"Young brother, please."

Hu San stepped aside to signal him in, but remained outside himself, showing no intention of following.

Chen Mo raised his guard to the highest level, though he kept his expression neutral. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The wooden door closed silently behind him, completely isolating him from the outside world.

The light inside was soft. Instead of the expected hall or corridor, he was met with an exceptionally spacious, elegant room.

The air was filled with a scent reminiscent of old books.

The light came from several antique-style floor lamps; the gentle glow gave the rosewood furniture a subtle, restrained luster.

At the deepest part of the room, by the window, sat a wide chessboard.

Behind the board sat a man of about fifty, dressed in a dark gray long gown, his head bowed as he focused on the endgame on the board.

Hearing footsteps, the man did not look up, but merely pointed a finger at the empty seat opposite the board.

"Sit."

Chen Mo followed instructions, walked over, and sat on the soft cushion.

Up close, the man possessed a composed and steady air, as if he had merged with the ancient atmosphere of the room.

Yet, Chen Mo's muscles were subconsciously tensed, and the thin paper doll tucked against his chest seemed to emit an imperceptible tremor.

After about the time it takes to brew a pot of tea, the man finally moved his gaze from the board. His eyes lingered on Chen Mo's face for a moment before sweeping, seemingly casually, over the lapel of his shirt.

"The waters of Jinmen are murky; it has been many years since I've seen such pure, upright spiritual paper aura." The Pavilion Master spoke suddenly, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. "The Chen Family's craft has not been entirely lost. Very good."

Chen Mo's heart jolted, and a thin layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.

The man had truly noticed!

Furthermore, he had identified his origin and background in a single sentence.

The Pavilion Master seemed not to notice his tension. He picked up the purple clay teapot warming on a small red clay stove, poured two cups of tea, and pushed one toward Chen Mo.

The tea was golden, its aroma clear and sharp.

"Do not be surprised. If I could not even see through such a small thing, my Rain-Listening Pavilion would have no business planting its flag in the Jinmen underworld."

He sipped his tea and said slowly, "Your grandfather, Chen Xuanli, once folded paper into soldiers; one man could block a hundred ghosts on the road, and half the city's paper money was sent to the Impermanence... Friends in the jianghu gave him a nickname—White Paper Yama."

White Paper Yama!

Chen Mo searched the memories of his predecessor; his grandfather seemed to have died before he was even born.

"There are four great families in the Jinmen underworld: the Willow Wood Soul-Carving, the Fan Family's corpse-driving, the Ding Sect's ghost-raising, and one other that communicates with the netherworld through paper and crafts paper into soldiers—known as the Paper Doll Chen Family."

The Pavilion Master's voice carried a sense of nostalgic vicissitudes. "Your Chen Family's paper dolls, when crafted to a high level, are not merely funerary objects to be burned. Those with sufficient spirit can serve as eyes and ears, and the fierce ones can detain living souls. The mysteries within are beyond what outsiders could ever know."

"Then... why..." Chen Mo suddenly thought of the shriveled rice weevils in his own rice jar and couldn't help but speak.

"Why did you fall?"

The Pavilion Master took up the thread, his gaze returning to the chessboard as his fingertips picked up a black piece.

"A tall tree catches the wind; high skill invites jealousy. The underworld trades have always walked the edge between yin and yang. Dealing with ghosts and gods, you earn living money while blocking the path of the dead."

"Your grandfather's methods were too rigid, and his temperament too upright. In settling matters for others, he offended many things and became an eyesore to many people."

The black piece in his hand landed lightly on the board with a crisp "clack."

"As for the specific reasons, I am not entirely clear myself." The Pavilion Master sighed.

"Does the Pavilion Master mean that the fall of my Chen Family has hidden secrets? That even the Rain-Listening Pavilion... cannot say for sure?"

Chen Mo raised his eyes, keenly capturing the reservation in the man's words—it felt more like avoidance than ignorance.

The Rain-Listening Pavilion Master gently stroked his teacup, his gaze resting on the swirling steam. "The water in the underworld has never been clear. Some things are not necessarily a blessing to know, especially for you right now."

He looked up, and deep within those calm eyes, a faint trace of lament seemed to flicker. "After your grandfather died, the major paper-crafting business in the Jinmen underworld gradually fell into the hands of two other families."

"One is surnamed Jin, skilled in making gold and silver foil, and high-end funerary objects that signify immense wealth. They follow the path of officials and merchants."

"The other... their methods are more secretive. They are known as the Shadow Craftsmen, specializing in those shady, illicit jobs. As for your father..."

The Pavilion Master shook his head and did not continue.

Chen Mo did not press him, merely taking a deep breath to forcefully suppress his churning emotions. "I do not know... what deep meaning you have in telling this junior these old stories?"

"I tell you this, first, out of the shallow friendship I once had with your grandfather; I cannot bear to see the descendant of an old friend live in ignorance."

"Second, to make you understand your own situation. You carry the Chen Family's inheritance; in the eyes of some, you are still the grandson of the White Paper Yama."

"Once this identity spreads, the ones coming to trouble you will not just be the hyenas who coveted the money in your hands tonight."

His heart sank.

He had previously only worried about the danger of harboring a treasure, never expecting that the identity of his original self might also invite trouble.

"Many thanks to the Senior for the information and the assistance." Chen Mo cupped his hands, this time with a touch of genuine sincerity.

"It is good that you understand your situation." The Rain-Listening Pavilion Master's voice returned to that calm, unruffled indifference, as if the rise and fall of families mentioned just moments ago were nothing more than insignificant pieces on a chessboard.

"Hu San."

Hu San, who had been waiting by the door, pushed it open and entered, bowing low: "Master."

"Fetch a portion of Yin Cicada Slough for this young friend," the Pavilion Master commanded, his tone as casual as if he were asking for a cup of tea.

A flash of surprise crossed Hu San's eyes, but he suppressed it immediately. He replied with a "Yes," turned toward an ebony bookshelf to the side, opened an inconspicuous drawer, and retrieved an object, presenting it on a small jade tray to Chen Mo.

On the jade tray lay a gray-white object, half the size of a palm and thin as a cicada's wing, its surface naturally marked with fine, spiral patterns.

"Yin Cicada Slough, left behind by a Ghost-Faced Cicada during its third molting in a place of extreme yin. It contains pure yin energy and is mild in nature, making it easy to absorb."

The Pavilion Master's voice provided a timely explanation.

"It may be of some slight benefit to your cultivation of your family's techniques, and it can also provide a weak nourishment to your deficient blood and qi—better than nothing."

Chen Mo looked at the item on the jade tray, feeling somewhat surprised; he had not expected such a gain.

"For the Senior's generous gift, this junior..." He stood up and bowed solemnly, carefully putting the Yin Cicada Slough away and tucking it securely against his person.

"Go." The Pavilion Master lifted his teacup, took a sip, and his gaze had already returned to the chessboard. "Once you leave the Ghost Market, your fate will depend on your own ability and fortune."

"This junior understands." Chen Mo offered one final bow, lingered no longer, and turned to head downstairs.

Hu San followed behind him, remaining silent all the way until he escorted him to the entrance of the Rain-Listening Pavilion.

The heavy wooden door opened silently once more, and the distinct, chaotic atmosphere and faint clamor of the Ghost Market surged in.

"Young man, since the Master has given you the Cicada Slough, he truly thinks highly of you."

Hu San suddenly lowered his voice and spoke quickly, "When absorbing the Yin Cicada Slough, you must calm your mind and focus; do not be greedy for speed. Also... the two families the Master mentioned, the Jin Family and the Shadow Craftsman, have deep-rooted influence in Jinmen. You... take care of yourself."

Chen Mo paused for a moment, then nodded: "Many thanks for the advice, Mr. Hu."