Hidden Secrets

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

The doors were tightly shut. Several dim blue lanterns hung from the eaves, and above the entrance was a black plaque bearing three gold characters, written in bold, elegant strokes:

Rain-Listening Pavilion.

Hu San stepped forward and knocked on the door several times in a measured rhythm.

A moment later, the heavy wooden door silently opened a crack.

"Please, young sir."

Hu San stepped aside to let him in, but remained outside, with no intention of following.

Chen Mo's guard rose to its highest, though he showed nothing on his face. He simply took a deep breath and stepped inside.

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

The interior was softly lit. There was no hall or corridor as he had expected; instead, a spacious, elegant room lay directly before him.

The air carried the scent of old books.

The light came from several antique floor lanterns. Their gentle glow fell on the rosewood furniture, bringing out its subdued luster.

By the window at the far end stood a wide Go table.

A man sat behind it, around fifty years old, dressed in a dark gray robe. He was studying an unfinished game on the board.

Hearing footsteps, he didn't look up. He merely pointed at the empty seat across the table.

"Sit."

Chen Mo did as he was told and sat down on the soft cushion.

Up close, the man had a grave, composed bearing, as though he had become one with the room's ancient elegance.

Yet every muscle in Chen Mo's body tensed instinctively. The Paper Doll tucked against his chest seemed to stir almost imperceptibly.

After about the time it took to brew a pot of tea, the man finally lifted his gaze from the board. His eyes lingered on Chen Mo's face for a moment, then seemed to casually sweep over the front of his robe.

"The waters of Jinmen are murky. It's been many years since I've seen such pure spiritual paper aura," the Pavilion Master said suddenly, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "The Chen Family's craft hasn't been entirely lost. Good."

Chen Mo's heart lurched, and a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out across his back.

The man had indeed sensed it!

And he'd seen right through Chen Mo's origins and background with a single remark.

The Pavilion Master seemed not to notice his unease. He picked up a 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 fragrance crisp and clean.

"Don't be surprised. If I couldn't see through even something this obvious, there'd be no point in my Rain-Listening Pavilion flying its banner among Jinmen's occult practitioners."

He took a sip of tea and continued slowly, "Your grandfather, Chen Xuanli, could make paper effigies into soldiers. He alone could hold back a road full of a hundred ghosts, and half a city's worth of spirit money was sent to Impermanence... His friends in the underworld gave him the nickname White Paper Yama."

White Paper Yama!

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

"There are four great families among Jinmen's occult practitioners: the Willow Wood Soul-Carving, the Fan Family's corpse-driving, the Ding Sect's ghost-raising, and one other, who use paper to commune with the netherworld and fashion paper effigies into soldiers. People call them the Paper Doll Chen Family."

The Pavilion Master's voice carried the weathered quality of a man recalling the past. "At the height of your Chen Family's craft, your paper dolls weren't just dead things to be burned as grave goods. The ones with enough spirit could serve as eyes and ears; the more vicious ones could capture living souls. Outsiders can't begin to fathom their mysteries."

"Then... why..." Chen Mo suddenly remembered the few shriveled rice weevils in his own rice jar and couldn't help asking.

"Why did your family fall into decline?"

The Pavilion Master picked up the thread, his gaze returning to the board as he held a black stone between his fingertips.

"A great tree catches the wind; a master of his art draws envy. The occult trade is a business that treads the boundary between yin and yang, dealing with ghosts and gods. We earn money from the living and block the roads of the dead.

"Your grandfather's methods were too forceful, and his temper too upright. When he helped people settle troubles, he offended many things and got in the way of many people."

The black stone in his hand landed lightly on a spot on the board with a crisp click.

"I don't know all the reasons behind it either," the Pavilion Master sighed.

"Are you saying there was more to the Chen Family's decline? And even the Rain-Listening Pavilion... can't explain it?"

Chen Mo looked up, keenly catching the reservation in the man's words. It seemed more like evasion than ignorance.

The Rain-Listening Pavilion Master gently rubbed his teacup, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the tea. "The waters of the occult trade have never been clear. Knowing certain things isn't necessarily a blessing, especially for someone in your position."

He raised his eyes. Deep within their calm depths, a faint trace of regret seemed to flicker. "After your grandfather died, the major paper-crafting work among Jinmen's occult practitioners gradually fell into the hands of two other families."

"One is the Jin Family. They specialize in gold paper, silver foil, and lavish funerary goods, and follow the path of officialdom and commerce."

"The other... is more secretive in its dealings. They're called Shadow Craftsmen, and they specialize in illicit work that can't be brought into the light. As for your father..."

The Pavilion Master shook his head and said no more.

Chen Mo didn't reply. He simply took a deep breath and forcibly pressed down his churning emotions. "Senior, you've told me these old stories about my family. May I ask... why?"

"I'm telling you this, first, because I had a shallow friendship with your grandfather back then. I can't bear to see his descendant stumble through life in ignorance."

"Second, so you understand your situation. You carry on the Chen Family's legacy. In some people's eyes, you're still White Paper Yama's grandson."

"Once that identity gets out, the people who come looking for trouble may not be limited to the jackals who coveted your money tonight."

His heart sank.

He'd only worried that possessing a treasure would make him a target. He hadn't considered that his predecessor's identity might also bring trouble.

"Thank you for telling me all this and coming to my aid." Chen Mo clasped his hands in a salute, this time with genuine gratitude.

"It's enough that you understand your situation." The Rain-Listening Pavilion Master's voice returned to its unruffled calm, as though the rise and fall of the family he'd just spoken of were nothing more than a few insignificant stones on the board.

"Hu San."

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

"Fetch one Yin Cicada Slough for this young friend." The Pavilion Master gave the order as casually as if asking someone to pour a cup of tea.

A flicker of surprise passed through Hu San's eyes, but he quickly hid it. He replied, "Yes," then turned to the ebony bookshelf at the side. Opening an inconspicuous drawer, he took out an object resting on a small jade tray and brought it to Chen Mo.

On the tray lay a grayish-white object about half a palm in size, thin as a cicada's wing, with delicate spiral patterns naturally etched across its surface.

"Yin Cicada Slough. It was left behind by a Ghost-Faced Cicada after its third molt in a place of extreme yin. It contains pure yin energy, yet its nature is mild and easy to absorb."

The Pavilion Master's voice provided an explanation.

"It may help a little with your family's cultivation method, and it can also slightly nourish your depleted qi and blood. Better than nothing."

Chen Mo looked at the object on the jade tray, somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected to come away with this as well.

"Senior, this is far too generous..." He rose and bowed solemnly, then carefully took the Yin Cicada Slough and tucked it safely against his body.

"Go." The Pavilion Master lifted his teacup and took a sip, his gaze already returning to the board. "Once you leave the Ghost Market, your own ability and fortune will decide the rest."

"I understand." Chen Mo bowed once more, then turned and went downstairs without lingering.

Hu San followed him in silence all the way to the entrance of the Rain-Listening Pavilion.

The heavy wooden door silently opened once more, and the Ghost Market's peculiar mixture of smells and faint clamor poured inside.

"Since Master gave you the cicada slough, he truly thinks highly of you, young sir."

Hu San suddenly lowered his voice and spoke quickly. "When absorbing the Yin Cicada Slough, you need to clear your mind and focus. Don't rush it. Also... those two families Master mentioned, the Jin Family and the Shadow Craftsmen, have deeply rooted influence in Jinmen. You... take care of yourself."

Chen Mo paused, then nodded. "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Hu."