The Osmanthus Paper Doll, the Shopkeeper's Test

On the way, they chatted idly, and the rickshaw soon entered the concession.

The streets here were broad and clean, lined with Western-style houses. Most pedestrians were dressed in fine clothes.

Qin Geng knew the way well. He stopped before a small building bearing the sign "Lizhizhen Clinic."

"We're here, sir."

Qin Geng set down the shafts steadily.

Henry hopped out, still eager to talk. He took a business card from his coat and handed it to Qin Geng with both hands.

"Qin Geng, here's my card."

"If you ever feel unwell, or have any questions about Fate Cultivators, come see me anytime."

"And of course, I'll give you twenty percent off treatment."

Qin Geng took the card and glanced at it.

A line of gilt lettering read: [Doctor of Western Medicine Henry / Li Zhizhen].

"Thank you, Doctor Li."

Qin Geng tucked the card into his coat and cupped his fists. "See you around!"

With that, he turned the rickshaw, pushed off, and vanished down the street with the empty carriage behind him.

Henry watched Qin Geng go, rubbing the stubble on his chin. He murmured to himself:

"Strange. Very strange..."

"He's only a third-tier carriage driver. How can his life force burn so fiercely?"

"Tianjin truly does have crouching tigers and hidden dragons..."

"If I used him to test a disease..."

After leaving Henry, the foreign doctor who could talk of nothing but Fate Cultivators and Disease Cultivators, Qin Geng did not return to Xun River Wharf.

He swung the rickshaw around and raced with wind beneath his feet toward quiet Anping Street in South City.

It was just past noon. The sun was mild, but the wind had a hard edge.

He ran into quite a few familiar faces along the way.

"Hey, Fifth Brother! Off to make your fortune?"

A carriage driver in a tattered padded jacket was crouched by a wall, gnawing on a coarse corn bun. At the sight of Qin Geng's gleaming rickshaw, he sprang up, swallowed the crumbs in his mouth, and greeted him with a bow and a grin.

"Just wandering."

Qin Geng slowed, held the shafts with one hand, and nodded back.

"Take care, Fifth Brother!"

The driver did not dare ask more. He watched Qin Geng pass, his eyes full of awe.

That was standing in the trade.

Two months ago, if Qin Geng had pulled his rickshaw past, these old hands would have barely lifted an eyelid, and only because of his aunt in the city.

Now that "Fifth Brother" had been earned, one real punch and one life at a time.

The wheels rolled over the flagstones.

Before long, Qin Geng reached the far end of Anping Street.

It was an out-of-the-way spot with few shops. Only a small storefront bore the sign "Osmanthus Fragrance Studio." Its black-painted door stood half-closed, giving the place a desolate air.

This was Shopkeeper Lu's base.

The name sounded refined, like a pastry shop or somewhere scholars gathered for tea.

But when Qin Geng stopped outside and sniffed, he caught no scent of osmanthus or face powder. Instead came a strange blend of damp, mildew, and cheap incense smoke.

He had smelled it before at the Mortuary.

Qin Geng parked the rickshaw beneath the old locust tree by the door and locked it.

Osmanthus Fragrance Studio had no attendant to welcome customers, and no one called out to attract trade.

Qin Geng climbed the steps and gently knocked the copper ring against the heavy wooden door.

Clang, clang, clang.

The clear sound carried far down the empty street.

"Come in."

A rather languid voice came from within. It was Shopkeeper Lu, Lu Xingmin.

Qin Geng pushed the door open.

The room was dim. A mix of cheap face powder and an indescribable musty odor hit his nose.

On the surface, Osmanthus Fragrance Studio sold rouge and face powder.

But one glance told Qin Geng something was wrong.

The bottles and jars on the counter wore a layer of dust. Clearly, no one had touched them in ages.

Farther in hung a blue cloth curtain.

Through a gap in it, he could make out quite a few "people" standing in the room beyond.

They were painted in gaudy colors, with deathly pale faces and two unsettling red circles on their cheeks—the paper figures commonly found in funeral offering shops.

Understanding dawned on Qin Geng.

No wonder they sold rouge here.

The rouge and powder were probably not for living young women, but for painting faces on the breathless paper dolls in the back.

In broad daylight, with the door half-shut and not a soul coming to buy anything, the shop was nothing but a front.

Shopkeeper Lu sat in an armchair, sipping tea straight from the spout of a purple-clay pot. His leg injury from last time had already healed.

Qin Geng marveled at Zheng Tonghe's medical skill. An ordinary poor wretch who broke a leg was practically ruined for life, yet in less than a month Shopkeeper Lu was full of life again.

When Qin Geng entered, Shopkeeper Lu raised his eyelids slightly and swept his gaze over him.

His eyes were sharp as knives, as though they could see straight through Qin Geng's flesh.

"Hmm?"

Shopkeeper Lu lowered his teapot, a playful smile curling his lips. "Reached the upper third tier?"

Qin Geng's heart tightened.

Shopkeeper Lu was no ordinary man.

Qin Geng had only just reached level thirty, and before he could fully rein in his aura, Shopkeeper Lu had seen through him at a glance.

"Yes, Shopkeeper Lu—"

Qin Geng nodded and was about to answer properly.

Then everything changed.

Before he could finish the word "Lu," the sole of Qin Geng's foot suddenly went numb.

An acutely sharp pain followed, as if he had stepped on a red-hot branding iron—or been bitten hard by a venomous snake.

Step-Sensing Danger!

Almost by instinct, before he could think, Qin Geng drove off his left foot and shifted half a step sideways without warning.

Whoosh!

Something cut through the air right beside his right ear.

For an instant, Qin Geng could even feel the fierce wind scrape painfully across his cheek.

Thunk!

Qin Geng looked back. A Wolf-Hair Brush stained vermilion red had buried itself deep in the hard jujube-wood pillar behind him like an arrow.

It had sunk a good inch into the wood. Its tail still trembled, giving off a faint hum.

Qin Geng steadied himself and touched his burning cheek, shaken by how close it had been.

If that had struck him squarely, his eyeball would have burst.

"Not bad."

Shopkeeper Lu watched Qin Geng with a satisfied smile and clapped lightly. "Step-Sensing Danger—eyes beneath your feet. That's genuine third-tier skill, all right. No faking it."

"Shopkeeper Lu, that's quite a welcome gift."

Qin Geng gave a dry laugh. "You almost ruined my face."

"In our line of work, anyone who doesn't stay alert at all times loses his head sooner or later."

Shopkeeper Lu laughed it off.

"Watch out!"

Before Qin Geng could catch his breath, Shopkeeper Lu's face turned stern, and he let out a shout like a thunderclap.

At that shout, a rustling came from behind the blue cloth curtain.

Then a gaudily colored figure shot out like a ghost, straight at Qin Geng's face!

It was a half-grown-child-sized Boy Paper Doll!

The doll was made with startling realism. It wore a little floral jacket, its face painted deathly white, its eyes dotted in black ink. Yet now those eyes seemed alive, steeped in an eerie air of death.

It moved with astonishing speed. A chill wind swept ahead of it, and in the blink of an eye it was before Qin Geng.

Its paper arm had somehow grown hard as an iron rod and swept straight across Qin Geng's chest.

If that blow landed, it would smash not just a chest, but even an iron plate to pieces.