“What do we have to lose?” Hong Xin asked. “Our situation is not just terrible; we’re literally dying out there. Meanwhile, we have huge liabilities locked up in the Red Dust Pavilion. I’ll tell you what, if we can’t get what we want out of them with this idea of mine, I’ll do what you want. I’ll just kill those wretched women to wash our hands clean of them.”
“Fine,” Bai Ling said. She took out a core-transmission jade and whispered a message. A short while later, it pulsed as a reply arrived.
“What did he say?” Hong Xin asked.
“He said he’d come over at three in the morning,” Bai Ling said, surprised.
“Good,” Hong Xin said. She rubbed her hands in anticipation, but the uncertainty in her expression was difficult to hide. “If I’m right, we might just have something to work with.”
“What exactly are you hoping for him to do?” Bai Ling asked. “A seer is hardly useful in this muddled situation. Evil spirits are tough to read, even for really good ones.”
“Who said anything about reading?” Hong Xin said. “Wang Jun is good at many things, but there’s one talent he doesn’t advertise: he’s good at hiding.”
Bai Ling quirked an eyebrow. “You want him to hide us from the Spirit Temple?”
“No,” Hong Xin said. “I want him to hide our prisoners. Only then will they be free to speak. Then we’ll make them talk.”
They’d kill them afterward, of course. There was no saving creatures like them. But she was confident that, given the means at her disposal, they’d be eager for such an ending. They’d work for a swift, painless death.
“Our appointment is coming up soon,” Bai Ling said. “I think it’s time we had the talk.”
Hong Xin sighed. “All right, let’s walk and talk.” They left the cells beneath the pavilion and entered the beautiful red-carpeted halls with golden décor. Wherever they walked, they saw servants and courtesans cleaning up after the evening party.
“I won’t bore you with the basics. You know about Wang Jun’s fight with his brother, and you know about his financial position,” Bai Ling said. “And most importantly, you know about his late sister, Wang Hua.”
“She’s the reason he’s fighting with his brother in the first place,” Hong Xin said. “The most talented family member they’d had in three thousand years had somehow gotten killed in a fight between core-formation cultivators. In his rage, the clan patriarch ordered the cultivators executed. But despite the harsh punishment, Wang Jun was never the same.”
“His relationship with his brother soured overnight,” Bai Ling said. “We’ve retrieved a dozen firsthand accounts of the incident that showed suspicious behavior during the fight between the cultivators. It’s almost guaranteed the fight was instigated so they could use underhanded means to kill her. Anything past these firsthand accounts, however, can’t be found. There are no traces of any investigations. The record has been wiped clean. All information about her vanished overnight.”
“She was erased from the family genealogy,” Hong Xin said. “No one even knows what she looked like.”
“No one did,” Bai Ling corrected. She hesitated before continuing. “I found a picture, Headmistress. I think it’s important that you see it before proceeding with the meeting.”
“Bring it out,” Hong Xin said. She walked up to her vanity mirror and touched up the thin black lines on her eyelashes. Then, after touching up her lip paint, she picked up a talisman brush and began drawing intricate runes on her face, as per her usual practice.
Moments later, the glamour sank in, and the runes disappeared. Those who tried to look at her directly would find it difficult to do so. Those who tried to remember her face would be unable to. Those who heard her voice would have trouble putting their finger on it. She was an enigma, an unknown to all but her closest friends.
She turned, about to check on what was taking Bai Ling so long, but yelped when she saw a life-sized rendition of herself. She was young, perhaps fourteen years old. She wore a green dress and a familiar mauve hairclip.
And then, she realized it wasn’t her. The face was slightly off, even if her hairstyle and her overall facial structure was the same. Her hair was blonde. She was slightly taller and looked much more confident than Hong Xin had in her younger years. Her eyes were the sharp eyes of a scholar. “Is this…?”
“Wang Hua,” Bai Ling said. “A spitting image, if I do say so myself. When you’re not wearing your glamour, that is. Now you see why I thought it was pertinent.”
Hong Xin closed her eyes and recalled the various moments they’d spent together. Wang Jun’s doting expression, his look of unconditional care and the hint of sadness in his eyes. Apparently she’d been a stand-in of sorts. He’d been attracted to her because she looked so much like what he’d lost.
“This changes nothing,” Hong Xin said, sweeping her hand over the rendition and reducing it to ashes. “He won’t recognize me, not through my glamour and disguise arts.”
“I’m not concerned about his motivations; I’m concerned about yours,” Bai Ling said sternly. “Remember what you’re doing this for. We want to recapture our remaining lost members in Gold Leaf City and put a stop to the atrocious things the Spirit Temple is doing. After that, we’re packing up and leaving. End of story.”
“You’re right,” Hong Xin said. “This is purely a business meeting, and once we’ve achieved our goals, we’ll let the sisters who haven’t committed any crimes free but make sure they are bound by a strict contract. We’ll try our best to treat them and thaw out their hearts if they so wish. We’ll kill those that have committed too many sins. As for me, I’ll continue helming the Red Dust Pavilion as long as I must. Anyone who wishes to stay can stay.
