Butler Tong was clearly trapped inside some kind of formation. Yet even so, a sliver of his consciousness had fought free—drawn by the news that his old master had a new child—and he had risked everything just to look in on his little lord.
“Lu Ling teamed up with some wicked people and sealed both my servants away,” Gu Fancheng said, his face colder than before.
Lu Xiyu took his hand and gave it a small, comforting shake, as if trying to soothe the anger coiling through her husband. “My aunt took advantage of the fact that you and I went to Hong Kong,” she said quietly. “She sealed Butler Tong and Gu Nian. She knew how much you care for them, so she used them as leverage… She even colluded with Gu family’s eldest and second brothers—she wanted to get you out of the way.”
“But didn’t you lock her beneath the Great Guanyin Temple? Why didn’t you question her then?” I asked, remembering the snarling ghost I’d seen. Her viciousness had chilled me; someone that cunning would naturally covet Gu Fancheng’s estate.
Lu Xiyu shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Do you think she would have confessed to the things she did in private? If I hadn’t gone after Gu Linze in the Underworld and interrogated him myself, Lu Ling’s crimes might have stayed buried forever.”
Gu Fancheng’s rage deepened, but his expression was unnervingly calm—like the sea before a storm.
“Do you want me to help?” I asked. He’d insisted I come to the Gu residence earlier; there was clearly a reason.
“Yes. We need you to find Butler Tong and Gu Nian.”
I had suspected as much. Lu Ling must have laid some foul curse on those two—something clever enough to hide them from other exorcists. Why I had been able to see Butler Tong’s image? It had to do with my... unrotting-bones trait. It was the only real difference I could pin between myself and the others. Gu Fancheng and Lu Xiyu were normal—mortal, vulnerable—while Si Jiangchen and I were creatures who had survived a century or more.
“How can I help?” I was holding little Gu Xiao Lu in my arms and looked up at the couple. “That Butler Tong just vanished in one moment. I don’t even know where to begin.”
Gu Fancheng considered for a moment, then turned his head to Lu Xiyu. “Xixi, stay upstairs and feed Gu Xiao Lu. Keep the baby with you.”
“I—I want to come!” Lu Xiyu protested. She was the kind of girl who had always been sheltered, quick to volunteer and slow to give up. But she’d only just had the baby; Gu Fancheng wouldn’t allow her to be exposed to any lingering yin energy. Not even a friend like me could let her take such a risk.
“You’re crushing me—your son’s heavy!” I shoved the bottle into Lu Xiyu’s hands and, with a slight pout from the ever-displeased Gu Xiao Lu, handed the baby back to her. “Kids under three tend to attract spirits. If you don’t watch your behavior, you could invite trouble.”
I’d read geomancy and divinations long enough to hit the vulnerable spots without fail. New mothers were always hypersensitive about their children. Lu Xiyu’s worry flared at my words; she turned to Gu Fancheng for reassurance, pleading with her eyes. He, predictably, ignored the look.
“Baby, take care of Mommy,” Gu Fancheng murmured. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and then looked at the child standing nearby—Gu Baobao—who immediately straightened and gave his father a salute before taking up Lu Xiyu’s arm and cheerfully escorting her back to their room.
After he watched his wife disappear into the bedroom, Gu Fancheng inclined his head toward me. “Thank you.”
“No need. Xixi is my friend—I’d do this anyway.” I smiled and then asked, “You must have tried to find your servants already, right?”
He nodded. “I questioned Gu Linze in the Underworld. He implicated Lu Ling.”
“So you planned to force Lu Ling to reveal where she’d hidden Butler Tong and Gu Nian.”
We made our way downstairs. Si Jiangchen stood by the stained-glass window with a coffee cup in hand, looking out over the garden. The evening light gave his handsome features an even sharper edge. He only turned when our footsteps echoed down the stairs.
“Mr. Si, I’d like to ask Miss Du for a favor,” Gu Fancheng said, and produced a tiny orb of light from his pocket. With two fingers he flicked it into the air. The orb unfurled like gauze and resolved into the shape of a woman in white.
Her hair hung wild and her face was contorted with fear. As soon as she hit the floor she curled inward, trying to slip away through the foyer.
Bang.
Though quick as lightning, the gilded tiles at the entrance erupted in a lattice of light, forming a net that caught the ghostlike silhouette and held her fast.
“Lu Ling. Where did you think you were going?” Gu Fancheng’s voice was a cold blade. The woman started, then turned to take in her surroundings, and suddenly a smile split her mouth.
“Mr. Gu, I’m not running,” Lu Ling floated in the doorway, voice hollow and theatrical. “I was—your matchmaker. You and Xixi should be grateful, not—” She trailed off, offended and wounded as if they’d betrayed her kindness.
Matchmaker. I hadn’t expected that connection. I leaned in, curiosity piqued; gossip was a rare pleasure.
Gu Fancheng snorted and didn’t dignify her with a response. He asked only, clipped, “Where have you hidden Gu Nian and the others’ souls?”
“Gu… Nian?” Lu Ling feigned bafflement and merely sauntered a couple of steps, playing the part. “Who is that? I don’t remember.”
Gu Fancheng’s eyes darkened. The air around him shivered and tore open—an invisible rift in the room. Black mist poured through the crack and surged toward Lu Ling. It condensed into a human shape, faceless and white as a sheet, clutching a pitch-black chain. It lashed at Lu Ling’s spirit, whipping her with a ferocity that made her shriek.
“If it weren’t for the old feelings between the Great Demon couple,” the faceless thing snarled as it struck, “we’d have sent you straight to the eighteenth hell long ago!”
The thing beat her mercilessly, muttering resentfully, “You still have the nerve to play tricks before the demons? Have some shame!”
Lu Ling’s cries rang through the foyer like glass breaking. The scene was ugly and charged—every word, every lash, made clear how far the feud had already gone.