East Mountain
It was a conservative estimate.
What Nian Nian hadn’t told him was that the thirty‑odd spirits were only the ones that had always lingered in the villa. If she included the ghosts she’d brought back herself, the number would be close to a hundred. Most of them, though, were tucked away in her gourd—kept from roaming her shoulder to shoulder. They only showed themselves when the family patriarch summoned them or when she needed assistance. So you couldn’t really count on seeing them.
Even with her restraint, Yu Shanhe’s eyes widened at “more than thirty.” He had met a ghost once in his life—an encounter that haunted him still. The specter’s face had been a raw, mangled thing; down that corridor at night he’d nearly died. Thirty‑odd of those things in his house? The thought made his skin crawl.
“Dad, don’t worry. They won’t hurt us. They’re just lost, stray spirits—wandering souls. Once the jade is taken care of, the house won’t keep generating that kind of yin energy. Those ghosts will drift away on their own sooner or later.” Nian Nian hurried to soothe him, watching his shocked, frightened expression.
The jade had been dug up; she intended to destroy it. Left alone, it had been poisoning the place. One second more and it would have been trouble.
“All right, good, good.” Yu Shanhe patted his chest, relief visibly loosening his shoulders. As long as his family was safe, everything else could be negotiated.
He found, too, that his tolerance had swollen since his daughter had come home. Ever since she’d opened the door to another world and led him through wonders he’d never imagined, odd things no longer sparked the old panic. If someone had told him before that thirty‑odd ghosts haunted his house, he would have lived in terror. Now he could almost laugh it off—if they meant no harm, why not live with them?
“I’m going back to my room to deal with this jade,” Nian Nian said, cradling the box. Even through the case she could feel a chill clinging to it. “Tomorrow I’ll head out with Third Brother and the others.”
She ran upstairs with the box in her arms. Once in her room she pulled out a Pure Yang talisman and wrapped it around the case, whispering the incantation that urged the charm to life. When a thin red flame licked the lid, she tapped the bottom of the box with two fingers. The fire shrank, as if obeying, before slipping through the seams and burrowing inside. The jade hissed and popped like something frying in oil; then, with a bright, glassy snap, it shattered.
Handling it hadn’t required great skill—destroying the object had been straightforward. Yet such a small thing had been capable of killing without leaving a mark.
Outside, the hanged ghost was fetched back into the house, shoved and prodded by the old man who’d had enough. Once the jade was dealt with, Nian Nian turned to the ghost.
“Where does that man live?” she asked.
“He lives on the mountain,” the ghost answered. “Strange place. I don’t know if he’s still there—this was four, maybe five years ago. I’ll tell you everything I remember.”
“You won’t be blamed if we can’t find him?” Nian Nian added gently.
The spirit’s voice was eager at that. If he had been able to dig the jade up, he had been vital—both the hanged ghost and the information he had given had been important. Nian Nian was reasonable; she had never meant to harm the family’s benign spirits. Had she wanted to exterminate them, they would have been dead a hundred times over already.
“He lives on the eastern Shuangtuo Mountain,” the ghost said without pause. “Shuangtuo has two peaks. He’s on the second peak, halfway up. Male, about one point seven five meters, very thin, scruffy—beard stubble, ragged clothes. Looks like a tramp.”
The hanged ghost even strained to recall details of the man’s face as if he were trying to be useful. Nian Nian, satisfied, took a few shards of broken jade from the box and passed them to the ghost.
“These fragments still hold a lot of yin energy. They’ll last you a while. Take them.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” The ghost’s delight was almost childish. From the moment the jade was dug out he had coveted it; seeing it broken had hurt him. These pieces were a windfall. He tucked them away and drifted out the window, perching on a tree as he might a swing. Instead of playing with his noose as usual, he sat there, clutching the shards and giggling to himself.
“Shuangtuo Mountain, to the east...” Nian Nian sat at her desk and stared out the window, murmuring.
East Mountain. “A thousand paces behind East Mountain, a cave holds a natural god.” That was what Wei He—the strange twin sisters—had told her before they left. She and Third Brother had searched for East Mountain back then, but there were too many places with that name; none in the city bore that exact title. They’d found nothing and let it drop.
Now, thinking about it, she wondered if “East Mountain” might actually be Shuangtuo. She sent a message to Third Brother, Shen Weixun, outlining her guess and summarizing what she’d learned today.
His reply came back in four characters: “Go and you’ll see.”
Nian Nian smiled—she knew that brevity was his way. There wasn’t much more she could do with the clue; they were only suppositions until they could be proved. Besides, tomorrow they were visiting Fourth Brother at his home, so the trip to Shuangtuo would have to wait. The hanged ghost’s story had happened years ago; whoever it was likely moved on long ago. One day sooner or later wouldn’t change much.
By eleven she was sleepy, yawning and crawling under the covers. Morning came with Shen Weixun rousting her from the bed. She dressed on autopilot, followed him out, and caught a snooze in the car on the way.
They arrived at Liu Chuchen’s house. Before her feet even hit the ground, a middle‑aged man stepped forward with a broad smile—one that was clearly aimed not at Nian Nian, but at Shen Weixun.
“Oh, you must be Master Shen,” the man said. “I’m Chuchen’s uncle. I hear you two are sworn brothers—if you don’t mind, call me uncle as well.”