Minor Mystery of the Alleged Haunting at Jasmine Teahouse — Part 1
The sky was darkening.
A crowd had gathered in the Jasmine Teahouse, lining the stairs and standing squeezed around the low tables, the more impudent ones tiptoeing on the tables to get a better look. They murmured among themselves, captivated by the strange scene unfolding in the centre of the first floor. Even outside, there was an assembly of curious passersby and those who had heard the news late, calling out in low tones for someone inside to describe what was happening.
The teahouse owner was curled up against the counter near the front door, trembling violently and making incoherent noises as his bloodshot eyes darted wildly around the room.
Some distance away, nearer to the wall opposite the front door, a young woman was tied up against a pillar. Around her on the floor were array marks. Even so, she would convulse suddenly every few moments and let out unnatural voices that sent the onlookers near her flinching and shuffling back involuntarily.
“Isn’t that the owner’s servant girl? That Zizi or something? But she looks so…”
“Exactly. What happened to her?”
“Earlier, I heard that man over there say that she’s been possessed by some spirit or ghost or something.”
“Poor thing.”
“Hasn’t anyone reported this to the Lookout Tower? Why aren’t they here yet?”
“Didn’t you hear? That man said he’s a cultivator.”
“A cultivator? Which sect?”
“Can’t be from the Great Four Sects, else I would have recognized at a glance.”
If the cultivator Zhao Weijun had heard them, he didn’t show it. He crouched beside the servant girl, frowning as he examined her. Then he got up to examine the surroundings – the broken furniture, the misarranged and scattered items, the talismans on the wall.
He paused briefly. “It’s a vengeful ghost. But it seems to be after the objects in this teahouse, not out to hurt anyone. Owner Hong, do you have any idea why?”
The teahouse owner’s eyes flickered. “It- it can’t be. It’s nonsense! Why would there… I didn’t…”
Zhao Weijun was firm. “Owner Hong, if you know something, you mustn’t hide it. Otherwise, I’m afraid I might not be able to stop the ghost from causing more damage.”
“I- I- I don’t know!”
Among the crowd, the whispers got louder. “Last year, wasn’t there a rumour about someone who had died a wrongful death here a long time ago?”
“That’s right, I heard it too. But why is it only acting up now?”
The cultivator appeared to have heard them. Looking worried, he strode over to the teahouse owner and bent into a half-squat, resting his dark gray sword on his lap. “Owner Hong, if what they say is true, I urge you to give up every object that’s in this place. An old ghost is unlikely to find what they are seeking, but they won’t understand that.”
“I- but-“
Zhao Weijun held up a shard from a porcelain teacup that had fallen nearby and shook his head. “It’s best to purge your belongings and start anew.”
A strong wind blew in at this moment, rattling the windows and sending the curtains and talismans dancing. A candle extinguished, turning one corner dark. There were a few muffled gasps.
As though to dispel the chilling feeling, a voice from the back, “Come on Old Hong, do what the cultivator says, throw everything away! You have to save the girl!”
Everyone started agreeing. “Yes, throw!” “A life is more important than things!” “Come on, Old Hong!”
In the midst of this pandemonium, there was a sudden peal of laughter accompanied by slow, resounding claps. “Fascinating, fascinating! Truly fascinating!”
The volley of encouragement died down in confusion, everyone turning to look at the front door where this brazen voice came from. People shrank aside automatically to avoid being associated together, and as the crowd parted it revealed the silhouettes of not just one, but nine women emerging from the dimly lit streets. Each dressed in similar uniforms of deep emerald green and carried respectable swords. Though they were slight in stature, they more than made up for it with an intimidating aura.
There was a quiet gasp of recognition among some of them: This was the Wu Sect (无派 wú pài) which had been rising in reputation in recent years! Not only were this band of rogue female cultivators gaining the begrudging respect of the cultivation world, their name was increasingly held in admiration among the common folk.
The one who had interrupted so unashamedly was said to be the daughter of two Nie Sect outer disciples, named Cangse. Her features were lively and playful, and right now amusement danced across her face. She stood at the front of the formation, next to an arrogant-looking woman whose looks could kill – Yu Ziyuan, a former disciple of the legendary ‘distant snow and cold frost’ Song Lan along with the Wu Sect’s eldest, the reticent Baoshan. Accompanying Baoshan at the back of the formation was Lan Yi, easily recognisable by her Gusu Lan Sect forehead ribbon – she was from the direct bloodline no less, until she ran away in the middle of a night-hunt once and refused to return. Between these four were the five younger members: Wen Qing and Mianmian, cousins whose family specialised in medicine; diplomatic Yanli; elegant Qin Su; streetwise A-Qing.
A shadow had flitted briefly over Zhao Weijun’s face at this unexpected intrusion but before anyone caught it, it was replaced by an expression of relief and welcome. Clasping his hands before him, he stepped forward in greeting and blocking them at the threshold, “You must be fellow cultivators! You’ve come at the right moment. There’s no time to lose, we must help Owner Hong to purge his belongings at once, to get rid of the ghost.”
Stopping in front of Zhao Weijun, Cangse laughed again, “Ah, really? Is that what the ghost wants?”
Before he had a chance to reply, a figure had flipped over lightly and landed next to the tied-up servant girl with her guqin laid out. Lan Yi met his eyes with a challenging look, the trace of a smirk playing at her lips. “This Young Master, shall I play Inquiry to help?”
Zhao Weijun’s composure was slipping. He thought, Things are getting out of control!
“I had an inkling when we were outside, but now that we’re seeing it with our own eyes…” Yu Ziyuan’s voice dripped with contempt, her voice ringing clear through the teahouse. She didn’t need to finish her sentence – the rest understood instantly.
Realising that the ruse was up, Zhao Weijun jumped backwards to where the teahouse owner was still crouched, and sent the old man flying towards them with a kick. Yu Ziyuan and Cangse broke the old man’s fall and passed him over to the younger members.
“Look after him and don’t let the rest of the people get hurt,” Cangse ordered.
Zhao Weijun had grabbed a bag of money from under the counter and leaped up towards the second floor, brandishing his unsheathed sword so that no one would dare to grab him. Seeing that he intended to run away either through the roof or window, Baoshan had gone back out to station herself on the roof of the building opposite in case he managed to escape.
Inside, Yu Ziyuan unsheathed her sword Ziqing and sent it chasing after Zhao Weijun. It was dangerous to be too aggressive, however, because of all the people crowded around. Her eyes met that of Cangse’s and the same thought ran through their minds: let him run out and fight him in the open.
Leaving Lan Yi to take charge of the situation inside, Yu Ziyuan and Cangse ran out just as Zhao Weijun broke through the roof.
Cangse immediately pulled out a fire talisman and sent it bursting into flames just as it neared Zhao Weijun’s left hand, which was still clutching the money bag. Singed by the flames, his fingers reflexively let go.
“My money!”
“Hah, your money?” Cangse caught the bag.
Taking advantage of his being distracted, Yu Ziyuan sent Ziqing flying into Zhao Weijun’s sword, knocking it straight out of his right hand. As he looked down with disbelief, he suddenly found his arms pinned to his sides by a rope that coiled tightly around him. He lost his balance and fell, rolling down the roof and landing unceremoniously on the hard ground at Cangse’s feet – still conscious but wishing he were dead.