Appreciating New Tea with an Inkstone - Chapter 15

Gu Xiyan felt a surge of disgust welling up in her heart, barely containable. She took a deep breath and said, “Ah Qi, accompany me out for a while.”

Ah Qi’s eyes were slightly red. “My lady?”

Gu Xiyan stood up and walked into her room. Ah Qi hesitated, wanting to say something but ultimately held back, then hurried off to find Xiao Wu.

Gu Xiyan changed her clothes and donned a cloak. The weather wasn’t great today; the late spring skies had suddenly turned gloomy, with fierce winds carrying a biting chill.

Her attire didn’t stand out much in such weather. As she walked, the wind tugged at her sleeves, and beneath the cloak, her expression was inscrutable.

Danyang City wasn’t large. Although Gu Xiyan was blind, she wasn’t a recluse, though she rarely appeared in public alone. Her memory was exceptional—she could recall entire chess games, let alone the layout of the city. Even without a companion, she could navigate Danyang with ease.

Now, she stood in front of the Zhuo family’s shop. The familiar sweet aroma of pastries was gone, replaced by a deathly silence. Ever since it was discovered that they were demons and were slain in their home, the neighbors had been on edge. The more timid ones dared not go near.

As she appeared at the Zhuo family’s doorstep with her attendants, curious onlookers began to whisper.

“I never would’ve thought that such honest, good people were actually man-eating monsters. Just thinking about how they lived next to us, and how my little Huzi always went there for rice cakes, sends chills down my spine,” a woman’s frightened voice carried over.

“Truly, you can’t judge a book by its cover. They always gave us pastries and helped the beggars. Now it seems like it was all just a ploy to deceive us. Who knows if any unfortunate children or beggars were lured in and eaten? And what about those three children they adopted? Could they be tainted too?”

“Exactly! I won’t let my kids play with them anymore. Who knows if Daoist Master has examined them? What if they’re monsters too?” The voices were filled with worry, each person adding their own speculation.

“Mom, Little Qiao’er and Ah Lang are good people. Uncle Zhuo and Auntie always gave us pastries. They’re not bad,” a child’s voice suddenly interjected, filled with confusion and defiance.

“Stupid child, what do you know? It’s a good thing they’re dead now. Otherwise, the next time you went for pastries, they might’ve ripped your heart out and eaten it!”

The child, whether scared or indignant, burst into tears under his mother’s scolding.

Gu Xiyan’s lips pressed into a tight line, but her expression remained unreadable, giving no hint of her thoughts.

Ah Qi couldn’t hold back any longer, gritting her teeth. “These people have eaten so many of the Zhuo family’s pastries for free, and now they’re so ungrateful. They’ve lived together for so many years—if they wanted to eat them, they’d have done it long ago!”

“Ah Qi, where are the three children?” Gu Xiyan didn’t comment but noticed no movement in the house. The children must not be home, so she asked Ah Qi.

Xiao Wu glanced at Ah Qi. “My lady, the Zhuos’… bodies are hanging at the Atonement Platform. The children are probably there.”

Gu Xiyan remained silent, then quickly made her way to the Atonement Platform. Likely drawn by the spectacle, the streets were crowded. Gu Xiyan quietly navigated through the throng, moving silently toward the platform.

Cloaked as she was, no one noticed that the tall, elegant figure in white was actually blind.

As the crowd grew thicker, Xiao Wu and the others stepped forward to shield Gu Xiyan from being jostled. Gu Xiyan stood at the foot of the Atonement Platform, listening to the chaotic murmurs around her.

Amid the cacophony of voices, some sighed and shook their heads, but most clapped and cheered, their voices tinged with fear. The faint traces of pity seemed almost pitiful in comparison.

“Those three children must be fools. Not only did they take demons as parents, but they also refuse to repent. They’re kneeling here, begging the magistrate to return the bodies—those are demons, man-eaters!”

“I think those three children can’t be kept either. Raised by demons, they’re probably tainted by dark magic. It might be deep in their bones; they’ll be a menace sooner or later.”

Ah Lang, now twelve, knelt at the foot of the Atonement Platform with his two younger sisters, staring at the bodies of the parents who had taken him in from a pile of corpses.

When he was six, continuous heavy rains and floods had ravaged the south. After the floods, a wave of refugees had poured into Danyang City.

But Danyang had no surplus food, and a plague broke out, leaving corpses strewn everywhere. His father had died in the flood, and soon after, his mother succumbed to illness. The entire group of refugees had perished, and he alone had survived on a moldy piece of bread his mother had hidden. Surrounded by the dead, no one had come to his rescue. The authorities had even ordered the bodies to be burned and buried on the spot. It was his now-deceased father who had secretly carried him away, nursed him back to health, and given him a home where he never went hungry or cold again.

Later, two more sisters joined the family. Though not wealthy, his parents always set aside money to help the homeless and destitute.

As a child, he hadn’t understood. He once asked his father why they did this.

He remembered his father holding Little Qiao’er, who couldn’t yet speak, and smiling as he asked, “Has Ah Lang or Little Qiao’er ever gone hungry or cold because of what I’ve done?”

“No.”

His father glanced at his mother and continued, “We’ve never gone hungry or cold, but those people have nothing to eat or wear. Ah Lang, we must cherish what we have, but we must also have compassion for those who have nothing. Do you understand?”

Now, the boy’s eyes were red as he stared at the two bodies hanging above. In death, their bodies had begun to show signs of their beastly nature, with dried blood staining their fur, making them look terrifying.

But the gentle, loving faces of his parents in life were still vivid in his mind. They weren’t bad people, not evil demons—they had never harmed anyone!

“They didn’t kill anyone! They never did anything wrong!” the boy shouted hoarsely at the surrounding crowd.

“They’re demons. How could demons not harm people?”

“Exactly, exactly.”

“No, they’re not. They’re not!”

Alone, he couldn’t withstand the crowd’s mockery and judgment. He could only kneel on the ground, holding his two sisters, stubbornly repeating those words. A fire burned in his chest, leaving him lost and filled with despair and hatred.

He turned his gaze to the Daoist priest standing coldly on the pavilion behind the Atonement Platform, a sword on his back. Veins bulged on the boy’s neck as he shouted, “Tell me, what evidence do you have that they harmed anyone? Tell me! How can you kill innocent people? How?!”

“How dare he yell at the Daoist Master! Such ingratitude. If it weren’t for the priest, you three might’ve been eaten to the bone!”

“Ingratitude? You’re the ungrateful ones! How many of you have received my parents’ kindness? During the flood six years ago, how many people did they save? You have no hearts!”

The boy’s sharp voice cut through the noise, and a few in the crowd looked away, their faces red with guilt. 

“They’ve been corrupted by the demons. They’re beyond saving.” The man on the pavilion wasn’t wearing a hat. He watched the scene below and said coldly, “They’re demons. Demons must be exterminated.”

Gu Xiyan also heard the man’s words. She exhaled slowly and made her way toward Ah Lang’s desperate cries, with Xiao Wu and Ah Qi following closely.

“Ah Lang,” she said as she approached, gently placing a hand on his thin shoulder and softly comforting the two sobbing girls.

Ah Lang turned to her. The boy, who had been holding back his tears, suddenly broke down, crying hoarsely, “Sister Gu, I’ve lost my parents again.” His sobs were muffled, his hands clutching Gu Xiyan’s clothes like a lifeline. His wails were swallowed, leaving only a low, heart-wrenching cry. “Dad and Mom weren’t bad people, right? They never hurt anyone,” the boy pleaded, desperate for affirmation, repeating the words as he clung to Gu Xiyan.

Gu Xiyan’s eyes stung as she gently patted his back. “That’s right. Even if they weren’t human, they never wronged anyone.”

“Who’s this woman, siding with demons? Dressed like that, she must have something to hide.”

Ah Qi looked furious, ready to retort, but Gu Xiyan stopped her. “Ah Qi, calm down.”

After comforting the three grief-stricken children, Gu Xiyan slowly stood up. “Recently, Danyang City has seen a series of murders, all bearing signs of supernatural involvement. It’s reasonable to suspect demons are at work. These two were indeed demons, but to claim they’re murderers solely because of that is reckless and foolish.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, and her tone was calm, but it unexpectedly silenced the surrounding chatter.

“The Zhuo couple lived in Danyang for nearly ten years. Were there any cases of mysterious disappearances or deaths before?”

“Not that I recall.”

“As A Lang said, the Zhuo couple did countless good deeds. For ten years, there was peace. Why would they suddenly start killing so frequently in the last two months?”

“Demons are inherently bloodthirsty. They don’t need a reason. The past few years were likely just an act to deceive everyone. Now that they’ve shown their true colors, it’s no surprise they’d slaughter people,” an elderly man in a long robe said slowly.

Gu Xiyan listened to the murmurs of agreement and smiled faintly. “Mortals fear demons because of their supernatural powers, which are beyond human comprehension. For ten years, Danyang was filled with mortals. If they wanted to harm people, why would they need to pretend? Why act virtuous? On the contrary, if they had been so aggressive recently, it would’ve drawn the attention of Daoist priests like you, leading to their own demise.”

The man on the pavilion fixed his dark eyes on Gu Xiyan and spoke with a cold edge, “So you’re saying I killed the wrong people?”

Gu Xiyan replied, “Right and wrong will be judged by history. The people of Danyang are grateful for your efforts to protect them, but without evidence that the Zhuo couple were the killers, there may still be demons in the city. You’ll need to remain vigilant. As for these two, their actions in life were witnessed by all. They’re dead now. Please let them be buried with dignity.”

“But they’re demons! What dignity do they deserve?”

“Even demons can have humanity. Why can’t humans show a little compassion?” Gu Xiyan’s voice was low as she spoke, her words leaving some in the crowd silent.

“This lady is right. The Zhuo couple were good people. If it weren’t for them and the Gu family’s generosity, how many beggars would’ve frozen to death in Danyang’s winters? We’ve all benefited from their kindness. Just because they were different from us doesn’t mean we should forget the good they did. They’re dead now. Please, Daoist Master, let these children bury their parents in peace.”

It was then that they noticed the beggars and poor from Changlong Lane had gathered at the Atonement Platform. The elderly beggar who had spoken knelt down, followed by dozens of others.

Changlong Lane had the most beggars, not because it was the poorest, but because the Gu and Zhuo families were the most generous. Many beggars had settled there.

The crowd fell silent. After a moment, a few voices spoke up softly, “They’re already dead. There’s no need to desecrate them further.”

People often like to stand on moral high ground, judging others to protect their own interests. But the scene before them was moving—gratitude and forgiveness, shining with humanity’s light. They felt this represented justice, and so the tide turned in mere moments.

Nangong Pei watched the crowd, a mocking smile on his lips. Ignorant fools, living like ants. He raised a finger, and two gusts of wind shot toward the Atonement Platform.

One severed the ropes binding the bodies, while the other shot straight toward Gu Xiyan.

Startled, Xiao Wu tried to draw her sword, but she was too late. The gust grazed the blade and struck Gu Xiyan, splitting her cloak in two.

The wind lifted her long hair, and when it settled, Gu Xiyan stood unmoved, her calm presence drawing gasps of awe from the crowd.

She was truly a figure of divine grace.

Author’s Note:

Ye Qinming: I just like to argue with you.

Gu Xiyan: You like to argue with me, but I like you.

Green Tea: Oh my, this little blind girl wants to chase me.

White Lotus: From now on, every time you argue with me, I’ll chase you once.

Green Tea: I argue with heaven, earth, and especially you.

White Lotus: Then I’ll chase heaven, earth, and especially you.

KO!