Chapter 35: The Stormy Night
The auction was in full swing, and Xie Huailing's eye contact with Miss Bai was just a fleeting glance. He wouldn't let such a look delay his plans.
Downstairs, a bustling crowd was arguing heatedly among several wealthy merchants over a Persian tapestry inlaid with gold and jade. Xie Huailing glanced at it listlessly, then turned to the steward: "Besides this Miss Bai and the medicinal herbs, there's also what I asked you about earlier. Are there any interesting developments in Bianjing or the martial arts world lately?"
The steward perked up when he saw her inquire about the rumors circulating in the city. This was exactly his area of expertise, so he quickly bowed and said, "Miss Xie wants to hear some interesting things, and there really is. In the last couple of days, rumors have suddenly started circulating throughout the city about a strange new gang, causing widespread panic. Nobody knows if it's true or not."
"Oh?" Xie Huailing raised his eyelids slightly, as if asking casually, "What organization could possibly cause such unrest in Bianjing?"
“They’re called ‘Bats’!” the steward said in a low voice, his face showing a mixture of mystery and fear. “They’re incredibly sinister. I’ve heard they’re like shadowy figures, always appearing and disappearing without a trace, always choosing the dead of night to strike. They’re secretive and vicious, utterly devoid of morality. They even love gouging out people’s eyes; they’re like characters straight out of a ghost story.”
Xie Huailing picked up his teacup and blew away the foam: "If they're so amazing, what have they actually done?"
"Hey, the list goes on and on." The manager counted on his fingers, "Last month, the 'Weiyuan Escort Agency' in the west of the city took on a heavy escort mission, carrying rare treasures to celebrate the birthday of a certain lord in the capital. And guess what? When the escort team reached Black Wind Gorge, overnight, they vanished without a trace, along with the goods. All that was found was a huge bat pattern drawn in blood on the cliff face. Dozens of skilled men disappeared without a trace! At the time, no one could figure it out, but now everyone says it was the 'bat' who did it."
Xie Huailing took a sip of tea and remained silent.
Seeing that she was listening, the manager continued, "There's something even more bizarre. The philanthropist Wang, who runs a silk shop in the southern part of Huainan, was found dead in his study the month before last. Both of his daughters had been kidnapped. The doors and windows were tightly closed when he died, but blood was flowing from his seven orifices, his eyes were wide open, and they had all been gouged out. It was truly a horrific tragedy... The coroner examined him and said there was no poisoning or external injuries, and the cause of death was unknown! Now they say it was done by 'bats'."
He paused, lowering his voice even further, with a hint of dread: "The strangest thing is that people in the martial arts world say that these 'bats' are silent when they strike, yet they can see in the dark as if it were daytime, and they move faster than a raccoon. If that's true, how terrifying would that be?"
Finally, the manager clicked his tongue and concluded, "In short, all the rumors say that this 'Bat' is ruthless and unpredictable, doesn't follow the rules of the underworld, and has no bottom line. I heard they take on all sorts of dirty work that can't be brought to light. Now, who in Bianjing doesn't want to find out the truth, especially wealthy families and traveling merchants who walk the night? They must be terrified. They say there's never a peaceful day in this underworld."
Xie Huailing listened quietly, her fingertips lightly tracing the rim of her cup. Her expression remained nonchalant, as if it were none of her business, treating the bloody and sinister tales told by the steward as ordinary storytelling. But beneath her lowered eyelashes, her eyes, like stars sunk into a deep pool, gleamed with a faint, eerie light.
As expected, the Six and a Half Hall's actions began. The meticulously crafted "infamy" of bats was quietly spread throughout the martial arts world. Lei Sun's move was truly ruthless and decisive.
Seeing that she didn't react much, the manager assumed that these violent tales of the martial world wouldn't frighten the girls at the Golden Breeze and Fine Rain Pavilion, and that she might not be satisfied with the story. So he smiled and said, "Miss Xie, if you really want to hear some more interesting stories and anecdotes from the streets to amuse yourself, why don't you go sit in one of those lively teahouses? There are several famous storytellers in the city, like 'Iron-Tongued Li' and 'Sai Baixiao,' who are very well-informed and have excellent speaking skills. When they tell these strange tales, they are so vivid and interesting, much more so than my dry storytelling."
Xie Huailing put down her teacup. She seriously considered the manager's suggestion to "relieve boredom," and then slowly nodded, showing a rare hint of agreement that "it makes sense": "It does sound like a way to pass the time. Sitting here like this, my bones are aching."
She stood up, using the table for support, and Shaman immediately stepped forward to drape a plain-colored thin velvet cloak over her shoulders. Xie Huailing pulled the cloak tighter, walked to the window, and habitually glanced down, her gaze landing on the spot where the girl in green and white had stood.
The carved railings remain, but the people are nowhere to be seen. Only the clamor downstairs continues, and that cool, verdant green seems to have never appeared in this vortex of extravagance.
"Let's go." Xie Huailing withdrew her gaze, her tone flat and indifferent, as if she had only glanced at the scenery casually, without any particular goal. "Let's find a lively teahouse and listen to some storytelling."
She walked out of the room first. The glitz and glamour of Jucai Tower were left behind. The chill of late autumn in Bianjing, carrying the newly emerging rumors of the "Bat," swept over the doors. The winds of the martial world blew even faster.
.
Compared to the extravagance of Jucai Tower, the folk teahouse exudes a more down-to-earth, everyday atmosphere. The main hall is packed with people, mostly traveling merchants and itinerant travelers dressed in short clothes. The air is filled with the mixed smells of cheap tea, sweat, and peanuts and melon seeds. In the center, a half-person-high wooden platform serves as the storyteller's domain.
Xie Huailing, with Shaman by his side, found an inconspicuous corner to sit down and ordered a pot of the most ordinary coarse tea. On the stage, an elderly gentleman with white hair and beard, yet full of vigor, was speaking with great enthusiasm. He struck his gavel, silencing the noise in the hall and drawing everyone's attention to him.
"...Ladies and gentlemen! Last time, we talked about the 'Bat' organization, which is cunning and ruthless, and is truly like a dragon whose head is seen but not its tail. Today, I will tell you about a heinous crime they committed! This matter happened in a town not far from our Bianjing."
The old gentleman's voice was loud and clear, with perfect intonation, vividly recounting a horrific case of a "bat" attacking a wealthy household at night, killing and robbing them, and then framing someone else. He described details like "a dark night for murder, a windy day for arson," "where the bats flew, not a blade of grass remained," and "the victim's eyes were gouged out, his death was gruesome"... His rich details and emotional delivery captivated the audience, who listened with breathless exclamations, gasps of shock, and indignant curses.
"Old sir!" A burly man with a full beard slammed his hand on the table and asked in a deep voice, "You speak so clearly, did you see it with your own eyes? What kind of monsters are these bats?"
The storyteller stroked his long beard: "Good question, sir. Although I haven't witnessed it myself, this matter was revealed by a distant nephew of mine who works in the Six Doors after a few drinks, and it's absolutely true. As for whether they are human or ghosts..." He deliberately dragged out his words, whetting the appetite, "Hey, according to my nephew's deduction, they must be a group of well-trained, ruthless desperados, but they only strike when the moon is dark and the wind is high, and their whereabouts are elusive, making them far from ordinary bandits."
The audience erupted in another uproar.
"Anything else? Anything else?" someone pressed impatiently. "Besides these, have you found out anything else, like where the bats' lair is? Who is the leader, and who is connected to them?"
The storyteller's eyes flashed with a shrewd light: "Well... I have heard some rumors, but they are just hearsay and cannot be taken seriously. I am only telling you all to relieve your boredom and to make you laugh."
"Sir, please speak quickly!"
"That's right, that's right, stop keeping us in suspense!" The audience immediately cheered.
"Alright. Then I'll just make a wild guess, and you all can just listen to it." The storyteller cleared his throat, his voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear clearly. "I've heard... someone once caught a glimpse of a figure in the vicinity of that place where bats roam. He was dressed in fine clothes, and his demeanor—hey, he was quite extraordinary! He didn't look like someone who did this kind of thing; he looked more like... like a noble young master from a prominent family."
He deliberately piqued everyone's interest before revealing the key point: "What's more, someone recognized that the figure, tsk tsk, actually bears a striking resemblance to our renowned, blind but kind-hearted young master of Wuzheng Manor in the martial arts world—Yuan Suiyun."
"What?!"
"Nonsense!"
"Bullshit! How could Young Master Yuan do such a thing!"
"Exactly! What kind of family is Wuzheng Manor? The young master may be blind, but he is not blind in heart. He is known for his philanthropy and is rich and powerful. Why would he do such a wicked thing!"
The audience erupted in chaos. Boos, skepticism, and angry shouts filled the air, nearly lifting the roof off the Forget-Worry Pavilion. Yuan Suiyun had an excellent reputation in the martial arts world, especially with the aura of Wuzheng Manor and his blindness, which made him seem even more noble and pure. This accusation was too shocking and too absurd, immediately provoking a strong backlash.
The storyteller seemed to have anticipated this reaction, and remained unperturbed, simply shrugging: "See, see, I told you I couldn't guarantee it was true, I was just saying. But..."
He changed the subject abruptly, chuckling, "Someone found a scrap of burnt paper with a blurry bat mark drawn on it, and... it seemed to still have the scent of Wuzheng Manor's special ink sticks. Isn't that a coincidence? But it's just a coincidence, who knows, maybe some servant just scribbled on it and threw it away carelessly. Just listen to this for fun, don't take it seriously, just for laughs."
As expected of someone who's been in this business for decades, the more he emphasized "coincidence" and "just for fun," the more astonished and uncertain the audience became, and the more chaotic and noisy the discussions grew. A fierce debate erupted among the tea drinkers, with those who believed and those who didn't.
"Bullshit!"
A crisp, angry shout rang out, and a fiery red figure, like a flying sword, suddenly darted out from a table near the stage. With a sharp crack, a long, golden, barbed whip lashed out like a viper's tongue, aimed directly at the storyteller on the stage. The whip's force was swift and vicious, threatening to break the withered old man's bones and tendons!
At the critical moment, a middle-aged man in gray sitting in the front row reacted quickly, throwing his wine cup. The cup struck the tip of the whip with great force, deflecting the whip and narrowly missing the storyteller's ear before striking the screen behind him, leaving a deep welt and cracking the screen.
The man in gray reached out again and barely managed to grab the tip of the whip. Even so, the old man was still terrified, his face turned ashen, and he staggered backward, almost falling off the stage.
"Young lady, what are you doing?" the gray-clad man shouted in shock and anger, gripping the whip tightly. "The old man is old, even if he said something inappropriate, wouldn't this whip kill him? Let's talk this out!"
The young woman who had attacked was dressed in a fiery red, form-fitting outfit, made of luxurious materials and with a clean cut. A large, full pearl adorned her head, and the gold and kingfisher feather jewelry around her neck shimmered under the lamplight, making her beautiful face even more striking. At this moment, her face was filled with rage; her eyebrows were raised, her almond-shaped eyes widened, and she pointed at the still-shaken storyteller on the stage, cursing:
"You old scoundrel! Who gave you the audacity to spout nonsense here, slandering Wuzheng Manor and Brother Yuan? What bullshit bats, what bullshit clues? If you dare to spout any more nonsense, I'll tear your mouth apart!"
Her chest heaved with rage, and she strained to wrest the whip back, but the man in gray held her firmly. Those around her, unaware of her identity, joined in the condemnation.
"Girl, that's going too far!"
"Exactly, storytellers are just trying to make a living and have some fun, why did you have to be so ruthless?"
"He's over seventy years old, can he withstand your whip?"
Just then, Shaman leaned forward slightly and said in a voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz, "Miss, this woman is Miss Jin Lingzhi from Wanfu Wanshou Garden. She is the apple of Old Madam Jin's eye."
Jin Lingzhi? Xie Huailing immediately recalled what Yuan Dongyuan had said a few days ago, referring to both Yuan Suiyun and Jin Lingzhi. It seemed that this Miss Jin's relationship with Yuan Suiyun was far from ordinary.
Xie Huailing looked over. Amidst the accusations of the crowd, the Jin family's eldest daughter, who was rumored to have a fiery temper and was easily provoked, did not continue her tantrum as expected.
She stomped her foot hard, her embroidered shoes, inlaid with pearls, landing heavily on the greasy floor, seemingly losing their brilliance. Then she yanked the whip back from the gray-clad man's hand, wrapped it around her waist, and then, as if struck by an invisible force, her shoulder trembled almost imperceptibly. Her rage seemed to have been doused with a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing most of it, leaving only a stiffness and an indescribable pallor.
She stopped cursing and didn't even glance at the trembling storyteller on the stage. She just bit her lower lip tightly, her eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions, like an overturned wine pot or a helpless child. Xie Huailing could see it all clearly—anger, grievance, but deeper still, a mixture of shock, doubt, and embarrassment that she desperately wanted to deny but couldn't completely suppress.
The next moment, Jin Lingzhi turned around, pushed aside the crowd blocking her way, and rushed out of the teahouse without looking back. Her fiery red figure quickly disappeared into the bustling crowd outside.
Xie Huailing stared in the direction where the golden lingzhi had disappeared. The noise in the teahouse seemed to fade away at that moment, and she suddenly thought of something new.
She made a judgment: this young lady of the Jin family was probably not just angry to protect the reputation of her friend or her family's long-standing relationship; her stiffness and flight seemed more like her own panic. Either she knew something inside, or deep down she already had her own, unwilling to face, interpretation of the "coincidence" clues told by the storyteller.
Therefore, Jin Lingzhi must have been an insider, but before Yuan Suiyun could come up with a way to deal with her, she learned about it from others, which is why she acted this way.
Xie Huailing's gaze shifted.
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