2 months earlier
The town wasn't large, but it was always alive with noise. Peddlers shouted from their stalls, children darted between carts, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of roasted chestnuts, ink, and damp earth.
Dai An walked the main road with practiced ease, a basket strapped to his back. He came here often—today it was for medicine, the kind the elderly in his village always seemed to need, yet could never obtain on their own. Their home is too remote for such shops, and though this town is the nearest, the journey is still long and the road is unforgiving.
Up ahead voices buzzed in excitement, overlapping in half-whispers and sharp questions. Dai An slowed his steps, curiosity tugging at him.
A knot of youngsters crowded around the announcement board, their chatter spilling into the street. With his small frame, Dai an wove through the crowd, tiptoeing to catch a glimpse of what was causing the commotion.
"...oh… it's the Xu clan…" one boy breathed, his eyes wide as he leaned in close to the flyer.
"They're holding disciple enrollment?" another whispered, scanning the characters on the paper.
"No way—the Xu clan from Nanyang?" someone gasped, shoving in closer for a better look. "They're the most famous Jingzhe in the region!"
The word itself carried weight. Jingzhe—净者—meant those who cleanse the spirits. They were men and women trained to soothe the restless dead, to drive away vengeful shades, to restore balance where living and dead had gone astray.
"Of course they are! My uncle said they once calmed an entire river haunted by drowned souls in a single night."
Another boy leaned in, his voice hushed with awe. "It's that time of year again… but this is the first time they've posted the flyer here, in our town."
Pinned to the worn board, the flyer seemed to glow under their eager stares. It bore a simple but resounding declaration:
"The Xu Clan of Nanyang, long renowned among the Jingzhe,
now seeks disciples.
Applications are open to all who possess the resolve.
Training and lectures provided without charge."
The group continue to murmur in excitement, eyes gleaming. Then one of the older boys puffed out his chest. "I'm going to apply. Just watch—I'll be a disciple of the Xu clan before the year is over."
Another youngster chimed in, "Still, wouldn't it be amazing? Imagine learning real Jingzhe techniques… talismans, swords, spirit-cleansing rites—the whole thing!"
Suddenly, a middle-aged man came storming through, scattering the youngsters with a sweep of his arm. His voice cracked like a whip in the square.
"Enough of this nonsense!" he barked. "Don't even think about such things—especially not from that place!"
He strode up to the board, ripped the flyer from its post, crumpled it in his fist, and hurled it aside. The paper landed in the dust, its bold characters twisted into nothing.
The boys and girls shrank back. A few looked annoyed, others guilty, but none dared meet his glare.
"Nanyang clans are nothing but evil," the man spat, his face dark with fury. "Have you children already forgotten what happened 18 years ago?" His voice rose, trembling with old rage. "Do you not remember what those cursed Jingzhe from Nanyang did to us—to Beiyue? Their hands were stained with blood. Hundreds… no, thousands of our people slaughtered and turned into evil spirit"
His words hung in the air, heavy and venomous, striking the eager silence that had filled the square only moments before.
Then, a young man pushed his way forward, his expression sharp. "That's all nonsense," he shot back. "Nothing but a story. A myth spread by Beiyue kingdom to stir hatred between the people of Beiyue and Nanyang!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The older man's face turned crimson. "You ignorant brat! You don't know anything!" he roared. Spittle flew as his words crashed against the young man's defiance.
The two squared off, voices climbing higher, sharper—until words gave way to fists. Shouts erupted as bystanders rushed to pull them apart, but the quarrel had already descended into chaos.
Watching the whole fight unfold, Dai An let out a long-suffering sigh. He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. To him, they were all fools, bickering over shadows.
Spirits. Always spirits. No one had ever seen one, never would. Yet people fought over them as if they were worth their lives.
With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned away from the commotion and continued down the road, his basket swaying lightly against his back.
Dai An finally reached the apothecary. He had come here many times before, which was why he frowned when he noticed a sheet of blank paper plastered above the doorframe. Its edges fluttered faintly in the breeze, though no writing marked its surface. Strange. Still, he chose to ignore it.
He pushed the door open.
The familiar scent of dried herbs and ground roots greeted him at once—sharp, earthy, with a faint bitterness that clung to the tongue. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, crowded with jars of varying sizes: some filled with powders as pale as bone-dust, others with preserved roots coiled like withered snakes, and a few with liquids so dark they seemed to swallow the light.
The place felt gloomier than he remembered. The shutters were drawn tighter than usual, cutting out the sunlight, so the only illumination came from a lone oil lamp sputtering on the counter.
The shop was empty.
"Master Lu?" Dai An called out, his voice swallowed by the stillness.
No reply.
He walked to the counter and tapped the small bronze bell. Its thin chime rang sharp in the silence.
As he waited, Dai An turned idly, letting his eyes sweep the dim room—until they caught on something that hadn't been there before.
A statue.
It stood in the far corner, half-buried in shadow. Not large, not beautiful—its form was uncertain, as if carved in haste or eroded by time. He couldn't tell whether it was meant to resemble a man, an animal, or something else entirely. The stone seemed to shift each time he looked at it, refusing to settle into a single shape.
For reasons he couldn't name, Dai An's gaze lingered. The longer he stared, the heavier his thoughts grew, as though the statue was tugging at him, drawing him deeper into its stillness. His mind began to drift, thoughts scattering like leaves in wind. His heartbeat slowed. The edges of the room blurred.
He might have stood there forever.
"Dai An?"
The voice cut through the haze, sharp and grounding.
Master Lu, the apothecary's owner, had stepped out from a back door, wiping his hands on a cloth. A warm smile plastered on his face.
"You scared me there. Standing still like a statue," he added.
Dai an blinked hard, realizing he had been staring far too long. The shop snapped back into clarity.
"You're the one scaring me. Suddenly calling me like that" dai an said, his tone a little cheeky.
Lu glanced around the room and gave a small huff. "Too dark in here… no wonder it feels like a cave." With a shake of his head, he strode to the windows and pushed the shutters open one by one.
Sunlight spilled into the shop, scattering the shadows and chasing away the gloom. The jars on the shelves gleamed, their contents no longer ominous but simply herbs and powders once more. The musty heaviness lifted, replaced by the ordinary bustle of a working apothecary.
"Better," Lu said with satisfaction. "Light keeps the place alive."
Dai An gave a short laugh, though he couldn't resist glancing once more at the shadowed corner—where the statue now seemed smaller, duller, almost unremarkable in the daylight.
As Dai An reached for his coins, he realized he was a little short.
"Mm… I'll just take this," he murmured, leaving a portion of the medicine behind.
Lu's eyes softened, a shadow of pity crossing his face.
"I wish I could help," he said, voice tinged with genuine regret. "But recently, I've been short myself."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Got a bit carried away and ended up giving a Jingzhe a small fortune."
"Jingzhe?" Dai An's brow rose, unable to hide his surprise.
Lu's expression suddenly brightened, sparks lighting up his eyes. "You see, I think my shop was haunted."
"Every day, my body ached, and each time I stepped inside…" He shook his head, as if still feeling the weight of it. "It was like the air itself pressed against my chest, as if someone is strangling me."
"So I called a Jingzhe. Told me to take a break and stay away from the shop while he cleansed the place," Lu said, voice trembling with excitement. Dai An listened patiently, though he had no real interest.
"Days later, I came back, and suddenly everything felt… so much better!" Lu continued, recalling every detail as if he had been telling this story to anyone who would listen.
Lu then lean in a bit, "The Jingzhe also told me to let sunlight in as much as possible—they said spirits hate that," he added in a low whisper, as though afraid some lingering spirit might overhear him.
Dai An had to force himself not to laugh.
Suddenly feeling better? Of course he would after a few days of rest. Hard time breathing? With how dusty and sunless this shop was, it was no wonder.
Dai An couldn't help but think that poor Lu had been scammed by some con artist.
"He must've asked for a huge payment then," Dai An said, trying not to let his curiosity—or envy—show.
"That's not the case at all!" Lu said, his eyes widening and his hands gesturing as if to emphasize every word. "He never asked for a single coin, and when I tried to pay him anyway… he refused!"
Lu shook his head again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Seeing the Jingzhe's humility… I couldn't help but be moved. I gave him even double what I had planned, just to show my gratitude."
When Lu finally told Dai An the amount he had given, he can feel his jaw nearly hitting the floor. The number was staggering—beyond anything he had imagined.
"Ah… he also told me to throw away that statue," Lu added, pointing at the statue in the corner. "He said spirits might linger on it."
Unfortunately, Dai An was no longer listening. His mind had drifted far away.
Such a huge amount… the things he could do with that kind of money. He could repair countless broken houses and wells in his village… provide for the elderly… even help the children have better books to study from. The possibilities stretched endlessly before him, and for a moment, the world outside the apothecary seemed distant, unreal.
Dai An blinked, shaking himself free from the daydream. He turned back to Lu, offering a sheepish grin.
"I… I should get going," he said. "Thank you for the medicine, Master Lu."
As he walked down the road, Dai An's thoughts began to wander.
"Every day I break my back from sunrise to sunset, taking whatever work I can find… yet I can barely put food on the table for myself and Mother," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with frustration.
"But those con artists? All they do is mumble a few prayers, wave some scraps of paper, and—boom! They earn enough to feed an entire village! Does honest work no longer have a place in this world?"
His words rang out dramatically, almost as though he were performing on a stage. With a huff, he lashed out at a pebble, sending it clattering far down the dusty road.
That was when he noticed a crumpled scrap lying near the roadside. Feeling a faint sense of familiarity, Dai An bent down and picked it up, brushing off the dirt. As he unfolded the wrinkled sheet, bold brushstrokes came into view:
"The Xu Clan of Nanyang, long renowned among the Jingzhe,
now seeks disciples.
Applications are open to all who possess the resolve.
Training and lectures provided without charge."
Dai An's lips slowly curved into a grin. A spark lit his eyes.
"If I become a Jingzhe… wouldn't I be rich?" he whispered to himself. "It can't be that hard, right? Just spew some nonsense and wave a few talismans. It's not like spirits actually exist anyway!"
The idea thrilled him so much he nearly leapt on the spot. He folded the flyer carefully and tucked it into his pocket, as though sealing away a newfound treasure. Suddenly the world seemed brighter, the road ahead lighter, and hope filled his chest like wind in a sail.
He practically skipped as he left the town, already picturing the life that awaited him—until his steps faltered. A frown tugged at his brow.
"Mother…" he murmured. He knew how overprotective she was. Even coming to this neighboring town had taken no small amount of persuasion. Convincing her to let him travel across distant lands, perhaps for months at a time? Nearly impossible.
Scratching the back of his head in thought, Dai An followed the narrow forest path toward his village—only to stop short when several figures suddenly emerged from the trees. They strode past with force, nearly colliding with him.
"Oi!" Dai An stumbled aside, glaring after them. Not one of them spared him a glance, let alone an apology. Their heads were bowed, their steps brisk, their silence unbroken.
"They almost ran me down, and not a single apology?" Dai An muttered, his annoyance sharp. He cast one last disapproving look at their backs before turning into the path himself.
"Hmph… since when do travelers come through here? I thought only villagers used this road." He grumbled under his breath, irritation still prickling at him.