The three of them lingered before the door in silence. Moments later, footsteps approached from the courtyard’s entrance.
An emaciated, white-haired elder staggered inside. Heavy black eye-bags clung beneath his eyes, giving him a disheveled, almost ghostly appearance. He stumbled, collapsing right at the threshold, and struck the door with all the strength his frail body could muster.
“Is Pharmacist Qingyang here?”
“Elder Yu!?” Dong Qi’s expression tightened in shock. “How did you become like this?”
Only then did the old man seem to notice her. He lifted his head, his gaze dragging slowly toward Lu Sheng and Xu Chui standing beside her.
“Oh… it’s niece Dong. Long time no see… This old man has some matters to discuss with the pharmacist. Have you seen Pharmacist Qingyang?”
“No… we haven’t. We just arrived as well…” Dong Qi answered softly.
The elder let out a long, weary sigh. Without so much as asking who the strangers were, he turned around and shuffled away.
Not long after, more figures drifted into the courtyard—senior members of the Tea Sect. Each one carried the same signs: sunken eyes, sleepless exhaustion, and a trembling unease that made them appear half-aware, half-lost. Upon hearing that the pharmacist was absent, every one of them left with visible disappointment.
Lu Sheng watched them carefully. A shared fear clung to them—panic etched beneath fatigue, as if each had glimpsed something they could not comprehend.
They waited for nearly an hour, the courtyard growing quieter with every passing minute.
Finally, a white-haired, hunched old man shuffled slowly through the entrance.
“Niece Dong… you’ve come…” His expression was stiff, tinged faintly green. “Have you come to look at my precious mirror too? No problem… uncle will take you in for a look now.” The words should have carried warm familiarity, yet his tone was flat, vacant, unsettlingly detached.
Dong Qi forced a smile, leaning closer. “The thing is, Uncle Qingyang… my two friends would like to take a look at the mirror as well. Is that alright?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Zhuo Qingyang replied, stretching an unnatural smile across his face as his eyes fixed upon Lu Sheng and Xu Chui.
“Come on, I’ll let you take a good look at it,” Zhuo Qingyang murmured as he pulled out a key and unlocked the large padlock hanging from his door. Pushing it open, he stepped inside.
Dong Qi flinched slightly, glancing at Lu Sheng. He gave a small nod. Only then did she gather herself and enter, with Lu Sheng and Xu Chui following behind.
The room was simple—almost plain. What distinguished it from any ordinary bedroom was the enormous stained glass mirror standing upright against the wall, tall enough to match a grown man’s height.
Positioned directly opposite the entrance, the mirror reflected anyone who stepped through the doorway.
Xu Chui, who had never seen a stained glass mirror before, paused in fascination. Eyes wide, he leaned in, studying his own reflection as if it were some rare treasure.
“Look at it as you please… This old man is tired. I’m going to lie down for a while…” Zhuo Qingyang sighed. He shuffled to the edge of his bed, lay down, and drifted off almost instantly, oblivious to everything else.
Lu Sheng had planned to question him, but the moment he saw the man’s unfocused eyes and frail demeanor, he knew something was terribly wrong. The pharmacist looked no different from the others outside—dazed, weak, drained of spirit. Yet this was the man who had brought the mirror here, who had supposedly stayed with it day and night. Someone like him should not appear so ordinary, so hollow.
Dong Qi’s suspicions resonated even more strongly in Lu Sheng’s mind. Something about Zhuo Qingyang was undeniably off.
“Let’s take a look at the mirror first.” Lu Sheng stepped toward the stained glass mirror.
Its design was striking: a rectangular copper frame encasing a large oval pane. The metal frame was etched with countless fine patterns.
He reached out and traced the carvings with a finger. Three distinct animal motifs adorned the copper—phoenix, fox, and dog.
Each creature was rendered in an ancient, elongated style, their forms twisted into dynamic poses, as if caught in mid-dance, encircling the mirror in an endless chase.
Xu Chui, meanwhile, had his eyes fixed on Zhuo Qingyang, who lay asleep on the bed as if dead to the world.
“He’s not even worried we might damage his mirror. This is a stained glass mirror—an invaluable treasure!”
“Perhaps he knows we can’t damage it,” Lu Sheng replied quietly. With a single light push, he flipped the mirror around, his immense strength making the hundred-cattie weight feel like nothing at all.
The copper backing was also covered in carved animal motifs. But unlike the polished front, the reverse side was coarse, marred by irregular gouges as though someone had scraped it with a knife.
“There… there seem to be words on the back.”
Xu Chui leaned closer, narrowing his eyes.
“I’ve seen writing like this before. It looks like Tang script—the official language of the previous dynasty. It was popular for a time, but because it was impractical and riddled with issues, it eventually fell out of use.”
“Tang words? Can you understand them?” Lu Sheng asked. He vaguely recalled seeing similar characters in books he had read long ago.
“I can’t… Your subordinate only knows of it from my father, who heard about it from an elderly scholar. Also, the first line of my family motto was written in Tang words, so I know what it looks like—but I can’t read it.” Xu Chui shook his head, his manner hinting at a cultured upbringing.
Lu Sheng brushed his fingers over the etched characters. There were three of them, each containing more than fifteen strokes.
“In that case, who might be able to read it?” His gaze drifted instinctively toward Zhuo Qingyang.
Dong Qi inhaled deeply, steeling herself. “Let… let me wake him up…” she whispered. Though fear lingered in her eyes, it was tempered by the presence of Lu Sheng and Xu Chui—and by the reassurance of daylight.
Both men gave her a nod, signaling for her to proceed.
Dong Qi hesitated, gathering her courage, and was just about to step toward the bed when Zhuo Qingyang suddenly sat upright. His movements were stiff, unnatural. His blank gaze drifted over the three of them.
“Is anything the matter?”
Startled, Dong Qi hurried forward and introduced Lu Sheng and Xu Chui. Seeing that his expression did not change in the slightest, she carefully brought up the strange words carved on the back of the mirror.
“Oh, that… this old man is also unsure what they mean. When I obtained the mirror, the characters were already there. At first, I thought they were merely decorative patterns. Only later did I realize someone had carved them in with a knife.”
“You truly don’t know?” Lu Sheng stepped to the side of the bed, looming over him. His broad, powerful frame cast a long shadow across the old man—his build so massive it seemed he could crush Zhuo Qingyang with a single hand.
“This old man truly does not… But if esteemed representative wishes to know their meaning, you may consult the dictionary. Sect Master has collected a series of official Song language dictionaries commissioned by the Royal Family. They are priceless volumes and can be found in the study.”
“In that case, I’ll take this mirror with me. After checking it, I’ll return it to you. Would that be a problem?” Lu Sheng asked, his gaze fixed sharply on the old man.
To his surprise, Zhuo Qingyang simply laughed.
“Of course not. Please do as you wish, esteemed representative.” He appeared completely unfazed about parting with the mirror he once treasured above his own life.
His behavior was undeniably strange. Even after learning that Lu Sheng was a representative of the Crimson Whale Sect, he remained seated on the bed while speaking to him, disregarding all norms of etiquette—yet every word he uttered carried respectful formality.
Lu Sheng studied him again. No matter how closely he observed—his breathing, his heartbeat, the flow of his blood—there was nothing unusual. At most, Zhuo Qingyang was an ordinary old man who had once practiced martial arts, now weakened by age and strain.
“Alright then. Xu Chui, carry the mirror out. We’re going to the study,” Lu Sheng instructed.
“Yes, My Lord.”
Xu Chui exchanged a few quick words with Dong Qi, then summoned the two guards standing sentry outside. Together, the three of them lifted the stained-glass mirror and hurried toward the study.
Lu Sheng noticed that throughout the process, Zhuo Qingyang simply remained seated on the bed, watching them with expressionless detachment.
Once Xu Chui and the others had departed, Dong Qi followed shortly after, leaving Lu Sheng alone in the room with the old man.
“Pharmacist Qingyang, I’m sure you know why I’ve come,” Lu Sheng growled. “I’m here to investigate the disappearances from some time back, as well as the cause of Sect Master Dong Shengping’s death. Regarding these matters—do you have any leads?”
Without so much as a blink, Zhuo Qingyang’s head turned stiffly toward him.
“What lead does esteemed representative seek? Sect Master Dong Shengping was not killed by me. His disappearance has nothing to do with this old man. Asking me is pointless.”
“I’m questioning you because you’re the prime suspect,” Lu Sheng replied coldly. “If you can’t clear your name, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you. To us, whatever method solves the case the fastest is the correct method.” His eyes hardened, a silent threat underlying every word.
“I don’t know anything…” Zhuo Qingyang murmured, dazed. “Arrest me if you must. Do whatever you want.”
Lu Sheng froze for a moment. He had not expected such a response.
After watching the old man silently for several seconds, he let out a low, dismissive huff before turning and striding out of the room.
When the stained-glass mirror was brought to the study, Lu Sheng instructed Xu Chui and Dong Qi to consult the official Song language dictionaries to decipher the characters carved on the back.
It didn’t take long before they found the answer.
“My Lord, we’ve figured it out. The three words are ‘count’, ‘to’, and ‘ten’.” Xu Chui reported as Lu Sheng sipped tea in the main hall. Behind him, Dong Qi’s complexion had gone as pale as paper.
“Count to ten?”
Lu Sheng looked at Dong Qi, puzzled. The three carved words seemed completely meaningless—he could not form even the faintest guess at what they implied.
Dong Qi swallowed hard. “Esteemed representative… there’s something you should know. These past few days, I’ve been having the same dream again and again. It’s a nightmare—about a little girl playing hide-and-seek, abandoned by her playmates in a field of hay. The little girl in the dream is called Ling Ling. And she… she plays a game called ‘Count to Ten’…” Her complexion had gone utterly pale.
Lu Sheng’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Describe the dream to me in detail.”
Dong Qi bit her lower lip, her heartbeat quickening in her chest.
“The dream goes like this…” She recounted the nightmare, every image etched vividly into her mind.
When she finished, Xu Chui couldn’t hold back. “What happened to the little girl, Ling Ling, in the end? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know… probably nothing good…” Dong Qi gasped, breath faltering just from remembering it.
Lu Sheng rose to his feet and drained the last of his tea. “Let’s go take a look at the mirror again.”
The three of them set off for the study.
Outside the door, two guards stood at attention—placed there earlier by Dong Qi to ensure no one approached. When they noticed the trio arriving, they bowed respectfully.
“Esteemed representative, Young Miss, you’ve come. The item is inside. No one has entered.”
----
[Editor’s Note:] If you'd like to support the series and unlock more chapters, visit Patreon for early access and exclusive content.
https://www.patreon.com/taleriareads
ns216.73.216.69da2
and then Add to home screen.