Chapter 15 — The Illusion of Spring Peaches

I darted past the artificial rockery, cut across the zigzagging corridor and the octagonal pavilion, and raced past lotus ponds, waterside pavilions, and stone bridges. Yet the further I ran, the more my skin crawled. Why did this scenery look precisely like the garden of the homestay during the day?

Who are you?!

In my panic, I collided head-on with someone. Lifting my head to look, I nearly screamed in sheer terror. The man standing before me wore a tailored western suit with neatly cropped hair, but he had no eyes! Fresh blood gushed in endless streams from two hollow, empty sockets. The corners of his mouth were violently split open, forming a gruesome gash stretching from his earlobes all the way to his chin. A chilling gust of wind swept past, freezing me stiff as ice seeped from the crown of my head down to the soles of my feet.

Before I could even react, Tutu’s warning rang out beside me, its voice trembling yet urgent: Mother! Do not look at him! He is a man-eating ghost! Run quickly!

It was only then that I realized Tutu had been chasing right alongside me this whole time. It gently bit the hem of my garment, pulling me toward an alternate path. Without a second thought, I spun around and bolted after it. A horrific voice echoed from behind: Hey... do not run away... come here to me...

I immediately ran for my very life. Are my nerves fried? If I did not run, was I supposed to just wait around to be eaten?!

I had no idea how long I had been running until my entire body was utterly exhausted, leaving me with no choice but to lean against a boulder by the roadside to gasp for breath. Tutu leaped into my arms, burrowing against my chest, shivering slightly yet still trying to comfort me.

Panting heavily, I managed to ask, Just now... he... what on earth was that?

Tutu raised its emerald eyes to look at me, its voice as faint as a whisper of wind: He is the ghost of the garden. Mother must absolutely never let him touch you, or he will consume you!

I shuddered and nodded frantically, Yes, absolutely!

Before I could even steady my nerves, the voice of the head housekeeper from earlier suddenly rang out from behind: Fifth Concubine! Stop running! Today is your day of joy, and this old servant advises you to obediently return with us! If you refuse to listen... do not blame this old servant for being ruthless!

I whipped my head around to find her leading several burly matrons, all gripping heavy wooden clubs and binding sashes, closing in on me step by step. I was just about to flee when they completely surrounded me, and one of the women lunged forward, locking both my arms in an iron grip.

Let go of me! I struggled, screaming until my voice grew hoarse, Let me go! I am not becoming anyone's concubine! Let go!

Yet the strength of those matrons was beyond imagination. My arms were pinned as tightly as if bound in cold steel, and no matter how frantically I thrashed, I could not break free. In the end, they forcibly grabbed me by both sides and dragged me straight back toward the inner courtyard.

Mother, do not be afraid! I will save you! Tutu wailed in despair from behind. But what could a tiny kitten possibly do? Despair washed over my heart like a wave of freezing water.

I was dragged into a chamber where a mirror reflected a face as pale as chalk, eyebrows dark and sharply drawn, and lips painted a blood-red. I wore the deep crimson robes of a bride. Gazing blankly at my own reflection, I felt a bone-chilling cold pierce my very marrow.

The fifth concubine is truly breathtaking! a matron beside me cooed as she fastened an ornate hairpin into my hair. Her face was wrinkled and withered like a sun-dried mandarin orange, yet her smile was rigidly frozen like a stiff mask.

Breathtaking... really? I looked far more like a paper doll from a coffin maker's shop.

Finally, she draped a square of crimson silk over my head, completely obscuring my vision, and helped me stand. Outside, the sounds of suona horns, bamboo flutes, and festive music echoed merrily. Yet to my ears, every single note of the flute sounded like a heartbreaking lament, and every beat of the drum felt like a hammer striking a coffin lid.

I lost count of how many artificial rockeries, corridors, ponds, and pavilions we passed through. At last, they brought me to a quiet little courtyard.

From now on, this shall be the residence of the fifth concubine. Please wait here, the master will arrive shortly.

With that, the matron guided me to sit down on the bed before retreating outside, casually locking the door behind her. As she left, her parting instruction echoed through the room: Keep a close watch! Do not let the bride escape!

With trembling hands, I reached up, lifted the red veil, and looked around. Two towering red candles burned within the room, wax melting in thick, continuous drops that congealed into ugly red lumps upon the holders. The table was laden with plates of fruit and wedding pastries, all glowing with an aggressively vivid red.

A moment later, a creaking sound broke the silence as the door slowly swung open. The sky outside had turned pitch black, and a man of perhaps fifty or sixty stepped into the room. His hair was braided into a Qing dynasty queue, the long, dark tail hanging down his back. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across his face, making his hazy, dull eyes and sparse mustache stranger and more terrifying than ever.

I felt cold sweat soak through my back and dampen my palms, my hand instinctively closing tightly around the silver hairpin concealed within my sleeve.

His deep, muffled voice resonated through the crimson-drenched room: Are you... Chun Dao?

He strode up to me and roughly grabbed my chin, forcing it upward. I caught sight of his stained, yellowed teeth, and a wave of intense nausea surged through my stomach. My hand remained hidden inside my sleeve, gripping the silver hairpin, waiting for the exact moment to deliver a fatal blow.

Meow—

A chilling gust of wind swept through. The candlelight flickered unsteadily, and the shadows dancing against the wallpaper shivered as though something were lurking within them.

Unconsciously, I glanced sideways, starting in shock when I spotted a silhouette cast against the paper door window—it was the shadow of a colossal cat, crouching low to the ground and preparing to pounce.

Chun Dao.

The old man's hoarse voice dragged me back to reality. He stared at me, a grotesque greed burning in his eyes. A wave of freezing revulsion churned within my chest, and I whipped out the hairpin, stabbing straight toward him!

Yet at that exact instant—

Puff—

Thick black vapor billowed from the old man's empty eye sockets, and a thunderous slap smashed viciously across my cheek: You wretched slut! You dare to stab me?! Have you lost your mind?!

Gritting my teeth, I sprang up and kicked out hard toward his legs, but his limbs were as unyielding as solid steel, not budging a single inch! Instead, the corners of his mouth stretched upward into a sickening, ghastly grin.

Just as he lunged forward—

Meow—!

A piercing screech pierced the air, and Tutu materialized from nowhere, hurtling like a black arrow straight into the man. In a split second, the man's entire body shattered into a thick cloud of black mist, bit by bit being devoured and swallowed whole by Tutu.

I stood frozen in place, my scalp tingling numbly as I stared at the scene unfolding before me. It took me several seconds to process the realization: this place was certainly not any normal world. It was just like stepping into a strange mythological tale, so whatever bizarre horrors occurred here no longer seemed all that surprising.

Once Tutu finished swallowing, it hopped onto my lap, rubbing its head affectionately against my hand with a voice as soft as silk: Mother, are you alright? I told you... I would come to save you.

I stroked its soft fur, still trembling from the shock. Th-thank you. But... just now... who was that old man? Is he... truly dead?

Tutu rolled over, exposing its pristine white belly: He is the master of the Gu household. I merely swallowed him temporarily; he will crawl back out tomorrow, completely whole. But do not worry, Mother, I will protect you.

Hearing Tutu's reassuring words, a breath of relief escaped my chest, easing my anxieties somewhat. I stroked its soft belly, and Tutu let out a tiny, contented purr, its eyes half-closed like an obedient little kitten.

A moment later, it lazily murmured, Mother... I am hungry.

I picked up a few pastries from the table, breaking them into tiny crumbs for it to eat. Yet as I watched Tutu eat, a lingering doubt suddenly bloomed in my mind—when Tutu had swallowed the master, it had been so loud and chaotic... why had none of the guards stationed outside rushed inside?

While I was still lost in thought, Tutu licked its paws clean, flopped down against my pillow, and sleepily nuzzled its head into place: Mother... I am sleepy. Let us sleep together.

Ah... alright.

I snapped out of my wandering thoughts and scooped it onto the bed. Amidst the dancing candlelight, I whispered softly, Tutu... inside this estate... are those people... real or fake?

The only reply was a soft, rhythmic purr; Tutu had already drifted fast asleep.

The next morning, I woke up alone on the large bed. Tutu was nowhere to be seen. A young maidservant stepped into the room bearing a basin of washing water, offering a respectful, pleasant smile: Morning has broken, Fifth Concubine. Please rise. We must go prepare to serve tea to the mistress.