Chapter 18
Chapter 18: Chaos Wraith Mystery (Part 2)
A breeze passed through the bamboo grove, and the leaves whispered together, soothing as quiet rain.
Song Wei Chen sat curled on a stone stool in Wind-Listening Manor’s courtyard, arms wrapped around her knees. The stone still held the night’s chill. Her clothes were thin. Cold seeped straight into her bones.
She’d stormed out in anger, but there was nowhere to go.
The bird immortal she’d met at the River of Oblivion vanished whenever he pleased. No contact. No trail. No one to run to.
And honestly, he was terrifying. He kept wanting to lift his mask for her to see—then demanded she take responsibility for what she saw. That wasn’t flirting. That was audacity.
After turning the options over in her head, she decided to lie low here for now. At least she didn’t have to worry about that cold, black-bellied misogynist doing anything to her.
Wind-Listening Manor was a separate courtyard, tucked away and quiet. The bamboo scenery was beautiful—there was even a pavilion among the stalks, and inside it sat a guqin of excellent make.
But scorch marks marred the instrument’s body, as if it had been burned.
What a waste. Who would do that?
Beside the bamboo was a miniature mountain scene. Spring water flowed down and wound around the courtyard in a gentle curve. A path of white pebbles followed the stream, and small wildflowers—nameless to her—lifted dew-bright heads in the morning sun.
If she were dressed warmer, she could sit and look at this all day.
“Achoo!”
She sniffed, throat itching.
There were other rooms here besides Mo Ting Feng’s bedroom, but she didn’t dare pry. Her eyes wandered, then drifted back to the guqin in the pavilion.
Song Wei Chen actually knew how to play.
As a child, Madam had forced her to study music. Out of all the instruments, she’d chosen the guqin. Madam had warned her it used character notation instead of staff notation, and if she wanted to learn other instruments later she’d have to start over—so why not switch now, even to a guzheng?
Song Wei Chen had refused. She’d insisted she had a connection to it. Her teacher had laughed and said she had an old soul.
She’d studied for years, but after growing up she never had the chance to show it off. Her friends only liked screaming songs in KTV. None of them were the type to sit with tea and listen to music.
Now, seeing the guqin sitting here, she couldn’t help it—her fingers itched.
She looked around. No one. No urgency. Why not?
She sat down beside the guqin and lifted her hand—
A sharp voice cut through the morning.
“Don’t touch it.”
Song Wei Chen startled and jerked her hand back.
“Absolutely do not touch that guqin,” Mo Ting Feng said, colder than the air itself. “If you do, get out of Dust Warden Manor at once.”
The chill in his voice made the morning feel even colder.
Song Wei Chen bristled. A guqin, for heaven’s sake. He’d rather let it gather dust than allow anyone to touch it. Was he picking a fight because she’d stolen his bed last night and forced him out?
Surely not.
More likely it belonged to some fox-sister lover of his—a precious keepsake, so precious he wouldn’t even let it be breathed on.
She shot a disgusted look at the charred section of the instrument. Fox-sister’s things—like she wanted to touch it anyway.
A White Robe sailed toward her and thumped into her arms.
“Put it on,” Mo Ting Feng said. “Wash up, then follow me to morning briefing.”
He didn’t even look at her. He simply turned and stood by the courtyard gate, impatience written into his back.
“Oh. Yes, boss,” Song Wei Chen muttered, listless.
She sneezed again, the kind that made her eyes water. While she dressed behind him, she made ridiculous faces at the back of his head, as if that could salvage her dignity.
In the Council Hall, nearly every core member of Dust Warden Manor was present.
By rule, the grievance-breakers gathered at chen hour each day, just after dawn, to discuss major cases and set their strategy. Ding He Ran usually hosted.
Today’s focus was the escaped chaos wraith.
“The chaos wraith has been on the run for over three days,” Mo Ting Feng said. “It isn’t absorbing drifting soul-fragments, and it deliberately hides its trail. That violates its nature. I suspect it has its own will.”
The room went still.
“My lord,” Uncle Fei said, stepping forward. He was Dust Warden Manor’s recording clerk, and had served three Dust Wardens in his time. Even though he wasn’t a field operative, his words carried weight. “I’ve been here for thousands of years. We’ve never once recorded a chaos wraith with self-awareness. If this is true… the world may fall into chaos.”
“Achoo!”
Song Wei Chen failed to hold it back. The sneeze rang through the hall like a gong.
Mo Ting Feng paused.
Mortified, she wiped her nose. “Sorry, sorry. Boss, please continue.”
Mo Ting Feng’s expression didn’t change. He lifted his own cup, drained the tea that had already gone cold, then refilled it with hot tea and set it directly in front of Song Wei Chen.
Ding He Ran saw it and nearly stopped breathing.
Everyone in Dust Warden Manor knew Mo Ting Feng had an obsession with clean utensils. Forget sharing a cup—he disliked even being brushed by someone. If disbelief had a sound, the Council Hall would have been deafening.
“Wu Jiu,” Mo Ting Feng said, as if nothing had happened, “any findings from the magistrate’s offices?”
“My lord.” Ye Wu Jiu stood beside Ding He Ran in a gray robe, a young man with clear features and a quiet, steady air. “As you ordered yesterday, we reviewed the reports filed across the region over the past three days for patterns. We did find a breakthrough.”
“Speak.”
“Four villages and towns reported anomalies,” Ye Wu Jiu said. “All of them lie along the border between us and Deep Dreamlands. Children have gone missing there.”
Mo Ting Feng’s gaze sharpened. “Details.”
“Five children in total—two boys, three girls, between four and eight years old. No blood relations. The families don’t know one another.” Ye Wu Jiu’s voice stayed calm. “They share one point: each child’s birth mother is already dead.”
“When was the most recent?” Mo Ting Feng asked, thoughtful.
“Yesterday at dusk,” Ye Wu Jiu replied. “A family in Autumnwater Town reported their child disappeared near a ruined temple.”
Autumnwater Town.
Song Wei Chen’s spine stiffened. She remembered Gu Cang Yue mentioning the place. She leaned in without realizing.
“There was something strange in the record,” Ye Wu Jiu continued. “The missing boy’s best friend claimed that if you stayed at the ruined temple until dusk, you could see your dead mother return. The two agreed to try it yesterday. The friend arrived late, didn’t see him, and assumed he’d broken the promise. At night, he went to the boy’s home to look for him—and only then admitted what they’d planned.”
“Wait,” Song Wei Chen blurted. “Yesterday at dusk, I was resting near a house in Autumnwater Town. I did hear a little boy calling for his mom. It can’t be that much of a coincidence…”
“So you were there?” Ding He Ran’s eyes lit up. “Brother Wei, do you remember the exact spot? After briefing, could you take me to look?”
“There was a huge guard dog…” Song Wei Chen’s voice faltered. She glanced at Mo Ting Feng and swallowed the word scared.
“You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?” Ding He Ran asked, hopeful. “If not, I’ll take you.”
She answered reluctantly, as if each word cost her. “…No.”
“If the chaos wraith has appeared there, it would leave foul aura behind,” Mo Ting Feng said. “But with time, it may have dispersed. Still, if He Ran believes it’s a lead, it won’t hurt to take a look.”
He seemed about to continue—
A sudden voice cut in, sharp as a blade.
“Where is she going? Did she get my permission?!”