Three days later, Yang Siguang and Li Bo, as agreed, went to Aunt Qiao’s house.
It was still that courtyard of indeterminate location, still the slightly plump woman standing in front of it.
But when Aunt Qiao saw Yang Siguang get out of the car, she let out a long sigh.
“You still… never mind.”
She cast a reproachful glance at Li Bo, and when her gaze returned to Yang Siguang, her lips moved slightly. For a moment, Yang Siguang thought the woman might try to dissuade him again. Yet, in the end, all her words condensed into a single resigned “never mind.”
“Come in.”
Aunt Qiao turned and led Yang Siguang and Li Bo into her courtyard.
As soon as they entered, the two were startled. The once rustic, farmhouse-like courtyard had undergone a drastic transformation. The courtyard walls were now covered with dense red threads, from which fluttered overlapping yellow talismans and copper bells swaying in the breeze.
The ground was piled with a thick layer of burnt paper money and yellow paper. Some hadn’t completely burned, leaving scorched black edges, while others had turned into fine black ash. When the wind blew, the ash rose like black butterflies, silently swirling mid-air before slowly descending.
The entire courtyard was shrouded in an indescribable yet overwhelmingly eerie atmosphere.
Even though there was a breeze blowing through, the moment Yang Siguang stepped in, he felt the air in the courtyard was unnaturally heavy and oppressive. Even breathing became unusually laborious.
And Aunt Qiao, who was leading the way in front of them, had a slightly hunched figure, as though she had aged considerably in just three days.
The courtyard, which hadn’t seemed particularly large in memory, now felt endless. The three of them walked for what seemed like an eternity—so long that Yang Siguang began to feel slightly out of breath—before Aunt Qiao abruptly stopped in front of a small, dilapidated house.
“We’re here.”
Aunt Qiao said.
Then, right in front of the two of them, she knelt on the step, kowtowed, muttered something indistinct, and suddenly, the door creaked open, as if someone on the other side had opened it for them.
However, the house was small, and with the door open, its interior was fully visible. Yang Siguang and Li Bo could see clearly that there was no one inside.
The only thing visible in the dim light was the walls, covered in dense layers of talismans.
In the corner of the room, the floor was littered with melted candle wax and freshly placed red candles. Some candles were still burning, their flames flickering, casting a dim, murky light. The chaotic shadows overlapped on the walls, creating an illusion of crowded human figures. But upon closer inspection, the room remained empty.
Yet none of this was what drew the most attention.
At least, not to Yang Siguang. For him, the most striking object in the room was a half-human-tall water vat in the center.
The vat was dark and dull, its surface mottled with grime. Its material seemed ordinary enough—Yang Siguang had seen similar vats used by farmers to pickle vegetables.
But at this moment, the vat in the room sent a shiver down his spine.
It was a strange sensation. It was just a water vat sitting there. Yet, it inexplicably reminded Yang Siguang of… a well.
A narrow, deep, water-filled well.
“What is that?”
Yang Siguang couldn’t help but ask.
Aunt Qiao lowered her eyelids when she heard the question and replied weakly, “It’s a ‘door.'”
She said.
Perhaps fearing that Yang Siguang wouldn’t understand, she added, “Water can connect to the underworld. The curse root on you before was actually a mark left by the old Mirror Immortal. With it, no matter where you went, He could easily find you. But now that the curse root is destroyed, if you want Him to take an interest in you again, you naturally have to open an extra door for Him.”
As she spoke, she couldn’t help but sigh again. The nasolabial folds on either side of her nose, once barely noticeable, now hung heavily at the corners of her mouth like the figure eight.
“It’s just… who knows if He will take the bait… sigh.”
With that, Aunt Qiao waved her hand, motioning for Yang Siguang to follow her inside.
Li Bo instinctively tried to follow, but Aunt Qiao stopped him at the door.
“This has nothing to do with you. Stay outside.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ The old Mirror Immortal only needs Xiao Yang. As for you… I don’t have the ability to protect you in this room. If you still insist on coming in, has your brain been eaten by a pig?!”
Aunt Qiao’s tone was sharp.
“Xiao Yang is already facing a near-death situation dealing with the old Mirror Immortal. Don’t make things worse—”
Hearing this, even though Li Bo was filled with anxiety, he eventually stayed outside, his face full of worry.
“Siguang!”
And just as the door closed, Yang Siguang heard the man outside murmur hoarsely to him.
“I’ll be right here, Siguang. Don’t be afraid.”
Yang Siguang was momentarily speechless, while Aunt Qiao let out a faint, cold snort in the darkness.
*
Once inside, Aunt Qiao locked the door.
The first thing she handed Yang Siguang was a cup of wine.
Following her instructions, Yang Siguang tilted his head back and drank it. The moment it went down, it felt like swallowing a ball of fire wrapped in daggers. The liquid burned through his insides, but instead of warmth, it left him feeling colder with every sip.
After finishing the cup, Yang Siguang felt distinctly unwell, but Aunt Qiao immediately poured him another.
“Aunt Qiao, I…”
Seeing his hesitation, Aunt Qiao explained curtly.
“Wine can bolster courage and muddle the mind. Don’t worry about getting drunk. This is meant to destabilize your spirit. That way, to the Mirror Immortal, you’ll seem… particularly appetizing.”
Noticing his faint resistance, Aunt Qiao spoke in a calm tone.
“To lure the prey, you need to offer enough bait, don’t you?”
With that, she made him drink several more cups of the high-proof liquor, which had an indescribable metallic tang. His mouth was filled with the strange aroma, and the scent of blood seemed to rise from his chest with every breath.
The taste left his mind blank, the room spinning wildly. Even the talismans and symbols on the walls appeared to twist and writhe.
Yang Siguang relied on sheer willpower to maintain a semblance of clarity in front of Aunt Qiao. He swayed unsteadily but remained standing.
Aunt Qiao observed him for several seconds.
Then, she handed him the second item.
Yang Siguang stared at the object in his palm for a long moment before realizing it was a small peachwood sword.
The sword looked aged, with a simple and rustic design, but its blade carried a dark, ominous sheen.
A faint, peculiar stench emanated from its tip.
“I told you before I’d prepare a sword for you,” Aunt Qiao said, her voice sounding distant.
Yang Siguang had to confirm multiple times that this was indeed the “demon-slaying sword” she had promised him. It looked more like a toy—or a charm hung around a child’s neck for protection.
The absurdity of it all momentarily diluted his dizziness.
“But… how could something like this possibly harm the Mirror Immortal…”
Aunt Qiao ignored him and calmly looped the red-stringed peachwood sword around his neck.
“Don’t worry. Aunt Qiao isn’t trying to harm you. You might think it’s small and unimpressive now, but when you get there, you’ll understand its use—”
With that, the small peachwood sword hung against his chest, its tip resting just over his heart.
Aunt Qiao stepped back, her gaze heavy as it swept over the young man’s face.
After all the wine, Yang Siguang could barely stand. His face, instead of flushed, had turned deathly pale.
“Alright…”
Finally, Aunt Qiao lowered her gaze and tied a red string around Yang Siguang’s wrist.
“…Once the soul leaves the body, it’s easy to forget how to return, especially in a chaotic place with malicious spirits lurking. Xiao Yang, consider this your last lifeline, prepared by Aunt Qiao.”
The red string around his wrist felt slightly uncomfortable. He instinctively shook his hand, which tugged on the string. Instantly, countless red strings in the courtyard trembled in unison.
A faint, dense jingling of bells rushed into his ears like a tide, making him shudder involuntarily.
But Aunt Qiao, standing before him, seemed utterly unaffected.
When everything was ready, silence fell between them.
Yang Siguang felt uneasy under Aunt Qiao’s intense gaze, his nerves on edge as he thought about the impending confrontation with the Mirror Immortal.
“Aunt Qiao, what do I do next?”
He asked.
Aunt Qiao took a deep breath and pointed at the large water vat in the center of the room.
“Go there. Lower your head… What do you see?”
Yang Siguang looked at the water vat in confusion.
The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles in the corners providing illumination. The water in the vat, naturally, did not emit any light and appeared as a still, lifeless black void.
As expected, Yang Siguang saw nothing.
He frowned, hesitating for a moment.
“I… I don’t see anything,” he said.
“Hmm, of course, you wouldn’t see anything,” Aunt Qiao replied, already standing beside him without him realizing it.
The woman sighed as she spoke softly near his ear.
The next second, Aunt Qiao raised her hand and pressed firmly against Yang Siguang’s back—
“Glug…”
Caught off guard, Yang Siguang was shoved headfirst into the icy water of the vat.
The freezing water surged into his nose and mouth, cutting off his breath instantly.
[Aunt Qiao?!]
He couldn’t stop himself from choking, but his reaction only caused him to swallow more of the black water. His survival instincts kicked in, and he struggled desperately, but the earlier liquor had drained him of strength. Meanwhile, Aunt Qiao’s hand on his back was as immovable as a rock.
In an instant, Yang Siguang felt his body sinking deeper into the vat. Strength and warmth seeped out of his fragile frame, and his consciousness began to fade…
…
Just when Yang Siguang thought he was about to drown, a muffled shout suddenly reached his ears.
“Siguang?!”
“Siguang, what’s happening?!”
The next moment, someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him out of the seemingly endless darkness of the water.
Yang Siguang coughed violently.
He slumped into Li Bo’s arms, his tear-filled eyes catching a glimpse of a shadow slowly walking out of the room.
He wanted to call out to her, but another wave of coughing overtook him.
Even after his breathing finally steadied, Yang Siguang still couldn’t comprehend what had happened—why had Aunt Qiao suddenly attacked him, nearly drowning him?
Wasn’t Aunt Qiao… wasn’t she always helping him?
Yang Siguang’s body trembled uncontrollably, a mix of fear and discomfort preventing him from stopping the deep shivers that wracked his core.
He couldn’t think, couldn’t move.
All he could do was vaguely listen to Li Bo’s account. Li Bo had rushed into the room as soon as he noticed something was wrong.
“…And then I saw Aunt Qiao holding you down in the vat. I didn’t know what was happening, but you looked like you were about to die. By the time I pulled you out, Aunt Qiao had already left the room. She… she seemed like she wasn’t herself.”
Li Bo looked just as shaken as Yang Siguang.
He held Yang Siguang tightly, as if he wanted to shield him entirely within his embrace.
“Maybe… maybe she’s already been possessed,” Li Bo murmured.
Not long after, he lifted the limp Yang Siguang and started heading toward the door.
“If that’s the case, this place isn’t safe. Siguang, I know you’re feeling awful right now, but we need to leave immediately. We have to get out of here.”
As he spoke, Li Bo carried Yang Siguang out of the eerie courtyard and toward the car waiting beyond the gate.
The engine roared to life, and the car sped away from Aunt Qiao’s small courtyard.
Even at this moment, Yang Siguang was still in a daze. As the car started, he reflexively glanced back through the rearview mirror. What he saw sent a chill down his spine.
Aunt Qiao stood motionless at the courtyard gate, staring at them.
Her pitch-black eyes were devoid of any light, resembling the lifeless orbs of a corpse.
*
[“Sigh…”]
In a daze, Yang Siguang heard a sorrowful, raspy sigh.
The sound seemed so close, yet when he turned abruptly, all he saw was Li Bo, his face pale, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he sped along.
Yang Siguang shivered, shrinking back into the car seat in terror. He had a nagging feeling that he had forgotten something extremely important. But perhaps because of the overwhelming fright, no matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn’t remember what it was.
A gust of wind swept past, faintly carrying the sound of indistinct bells.
Maybe he already in mirror world?????