Despite bad mouthing someone right in their house, Wan Yu didn’t seem that ashamed of being caught. “My words are crass, Du-gongzi, because I have little siblings at home ah. They’re so impressionable, and I have to leave them behind often to find a livelihood for us. If I don’t teach them life lessons with proper enforcement, they might get stolen away while I’m away to bring home a bowl of rice.”

Shameless. Ye Xiyang approved.

Du Yu’an only waved his hand. “This immortal is correct in that skepticism is important. Charlatans are everywhere these days; the young ones especially should be vigilant.”

Wan Yu nodded seriously, as if that was what he meant by his statement— it seemed like Du Yu’an only heard the last part of his words.

Du Yu’an poured them tea as he talked. “There has been… unrest, in this family home this past few months. It used to be something that happened once or twice a week, but had become far more commonplace— daily, even. Simply put, my father had been plagued by relentless nightmares for the past three weeks, whereas the servants often saw the illusion of my late mother around the house, appearing to be crying, surrounded by falling flowers. Some even talked of these flowers being gilded gold. Sometimes, knives would just fall off from whatever surface in the kitchen. Nobody’s been hurt yet, but…”

“Anything with the potential of harm is to be taken seriously,” Wan Yu said, all traces of whimsy disappearing from his face. Leaning forward, he sat straighter. “Du-gongzi ’s mother?”

Du Yu’an nodded. “My mother was the madame of the family. My father took in a concubine twenty years ago, and from her had a second son, Yuxun. Actually, my father raised me to learn about business and how to manage them; Xun’er, on the other hand, had his personal guidance in craftsmanship, and now is a competent instrument maker.” He smiled, turning to the guqin on display. “He had some help with the mother of pearl layer, but that guqin was crafted by him.”

“He’s very talented,” Wan Yu praised.

“He truly is. But ah, yes. My mother died fifteen years ago. We have always properly honored her, and Father even ceased looking at any other women after her death, so we really don’t know why she would appear to us like this, at this point in time…”

“Are there no changes within the past half year?”

Du Yu’an shook his head. “Nothing major. I had expanded the family furniture business and started exporting general, mass-produced items like bed frames, but that was a year and a half ago. Other than that, nothing truly life-changing happened.”

A year and a half ago was quite a while back, it lied outside the range. Wan Yu hummed. “How about in personal lives?”

“Personal lives?”

Wan Yu spread his hands. “New romance? Changing life directions?”

His eyes shone with silent, earnest ‘I don’t want to speculate on your family affairs, and also I have no idea what life changing events are for other people’. Du Yu’an’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it.

“I really… don’t think so.” In a quieter voice, he said, “Well, I am unwed after several… complications in the past. But I don’t think that warrants quite a…”

“What about your father?” Ye Xiyang cut in. After listening for so long, it seemed he couldn’t be bothered with all this slow exchange. “Other than you and him, the late madame wouldn’t be so concerned about anyone else, would she? Or did she have a tense relationship with the concubine?”

Du Yu’an paused for a moment to take in the crassness of this well-dressed individual, then answered. “No, she did not have any particular vitriol towards her… Mother was actually close to Xun’er, when she was alive. He was gifted at music, and so was she. She taught him how to play the guqin, and wanted to teach him how to play guzheng before her passing.”

Wow. Looked like the second son truly was beloved in the family. Honestly, the weirdest thing about all of this was how not-jealous Du Yu’an was. Wan Yu had seen lifelong hatred for much less affection.

“Your father,” Ye Xiyang reminded.

“His health had been deteriorating this past few years,” Du Yu’an said. “He’s entrusted most of the business to me, with only a small fraction continuing to be in his hands as he slowly lets me adjust to it. The transfer was smooth, there were no problems; most of the people involved with our family business had been people I knew from childhood as well and took to the change of leadership with no issues. They all called my father Du Patriarch, after all he had done.”

“Too bad it’s too late for us to have a chat with the Du Patriarch, ah,” Wan Yu said, disappointed. Du Yu’an shot him an apologetic look.

“It was past time for him to retire to his chambers. The nightmares took its toll; he was often tired during the day, and had fitful sleep at night. I hope this immortal forgives; in fact, it was my father who specifically requested your services. He heard from a good friend that you had done an excellent, quick job of resolving a haunting at their factory— the Jiang family from Xunchi.”

Jiang family… Wan Yu raked his head for a memory of that name, but wasn’t coming up with anything. Then, he remembered— ah, the factory. He remembered. It involved a worker suicide due to marital and financial issue, but Wan Yu stretched and spun the story like somebody making dragon beard candy, and convinced the Jiang family head to improve the conditions in the factory, or misfortune will continue to follow blah blah blah. Wan Yu didn’t even remember half his lie at this point.

In all technicalities, he wasn’t lying, though. With those conditions, something else was bound to go wrong later.

“The Jiang family was also deeply grateful for this immortal’s help in dispelling their youngest child’s lasting nightmares.”

Ah, this part Wan Yu remembered. It wasn’t even related to anything supernatural; the kid was just terrified of the fact that his father hit his mother so hard she slammed into the doorway, rattling it when he walked past in the middle of the night to find water.

Most horrible things in life were done by people, not ghosts, not the supernatural.

"I hope to resolve the problem here quickly, too."

Du Yu'an nodded. "Thank you. We will compensate you well for your time. Shall we go to the guest rooms first, before we go to where the sightings were most common?"

It was Ye Xiyang who nodded first instead. "Please."

Wan Yu chugged the rest of his tea with barely passable manners, then scrambled to his feet. "Let's go, let's go."

Du Yu'an continued to answer questions as they walked. "The old house is near Father's room, so if these immortals want to inspect it, please do so with care. Mother stayed there until she died, and Father only moved to another bedroom after her death, so it's where her present is most felt, though no, I'm not talking about the sightings…"

"Got it. Actually, I'd like to have a chat with some of the servants here first. Are they still awake? If not, then it can be done tomorrow."

Du Yu'an pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. "Some should be. But not for long. Come."

The walk to the kitchens was quiet on this solemn night; any bustle from stumbling neighbors in the outside streets were all muted with distance, and most everyone seemed to have retired for the day. After all, there was no way a residence this big didn’t have a lot more servants, given the manpower needed to maintain a place this big. Though not extravagant in materials, these carved woods required care to keep its lustre.

That, or they overworked a few poor old ladies. Wan Yu had seen it go both ways.

There were several voices coming from the kitchens; though faint, his ears were sharp enough he could hear that it was an old woman nagging someone. Another chimed in— so there must be three people in there, at least. Some shushing. The third person must’ve heard their footsteps. When Du Yu’an opened the doors, they were silent, staring at them.

Two of the people in there were middle-aged women, one scrubbing a pot clean. The other one was sitting on the table with the young woman who opened the doors for them, a pot of tea between them. After a beat, they scrambled out of their seats and stood up. Du Yu’an didn’t pay attention to the stagnant air. “Auntie Yan, Auntie Feng, are you both busy? The cultivator would like to talk with you about what you saw this past few months.”

Wan Yu looked at their tired faces and shook his head. “Nevermind that, we can do it in the morning, I think. Sorry to bother you this late, I think we can just survey the scene ourselves for tonight.”

“N-no, it’s okay! I’m not that tired,” the young woman interjected, flustered. “Auntie Yan and Auntie Feng can go ahead if they want to… I’m fine.”

Well… she was young, and she didn’t seem to be lying.

“All right, then,” Wan Yu said. “Thank you. I’ll keep it short. Du-gongzi, you can go ahead if you’d like? I’ll just be here for a bit before going to check the places, so there’s no need to wait for us.”

“I leave it to you then,” Du Yu’an said, nodding.

When Du Yu'an moved to leave, Ye Xiyang did, too. "I'll check the area," he said.

Probably just didn't want to hear more talking, Wan Yu mused. Well, all the better. Couldn’t imagine this pampered master sitting in this kitchen, anyway. The man outdressed the young master of this house; really, how the hell did he end up here...

The Du family servant fidgeted in place. The auntie working on the pot quickly finished her scrubbing, washing off the grime and oils in a rush. In mere moments, only the two of them were left.

“May I ask for this miss's name?” Wan Yu said as he gestured to her to sit down. Once she did, he sat down where the auntie did, across her. “Ah, I was going to introduce myself, but you already know. Well, the person with me is Ye-xiong, thanks for the impromptu extra work of preparing for him an additional room. I'll try to make this quick so you don't need to lose any more sleep ah.”

The servant tucked her hair behind her ear. “I'm, ah, Li San. It's no problem at all, Immortal, it's not at all.”

“Ah, just call me by name, Li-jie. Immortal makes me sound a lot more… refined than I am.”

Li San thought about it. "Wan… ge?”

“Much better.” Wan Yu laughed. “Sorry, I just realized why Xiao Mian always said I don’t look like a cultivator. But yes. May I ask how long these hauntings have been happening? What sort of things have you seen? Who else has seen them? I heard sometimes knives are knocked off the table?”

“Wan-ge,” Li San confirmed. “It’s… hmm. I think it’s been about… two months…? It wasn’t long after Qingming Festival… oh no. Do you think the late madame is really angry with us?”

Wan Yu shook his head. “We can only figure that out with more details.”

“Basically everyone saw them,” Li San continued. “Except for the patriarch and the second missus. So uh, you see, the sightings only happen in certain places, and the second missus isn’t the sort to walk around in the night anyhow. The first sighting was… it was in the old house. En. I don’t really know what it looks like back then, I’m hardly older than this new residence, but Auntie Yan said that when the expansions were made, the patriarch closely consulted a feng shui master during the entire construction process… But when the new main house was built, the late madame even complained about how the air in the old house became stuffy and uncomfortable. And then there’s the warehouse and the master’s workshop… Most of us servants are just here to take care of the house, so the patriarch doesn’t let us clean the workshop in fear of us disturbing a project, but you see, we have to pass by it to get the firewood and it’s where we see… the ghost of the late madame often, too.”

Wan Yu pondered these points. “Was the late madame outspoken?”

Li San shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. She died fifteen years ago; I am only twenty myself, this year…”

He refilled her cup. A bit of internal energy— the tea was warm, now.

“I’ve made you talk at a length,” he said. “Just one question more. How is this residence usually? The workshop and most of the work happens here, doesn’t it?”

With an awkward smile, Li San drank her tea. “Yes. Usually the workers come here to use the workshop— there are smaller ones around the main one, now, for other projects and the likes. Like the second son, he usually uses the old workshop behind the old house. But he likes working alone, so… During the day it’s always—”

A noise. The two of them turned to the source and saw a plate tip over the edge of the long table lining the wall. Pushing back, Wan Yu dove down to catch it—

A scream. When he turned to look back, his eyes caught something grey falling, and barely managed to move his hand— smacking the plate to the side, shit, left hand—

Thud. A deeper, sharper thud. Fuck.

So Wan Yu was on the floor, having caught the plate after hitting it to the side, but one, he hit his head against the table leg pretty hard, and… The thing that fell aiming for him was a damn knife.

Li San was near hysterics. “It fell sideways!”

Embedded deep into the wood was the kitchen knife. Wan Yu climbed to his knees to put the plate back on the table before dislodging the knife, grunting as he gauged the strength he needed to pull it out. Damn, this thing’s out for his life. Something that fell from waist height wouldn’t have had this much force just from falling down.

“Li-jie, I’d have to ask you to go to bed early,” Wan Yu said. His grip tightened on the handle; there was no trace of energy anymore, but he couldn’t trust that it wouldn’t try to stab him again the second he let go. “Do you need me to walk you back?”

Li San shook her head over and over again. “I— you— You almost got hit! Do you need, I, bandages? Is it bleeding?”

“It didn’t hit me, it didn’t cut anything at all. You should go back to a safer place though. Do you need me to walk you back?”

That seemed to reassure her, as she calmed down some. A frown deep in her face, she shook her head. “I’ll— I’ll leave now. Sorry. I’ll be fine, I can go alone.”

“Be careful on your way back, don’t trip from running. It’ll be fine, I’ll handle this. Things will be normal soon.”

Li San hurried back to her room, though not before telling him where the bandages were. Wan Yu smiled at that. He had his own, of course, but eh, it was nice. Depositing the knife with the rest of the dishes, Wan Yu then returned to stack the plate properly with the rest of its ilk, then put the teapot and cups on the basin. With a little bit of qi, he got some water flowing and rinsed them all, before leaving to find Ye Xiyang. It was only when he reached to scratch his arm that he realized what he'd done.

"Most people made a habit out of their sword forms. I see you've chosen washing the tableware of strangers instead."

"Oh, shut it," Wan Yu said. Despite the dark of night, unhindered moonlight provided some illumination— though there was no rain nor sunlight, the man had his umbrella out, the white paper diffusing what little light caught on its shimmery surface. Ye Xiyang had his back facing Wan Yu— he probably guessed from the sounds of gentle ceramic clacks and trickling water. "Just had a run-in with a knife. I’m surprised the scream didn’t wake anyone up, honestly. Did you catch anything? There's nothing yet, is there? Can that umbrella of yours be used for anything?"

If it didn't, then this Ye-xiong really was more of a peacock than Wan Yu anticipated.

Ye Xiyang had walked to a different area of the compound— the building had a different look to it, and its surroundings were less decorated; this might be the workshop section.

"I assumed that the scream was related to your doing more than anything supernatural.”

Wan Yu bristled. “Excuse me? I’d— Oh, fuck off. Of all the things you dare accuse me of...”

Ye Xiyang looked back with a raised eyebrow. “What did you think I was talking about?”

An unamused flat stare. “Ye-xiong, I assure you that I’m capable of getting you near death, even if you manage to kill me first.”

Was he? Ye Xiyang wondered, amused. “Well, forgive me then. You’re a lot more righteous than that. Though really, any more of that and I would've accused you of sucking up to the rich for their money."

"More of what?” After a pause, Wan Yu’s eyebrows rose. There was still a tension to his flat expression. “Oh, you mean talking. I assume you go straight to murder, don’t you?”

"If it's not a bad option, yes," Ye Xiyang said. "Sometimes it just saves you time, like all the hours you would've spent talking trying to tease out imperfect connections from people who don't know much."

Wan Yu, "......"

He choked out, with some hardship, "What makes you think that your conclusions are necessarily right?"

Hell. Sometimes he thought he was ready for how blatant some people were, but he still found himself surprised time and again. Ah, that feeling when he thought he was being intimidating by being confrontational, but the other side was too shameless to even deflect. Ye Xiyang didn't answer. Had he talked, Wan Yu reckoned the answer would be— what made you think I cared for that?

For the first time since this entire ordeal, Wan Yu wondered what he'd gotten himself to. It really was correct that he dragged this man along. What would he do, had Wan Yu left him to do whatever back at home? Maybe nothing, but maybe something much worse, too. He trusted this Ye-xiong as far as he could throw him. Maybe Wan Yu would've trusted him much more if his trust measurement metrics was how many hits Wan Yu could land on him in a no-powers, raw drunken brawl.

What a fucking asshole.

“There are some conversations that are productive,” Ye Xiyang said, “and there are some that are not. Though I suppose, it would make perfect sense if your aim was swindling the Du first son. You even followed along praising the second son.”

You’re like this, and you still dare criticize me for praising someone? Unbelievable. If there was a competition for swindling between the two of them, no questions asked this Ye-xiong would’ve been the winner, all right.

“It really did look good,” Wan Yu defended himself. Then, with the tone of a confession, “And the first son sounded so proud of his beloved didi, it tugged at my own gege instincts, you know?”

Ye Xiyang, “......” No, he didn’t know.

Who dared share one thought and feeling with a consummate gege who called everyone xiaomei? What a harrowing prospect.

Nevermind this conversation.

“Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with that. You know, the feeling of a thorough investigation also puts people at ease; it makes them feel less like you were just jumping to conclusions out of laziness. Talking with those involved reassures them, and it does tend to uncover the bigger picture, too.” Wan Yu bared his teeth in his mockery of a smile. “You’re the one who chose to follow me, so really, do you have room to complain?”

Ye Xiyang pointedly continued to walk around a building.

Don’t rub his mistakes on his face, okay?

Silence. The night breeze brushed past every now and then, accompanying their walk. It worked wonders in cooling Wan Yu down— within moments in this peaceful quiet, he’d calmed down. For one, rather than wanting to fistfight Ye-xiong, Wan Yu now had the clarity of mind to give him a better time, such as being rolled down the side of a mountain. When he reached the bottom, Wan Yu would then introduce him to the village kids.

That sounds like a plan.

As they continued heading this way, the paths became more spacious, the buildings bigger. The walls lining the residence came into view, too, like a block of shadow in the dark— beyond that was even deeper darkness. A dozen steps away from it was a large, utilitarian building, one that connected to the rest in this area through walkways that faded in the night— there was a sign above the wide doors, but the eaves casted shadows on it, rendering it unreadable.

Wasn’t hard to hazard a guess, though.

“There’s nothing wrong here,” Wan Yu commented. “There’s even ample moonlight, decent placement, the air’s pretty nice… I reckon everyone’s just wary about the workshop because of how fierce the patriarch is about it.”

“Sabotaging your own workspace would’ve been a moronic move indeed,” Ye Xiyang said. “Craftsmanship is his livelihood. Even if he’s now a merchant, he needs a good workspace if he wanted to profit from others’ workmanship.”

“Ye-xiong,” Wan Yu sighed. “Why is your mouth so scathing? Your words are spicier than a pregnant woman’s complaints when she was told to draw water from the well late at night.”

Ye Xiyang, “......” Excuse me?

“Anyway, you’re totally right, though.” Pulling out Silvergrass from its scabbard, Wan Yu injected some qi into it, watching it glow— now with a pillar radiating dim, silvery light, he walked around, as if this was a normal thing to do. The jian hovered in the air in front of him, like a floating torch.

Unbelievable. Even if this was the person who used his personal sword to chop wood, Ye Xiyang still found it unbelievable.

There really wasn’t much to see outside, so Wan Yu just poked around and squatted to check the ground on the corners, waiting for the supposed haunting. There were trees near the walls; he plucked the leaves off some, too, twirling it with his fingers. When he was done fiddling around, the leaves glowed white and flew back into the foliage, returning to their original twigs.

“At least it’s a tree without many sturdy branches,” Wan Yu commented. “That’d just give a trespasser a nice, safer path in and out.”

Footsteps, in the distance— both Wan Yu and Ye Xiyang stilled, alert. Silvergrass’s light extinguished and it flew back into its sheath. The noise went from that on dirt to the sound of scraping, then a muffled grunt; at last, a ruffled thud, and a sigh. There was a pause. Then, the person landed. He'd jumped down.

Wan Yu and Ye Xiyang leapt to the rooftops in complete silence.

Despite the moonlight, it was hard to make out someone's face when the person wasn’t even facing them. It was, however, possible to guess some other things— the person seemed young, what with his lanky stature and youthful-sounding voice, and familiar with these grounds. His attempt at stealth was halfway good, but mostly bad— his impatience bled through when he stopped tiptoeing and started running whenever he was out of the light. When walking by the workshop, he didn't even notice the two figures crouched on the roof, barely out of sight.

In the shade of the next building, the young man stopped.

He's waiting for something, Wan Yu thought.

It happened after a rather long period of silence: a woman appeared out of nowhere, slowly pacing by the workshop, walking out of the moonlight into the inky shadows of the building. The bottoms of her dress were steeped in blood, and dragged across the ground from its weight. She paused by a window and started sobbing into her hands. There was a drop in the temperature— just a tiny bit, but enough to make the hairs at the back of Wan Yu's neck stand. There was that tell-tale sense of surveillance, of something moving just out of sight— Wan Yu turned around and swiped at the air. He opened his fist; it was a golden petal.

Even more started to fall. The young man finally turned around and rushed to the inner area of the residence compound, footsteps scratchy with the sound of dirt.

"Spooky," Wan Yu commented as they leapt back down. The ground she’d walked on really seemed to have been affected by her presence; he nudged at them with a foot, and they acted like dirt clumped together by blood. When he squashed them and lifted his leg, they stuck to the bottom of his boot. The iron-smell was strong, too, rusty and wet. "So this is the late madame."

She didn't respond.

"Hmm, let's see." Walking around her to see her face to face, Wan Yu bent his knees so he looked up at her worn hands, and started humming a tune. Nothing happened. “Huh.”

“Try something else,” Ye Xiyang said, and closed his umbrella. He pointed it at Wan Yu. Blue light shot out of its wooden tip like a thread, and with graceful movements he drew something in the air— when he finished and sealed the spell with a swift circle, the sigil flew to the Du madame. She dissipated into the air in a glimmer of glowing dust.

“Qi.”

“There were only two options to begin with: she’s an actual ghost, or she’s not,” Ye Xiyang said, reopening the umbrella. “If she wasn’t the former, then she’s the latter.”

Wan Yu hummed, inspecting the aftermath with interest. The path was dry now, with only faint imprints of footsteps— one walking towards the workshop, and another walking away. Wan Yu checked the soles of his boots. No flattened clumps. “Yeah. Makes me feel kinda bad, though.” A sigh. “Well, it’s not the real her anyhow, it doesn’t actually affect her. Let’s move on.”

They’d gone to the kitchens, then the workshop area. What was left was the old house.