Chapter 028: Gloom

He paused in his steps as the main gate buzzed open, and a disheveled, scholarly-looking man emerged, laboriously carrying two heavy loads of books, panting with the effort. Upon closer inspection, this was clearly not some down-and-out middle-aged scholar, but a young man, barely in his twenties. His robe was faded and patched from repeated washings, his hair hung in wild disarray, and an unkempt beard shadowed his chin, giving him the look of someone who had just tumbled out of bed.

After a few paces, the young man set down his burdens and drew several ragged breaths, his body hunched with exhaustion. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he glanced at Yao Qian and said, "Looking to buy a book? If not, then move along. There’s nothing left here worth your coveting."

Clearly, the young man mistook him for a customer or perhaps a thief. Yao Qian took no offense. He strode up the steps in a few quick strides and stopped before the entrance. A glance into the baskets revealed a jumble of texts—classics, histories, philosophies—all piled together as if being cleared out as refuse.

"How much for these books? If the price is fair, I’ll take them all," Yao Qian said calmly.

But to the young man, these words were like a heavenly chorus. His face lit up with delight. "Not expensive, not at all! Five taels of silver for the lot, and they’re yours."

"Five taels?" Yao Qian was taken aback. Could this fellow be the thief himself? Though he wasn’t certain of the value of books in this world, he knew well enough that in a society resembling ancient China, books were treasures held tightly by the wealthy and noble, and only prestigious families could afford to pass down such knowledge. The poor could rarely buy a book, much less read one. Books were monopolized and became increasingly precious over time. Yet here, before him, were dozens of volumes, at a paltry sum—even for commonplace works, five taels was absurdly cheap.

The young man seemed to catch his misgivings and forced a bitter smile. "Are you concerned the price is too low, suspecting something amiss with my background? There’s no need. Who would wish to be entangled with the Lu household these days?"

Yao Qian understood. He had heard the story in a nearby tavern; this was one of only two places he suspected might harbor something sinister. He compared what he’d heard to the exhausted, prematurely aged face before him—the white streaks at the temples, the stooped posture, the lifeless expression—and realized: this was the last remaining young master of the Lu family.

He could hardly believe how much a person could change in so short a time. Yet in the next moment, a surge of hope rose in his heart. The Lu family’s tragedies were so strange, pressing a young man to such a state—perhaps it was indeed connected to the ghostly presence he sought.

Concealing his excitement, he said, "Forgive the misunderstanding, Master Lu. I’ll take all these books. Are there any more volumes left in the house?"

The young master seemed unfazed, clearly accustomed to such questions, and bore no resentment. On the contrary, hearing that Yao Qian wished to buy even more, a faint joy flickered across his wan face. "There are quite a few more, but…"

"But what? May I follow you in to take a look? If so, I’ll buy every last one," Yao Qian pressed, seizing the moment, sensing hesitation and unspoken troubles. He needed to go inside to confirm whether the Lu estate truly harbored the supernatural as he suspected.

These past days, he had sniffed out many such rumors, visited several places, only to leave empty-handed, never finding any trace of the uncanny. He was loath to let this new chance slip away.

"Well… well…," the young master stammered, his face a knot of hesitation. At last, he gritted his teeth and spoke. "To be honest, it’s not that I refuse you entry, but…alas, my family has fallen on hard times, misfortune upon misfortune. There are rumors of something unclean in the house…"

His face was a portrait of distress, his brow furrowed deeply as he stammered out the words.

Yao Qian was quietly surprised. This young master did not seem like the spoiled scion of a wealthy merchant, but rather a gentle, upright scholar with strong moral scruples.

"A gentleman does not speak of monsters and ghosts, Master Lu, you overstate things," Yao Qian replied, feigning disbelief and reproach.

"We who study are filled with righteousness. How can we give credence to tales of spirits and ghosts? Even if such unclean things exist, our uprightness is shield enough—no demon or monster could approach us. Besides, does not the true gentleman master the six arts: ritual, music, archery, charioteering, writing, and mathematics? If any such thing were to appear, I would strike it down—not with a knife, but with my sword!"

With that, he strode boldly into the Lu estate.

The young master reached out as if to stop him, but his hand fell limply to his side and he let out a deep sigh, following in Yao Qian’s wake.

A single coin can defeat even a hero.

He had thought that mentioning spirits would frighten this young scholar away, perhaps even send him fleeing. After all, many before had turned pale and hurried off the moment they heard of the Lu family’s misfortunes, not daring to linger for a moment. That was why he had been forced to carry his books out to sell, offering them at such a low price.

Who would have imagined that today he would encounter a young man so befuddled by his studies that he believed mere righteousness and feeble swordplay could contend with the supernatural?

"Does he truly think these ghosts and demons are all like the tales—fox spirits courting scholars by lamplight?" the young master scoffed inwardly. Only he knew how bizarre and terrifying his family’s tragedies had been. He had even summoned renowned monks and Taoist priests from the region, but none had availed.

Yao Qian, unaware of the young master’s thoughts, would have smiled knowingly if he had known.

As soon as he crossed the threshold into the Lu household, he felt a sudden chill, as though a cold vapor coiled around him, raising goosebumps on his skin. He looked up—the sun was still high in the sky, yet the courtyard below felt gloomy and shadowed, the sunlight offering no warmth.

"Is there truly something uncanny here?"