Chapter 19: The Imperial Bell at Her Side, Cui Jue Has Misled Me

 Chapter 19: The Imperial Bell at Her Side, Cui Jue Has Misled Me

Lang Jiuchuan, unaware that she herself was but a pitiful being, opened the small bundle she had carried with her. Inside, there was scarcely anything, only a red lacquered box.

That day, when she crawled out from the heap of corpses and left the forest, the Lang family servants were already searching for her. Upon seeing her, they had shoved her into the carriage without a word, intent on hastening back to the capital to fulfill their duties of filial piety. Yet she, whose body bore grievous remnants, had insisted on returning to her chamber to take some belongings, swearing that otherwise she would leap from the carriage. Thus the servant had no choice but to yield.

Time was pressing, and she had taken nothing save this red box, wrapping it haphazardly in coarse cloth.

The box was plain and without ornament, covered only with red lacquer. Lang Jiuchuan had not opened it, for it belonged to the body’s former owner. What she lifted instead from the bundle was a small, exquisite, and archaic copper bell — this was truly hers.

It was but the size of an infant’s palm, its broken handle forming the shape of the character “mountain.” The copper gleamed bright, its surface carved with countless talismanic markings. When it swayed, it seemed as though unseen golden light and baleful qi coursed within it.

With a mere thought, she struck the bell lightly against her palm. A crisp chime rang out — clear, ethereal. Golden ripples spread forth, and the twin maids Da xiaoman and Xiaoxiaman, who were working in the courtyard, shuddered as one and exchanged startled glances.

“Did you hear that?”

“It sounded like a bell?”

They cast a glance toward the chamber, then bowed their heads to their tasks once more. Yet both exhaled deeply, feeling their bodies lighter, as if days of weariness had been lifted away.

Lang Jiuchuan herself felt the subtle effect of the bell, her whole body at ease.

This was the Imperial Bell, a supreme Daoist instrument. It was renowned as the Bell of Vibrations, before which even spirits and deities gave reverence. Beyond subduing demons and ghosts, when used properly it could calm the soul and steady the spirit.

Her present body was far too broken. Until it could be restored, it must be safeguarded well, lest some unseeing specter seize it.

Even a broken vessel was yet her vessel, thus she must cherish it.

Atop the Imperial Bell was a trident-shaped prong, within which was a small aperture. Threaded through it was a single strand of dust-white hair, as fine as silk. It was said to have been torn from the horsetail whisk of the Supreme Lord Lao himself, unburnable even by the fires of Hell. It bore peerless Daoist intent, of immeasurable worth.

Lang Jiuchuan fastened the Imperial Bell to the hemp cord at her waist. The bell hung down, no larger than an adult’s palm, resembling an ornament to press the robe’s hem. It made her smile in satisfaction.

With the Imperial Bell at her side, no ghost would dare draw near — what great fortune!

Next, she lifted another object from the bundle: a talismanic brush of jade bone, its shaft violet, carved with inscriptions, its tail fashioned like a tiny broom.

This was the Innate Talisman Brush of the Judge of the Dead. With it one could inscribe upon the Registers of Life and Death, adjudicate cause and effect, overturn injustices, and establish fairness.

In plain words, should one use sorcery to defy Heaven and alter fate, a single stroke of this brush would restore the cosmic scales to their rightful balance.

A most convenient yet most troublesome treasure!

Lang Jiuchuan unhesitatingly pricked her palm with the brush tip. Blood welled forth. At her intent, the brush flashed with golden light, vanishing into her palm. Another thought, and it reappeared in her grasp.

“A fitting compensation for this broken vessel I now inhabit,” she murmured contentedly, tapping the brush once more before patting the Imperial Bell at her waist. At last she lay upon her bed and closed her eyes in peace.

Yet she knew not that in the Netherworld, upheaval had broken out.

The Judge was in pursuit of his talisman brush’s whereabouts with several ghost officials, but had found nothing. At last he sensed its aura, and just as he sought to summon it back, the connection was severed. A searing pain struck his spirit.

His brush — had been claimed by another!

Who… who dared?

He hastily drew forth a smaller substitute brush. With a stroke, the water mirror revealed the truth:

That day when he abandoned the ill-starred Lang Jiuchuan among the graves and fled, she had feigned reluctance, tugging at his robe as though unwilling to part. Yet in truth her hand had already stolen the brush from his sash, and even conjured a counterfeit from a stray finger-bone to leave in its place.

Intolerable!

That such a shameless and quick-fingered thief should exist in the world!

“That wretched woman!” The Judge seethed, about to rush through the Gate of Ghosts to seize her, when a crowd of ghost officials restrained him, all pleading at once. Even Lao Xie and Lao Fan, upon hearing the news, came forth.

“To invite a god is easy, to send one away is hard. For the sake of peace in the Underworld, endure your anger. That scourge was finally sent back among the living; best not to provoke her again.”

The Judge fumed: “Easy for you to say! It was not your treasure that was stolen, else you would not be so calm.”

“Old Cui,” said Lao Xie, “we shall not speak of other matters. But who is it that ever meddles with your Register of Life and Death, scribbling and altering at will? And when havoc is wrought, who cleans the mess with blood and sweat? None but you, Old Cui. Even your hairline bears witness.” He gazed with pity at his colleague’s receding hair, sighing. “Your hair too deserves mercy.”

“Sacrifice the small self to fulfill the greater good,” added Lao Fan. “The Yama King himself has commended you for this merit. Think on it — that one even lost the Imperial Bell, and made no outcry. Why then should you begrudge the loss of a brush, when you have a lesser one to use?”

The Judge was startled. “She… dared to take even the Imperial Bell?”

Whether she dared or not, who could say. But since even their Lord dared not act against her, should not he also know his place? A mere brush — was it not enough that he still had a smaller one to wield?

The Judge furrowed his brow. What manner of demoness was this?

Lang Jiuchuan awoke from her slumber after a day and a night had passed. Gazing at the canopy overhead, her mind was hazy. What had she forgotten?

Outside came the sound of voices. It was Xiao Man. A head peered around the chamber screen.

Lang Jiuchuan turned, and Xiao Man cried out in surprise, then ran to her. “My lady, you are awake!”

Da Man too entered upon hearing the commotion, her face easing with relief. For this mistress had slept an entire day and night, her posture unchanged, so still it seemed she had no breath. Were it not for the faint rise and fall of her chest, they would have thought her dead.

“What time is it?” Lang Jiuchuan sat upright.

Daman replied: “It is already three quarters past the hour of the Hare. Had you not awakened, we would have roused you.”

Xiao Man added: “My lady must rise quickly. Today the Grand Master’s coffin is to be sealed. All masters of the household must attend. The servants of the Eldest Young Madam came to say it shall be sealed at the second quarter of the hour of the Dragon.”

In the state of Dan, funerals customarily kept the body seven days. On the third day, the coffin was sealed, lest one who only feigned death be interred alive. Now three days had passed since the Grand Master’s passing — the coffin must be sealed.

After seven days, the funeral procession would carry the coffin back to the ancestral lands for burial. Only then would the mourning period truly begin.

As Lang Jiuchuan pondered this process, unease welled within her. To observe mourning meant she could not leave the estate. Without leaving, how could she obtain the merit and resources needed to restore this broken vessel? Was this not more stifling than life at the manor?

Alas! She had not entered a golden cage of fortune, but a hollow sparrow’s cage of vanity!

Lang Jiuchuan struck the bed in anger. “Cui Jue, you have wronged me!”

(End of Chapter)