Chapter Fifty-Four: The Waters Run Too Deep

In the alley of Yellow Clay, while the scholars were stirring up trouble, Ajou and Alan’s hearts had been tightly clenched for over ten days.

Alan followed Ajou’s advice and secretly took thirty taels of silver from the tavern’s accounts to purchase two courtyards and a shop, all in anticipation of the coming “demolition.” If such a large sum of silver went to waste, or got trapped in the dilapidated houses of Yellow Clay Alley, Ajou would likely have to pack up and leave. Fortunately, good days arrived swiftly.

With the scholars’ ghost-banishing efforts and the demolition and reconstruction project underway, the property and land prices in Yellow Clay Alley soared, multiplying several times in value. This was already impressive, given Ajou and Alan’s lack of experience—if He Chang’an were involved, the second-generation demolition scheme would have been even grander.

Still, things were looking up. Alan spent her days tapping the small abacus at her side, calculating how to secure Ajou once the easily gained silver was in hand.

Ajou was as dense as a block of elm wood. No matter how Alan hinted, plainly or subtly, he always missed the mark, treating her as a sister—or even a buddy.

“This stubborn Ajou, must I spell it out for him…” she thought.

And so, on an early winter morning, as the sun rose in the east and painted Alan’s smiling face with a rosy glow, her heart thudded wildly.

“Ajou, do you like me?” Alan bit her lip, her smile hovering somewhere between amusement and shyness.

“Mm, I like you,” Ajou replied, busy drying wine lees, his voice muffled and gravelly.

“Then, what do you find pretty about me?” Alan pressed.

“You’re pretty all over,” Ajou said.

“Would you marry me?” Alan, bashful, finally voiced her deepest wish, her lovely face flushing crimson.

“Uh, I have no silver…” Ajou finally looked up, speaking earnestly, “I can’t give you a good life.”

“I don’t want a good life, I want you,” Alan replied, moving closer like a clingy cat, crouching beside Ajou and rubbing against him, laughing softly, “Marry me and I’ll be your good life.”

She tried to blow into Ajou’s ear, but her breath was uneven, not cooperating, only stirring a stray lock by his ear.

Ajou shrank his neck, subtly evading Alan, laughing, “You’re making me feel ticklish…”

“That’s exactly what I want—I want you to be ticklish, I want to be ticklish…” Alan’s face was flushed as if drunk, melting against Ajou, murmuring softly, making his heart race.

“Alan, your father’s here,” Ajou whispered.

“I’m not afraid of him, I only want you…” Alan clung on, boneless and soft, her hand in Ajou’s grasp felt like a pale noodle.

“Your father really is here,” Ajou grew flustered.

“No worries, my father’s old. This tavern will be mine sooner or later, and when the day comes, you’ll be the only man in the house…” Alan’s almond-shaped eyes half-closed, her breath steaming faintly, she resembled a drunken little monster.

“Alan, let go… Your father really is here.” Ajou tried to pry her off, afraid she’d fall, bewildered and helpless.

“What’s there to fear? My father won’t stop me from marrying, he’s just stubborn…” Alan reached for Ajou’s waist.

Her arms found only air.

Ajou, like a startled rabbit, bolted to the low wall in a few quick steps, hiding behind several large wine jars, peering out nervously.

Alan opened her eyes just in time to see her father, wielding a thick wooden stick, swinging it at Ajou…

…

He Chang’an slept for seven or eight hours before finally “waking gently.”

As usual, he washed up briefly, brewed a pot of clear tea and drank it slowly, sitting on a stone bench and leafing through a few pages of “Famous Courtesans of the Tang Dynasty.”

He had meant to read something more refined, but given his life in the Demon-Slaying Bureau and the Demon-Suppressing Tower, surrounded by monsters and rough martial types, the affectations of a scholar seemed out of place.

It wasn’t because Li Yishan’s “handwritten copy” was particularly entertaining…

Lady Brocade, Lady Butterfly, Lady Blue Jade, Lady Sunwarm… Among the twelve “Golden Hairpins of Chang’an,” Lady Brocade was clearly the top.

“This feeling is worthy of remembrance, but at the time, it was all confusion.”

“Who would’ve thought, that old trickster Li Yishan actually has talent. I wonder where he copied those two lines of poetry from—they’re so pleasant to read.”

“This Li Yishan is still not professional enough. How can he write such risqué books without illustrations…”

“Next time I see the old man, I must remind him.”

When the tea was finished, He Chang’an put away “Famous Courtesans of the Tang Dynasty,” stretched lazily, and headed for the Demon-Suppressing Tower’s cafeteria.

After lingering here for some time, many faces had become familiar. On the way, he encountered two Demon-Slayers, also heading to eat. He Chang’an greeted them warmly and followed them into the dining hall.

The food at the Demon-Suppressing Tower was excellent: four dishes and a soup, two meat and two vegetable, paired with a basin of spirit beast meat soup for the martial practitioners’ training needs—outside, it would cost several taels of silver.

He Chang’an sipped his soup slowly, suddenly recalling the gluttonous little nun, who ate so much yet never gained any weight…

It was settled, such a shame.

“He Chang’an, why’s your face so pale? Don’t tell me you couldn’t handle it and went off to play with a female ghost all night?” joked a Yellow-Rank Demon-Slayer.

“Exactly, take it easy, kid. Merit points are precious, but your life matters more,” another laughed.

“Isn’t that the truth,” He Chang’an shook his head with a bitter smile, “Yesterday, a Deceit Demon called Hu Buyan nearly killed me.”

“What? Deceit Demon Hu Buyan?!” Both men were startled, disbelief written on their faces. “That’s a demon confined on the third floor—why were you sent to suppress it?”

“Must’ve been a mistake. I was clueless and barely stepped through the door before nearly falling victim. If Captain Chen hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead.”

He Chang’an pulled a long face, continuing, “Luckily, I exchanged all my merit points for Life-Restoring Pills and took three in succession to regain my strength.”

The two Yellow-Rank Demon-Slayers exchanged odd looks and finally couldn’t help but say, “Brother, Life-Restoring Pills only work on yin and evil energies. That Deceit Demon Hu Buyan… requires Buddhist methods to suppress.”

“Buddhist methods?” He Chang’an was stunned. “Aren’t those considered heretical?”

“That’s what outsiders say,” one Yellow-Rank Demon-Slayer sidled closer, lowering his voice. “Here at the Demon-Slaying Bureau, whether it’s Buddhist, Daoist, or even Confucian Sage techniques, we can all study and borrow from them. Of course, this is Director Zheng’s view—don’t spread it around.”

“Our Director Zheng is truly insightful,” He Chang’an remarked offhandedly.

“Absolutely. Director Zheng believes our mission is to slay demons and exorcise evil, so we must have methods and techniques to deal with them. Buddhism naturally counters demonic forces, Confucian righteousness suppresses ghosts, Daoist arts are effective against monsters…”

“However, this approach has drawn criticism from some at court, who claim the Demon-Slaying Bureau dabbling in non-martial arts is bound to court disaster.”

Listening to their discussion, He Chang’an understood.

The waters of the Demon-Slaying Bureau ran deep—too deep.

Still, He Chang’an had no intention of revealing his own righteous energy, nor did he plan to study or borrow “heretical” techniques.

For now, his greatest goal was survival.

To find out who was targeting him.

And, while he was at it, to kill Chen Double-Blade.