Chapter Fifteen: The Weeping Blood of the Cuckoo

I had not expected that Gu Anqi, this young woman in red whose age seemed so close to mine, would possess such profound and precise understanding of geomancy. Every word she spoke was accurate and incisive.

“Miss Gu… I didn’t realize you were so knowledgeable in feng shui and geomancy. I’d be honored to discuss it with you sometime.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare say I could teach you anything, but we could certainly research together,” Gu Anqi replied with a sweet smile, casting a sideways glance at Xiao Lianshan. “Of course, if someone just pretends to know, there’s no point.”

“You—” Xiao Lianshan reddened with frustration, unable to vent his anger.

I turned my gaze down the mountain. To the east, the mountain resembled a bird in flight, yet this Lonely Peak seemed to look westward. This puzzled me. “East-flying shrikes, west-flying swallows—parting never to meet again.” I muttered to myself, reflecting on this.

“How odd. Who would ever bury someone in such a place?”

“Yan Hui, could it be the person who chose the burial site wasn’t skilled enough and made a mistake with the feng shui?” Gu Anqi had come to stand beside me without my noticing.

“You silly girl, don’t you know a young lady should be reserved? We’ve only just met and you’re already calling him ‘brother.’ Who’s your brother?” Xiao Lianshan grumbled, annoyed by Gu Anqi’s familiarity with me.

I found Gu Anqi increasingly endearing, and her way of addressing me brought an inexplicable sense of comfort to my heart.

“Miss Gu…”

“Don’t call me Miss Gu—it sounds so awkward. Yan Hui, just call me Anqi.”

Startled, I nodded and smiled. Anqi—a lovely name.

“Yan Hui, the feng shui here really isn’t suitable for burials. The feng shui master must have made a mistake.”

I shook my head. The three mountains formed a pattern like three blades stabbing at the sky. True, it was a formation of three blades breaking evil spirits, unsuitable for interring ancestors. What’s more, the east and west mountains ignored each other, like shrikes and swallows parting forever, never to meet. In this layout, it was either as Anqi guessed—a mistaken reading of the land—or…

Even I hesitated at my own theory. Anqi quickly pressed me, “Or what?”

I looked up. The full moon hung high, flanked by sparse stars, a thin veil of cloud floating before it. I told her we’d have to wait until the clouds moved away from the moon before I could be sure.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked Anqi how a young woman like her had managed to climb to the mountaintop to examine feng shui.

“That’s a secret. My father told me never to let anyone enter the ancient tomb here. I’ve been here on the mainland for months, observing this place. Many people have been digging below for months but can’t find an entrance. I got curious and wanted to see where it might be.”

“Absolutely no one should enter?” I frowned. “Why not?”

“That… I can’t say. You just can’t go in, that’s all.” Anqi pouted, evading the question.

“Brother, the clouds have cleared!” Xiao Lianshan exclaimed, pointing at the sky in excitement.

I looked up, startled. As I began to calculate with my left hand, Anqi noticed and was surprised that I could read the stars. Xiao Lianshan, still holding back his frustration, hurried to boast, “My brother can do anything—certainly better than you.”

My calculations confirmed my suspicions. This was a site selected with utmost care; there had been no mistake in choosing this feng shui.

“What? Someone would actually bury someone in a place like this?” Anqi asked, bewildered.

“Who said there’s a person buried in this tomb?” I replied confidently.

“Not a person? Then what on earth is buried here?” Xiao Lianshan was confused. “If it’s not a person, what else could it be?”

“This tomb is built to the standards of a general,” I said.

“But Yan Hui, you just said it wasn’t a person. Now it’s a general?” Anqi pressed.

I pointed to the mountain behind the tomb and explained that this was where the feng shui’s subtlety lay. At first glance, the three mountains were like three blades, but when considered alongside the astral patterns, it was different. The main peak soared like an unsheathed sword pointing to the heavens, aligned directly with the Martial Star—which governs military prowess and ensures victory in battle.

“What about the other two peaks?”

“Look,” I said, “these two peaks stand straight as spears, but they’re steep and solitary, especially this Lonely Peak where we’re standing now. Notice what grows most on the mountaintop?”

“Now that you mention it, there are red-flowered trees everywhere on the summit, but not elsewhere,” Xiao Lianshan observed.

Anqi picked a blossom from a tree, sniffed it, and said with some puzzlement, “This is a rhododendron.”

“Azaleas?” Xiao Lianshan said.

I nodded. The flower in Anqi’s hand was indeed a rhododendron, scarlet and bright. Xiao Lianshan noticed that only the summit had such flowers. The Lonely Peak, shaped like a spear, was a weapon—and now its tip was stained red, a dire omen, pointing straight at the North Star.

Anqi looked up in astonishment and exclaimed, “The North Star… In geomancy, the North Star is the Emperor’s Star!”

“You’re exactly right, Anqi,” I replied. “The layout here isn’t just ordinary feng shui; it’s designed to dethrone an emperor. Whoever set this trap must have hated him bitterly. The everlasting azaleas on the summit, like a spear stained with the emperor’s blood, symbolize the famous ‘Azalea Weeping Blood’ formation!”

“Azalea Weeping Blood? Brother, what does that mean?”

“In ancient times, the Emperor of Shu, called the Wishing Emperor, was named Du Yu. Because of poor governance, his kingdom fell. After his death, his spirit became a cuckoo, weeping blood every night and crying, ‘Better to return home! Better to return home!’” Anqi explained beside me.

I nodded and spoke calmly, “This peak is called Lonely Peak. ‘Lonely’ was how ancient emperors referred to themselves—‘the lonely one’ meant ‘the emperor.’ So, Lonely Peak… Wishing Emperor!”

Anqi looked up at the night sky, suddenly enlightened. “Yan Hui, if that’s the case, then the person who created this formation was truly a master.”

“More than a master—deeply inscrutable. The Wishing Emperor longed to return, to start anew, but the eastern and western mountains here are like shrikes and swallows, parting forever, never to reunite—which means never being able to return. Even I must admire such genius. I don’t know who this emperor was, but with feng shui like this, he was doomed to a tragic end.”

Anqi looked at me with admiration, her eyes sparkling. “Yan Hui, you’re amazing. I’ve come up here dozens of times and never saw through it. Even my father might not have figured it out so quickly.”

I’d never been praised so directly by a girl before; my face flushed red. “I don’t know why, but it’s like everything just appears in my mind, as if I’m reading from a book, and I just have to recite what’s written.”

“Yan Hui, you said earlier that this tomb doesn’t contain a person. Then what is buried here?”

“Lianshan, didn’t you want to study geomancy? Come, let me teach—” I turned, only to realize Xiao Lianshan had disappeared. Typical—he was never suited for such things.

I explained to Anqi, “This formation is so intricate, its purpose is to destroy an emperor. The ‘Azalea Weeping Blood’ shape is there, but not the spirit. The key to activating the formation lies in what is buried beneath, inside the so-called tomb. It only looks like a tomb to mislead people; in truth, it isn’t a tomb at all.”

“Not a tomb?” Anqi blinked in surprise. “Then what is it?”

“It’s an altar!”

“Oh! I see. The altar is the key to unleashing the formation, disguised as a tomb to avoid suspicion.”

Anqi truly was clever—she understood at once.

But just as I finished speaking, I froze, staring in shock at something behind Anqi. She turned, confused by my gaze, but it was too late for me to stop her. A man stood there, his face twisted and grotesque, tongue protruding, blood seeping from his upturned eyes, hands stained with crimson, raised just inches from her face.

Startled by the sudden apparition, Anqi screamed and fainted on the spot.

I stared blankly at the monstrous figure and asked in astonishment, “What are you doing?”

Xiao Lianshan, having switched off his flashlight, looked nervously at the unconscious Anqi and stammered, “I… I thought she was brave, so I wanted to see if she’d be scared…”

I sighed helplessly, handing him a tissue to wipe away the rhododendron paint from his face.

“Are you satisfied now? Scaring people like that could kill them. Now you’ve frightened her unconscious—what will you do?”

“Brother… I… I just wanted to test her. Who knew she’d be so faint-hearted… Brother, what should I do?” Xiao Lianshan was panicking.

“Don’t just stand there—pick her up and carry her down the mountain. If anything happens to her, you’ll be in trouble.” I urged loudly.

Flustered, Xiao Lianshan nodded, hefted Anqi onto his shoulder, and hurried down the slope.

“She’s not a pig for you to carry like that. Can’t you be a bit more gentle?” I said, exasperated.

Xiao Lianshan turned back blankly, cradled Anqi in his arms, and continued on his way.

As we neared the foot of the mountain, I noticed Xiao Lianshan’s face was unusually red. Concerned, I asked, “Lianshan, you look flushed—are you tired?”

“No… not at all… She barely weighs anything—I could carry her like a chick.”

“Then why’s your face so red?”

“Brother… she… she smells so sweet, it’s making my head spin and my mind go numb. I feel dizzy and short of breath. What’s happening to me? Smell for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Bumped around as she was carried down, Anqi came to just in time to hear Xiao Lianshan suggest I take a whiff. Protectively clutching her chest, she slapped him hard. Five bright red fingerprints appeared on his cheek.

Stunned, Xiao Lianshan dropped her to the ground and shouted, “You silly girl, don’t you know good intentions? I carried you all the way down—was it easy? How can you hit me without even asking why?”

I hurried to help Anqi up and apologized. “Anqi, I’m truly sorry. Lianshan was just joking around and didn’t mean to frighten you. It was me who told him to carry you down. We had no other intentions.”

Hearing that it was Xiao Lianshan who’d carried her down, Anqi’s cheeks flushed. She bit her lip, glared at him, and then turned to leave. After a few steps, she seemed to remember something, returned solemnly to me, and said, “Yan Hui, you must remember—under no circumstances should anyone go inside!”