Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio 02

When Lady Xu mentioned the water-powder, she suddenly recalled something. “How have you been using the Red Jade Fragrant Hand Cream I gave you earlier?” she asked. Without waiting for Lin Lai’s reply, she continued, “That ointment is specifically for hand care—not that I’m picking on you, but really, among girls from families like ours, whose hands are as rough as yours?”

Hearing this, Lin Lai looked at her own fair hands. She knew that residual calluses from sword practice and calligraphy still marred her skin, but she didn’t want to argue with her mother. Instead, she simply replied that she had been dutifully applying the ointment, then smoothly shifted the topic. “So, about catching those mountain bandits—when will Father and the others finally work out a plan? Or is he going to be out drinking again tonight?”

Lady Xu sighed. “With the way they go about things, nothing’s certain.”

Lin Lai merely raised her eyebrows and fell silent, focusing on her meal.

In Lin Lai’s opinion, dealing with bandits shouldn’t have been the merchants’ responsibility. But since the authorities had yet to make any decisions, her father and the other local gentry had no choice but to deliberate on how to handle the growing threat. These bandits had become quite bold and notorious, troubling not only merchants of Changqing County but also those in surrounding areas. Some travelers had not only lost their possessions but their lives as well.

They were clearly a menace that had to be eliminated.

For her own family, there was another worry: her brother was currently returning from the south with a shipment of goods. Although they had hired bodyguards, one could never be too careful. Thus, whether out of public or private interest, her father, a leader among the local merchants, had to devote himself to the matter—which explained his recent preoccupations.

Lin Lai hoped a solution would be found soon.

That evening, she was still preoccupied with these concerns. Yet again, her father sent word home that he would dine out, suggesting the matter was far from resolved.

Lin Lai couldn’t help feeling a bit restless.

But once it was time for her daily calligraphy practice, she gathered her wandering thoughts, letting her mind become calm and clear before she began to write.

She had copied many calligraphy models over time, but the one she practiced most was the Diamond Sutra she held in her hands. Though not an edition by a renowned master, this particular scroll had once been venerated in an ancient temple and seemed to possess a spiritual aura of its own. It was more than capable of warding off common spirits.

This Diamond Sutra had been her greatest talisman, offering her solace as a child in a world where reality and illusion blurred—a world she had come to know all too well. The way she obtained the scroll was itself extraordinary: she had been possessed by a fierce ghost and nearly consumed.

That was when she was five years old—just beginning to adapt to the unique challenges of seeing a world invisible to others. She had learned not to meet the gaze of wandering spirits, careful never to reveal her awareness of them. It felt like her life was finally turning for the better, but fate soon dealt her a cruel blow.

During the Ghost Festival that year, a vengeful spirit escaped from the underworld and discovered Lin Lai’s body—a perfect vessel it wished to claim.

She had survived so long, trembling with fear but finding a sense of family she’d never known in her previous life. There was no way she would let this ghost take over her body. Thinking of the terror she’d endured, and the threat to her family if the ghost succeeded, she finally snapped and fought back.

Truth be told, she was no match for the ghost. But she had one and a half advantages: first, it was her body—her own territory. Second, she wasn’t a mere child; her soul was far stronger than the ghost had expected.

And, as fortune would have it, just as she was nearly spent fighting within her spiritual consciousness, a swordsman arrived at their home in pursuit of the specter. Upon understanding the situation, he intervened without hesitation.

With inside and outside forces combined, Lin Lai survived her ordeal.

Through this, Lin Lai met the first true exorcist she had ever encountered in this world.

It was then she learned what kind of world she had entered.

The swordsman’s name was Yan Chixia—the very Yan Chixia from “Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio: Nie Xiaoqian.”

He left behind the Diamond Sutra for her.

Moreover, after much pleading, Yan Chixia taught her a set of sword techniques. These, Lin Lai practiced relentlessly ever since. That event transformed her outlook: she realized that running away was futile, and that the only way to survive in this world was to become stronger—even the ghosts and spirits would be powerless against her then.

Over time, Lin Lai observed that, be they human or otherwise, all beings followed the same rule: the weak feared the strong.

So, what more needed to be said? She would simply strive to become stronger.

She never relaxed her efforts through all these years, no matter how often her mother lamented her unladylike pursuits. She never considered giving up, for this was her foundation.

Fortunately, Lady Xu merely scolded her rather than forbidding her pursuits. In fact, she often turned a blind eye to many things deemed improper for a young lady.

For this, Lin Lai was grateful, and all the more determined to keep her home at peace, to make demons and spirits tremble at their threshold, and to let her own body shine with light.

Almost every time she copied or recited the Diamond Sutra, she held that wish in her heart.

Over the years, others might not have noticed, but Lin Lai developed a subtle resonance with her yellowed scroll. She even sensed a mysterious spiritual force and, without a teacher, learned how to use it.

Of course, learning on her own meant many missteps. Her study was piled high with all manner of books, and she had gathered talismans from temples and monasteries. She even racked her memory for details from all those old zombie movies, hoping to glean some useful knowledge—even though much from her previous life had faded, she still vividly remembered films like “Mr. Vampire” and “The Taoist Priest with One Eyebrow.”

Lin Lai exhaled a long breath, set down her writing brush, and sat quietly for a moment before rising from her desk.

Glancing up, she noticed something off about Taoyue and her other chief maid, Xingyue.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

The steadier Xingyue stepped forward. “Miss, one of the cloisonné ritual wine vessels has suddenly gone missing.”

Lin Lai raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She recalled that set of cloisonné vessels—unlike ordinary ones, hers followed the latest fashion, crafted with the newest enamel techniques but styled after the ancients. They were beautiful but not particularly valuable; her private collection contained many things worth far more.

Moreover, the set was most valuable as a whole—losing just one seemed odd.

And what did they mean by “suddenly” missing?

Lin Lai asked for more details. She learned that, when Taoyue had gone to fetch a box of jade hairpins that afternoon, she had seen the set still intact. The vessels, gilded and brightly enameled, were hard to miss.

At that time, all the pieces were present.

Afterwards, the storeroom was locked tight—only Taoyue and Xingyue had keys, and neither would steal. With so many people coming and going, if a thief had broken in, surely there would have been some disturbance.

A thought struck Lin Lai. “Why was the storeroom opened again?” Otherwise, how would they have noticed the missing vessel?

Taoyue replied, “Madam gave you two ivory carvings—”

Lin Lai cut her off, “Mother called you over to ask about what happened at the Yang family’s, didn’t she?”

Taoyue quickly answered, “When Sister Hehong from Madam’s side came to fetch me, you were practicing your writing, Miss. We didn’t want to disturb you.” After that, when they went to report back, they discovered the missing vessel.

Lin Lai waved a hand, unconcerned. She only thought her mother must be holding a grudge, ready to vent her anger on Lady Yang—children with children, parents with parents.

Stifling a laugh, she felt rather pleased as she went to investigate the “crime scene.”

After examining the storeroom, Lin Lai was certain that the loss was not the result of theft.

There were no signs of tampering on the lock, and even the dust on the only window’s sill remained undisturbed. No one could have tunneled in, either.

In short, the vessel had simply vanished.

Taoyue and Xingyue knew all this and were even more bewildered.

Lin Lai already had her suspicions. To be sure, she slowly blinked; when her eyes opened, the red mole above her right brow seemed to glow more brightly. In her altered vision, traces of sorcery lingered in the air, accompanied by a faint acrid odor.

A spell to steal objects from a distance—someone had dared use it in her own home. Truly, courting death.

Wait.

A spell to steal from afar.

Suddenly, Lin Lai thought of something. She turned to her maids. “I know what’s going on. You two go about your tasks as usual.”

She added, “Oh, Taoyue, wrap up the remaining vessels and cups for now.”

The girls understood their mistress had drawn her conclusions and promptly complied.

Before leaving the storeroom, Lin Lai examined the ivory carvings her mother had given her, then had Xingyue register and store them away.

Afterwards, Lin Lai washed and prepared for bed as usual.

Night deepened.

The maids on night duty slept outside. Within, Lin Lai, who should have been asleep, quietly rose from bed. She dressed, cut out a paper effigy, and placed it on her bed, affixing to its back a talisman inscribed with “Confound Truth and Falsehood.”

Let me see—what other talisman do I need? she mused.

“Follow the vine to the melon?” “Seek the steed through the picture?” No, “The old horse knows the way” seems more apt. After all, she did have an “old horse.”

But what sort of talisman was this? Unlike any she’d seen in manuals, it was something she had devised herself. She didn’t just write the words; they worked in tandem with her Diamond Sutra.

If the character existed in the Sutra, it would appear directly on the paper. If not, she would select radicals and strokes from other characters, and, after imbuing them with spiritual power, trace them in vermilion. Golden light would shimmer from the Sutra, transferring the strokes to her paper, forming the desired character. Only then would the talisman take effect.

Naturally, not every attempt was successful. In the beginning, she was lucky if one out of ten worked. But with time, her skill and the potency of her talismans increased.

Rummaging through her box of talisman stock, Lin Lai selected a stack and tucked them into her robe. She slung over her shoulder the bundle Taoyue had packed earlier, then quietly left the main house, passed through the moon gate, and entered the small training ground where she practiced swordsmanship. From her bosom, she withdrew a painting.

Moments later, a magnificent white horse with black hooves materialized before her. As soon as its hooves touched the ground, it opened its mouth to neigh.

Lin Lai moved like lightning, clamping the horse’s jaws shut before it could make a sound.

The horse, spirited as ever, snorted and stamped its hooves.

Lin Lai gave a cold snort and threatened to tear the painting in her hand.

The horse stared at her with bright, intelligent eyes. After a moment, it yielded.

Little imp, you think I can’t handle you? Lin Lai thought to herself.