Chapter 300

They indeed started by targeting Mei Lin Shuang.

Li Qingying asked, "Xiao Jiu, should we intervene? Mei Lin Shuang... she's so pitiful."

I shook my head: "Sister Qingying, have you considered that if Mei Lin Shuang didn't want to cooperate, she could have come to us for help, but she didn't."

After my blood dripped into that red coffin, Mei Lin Shuang had a brief moment to break free.

Otherwise, how could she have wielded that death-by-a-thousand-cuts blade? And how could she have given a sack of silver dollars to the Red Flag child?

Li Qingying immediately realized: "You mean Mei Lin Shuang probably wants to return to the stage?"

Having said that, I immediately went back to my room, took out the box that originally held the water sleeve and the town gazette, opened it and checked it thoroughly, then went to the main hall and fetched the death-by-a-thousand-cuts blade, placed it together in the box, handed it to Li Qingying, and said: "Sister Qingying, keep an eye on the assembly hall side, look for an opportunity to put this box into the red coffin; if it won't fit, bury it around the stage—just make sure it's done silently."

Li Qingying took the box with both hands; her fingers trembled slightly, yet her expression inexplicably showed excitement. She blinked, lowered her voice, and said: "Great, I love the feeling of secretly scheming together with you."

I patted her shoulder; Li Qingying secured the box and left.

I also locked the pawnshop door and headed straight for the teahouse.

The teahouse was already bustling in the early morning.

Inside the teahouse, people were drinking tea and having breakfast, listening to storytelling, and practicing morning exercises on the open ground beside it; indeed, a new stage had been erected in the center of the clearing—it wasn't large, and there were no seats beneath it.

At that moment, the stage was completely empty.

I noticed many people doing morning exercises here, but they all kept a noticeable distance from the stage, as if it were taboo.

I approached an auntie practicing fan dance and asked, "Auntie, I heard this stage only opens at night, right? So late at night, does anyone actually come to watch the performance?"

The auntie immediately folded her fan, pulled me aside, covered both our faces with it, and whispered mysteriously, "Shopkeeper Xiao Jiu, you probably don't know—this stage wasn't built for us townsfolk; it's a ghost stage."

I startled: "Ah? A ghost stage? What is a ghost stage?"

"'A ghost stage is where ghosts perform operas,' the auntie said, feeling sneaky, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. 'I've heard that at night, ghosts sing on this stage, and the audience below are also ghosts. Lately, our Wufu Town has been unsettled.'"

I scratched my head, pretending not to know, and said, "I went out a few days ago and just came back yesterday; I haven't noticed any changes in our town."

"'There have been big changes,' the auntie said. 'Didn't you notice how quiet the town was last night? As soon as it got dark, everyone locked their doors and dared not wander outside. Apparently, someone once encountered a corpse on the road at night—bloody, skinless—really frightening.'"

As she spoke, she involuntarily shivered: "Oh dear, I can't tell you more—it's too creepy. I'm going home to make breakfast for my little grandson."

Having said that, she gathered her things and hurried away.

Li Qingying had previously told me that this teahouse is always lively at night.

But judging from the auntie's description, the teahouse's liveliness has little to do with the townsfolk of Wufu Town.

The teahouse has set up a ghost stage, while over at the assembly hall, Mei Lin Shuang clearly intends to return to the stage.

The stage at the assembly hall hasn't been rebuilt yet, but those things have already gathered there at night.

Is this situation a kind of game between the teahouse and the assembly hall?

I turned and entered the teahouse to look for the owner.

In the morning, with many customers, the proprietress was busy; she ushered me into a private room to sit, while she bustled about, swaying her slender waist and full hips.

I waited until the morning tea rush passed, then the proprietress brought several pastries to the private room, closed the door, and sat down opposite me.

I kept looking at her.

She's about thirty, somewhat plump but with a fine figure, her skin fair and tender, her smile sweet; however, upon closer look her hands show old calluses, indicating she's no ordinary person.

Perhaps my gaze was too blatant; the proprietress covered her face and giggled, teasing, "Xiao Jiu, if you keep looking at people like that, they might get the wrong idea."

I quickly withdrew my gaze, smiling, and asked, "May I ask your surname, proprietress?"

"'My surname is Chen,' the proprietress said as she poured me tea. 'I'm Chen Fuying; you can just call me Yingying.'"

She was straightforward, so I bluntly asked, "Yingying, were you sent by the previous owner, Gu Yan, to run the teahouse? Are you also from Hunan's western region?"

Chen Fuying shook her head: "Actually, before I took over this teahouse, I didn't know the previous owner, I'm not from western Hunan, and my ancestral home is Jiangcheng Wufu Town."

I furrowed my brows; this didn't match my expectation: "As far as I know, Gu Yan is a very cautious person; if you didn't have something capable of moving her, she wouldn't have handed over the teahouse to you."

"'Exactly,' Chen Fuying said candidly, 'Before me, many people wanted to acquire this teahouse but were rejected. I was able to take it over smoothly because it originally belonged to my family's ancestral estate; reclaiming it is essentially returning property to its rightful owner, so Gu Yan had no reason to refuse me.'"

I looked at Chen Fuying in astonishment, carefully pondering each word she had said.

"'The Returning Swallow' teahouse was originally the ancestral property of the Chen Fuying family… Chen Fuying… Chen?!"

My gaze toward Chen Fuying instantly turned sharp: "Are you a descendant of Chen Ping?"

Chen Fuying's scallion-white fingers slightly curled as she rested her chin, thought for a moment, and said: "Well, you could put it that way; after all, the surname Chen was indeed granted by Chen Ping to my great-grandfather. Over the past century, our family has passed through four generations, constantly hiding and fleeing, and I am the sole surviving descendant. I have no way of tracing what our original surname was."

I found it hard to believe: "Bestowing a surname?"

I've only seen such things on TV, like an emperor granting a surname.

I never imagined that over a hundred years ago, Chen Ping could casually bestow a surname—and even give his own surname to Chen Fuying's great-grandfather.

This shows that Chen Fuying's great-grandfather at least made a living under Chen Ping.

Chen Fuying hummed, her voice loud yet sweet, naturally carrying a coy, endearing tone: "This teahouse was built up by my great-grandfather alone; its business had always been lukewarm until he invited a theater troupe, promoted a performer, and the teahouse boomed. That performer later became my great-grandmother."

After Chen Ping seized control of the Five Blessings Territory, he also became enamored with my great-grandmother's singing and appearance; at that time he was the local emperor of Wufu Town, and wanting her, he subjected my great-grandfather to extreme torment—beating him, imprisoning him, changing his surname, and bestowing upon him the name 'Chen Ah Gou' (Chen the Dog).

Great-grandfather kept gritting his teeth and persisting, because great-grandmother was already pregnant at the time, but every evening, Chen Ping forced my great-grandfather to carry my great-grandmother to the Marshal's Mansion to give him a private performance. 」