Fortune 002: There’s Really No Need.

“I’m back.” Nan Shi inconspicuously rubbed his arms. To be honest, even though he’d been living here for two months, he still felt a constant undercurrent of unease—after all, what sane person would feel completely at ease living in the kind of haunted… ahem, ancient mansion that every city seems to have?

By the side entrance stood a young man in indigo robes, his back slightly bowed in an attitude of respect. “Young Master, you’re back? The Master requests your presence.”

Nan Shi touched his nose, doing his best not to dwell on the other’s unnaturally pale face. “I’ll go over now.”

A Liang replied, “The Master asks that you wash up first, then come over.”

“Oh.” Nan Shi answered, turning to head to his own room.

It was already past midnight. Yes, he knew—the moon was still high in the sky.

But for his senior brother, this was just about when he would be getting up—the type whose routine was: ‘If the moon isn’t asleep, neither am I; if the moon’s gone to bed, I’ll keep on partying anyway.’

This thought brought Nan Shi a touch of relief. Thankfully, within two weeks of moving in, he’d uncovered his senior brother’s schedule and insisted on relocating to the southwest courtyard instead. There, a corridor connected to his senior brother’s quarters, and it took barely three minutes to traverse; otherwise, in this colossal house, had he remained in the originally assigned eastern courtyard, just walking to his senior’s place would have taken over ten minutes.

Not to mention, along the way, you’d be bound to bump into various servants who seemed to move without a sound.

Back in his room, Nan Shi wasn’t in any particular hurry. He took a proper shower, scrubbing away the lingering chill from his earlier frantic run.

At his insistence, his room was modern in style: radiant floor heating, air conditioning, television, and wifi—all the amenities. Only the doors and windows retained their classical design, but otherwise, it was no different from any regular house.

While he was washing, the door was knocked four times. Nan Shi, still in the bathroom, called out, “Come in.” The door opened, and a young woman in pale blue traditional dress, eyes lowered modestly, quietly gathered his dirty clothes from the chair outside the shower, hung his freshly laundered garments in the wardrobe, and withdrew without a sound.

As the door closed, Nan Shi breathed a silent sigh of relief and focused on enjoying the rest of his hot shower. Afterward, he donned his quilted pajamas and hurried to his senior brother’s place.

“Senior brother, it’s me, Nan Shi.” He rapped three times and waited for permission before entering respectfully, bowing. “You wanted to see me?”

Chi You seemed just awakened, sprawled on the couch and reading by the blue glow of a lamp. At Nan Shi’s entrance, he looked up with a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips. “Back already?”

Rising from the couch, Chi You walked over to the table and sat down, his wide sleeves sweeping elegantly across the floor. He gestured for Nan Shi to join him. “Come, sit.”

Nan Shi nodded and seated himself at the table. Once he was settled, two maids in blue brought in several dishes. Chi You picked up his chopsticks with casual grace. “It’s nothing in particular. Keep me company for a bite.”

“Oh.” Nan Shi felt himself relax somewhat, smiling. “Just as well, I was getting a bit hungry.”

“I expected as much.” Chi You smiled faintly, voice laden with meaning. “You had a trying day.”

Nan Shi ladled a bowl of fish noodle soup and ate heartily, mumbling, “It was alright, I suppose.”

“The day was fine, just… ran into a young woman on my way home who wanted me to divine her pet’s fate.”

His senior listened with amused interest. “So, what did you discover?”

Nan Shi, dissatisfied with plain noodles but finding no preferred toppings, turned the noodles over with his chopsticks only to uncover two hefty pork chops at the bottom of the bowl—one braised, one fried. The fried chop, its battered crust soaked in broth, was wonderfully fragrant and juicy, a perfect melding of meat and soup.

He swallowed a mouthful and replied, “…Not bad, it turned out. The cat was very loyal; if I read the signs right, it’s been keeping watch at her grave. I didn’t spell it out too bluntly—no point making a girl weep like crazy right there in the street… She’d have howled just like a calico if I had, so I simply pointed her in the right direction.”

“That’s good.” His senior brother replied coolly, putting down his chopsticks. “That’s all. Once you’ve eaten, go back and sleep.”

“Alright, thank you, senior brother.” Nan Shi quickly finished the noodles, wiped his mouth, and took his leave.

As he reached the door, he heard Chi You speak with gentle indifference, “Try to move around more in the future, don’t spend your whole day sitting in the shop. It’s not good for your health.”

Nan Shi paused, not turning around. “Understood, senior brother. I’m going to bed.”

With that, he stepped out—perhaps unable to restrain himself, he closed the door a bit harder than necessary.

Immediately, he heard Chi You laughing inside.

Nan Shi rolled his eyes skyward—he knew it! That girl had kept silent at the start just to scare him on purpose!

So what if he’d spent the afternoon gaming at the shop! Did that really merit having a vengeful ghost chase him for almost eight hundred meters just to force him to exercise?! Was that really necessary?!

Still, Nan Shi dutifully set a reminder on his phone, scheduling an alarm every hour to get up, take a lap, and look at the sky—anything to avoid being chased by a ghost on his way home at night ever again.

As Nan Shi made his way back, the passing servants all stepped aside; those who couldn’t quickly enough stopped to the corridor’s edge, bowing their heads and kneeling, waiting until he had passed to resume moving.

Usually, Nan Shi played his part well enough by pretending not to see them. But this evening, for some reason, a sudden mischievous impulse came over him, and he casually called out to a passing servant, instructing, “Oh, and tell the Master to stop reading by candlelight—that flicker is bad for the eyes. It’s the middle of the night; what’s he reading for anyway? It’s not as though he’s studying for the imperial exams, so why work so hard?”

At Chi You’s age, even the college entrance exam would be long behind him.

The servant looked up, faint confusion on his face. “Young Master, should I convey that to the Master word for word?”

Nan Shi paused for a moment and then gritted his teeth: “No, just tell him the first part.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant started heading toward Chi You’s courtyard, but Nan Shi called him back. “On second thought—forget it. His eyes can’t really get worse. Never mind, go on with your duties.”

“Yes, sir.” Though baffled, the servant dutifully went back to work.

A faint, almost inaudible laugh sounded from behind Nan Shi. He snapped, “Don’t laugh.”

The female voice cut off immediately. “Yes, Young Master.”

A maid in blue slowly stepped from the shadows by the trees, holding a tray covered with a white cloth. “Young Master, the Master asked me to give you this as a client’s token of thanks.”

Nan Shi twitched at the eyelid. This was Qing He, the chief maid at his senior’s side. He raised a finger solemnly. “You didn’t overhear anything just now, correct?”

Qing He replied with a smile, “I just arrived and don’t know what Young Master refers to.”

“Very good.” Nan Shi lifted the cloth and found a bag of cat food inside, the airtight seal already broken. There was a note stuck on top: For the stray cats.

He recognized the handwriting—the girl in red again. He waved dismissively. “Take it out and feed the strays.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

Watching Qing He’s retreating form, Nan Shi couldn’t help berating himself—why couldn’t he hold his tongue? Why not wait until reaching his room to complain? Now, if his senior brother found out, who knows what fresh torment might await him!

He was doomed.

---

The next morning, just as the sky lightened—around six o’clock—Nan Shi was woken up.

The blue-clad maid, Qing Lan, stared down at him, her face oozing blood from every orifice, their faces all but touching. Nan Shi was so startled he couldn’t utter a sound, lying there in silence, locked in a staring match.

After a moment, Qing Lan suddenly smiled, blood pooling along the edges of her eye sockets, about to drip onto Nan Shi’s blanket.

Nan Shi yanked the blanket away on reflex: “Wait! That’s my favorite cover!”

At once, the blood vanished, revealing a handsome, beautiful face. “Forgive me, Young Master. The Master said you must get used to it.”

Nan Shi covered his eyes, sighing in a ghost of a whisper, “That’s just… thank you so much!”

Thank heavens he managed to swallow the curse that was on the tip of his tongue.

Mission complete, Qing Lan began her usual chores. Everyone in the mansion knew Nan Shi was afraid of ghosts. She hung that day’s outfit within easy reach and tiptoed away.

Watching her go, Nan Shi let out a long breath, rubbing his frantically beating heart. He lay back down and slept another three hours, getting up only once the sun was blazing hot outside, then got dressed, ate breakfast, and left for work.

It wasn’t laziness; honestly, who goes to the shop on the pedestrian street first thing in the morning while on vacation?

Everyone in that district opened at ten at the earliest, with some more slothful types not opening till noon or even the evening.

His new robe was a silver-gray embroidered with two bamboo stalks in matching thread—one word for it: luxurious.

Nan Shi was used to it by now. He slipped it on, grabbed his keys, and headed off to work.

Usually, a house closed up all night would smell stuffy, especially Nan Shi’s shop, which was filled with antiques scavenged from flea markets. Whether real or fake, these pieces always had faint but peculiar odors, so his daily habit was to open up and air the shop first thing.

But not today. When he stepped inside, everything was fresh and clean. Incense burned in the reception room, filling the place with the subtle, ancient aroma of sandalwood—utterly delightful.

Nan Shi paused. Did he forget to close the windows last night? Impossible. Had someone broken in?

Just as he moved to check if anything was missing, a flash of red appeared in one shadowy corner. Thanks to what had happened that morning—and the fact that it was now broad daylight—he wasn’t particularly alarmed. Looking closer, he saw it was the girl from yesterday.

She smiled, “Don’t be afraid, sir—it was just me, cleaning up. I have nothing much to thank you with—my bank card’s money all went to my mother, so I could only tidy up your shop as a token of gratitude. The cat food—I thought it’d be a shame to waste it, so could you help me feed the strays?”

“I did,” Nan Shi replied, steadying himself. “Did you find your cat?”

“I did.” The girl’s skirt shifted, and a scrawny orange tabby popped out, nimbly leaping into her arms and snuggling close. She was clearly content, stroking the cat’s head. “This rascal’s so thin from hunger—I’ll have to fatten him up again. At any rate, we’ll never be parted now.”

“That’s good.” Nan Shi could tell the cat wasn’t alive, but didn’t pry. Her satisfaction brought a smile to his lips. “Take good care of him. People say cats are heartless, but this one looks plenty loyal to me.”

The girl stuck out her tongue—and, distracted, accidentally extended it down past her collarbone. She hurriedly stuffed it back. “Sorry, sorry, lost control… I never noticed that before.”

“Sir, tonight I’ll be taking my enemy down with me,” she said with a gentle smile, an odd thought seeming to cross her mind. “Don’t worry, he’s already locked up—the authorities here work fast!”

“Apart from cleaning, I came mainly to introduce you to a client.”

She blinked—this time, thank goodness, her eyes stayed put. “He’s my grandfather’s friend, and he’ll come by tonight. Just keep the shop open a little later.”

“…? But I—”

“Please, sir, don’t refuse. We all understand the rules—with the Master nearby, no one would dare cause trouble.” With that, the girl cradled her cat and thanked him once again before vanishing.

Nan Shi slumped into a chair, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

People can’t—or at least shouldn’t… In short: this was really all too much.