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Gu Yi Niang: The Ancient Maiden
墨書 Inktalez
On the twelfth night of the Awakening of Insects in the Republic of China, the Hundred-Year Stage by the banks of the Yuan River rang out inexplicably.
The renowned Wu Sheng, Zhou Yanhui, opened the Sandalwood Chest and discovered that his missing junior sister, Costume, was wrapped around a skeleton. Crawling beneath the Jade Mask were Blood Centipedes. Boss trembled as he pointed to the embroidered pattern on his collar—clearly, it was the "Yin Hun Fu" used by the Xiangxi Undertaker to suppress evil spirits.
As Zhou Yanhui pushed open the weathered vermilion door of the theater, the draped Costume suddenly moved without wind. The faded fish-scale armor made a faint clattering sound, as if countless vengeful souls were struggling within the folds of the cloud-patterned fabric. He looked up at the dragon-headed figure perched between Liang Zhu; the copper bell held in its mouth had long since rusted to a bluish-green, yet clusters of long black hair were tangled around its tongue.
" Boss Zhou, watch your step." Boss Wang Sihai approached with a white paper lantern, its candlelight illuminating the dark purple bruises around his neck. The lantern's paper was stained with brown spots that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be dried blood fingerprints. The wooden floorboards creaked underfoot.
Zhou Yanhui caught sight of scratch marks along the edge of the stage; deep grooves embedded with broken nails glimmered a ghastly gray from being soaked in corpses. On the backstage Sandalwood Chest lay a Copper Lock, its keyhole filled with dark red grime, resembling blood rust that had seeped in over many years.
"This is Boss Liu's old trunk." Wang Sihai handed him a keychain with a human tooth attached, half of a Jade Mask wedged between its gaps. "No one dared to open it after that great fire three years ago."
As the Copper Lock sprang open, Zhou Yanhui caught a strong whiff of rich sandalwood incense. A scarlet Costume curled into a human shape inside the chest, revealing half of a bone-white jaw beneath its emerald headpiece. He pinched a piece of the headpiece; from within the golden-threaded peony center emerged a Blood Centipede, its delicate legs scraping out a melody from "Youyuan Jingmeng."
To his horror, the centipede bore a human face that perfectly resembled his missing junior sister, Liu Chanyi. "Senior Brother..." it suddenly spoke in human language as all windows around the theater slammed shut.
Zhou Yanhui staggered back, his lower back colliding with stacked trunks. The topmost helmet box toppled over with a crash, rolling out a desiccated head—exactly how Liu Chanyi appeared when she performed as Du Liniang, her hair adorned with the Tortoiseshell Comb he had gifted her.
Wang Sihai abruptly extinguished the lantern; in the darkness, something slick coiled around Zhou Yanhui's ankle. He swung his sword to cut it away, slicing through a section of flowing sleeves. That crimson silk fluttered under the moonlight, oozing black blood at its severed edge and tracing out patterns resembling an Xiangxi Corpse Transport Talisman on the ground.
A scream from Hua Dan echoed from the back, and as Zhou Yanhui rushed over, the copper mirror reflected the unscathed face of the new junior sister Lin Xiu, while her real face was shredded into a web of silver strands.
Old Qin Master Zhang Songling used the strings of his Erhu to ensnare the girl's neck, and with a sharp pull of the bow, the Crown of Heaven was abruptly lifted. Dozens of Silver-Winged Centipedes surged out from her cranial cavity, each bearing a laughing human face.
“It's Hua Pi Jiang's soul-binding silk!” Zhang Songling coughed hoarsely, his eyes swirling with Gu Worms. “These centipedes have devoured her memories while gnawing at her brain.”
Zhou Yanhui flicked her sword to lift one of the centipedes. The face on its back suddenly twisted and cried out in Liu Chanyi's voice, “Brother, run! This Xitai is…”
Before the words could finish, the centipede was cleaved in half by Zhang Songling's bow, and the splattered juices carved the blood-red words “Hollow Hour Do Not Open Box” into the vanity.
The night wind swept in with Joss Paper, crashing against the lattice window. Zhou Yanhui noticed that each piece of Joss Paper depicted portraits of members from the Opera Troupe, with their birthdates written in corpse oil on the back.
Wang Sihai squatted at the edge of the Xitai, burning paper. The flames were an eerie blue, scorching black tear stains into the faces on those Joss Paper.
“It’s time to perform ‘Redwood Box’,” came a voice from Boss, sounding as if it emerged from a well.
He lifted the red velvet covering at the center of the Xitai, revealing a pitch-black opening. A strong stench of decay wafted out, and Zhou Yanhui saw that beneath the surface of the water floated Twenty-Eight Costume Skeletons, with the foremost one adorned with a feather from Martial Dan, its right pinky finger encased in a Costume.
Suddenly, a drum began to beat on its own. Zhou Yanhui’s hand holding the sword trembled slightly; she could distinctly hear Liu Chanyi singing “A husband sheds tears not easily” from “Ye Ben,” yet her voice mingled with the sound of bones grinding together.
Blood began to drip from the hanging Costume, pooling on the ground to form a Bagua diagram, with at its center resting the jade pendant he had given to Liu Chanyi as a token of love.
The sound of Zi Shi’s Bangzi floated through the mist, and outside the theater, phosphorescent lights shimmered on the surface of Yuanjiang, faintly revealing a procession of Faceless Yin Soldiers carrying a Hundred-Year Stage across the river.
The leading soldier had his armor infested with corpse worms, and on the yellow talisman he held, fresh blood letters read: “At three quarters past Yin hour, return her bones and soul.”
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