53: Spending the night in Jingyuan, exploring the old building in the morning

By the time they returned from the basement to the living room, it was already evening.

The afterglow of the setting sun filtered through the carved window frames, casting dappled shadows on the mahogany floor. The servants had already prepared dinner, a full table of exquisite dishes, but the Lin couple clearly had no appetite.

"Daoist Master Li, it's getting late." Lin Wenyuan glanced at the wall clock. "Why don't you stay at my humble abode for the night, and I'll accompany you to the school first thing tomorrow morning? The library is closed at night, so we wouldn't be able to get in even if we went now."

Li Muchen looked out the window.

Twilight was rolling in from the city skyline, and the distant high-rises were beginning to light up. Indeed, going to the school now would be quite inconvenient.

"Very well," he nodded. "Then I shall trouble you."

Lin Wenyuan breathed a sigh of relief and instructed the servants to prepare the guest room.

During dinner, the atmosphere remained somber. Su Wanhua barely touched her chopsticks, frequently looking toward the third floor with eyes full of worry. Lin Wenyuan forced himself to eat a little with Li Muchen, but the food tasted like nothing to him.

Only Li Muchen ate with calm composure.

He ate very slowly, chewing each mouthful carefully, his movements carrying a strange sense of rhythm. It was as if even if the heavens were to fall, it could not disturb his meal.

"The Abbot has a good appetite," Lin Wenyuan remarked, trying to find a topic of conversation.

"For a practitioner, eating is also cultivation." Li Muchen put down his chopsticks. "When food is in the mouth, the heart is in the present. Do not dwell on the past, do not worry about the future."

These words were simple, yet they stirred something in Lin Wenyuan's heart.

Indeed, what was the use of anxiety? It would only lead to internal chaos.

He took a deep breath, picked up his chopsticks, and earnestly finished a bowl of rice.

After dinner, Li Shiyu and Zhao Xiaowen were settled in a guest room on the second floor, while Li Muchen was invited to the third floor—not near Lin Xiaoyu's room, but to a bedroom converted from a study on the other side.

The room was large; one wall was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and the other was a full-length window overlooking the night view of Quiet Garden's courtyard. The bed was a mahogany carved canopy bed with plain gauze curtains, and the bed was covered with fresh bedding that smelled of sunshine.

"The conditions are simple, please make do, Abbot," Lin Wenyuan said with some apology. "This was originally my study, converted temporarily."

"It is already very good." Li Muchen looked around, his gaze lingering for a moment on the ancient books on the shelves. "Layman Lin, your collection of books is quite extensive."

"They are just professional books, nothing worth mentioning." Lin Wenyuan gave a bitter smile. "Please rest early, Abbot. I will take you to the school at eight tomorrow morning."

He exited the room and gently closed the door.

The night deepened.

Quiet Garden fell into a slumber. Only the solar-powered ground lights in the courtyard remained lit, emitting a soft glow that drew a few moths to flutter within the light.

Li Muchen did not sleep.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed in meditation.

His Spiritual Sense spread out like spilled mercury, covering the entire Quiet Garden.

At the other end of the third floor, in Lin Xiaoyu's room, the Heart-Clearing Talisman was posted on the inside of the door. It emitted a faint golden light, forming a thin barrier that separated the room from the outside world. Inside the room, the young girl was curled up on the bed, her breathing steady, but a wisp of black Qi still lingered around her brow.

On the second floor, in Li Shiyu and Zhao Xiaowen's room, both girls were asleep. However, Li Shiyu's sleep was restless, her brow furrowing from time to time, clearly worried about her cousin.

On the first floor, in the master bedroom, neither Lin Wenyuan nor Su Wanhua was asleep. The couple was speaking in low voices, their tones filled with exhaustion and anxiety.

And in the basement... Li Muchen's Spiritual Sense "looked" over there.

The door of the safe was open, and the red sandalwood box lay quietly inside. In the darkness, the dark red fountain pen inside the box was emitting an extremely faint, eerie glow.

That was not physical light, but an energy glow condensed from resentment.

What concerned Li Muchen even more was that a very fine, faint black "thread" extended from this pen, piercing through the floor and several layers of floorboards, all the way to Lin Xiaoyu's room on the third floor.

That was the connection of resentment.

It was like an umbilical cord, continuously delivering resentment to the host.

"It seems that suppression alone is not enough," Li Muchen thought to himself. "I must find the source of the resentment as soon as possible and sever this connection."

Otherwise, after three days, the Heart-Clearing Talisman would lose its effect, and the backlash of resentment would be even more violent.

Just then—

The pen suddenly moved.

It wasn't a physical movement, but rather the wood grain on the surface of the pen began to slowly flow and reorganize. Those tiny runes rearranged themselves in the darkness, forming a blurred pattern.

Li Muchen focused his "vision."

It was... the silhouette of a woman.

She wore a Qipao and had her hair in a bun, her figure slender and elegant. She seemed to be sitting at a desk, holding a pen, writing something.

Suddenly, she looked up.

She wasn't looking at Li Muchen, but rather toward... a certain direction in the Void Realm.

Her lips moved as if she were saying something.

But there was no sound.

Only a strong emotion was transmitted through the connection of resentment—

Unwillingness.

A deep, profound unwillingness.

And... a plea for help.

It wasn't resentment, nor was it revenge; it was a plea for help.

This discovery made Li Muchen frown slightly.

Resentful Spirits usually only possess resentment and obsession; they rarely have emotions like "pleading for help." Unless... she didn't become a Resentful Spirit voluntarily.

Or rather, there were other hidden details behind her resentment.

The image lasted for about half a minute before gradually blurring and dissipating. The wood grain on the pen returned to its original state, and the eerie light dimmed.

The basement returned to silence. Li Muchen slowly opened his eyes.

The moonlight from outside spilled into the room, coating the floor with a layer of silver frost.

He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Quiet Garden's courtyard looked exceptionally tranquil under the moonlight. The rockeries, fish pond, bamboo grove, and stone paths were all shrouded in silver light, looking unrealistically beautiful.

But Li Muchen knew that this tranquility was false.

Just like the superficial wealth and harmony of this mansion, there was an unknown coldness hidden beneath.

The 26th year of the republic of china, Chen Shuyi, the missing schoolgirl, the pen heavy with resentment... these fragments had to be pieced together tomorrow.

He returned to the bedside and sat down again.

This time, he did not enter meditation but took out a small cloth bundle from his robe—inside were some items he had prepared before coming down the mountain: several blank talisman papers, a small bottle of Cinnabar, a few Ancient Coins, and... a small piece of thunder-struck wood.

He placed the thunder-struck wood in his palm and slowly injected True Essence into it.

A faint purple light flickered on the surface of the wood, with vague sparks of electricity.

"Tomorrow, I shall use you."

The next morning, at seven-thirty.

Li Muchen walked out of his room on time.

Lin Wenyuan was already waiting in the living room, his eyes dark-circled, clearly having not slept well. Su Wanhua was also up, her face even more haggard than yesterday.

"Abbot, breakfast is ready," Lin Wenyuan said, forcing himself to stay alert.

"No rush." Li Muchen looked toward the third floor. "I'll check on your daughter first."

The three of them arrived outside Lin Xiaoyu's room again.

The Heart-Clearing Talisman was still there; its golden light was dimmer than last night, but it was still functioning. Li Muchen placed his palm on the door and sent his Spiritual Sense inside.

Inside the room, Lin Xiaoyu was still asleep. But her sleeping expression was more peaceful than yesterday, and the wisp of black Qi at her brow had faded slightly. The connection of resentment still existed, but the speed of delivery had slowed significantly.

"The situation is temporarily stable." Li Muchen withdrew his hand. "The Heart-Clearing Talisman can hold out for another two days."

Su Wanhua breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes reddening again. "Thank you, Abbot..."

Breakfast was sumptuous, but no one was in the mood to savor it. After eating quickly, Lin Wenyuan went to get the car.

Li Shiyu and Zhao Xiaowen were also up and insisted on coming along. Li Muchen did not object—two more people might provide some unexpected help.

The black Mercedes drove out of Quiet Garden and merged into the morning rush hour traffic.

The Provincial Experimental Middle School was in the old city district, about a half-hour drive from Quiet Garden. On the way, Lin Wenyuan briefly introduced the school's situation:

"Provincial Experimental is a century-old school, formerly known as Provincial No. 1 Girls Middle School. The old campus is relatively well-preserved, especially the library, which is still a republic of china era building. It's a three-story brick-and-wood structure and a provincial-level cultural relic protection site."

He paused. "However, the old library isn't used much anymore. The school built a new library next to it with more advanced equipment. The old building only stores some ancient books and archives and is rarely open to the public."

"What about the basement where the pen was found?" Li Muchen asked.

"It's on the basement level of the old library," Lin Wenyuan recalled. "I heard it used to be a storage area for miscellaneous items, then it was turned into an archive room. But because of the dampness, many archives were damaged by moisture, so the school moved everything out, and it's been empty since then."

"How long has it been empty?"

"At least ten years now," Lin Wenyuan thought for a moment. "The administrator said that when the pen was found, the iron box was tucked under an abandoned bookshelf, covered in dust. If it hadn't been for that thorough cleaning, it might never have been discovered."

During their conversation, the car had already entered the old city district.

The streets became narrower, flanked by lush London plane trees providing thick shade. Along the street were rows of old-style buildings with red brick walls and blue-tiled roofs, some still retaining signage fonts from the republic of china era.

The gate of Provincial Experimental Middle School was hidden within this old neighborhood.

The gate wasn't large; it was an old-fashioned wrought-iron gate with a gold-leafed school name plaque on the pillar. Through the gate, one could see the tree-lined campus and several red brick buildings.

Since it was summer break, the campus was very quiet, with only a few workers trimming the lawn.

The security guard recognized Lin Wenyuan—after all, he was a university professor and his daughter was a student at the school—so they were quickly let through.

The car drove slowly through the campus.

"That's the old library," Lin Wenyuan pointed ahead.

A three-story red brick building stood quietly in the depths of the campus. The building was a typical blend of Chinese and Western styles—a Chinese-style large roof with Western-style arched doors and windows, the walls covered in lush green ivy.

In front of the building was a small courtyard with several old locust trees. Under the trees stood a stone tablet engraved with:

"Former site of the Provincial No. 1 Girls Middle School Library, built in the 12th year of the republic of china."

The car stopped in front of the building.

Everyone got out and stood in the shade of the old locust trees.

The July sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. A breeze blew, making the leaves rustle and bringing a rare sense of coolness.

But Li Muchen's feeling was entirely different.

In his Spiritual Sense perception, the aura of this old building was very "heavy."

It wasn't that the Yin Qi was heavy, but rather a sense of historical accumulation, thick and aged, as if it carried too many memories of the passing years. And in the depths of these memories, there was a lingering trace of sorrow.

"The administrator should be inside." Lin Wenyuan checked his watch. "I arranged with him to come this morning."

He led the way toward the main entrance of the library.

The door was a heavy wooden one, painted dark red, with brass handles that had been polished to a shine. The door wasn't locked; it was ajar, and Lin Wenyuan pushed it open gently.

"Creak—"

The old door hinges let out a long groan.

The characteristic smell of old book paper, mixed with a faint scent of mildew, wafted toward them.

Inside the door was a spacious hall.

Sunlight slanted in from the tall arched windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The hall was filled with rows of old-fashioned oak bookshelves, neatly stacked with books, mostly thread-bound volumes and old hardcover editions. The floor was wooden, making a "thump-thump" sound when stepped on.

In the center of the hall was a circular service desk, and behind it sat an old man wearing reading glasses, reading a newspaper.

Hearing footsteps, the old man looked up.

"Professor Lin is here." He put down the newspaper and stood up.

This was a man in his sixties with gray hair, wearing a faded blue work uniform. His face was kind, but his eyes held a hint of wariness.

"Master Zhang, sorry to trouble you." Lin Wenyuan stepped forward to shake hands. "This is Daoist Master Li, whom I've invited. He wants to see that basement."

Master Zhang's gaze lingered on Li Muchen for a moment, especially on his bluish-gray Daoist robe, and he frowned slightly. "Professor Lin, it's not that I won't help. It's just that the basement... is unlucky. After the last cleanup, several workers fell ill when they went back. The school instructed us not to go down there unless necessary."

"We'll just have a look and definitely won't touch anything," Lin Wenyuan promised. "Besides, this concerns my daughter..."

Master Zhang sighed. "I know about Xiaoyu's situation. That child, sigh... fine, follow me. But we have an agreement: you can only look, and you must not touch anything inside."

He took a ring of keys from under the service desk and led the way toward the west side of the hall.

There was an inconspicuous small door there, painted the same color as the wall, which was hard to notice if one didn't look closely.

Master Zhang opened the door, revealing a downward-leading concrete staircase.

"There are no lights down there; the bulbs have been broken for a long time." He handed over a flashlight. "Be careful yourselves."

The stairs were steep, and the light was dim.

Li Muchen took the flashlight and was the first to walk down.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell with a hollow resonance.

The further down they went, the lower the temperature became.

It wasn't the cold of air conditioning, but the damp, chilly cold from deep underground.

It was also mixed with... a faint, lingering scent of ink.

The same scent he had smelled yesterday in the Quiet Garden basement.

Li Muchen's footsteps paused slightly.

In his Spiritual Sense perception, the concentration of resentment down here was even higher than in the Quiet Garden basement.

And it wasn't just the resentment of a single pen.

There seemed to be more things hidden there.

He tightened his grip on the thunder-struck wood and continued downward.

The truth was right below.