Astrology Hall with Flesh and Blood

Chapter 64

“Master,” the woman led her to the dining room and said respectfully to the people at the table, “this is the new maid.”

The old man didn't turn around; he simply continued chewing his food, making crunching noises. Finally, he asked casually:

"The new guy?"

"Yes, sir." That's the safest way to address someone.

"What's your name?"

“My surname is Wei.” She remembered the woman’s words, “Wei girl,” and the only regret was that the woman hadn’t said her real name.

The old man stopped talking and slowly turned around. He might be very old, his hair might be completely white, but his mind showed no signs of decline, not even a hint of it. When he slowly cast his gaze upon her, it was as if an invisible icicle was slowly slicing through her body.

“What do you mean?” he asked, completely unaware that it was an ambiguous question. Strangely enough, she understood immediately.

But even if she understood, she couldn't answer him. Just then, a middle-aged woman rescued her from the predicament.

She nudged her elbow. "Wei Lan," she said, looking puzzled, "the master is asking you a question!"

The old man, lost in thought, slowly withdrew his gaze from her and continued munching on his unknown food. Her tense nerves immediately relaxed, her underwear already soaked with cold sweat.

This family has an unusually simple household structure, consisting of only two people: the master, surnamed Huang, and the middle-aged woman, his housekeeper, who has been with him for over ten years. She instructs Wei Lan to call her Aunt Wang.

To be honest, the work Wei Lan had to do was not only simple, but also extremely boring. Buying groceries, cooking, washing dishes, taking care of her daily needs, cleaning the rooms—it was all the usual work of a servant. "Actually, I could manage on my own," said Wang Ma, "but this house is just too big."

Indeed, Wei Lan nodded. A two-story villa of over 300 square meters, with only two people living there, inevitably felt empty. But she really couldn't understand why Mr. Huang didn't need to live in such a large house, could he?

“I heard from the housekeeper in front that,” Wang Ma said, her spirits lifted as she found someone to gossip with, and she began to talk on and on, “that the master used to have a wife and children, and the three of them lived together.”

"And then?" she asked.

Wang Ma shook her head. "I don't know. Anyway, when I came, only the master was left. Sigh." She sighed, as if lamenting the master's lonely and miserable old age.

“If that’s the case, why did you buy such a big villa?” she said. “It’s too big for the two of you.”

Terrifyingly large...

“Who says otherwise!” Wang Ma exclaimed, as if she had found a kindred spirit. She slapped her thigh and said, “Master has plenty of money. He could have chosen any house he wanted, but he just happened to take a liking to this one. He didn’t care about the size, type of house, or living environment—not to mention the price—and he just bought it in one go!”

"Isn't this place good?" Wei Lan sensed the dissatisfaction in Wang Ma's tone.

“I didn’t say the house was bad…” Wang Ma glanced at Wei Lan’s sympathetic expression and calmed down, then couldn’t help but pour out her grievances, “But this place, to put it nicely, is quiet; to put it bluntly, it’s so remote and desolate! Not to mention the inconvenient transportation, look outside,” she pulled back the curtains, and outside was, as usual, pitch black, with no clear outline of fields or villas, “There’s no human presence at all! All year round, the neighbors basically never show up; it’s just our family living here all alone, without even anyone to talk to!”

No wonder… Wang Ma was so excited when she saw me, practically spilling the beans. “Is it… that even the maids don’t want to come?” she asked tentatively.

Aunt Wang gave a thumbs up. "Good boy! Smart! Let me tell you," she leaned closer, "as long as you're willing to stay, the wages are negotiable, room and board included, this is the amount you'll get each month!" She held up a short, chubby finger.

She chuckled to herself, "You're so generous!"

"That's right! We finally have one, she can't be like those girls before, sneaking away in the middle of the night!" Wang Ma grinned from ear to ear. "It's settled then! Her wages will start today!"

Volume 4, The Soul Singer, Fourth Movement: The Puppet House of Death (Part 2)

Now that she'd been paid, the work naturally had to start today. Wang Ma instructed Wei Lan to first clean up the master's dinner, and then go into the kitchen to receive Wang Ma's instructions.

Wei Lan was a little intimidated by the old man. She stood respectfully outside the door, and from afar she could hear the rhythmic chewing sounds coming from his mouth, one chew per second. His bald head blocked the television set, but fortunately the volume was turned up high enough for Wei Lan to hear clearly. "His hearing doesn't seem to be very good," she thought to herself.

"...Recently, our city has seen a surge in villa burglaries. The burglars are highly skilled and experienced, often breaking into homes when the owners are not home. They appear extremely adept at their methods, and aside from stealing valuables, they show no signs of disturbing the property, suggesting either that the burglaries are committed by acquaintances or that they conducted thorough reconnaissance beforehand. Therefore, we urge the public to keep their doors and windows secure and to be vigilant against strangers..."

She laughed silently. The masses? What kind of masses could afford a villa, yet treat it merely as an investment, a form of entertainment? Ordinary people toil away, working themselves to the bone just to buy a place to live, forced to work like slaves for bank loans their entire lives, while these so-called masses leave such luxurious villas vacant, reserving them only for momentary pleasure.

Since they are so rich, even if some gold and silver jewelry is stolen, it's just a drop in the ocean!

Before the cold smile on her lips could fade, the old man, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, suddenly shouted:

"Wei Lan!"

She quickly responded, her heart pounding.

"Tell me," the old man said without turning his head, but instead tremblingly extended a finger, the finger as withered as an old tree branch, "that thief wouldn't come to my house, would he?"

“Although I’m not from a wealthy family, I’m still richer than that poor thief,” he slowly turned his eyes, his cloudy vision filled with an inorganic emptiness, “If I get robbed, what will I do for the rest of my life?”

She suddenly felt her throat go dry, unable to utter a single word. Why was this old man telling her all this? Was he showing off his wealth? But looking at the furnishings in the villa, everything exuded a sense of simplicity—no, to put it bluntly, poverty. The old, peeling mahogany furniture might be antiques passed down through the old man's family, worth a few coins; but the other appliances were nothing more than a television (not a plasma or LCD, not even a flat-screen TV!), an air conditioner, and a refrigerator—outdated models, probably used by the old man for many years—all junk, utterly incompatible with this brand-new, bright, and spacious villa, even a stain! She couldn't help but imagine the luxurious and extravagant furnishings in the nearby dark, empty villas, adorning their noble and extraordinary rooms.

Then she smiled charmingly, "Sir, I don't think that thief will bother with this place."

The old man's reaction was more intense than she had expected. "Why?" he cried out in a hoarse voice, his thin chest heaving with excitement.

She stared at that old and ugly face for a long time, and strangely, she was unusually calm. "Have you forgotten? They say on TV that thieves only break into empty houses—Wang Ma and I will stay in the villa the whole time."

Hearing her reply, the master closed his eyes contentedly, placed his hand on his chest, and lay down. "That's true, that's true," he murmured to himself, "With someone guarding, a thief can't get in...guarding..." His voice grew fainter and fainter until it was barely audible. Wei Lan waited a long time, until she heard the master snoring, before she was certain he was asleep. So she tiptoed and silently approached him—her steps were as light as a cat's.

She began to clean up the scraps he had left behind.

On her way back to the kitchen, she examined the crumbs on the plate closely: several charred bones, still seemingly clinging to bits of meat and blood; much larger than chicken bones, but not quite as big as a pork leg. It seemed the old man's teeth were still quite good; he could still gnaw on fried bones.

She went to the kitchen and quickly and efficiently cleaned up the dishes. Seeing such a capable maid, Wang Ma's eyes lit up with joy. After explaining the daily tasks to her, Wei Lan repeated them clearly, word for word, which delighted her even more. The two quickly finished all the work, even preparing breakfast for the next morning. After helping the master to bed, Wei Lan urged Wang Ma to rest early, "You've been working so hard for so many days, you should rest!" Her words were sometimes sweeter than honey, "Leave this to me!"

"If it weren't for your competence, I wouldn't feel at ease!" Wang Ma smiled and went back to her room to sleep. The villa had many rooms, but because going up and down stairs was inconvenient, the main living area was on the first floor, with the master and Wang Ma's bedroom also downstairs. As for the second floor, almost all the rooms were empty, available for the young servants. The second floor had a separate bathroom and washroom at the very end of the hallway, flanked by dark guest rooms, each furnished with beds and chairs, like a hotel ready to welcome guests.

But this isn't a hotel, so why are there so many guest rooms?

At the same time, Wang Ma also instructed her not to stay above the master's and her own room. "You know, as people get older, they're sensitive to noise, especially footsteps," she said with a smile. "Got it?"

"Then I'll stay next to the bathroom, right above the living room," she thought. "Although you two have very sharp ears, I swear I won't make a single sound."

After finishing all her work, she went to bed. The two elderly people downstairs had already turned off their lights, and she couldn't tell if they were snoring through the thick wooden door. She decided to wait a little longer.

She didn't know how long she had waited with her eyes open in the darkness, only that at first everything was a blurry blackness, but now she could make out clear shapes—the positions of the bedside table and chair, even the paper and pen on the table—all were vividly clear to her. All around was utter silence; she couldn't even hear her own breathing. So she gently sat up in bed, and the moment her slender feet touched the cold floor, she couldn't help but shiver.

Okay, let's go now. She took a deep breath, the cool, damp air of the night instantly filling her lungs. Her eyes shone brightly in the darkness.

Volume 4, The Soul Singer, Fourth Movement: The Puppet House of Death (Part 3)

She stood up silently and gently placed her soft, boneless hand on the cold doorknob. Without a sound, the door slid open smoothly, a narrow crack large enough for her slender frame to easily pass through. There was no moonlight, not even a glimmer of starlight. Wei Lan raised her head and gazed at the night sky outside the window, the heavy blackness tangled together like an unyielding sorrow.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Only the slow, steady dripping sound occasionally rang out from the night, assaulting her eardrums. The first drip that suddenly sounded behind her ear made Wei Lan's hair stand on end and cold sweat pour down her back.

She looked in the direction of the sound and saw the bathroom door at the end of the corridor was ajar, its aloofness seeming to conceal something more, as if trying to tell a story. Wei Lan steadied herself; her soles were unconsciously sweating, leaving a trail of damp, breath-like marks on the smooth floor. She felt her way along the wall, making her way towards the bathroom—no, to be precise, she slid, leaving a long trail of sticky, sweat-soaked footprints behind her. Her eyes, now fully adapted to the darkness, remained ever vigilant.

The dripping sound did indeed come from behind the door.

Her left hand had already reached for the light switch by the door; a gentle press would turn on the light, illuminating every detail of the bathroom. Her right hand, however, gripped the doorknob, gently yet firmly squeezing it—

Turning on the light and pushing open the door are done in the same instant!

The sudden, dazzling light made her dizzy, almost bringing tears to her eyes. She squinted, finally adjusting to the bright light. It was a perfectly standard bathroom, with a bathtub at the far end and a washbasin and toilet opposite it. The walls and floor were covered in white tiles with light red accents, giving it a simple yet elegant look. The bathroom fixtures, including the bathtub and toilet, were all white; while slightly plain, this didn't overwhelm or annoy her.

The sound of dripping water was coming from the faucet in the bathtub.

Perhaps it had been too long since anyone had used it; water was dripping slowly from the faucet, filling the huge bathtub completely without leaking. Wei Lan's tense heart immediately relaxed. Sure enough, they were short-handed, she thought. Wang Ma couldn't manage alone, so she simply ignored the uninhabited second floor. She initially intended to turn the water off, but then reconsidered; it would be better to let Wang Ma see for herself. So, she simply reached out and tightened the overly loose faucet.

The dripping sound stopped. She secretly breathed a sigh of relief, turned around, and turned off the light. She didn't have much time to spare, and she still had tasks to complete. Cold sweat clung to the soles of her feet, becoming wet and slippery in the cold wind, but she tried her best to control her body and not lose her balance. She felt her way along the wall and slowly walked to the door of the second room.

That room was right next to where she lived.

According to Wang Ma, those rooms were never occupied. Perhaps other servants had used them before Wei Lan arrived, but they were no longer there… In the darkness, Wei Lan silently forced a strange smile. Were they really gone?

Could it be that he is still lingering in this utterly silent house?

She gently placed her hand on the door, feeling an unusually strong force behind it; the harder she pressed, the stronger the force became. It wasn't that the door was locked—she knew perfectly well—it was as if an invisible hand was holding it shut, preventing her curiosity from entering, from desecrating the sacred space within. She used all her strength, pressing almost her entire body against the door, yet she couldn't move an inch. Her palms were already sweating without her realizing it.

The lights downstairs suddenly came on, followed by a series of hurried footsteps. Thump, thump, thump—heavy footsteps came up the stairs, followed by a woman's voice. Although she tried to lower her voice, Wei Lan could still recognize the rough tone; that voice had called to her before she went to sleep.

But now he is filled with resentment.

"Wei Lan! It really is you!" Wang Ma, panting heavily as she leaned against the stairs, finally caught her breath. Her face was full of displeasure, and she immediately began to berate her:

"Didn't I tell you not to run around like that? You're keeping the master from sleeping!"

Wei Lan was stunned for a moment, and after a long pause, she stammered, "I...I didn't..."

"Still saying you didn't?!" Wang Ma raised her short, fat index finger and pointed at her bare feet sticking out on the floor, shouting, "Look at the state you're in! You're making a loud thumping noise on the floor! Not only the master, but I was also woken up!"

Seeing Wei Lan keep her head down and remain silent, Wang Ma's anger gradually subsided, and her tone softened considerably. She continued:

"Didn't I tell you? Young girls like you, all of you so restless. Let me tell you, what's so fun about being upstairs all by yourself? Making such a racket in the middle of the night, like you're dancing!"

Having said all that, what could Wei Lan do? Besides bowing her head in apology and promising never to repeat the mistake, she seemed to have no other choice. She respectfully saw Wang Ma off, and only after the lights downstairs went out did she finally breathe a long sigh of relief.

Her expression turned extremely serious.

Her feet glided lightly across the floor, making no sound at all. Dancing? No, she was always confident in her skills; she couldn't possibly disturb anyone who was fast asleep. Even a snoring lion, she was confident she could quietly pass by without waking it. But what was going on with this house? Was the old man and Granny Wang just being overly vigilant? Or...?

A chilling breeze brushed against her skin, like a cold hand gently caressing her. Startled, she nearly screamed.

The door she had been unable to open for so long creaked open with a gust of wind. There was no one inside; it was just an unremarkable guest room, decorated exactly like her bedroom. She hesitated for a long time, unable to muster the courage to turn on the light. The cold wind wafting from the other room chilled her skin. Just then, the dripping sound resumed, slower and louder than before. Drip, drip, she slowly walked towards her room; drip, she closed the door; drip, she pulled the sheet over her head, curled up in a ball, and shivered uncontrollably in bed.

Volume 4, The Soul Singer, Fourth Movement: The Puppet House of Death (Part 4)

That night, she had a vivid dream, so real it left her bewildered and disoriented. She seemed to vaguely sit up in bed and walk barefoot towards the bathroom outside. Her mind was still clear; she knew something was wrong and kept telling herself not to go, not to go. But her body was out of control, as if under a spell, leading her straight to the bathroom, even though her steps were unsteady. The bathroom was, as always, dark.

The ticking sound continued.

A sudden, urgent urge to urinate struck her, forcing her to tighten her abdomen and press her legs together. Reluctantly, she forced herself to open the bathroom door.

She dared not turn on the light, yet, with her eyes already adjusted to the darkness, she vaguely saw that the huge bathtub seemed to be filled to the brim with something… Was it water? Her mind was hazy; she didn't have time to consider what was inside, nor did she ponder how a mere trickle of water could fill a bathtub so quickly. She simply acted on instinct, went to the toilet, expelled the excess water from her body, and then, dazed, collapsed onto her bed. In her hazy state, she seemed to have another dream, a dream where her eyes could pierce through the back of her head, seeing everything behind her without obstruction. She saw a girl lying in the bathtub, her body submerged in a dark liquid, only some skin floating on the surface reflecting an unusual, deathly white sheen. She had long, black hair, floating silently like seaweed beside her outstretched hand. Her head was tilted back on the water, the same pale color as her skin, and when the moonlight shone on her face, Wei Lan clearly saw that she was smiling.

A genuine smile emanated from her tattered, decaying lips, which revealed half of her gums.

Precisely on time, as the first rays of morning sunlight touched Wei Lan's face, she opened her eyes. Last night's nightmarish experience—no, perhaps it was just a dream—had kept her awake in terror. Especially the final part of the nightmare, terrifying, unsettling, yet containing a hint of reality. Wei Lan remembered it perfectly; if that girl stood before her now, she was certain she would recognize her. Not just her rotting lips, but in fact, Wei Lan remembered every single feature of her face.

She must be very young... and quite beautiful...

Wei Lan felt immense pity for her. In reality, most girls who suffer misfortune are beautiful. People often assume that Lady Luck favors beautiful women, bringing them happiness, wealth, and status. But unbeknownst to them, evil spirits and death also favor beautiful women. They genuinely admire beautiful women and often arbitrarily possess them—their method being to add them to the harem of misfortune and death.

She sighed inwardly, got up, and got out of bed. If she didn't go to work soon, Aunt Wang would start yelling at her again.

The two elderly people downstairs were both up very early. Wang Ma, of course, was up early too, and the old man was also up early, standing in the courtyard twisting his body, as if doing some kind of exercise specially designed for the elderly. Although his hair was white, the old man's every move still showed a vigorous strength; clearly, long-term good living habits and consistent exercise had given him a physique beyond his years.

During breakfast, in front of the master, Wang Ma scolded Wei Lan again. "Alright!" In the end, the master finally gave a pardon, "Young people, it's not a bad thing for them to be lively. Besides, she's not the first one."

“What the master says is true,” Aunt Wang immediately turned her anger into a smile, “After all, it’s the first time she’s stayed in such a high-class villa, she’s a little too excited… Don’t you think so, Wei Lan?”

While washing the dishes, Wei Lan secretly asked Wang Ma, "Master said I'm not the first... were people like this before too?"

Aunt Wang glanced at her, looking displeased. "You still have the nerve to say that!" She put her hands on her hips, raised her thick, dark eyebrows, and said, "I just don't understand why you young girls are so excited every day. Running around on the roof all night, have you never seen such a big house before? You're all country bumpkins!"

But that really wasn't me... It seemed that Wang Ma saw right through her, and the latter began to criticize her bluntly:

"What, you're still not convinced? You might not realize it yourself, but for us old folks with neurasthenia, those footsteps are like an earthquake, so loud they're unbearable!"

Now, Wei Lan only had one question to ask: "Didn't the servants from before also deny this?"

Aunt Wang sneered through her nose, "Of course! Young people these days, they're all stubborn and refuse to admit their mistakes!"