[Vol. 1, Fragment IV: Ghost Market ? Iron Laws of Trade]

  "In the Ghost Market, there is no day or night; trade asks for no reasons. Here, human skin is fabric, memories are currency, and lifespan is the bargaining chip. The only taboo: never let the seller know you absolutely must buy it."

  — Guide to Jiankang’s Underground Economy: Black Market Edition

  [Internal Note / Directorate of Astronomy] "Fencing Stolen Goods": Turning public trouble into private profit. The prerequisite is not getting bitten by the mad dogs of the Mirror Demon Division.

  The insect chirping at White Horse Temple had vanished, replaced by a deathly silence.

  Xie Bi’an leaned against a stone lion in the square. His left hand struggled to lift the wine gourd, hoping to squeeze out one last drop to calm his nerves, but found it had long been empty.

  "Tsk. Pauper."

  He cursed. It was unclear if he was cursing himself or this empty temple.

  "Impressive."

  A cold, flat voice suddenly drifted from the shadows of the temple doors. Accompanied by a soft clack—the sound of a blade sliding slightly out of its sheath and hitting the guard—it was a warning, laced with killing intent.

  Xie Bi’an didn't even turn his head. He just let out a lazy sigh. "Watched the show for half the night, finally willing to buy a ticket?"

  The shadows dispersed. A young man walked out, wearing black robes embroidered with cloud patterns and a ring-pommel saber at his waist. His posture was upright as a pine tree, his face cold and stern, his brow carrying a hostility that warned the living to keep away.

  That was the uniform of the Mirror Demon Division. The maddest dog of the Great Wei court, specialized in handling matters that "humans" couldn't handle, with the authority to execute first and report later.

  Shen Wu stared at Xie Bi’an, then at the crystalline Liuli Buddha in the hall. Deep in his eyes lay a profound shock.

  He had been ordered to "clean up" White Horse Temple. If the Meat Buddha lost control, his mission was to burn the entire temple and kill all witnesses.

  But he hadn't expected a "Gleaner"—a trash collector from the Directorate of Astronomy—to use a method he couldn't comprehend to turn that monstrosity into... a miracle.

  "Directorate of Astronomy. Xie Bi’an." Shen Wu spoke the name, his tone scrutinizing. "Your methods are too unorthodox. Sealing Filth into Liuli... that isn't on the court’s approved list."

  "So, are you going to arrest me?"

  Xie Bi’an turned around, raising his right hand—now completely Liuli-fied and emitting a bone-chilling cold—and shook it. "Perfect timing. My hand is useless. I hear the food in the Mirror Demon Division’s dungeon is decent. Do you provide meals?"

  Shen Wu frowned. He had never seen such a... shameless official.

  Normal people would be kneeling in terror at the sight of a Mirror Demon Division Commander. Not only was this man unafraid, but he was also considering mooching a meal?

  He walked up to Xie Bi’an, his gaze landing on the Liuli hand. Even from a few steps away, he could feel the piercing cold. That was the price of directly touching the Filth of the Heavenly Dao. This man was gambling his life to seal monsters.

  Shen Wu’s hand on his saber loosened slightly.

  "The Mirror Demon Division doesn't provide meals," Shen Wu said coldly. "But if you can explain the principle behind this statue, I might not kill you."

  "Explain my ass."

  Xie Bi’an bared his teeth, cold sweat sliding down his temples. "My hand is freezing solid. If you keep blabbering, this hand will be ruined. When that happens, who’s going to sweep up the Filth in this city? You?"

  He was betting that Shen Wu was a man who "followed the rules." Since the Mirror Demon Division’s duty was to protect Jiankang City, they wouldn't kill an expert who could actually solve problems.

  Shen Wu fell silent for a moment. He looked at Xie Bi’an’s pale face, which still wore a mocking smile, and finally made a decision.

  "Where to?" Shen Wu asked.

  "Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows." Xie Bi’an unceremoniously dumped his body weight onto the stone lion. "To find Su Xiaoxiao. She’s the best... seamstress in the city. And..."

  Xie Bi’an shoved the rock-heavy Xianchan into Shen Wu’s arms, acting as if treating him like a sidekick was the most natural thing in the world.

  "Hold the cat for me. This fatty just ate; he’s heavy as hell."

  Shen Wu froze, holding the fat golden cat. He, the dignified Commander of the Mirror Demon Division, the "Cold-Faced Yama" who killed without blinking, was being asked to... hold a cat?

  "Meow." Xianchan found a comfortable spot in his arms, rubbing disdainfully against the stiff black combat uniform. "Too hard. One star."

  Shen Wu took a deep breath. A vein on his forehead throbbed, but he didn't draw his sword.

  "Let's go."

  He gritted his teeth and spat out the words.

  The Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows was not above ground.

  It was in the shadow of the Qinhuai River.

  The carriage stopped under an old willow tree by the riverbank. Xie Bi’an fished a copper coin from his robe. The coin was covered in green verdigris and smelled of the sea.

  He casually tossed the coin into the river. Plop.

  The moment the coin sank, Xie Bi’an’s heart convulsed violently, as if someone had lightly pinched the tip of his heart with a fingernail—light, but precise, leaving a hollow sensation of "something being taken away."

  This was the toll. The Ghost Market didn't accept dead things; it only accepted "vitality."

  Ripples spread across the water. Strangely, the ripples didn't dissipate outward but gathered inward, finally forming a glowing gateway on the water’s surface.

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  "Let's go, Commander Shen." Xie Bi’an held the carriage door, his face pale but still wearing that expert nonchalance. "Let me show you what 'debauchery' really means."

  Passing through the water gate, the world instantly inverted.

  The originally pitch-black river bottom was brilliantly lit. Countless red lanterns floated in the water, illuminating exquisite underwater pavilions. There was no water pressure here, only a faint, strange sweet scent—a mix of rouge and agarwood.

  The entities wandering the streets were not ordinary people.

  Shen Wu saw a scholar with only half a body, using his own leg bone as a brush to write poetry on a wall in exchange for wine; an old woman with a face full of fish scales carried a basket of still-beating eyeballs, loudly hawking "fresh lightbulbs."

  Traffic flowed along the road. Xie Bi’an stopped at a stall selling old books, casually tugged at his sleeve, and then continued forward.

  This was the Ghost Market. Chaos was chaos, but the hawking cries seemed choreographed—every sound landing exactly where it should.

  "Master Seven, you are a rare guest."

  A lazy, husky female voice, magnetic as a hook, drifted over.

  Red gauze curtains fluttered warmly; fragrant wind hit their faces.

  A woman in a crimson peony-smoke silk dress walked slowly towards them, barefoot, stepping on phantom lotus petals in the void. She was beautiful—unrealistically so. Her skin was as white as the finest mutton-fat jade, and every corner of her eyes and brows exuded a natural, bone-deep seduction.

  Su Xiaoxiao. The top courtesan of the Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows, and the biggest intelligence broker in the Ghost Market.

  Shen Wu instinctively tensed, hand on his hilt, the hairs on his back standing up.

  As a man of the Mirror Demon Division, he immediately saw what was wrong with this woman—she was too perfect.

  Her skin had no pores. Her smile had no fine lines. The curve of her neck was as smooth as if outlined by a master painter’s finest wolf-hair brush. She was so perfect that... she had not a single inch of "flaw a living human would have."

  This kind of perfection was more terrifying than ugliness.

  "Don't be nervous, little brother." Su Xiaoxiao chuckled softly, her gaze shifting to Shen Wu’s hand on the saber. "In my place, drawing a blade costs extra." She smiled. "And you... can you afford it?"

  She walked up to Xie Bi’an, her gaze landing on his Liuli-fied right hand.

  In that instant, the seduction in her eyes vanished, replaced by the greed of a connoisseur seeing a peerless treasure. It was the look of someone wanting to detach that hand and mount it in her own treasure cabinet.

  "Oh my..."

  Su Xiaoxiao cupped Xie Bi’an’s hand, her cold fingertips stroking the hard Liuli skin, her tone obsessed. "Master Seven, the quality of your hand... keeps getting better. These gold threads, this translucency... if I chopped it off to make a lampstand, I’d pay ten thousand taels of gold."

  "Not for sale."

  Xie Bi’an pulled his hand back. Though the movement was stiff, his tone was decisive. "It’s my tool for making a living."

  "Stingy."

  Su Xiaoxiao pouted, rolling her eyes at him with infinite charm. "Come in with me. This time... we have to soak it in 'Pink Skeleton' soup base. Otherwise, if the Liuli poison attacks the heart, you really will turn into a statue."

  Inside the private room.

  A massive wooden tub was filled with hot pink water. Floating on the surface were unknown flower petals and... several bleach-white bones. The bones rolled in the boiling water, emitting a strange aroma—part floral, part sweet marrow.

  Xie Bi’an plunged his right hand into the water.

  Sizzle.

  A hissing sound filled the air as the boiling surface spat out clouds of pale smoke.

  "Ugh..." Xie Bi’an grunted, veins bulging on his forehead.

  This water was soup boiled from "Beauty Bones," specifically designed to soften dead matter like Liuli. It felt like countless ants were gnawing on his bones, trying to chew the hardened parts bit by bit.

  Su Xiaoxiao sat by the tub, holding a slender silver needle, stirring the bones in the water to let the marrow essence seep into Xie Bi’an’s Liuli hand.

  "Big job this time," Su Xiaoxiao remarked casually as she worked. "You sealed the Meat Buddha at White Horse Temple. Rumor has it outside that the Directorate of Astronomy has a miracle worker who turns trash into treasure."

  "Empty fame." Xie Bi’an closed his eyes, enduring the excruciating pain. "Just trying to earn a meal."

  "A meal?" Su Xiaoxiao chuckled, suddenly leaning close to Xie Bi’an’s ear, her breath like orchids. "Master Seven, this meal of yours... is dripping with blood. I heard the Imperial Preceptor is very interested in that Liuli Buddha. He thinks... it’s a new path to 'Immortality'."

  Xie Bi’an’s eyes snapped open, a cold light flashing in their depths.

  "He wants the formula?"

  "No." Su Xiaoxiao extended the tip of her crimson tongue, licking her lips, her eyes flickering with dangerous light. "He wants the raw material. Meaning... you. He wants to invite you back to study properly how these hands grow."

  "So, for this treatment, I’m raising the price."

  Su Xiaoxiao revealed the dagger beneath the smile, holding up three fingers.

  "Three thousand taels?" Xie Bi’an frowned.

  Su Xiaoxiao smiled even sweeter. "You think I lack money?"

  "No." She shook her head, tapping her fingertip against Xie Bi’an’s chest, right where the heart beat. "I want a drop of 'Heart’s Blood' from your chest."

  "What do you want that for?" Shen Wu couldn't help interrupting, his voice cold. "Heart’s Blood is a person’s essence and spirit. Taking it shortens one’s life."

  Su Xiaoxiao ignored Shen Wu. She looked deeply at Xie Bi’an, her eyes swimming with emotion, and spoke a line of terrifying affection:

  "Not now. Later."

  "On the day you finally shatter..." Her fingertip slid across Xie Bi’an’s chest. "This drop of blood is the deposit for me to piece you back together. Such beautiful Liuli... it would be a pity if it shattered all over the floor. Someone has to be there to collect you."

  The private room fell into a dead silence.

  The sentence was brutal. She wasn't betting on Xie Bi’an surviving; she was betting that he would inevitably shatter. And she wanted to be the sole collector.

  Veins popped on the back of Shen Wu’s hand gripping his sword. This wasn't treatment; this was signing a deed for his soul.

  Su Xiaoxiao leaned lazily against the soft couch. The collar of her crimson sleeping robe parted slightly, revealing a breathtaking expanse of snow-white skin. She looked the destitute Xie Bi'an up and down, a shrewd glint in her eyes. "Gleaner Xie, my rule here is no credit. Otherwise... what will you use to pay the deposit?"

  Xie Bi'an made no attempt to avert his gaze, letting it linger on that snowy expanse for two seconds before clicking his tongue in admiration. A roguish smirk hooked the corner of his mouth.

  "Boss Su, you really know how to use an abacus. But us poor public servants at the Directorate of Astronomy have pockets cleaner than our faces. How about this... is the Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows short on male courtesans?" Xie Bi'an patted his lean but muscled chest. "This skin sack of mine might be tainted with a bit of demonic qi, but my 'performance' is officially certified by the Directorate as rock-hard. No matter how tricky the 'depths,' I can probe right to the bottom. Would Boss Su like to personally inspect the goods first, and let me pay with my flesh?"

  Su Xiaoxiao was briefly taken aback by this teasing—straightforward to the point of obscenity, yet oozing a bizarre confidence. Then she let out a trill of charming laughter, cursing him playfully. "Pah! With that depleted look of yours, looking like you could be sucked dry at any moment, I'd be afraid you'd die on my couch and bring bad luck to my Persian rug for nothing."

  But Xie Bi’an smiled.

  He looked at the beautiful, dangerous painted-skin ghost before him. There was no fear in his eyes, only the tacit understanding between professionals.

  "Deal."

  Xie Bi’an said faintly. "But not now. If I give it to you now, I’m afraid I won't walk out of the Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows."

  "Master Seven is a straightforward man."

  Satisfied, Su Xiaoxiao withdrew her hand and stirred the water with the silver needle.

  The boiling stopped.

  But the water didn't clear. It turned into a turbid, dark red sludge resembling rouge. A layer of white frost hung on the sides of the tub—the powder of bones boiled dry.

  Xie Bi’an lifted his hand. The Liuli transformation had receded. The skin had returned to the color of flesh. Though still somewhat pale and cold, at least... sensation had returned.

  "Commander Shen, pay the bill." Xie Bi’an flicked the rouge mud off his hand and looked at Shen Wu with righteous entitlement.

  "Pay what bill? Didn't you just sell yourself?" Shen Wu looked bewildered.

  "That was the 'registration fee'." Xie Bi’an pointed to the wine and food on the table. "This banquet, plus the material cost for the 'Pink Skeleton Soup' just now, is calculated separately. The Mirror Demon Division has deep pockets; you wouldn't welch on a debt, right?"

  Shen Wu: "..."

  When they walked out of the Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows, the sky was turning white.

  Xie Bi’an sat in the carriage. His right hand had regained sensation, yet it remained as cold as if fished from icy water.

  He looked down and opened his palm.

  Beneath the skin, a microscopic golden thread was swimming slowly, like an impatient fish, drilling along the blood vessel towards the deep wrist bone.

  He tried to press it with his left hand, but felt only a thin hardness—like porcelain glaze.

  "...Marked," he whispered.

  At that moment, the familiar Fur Elise rang in his head again.

  This time, in the gaps between the melody, a very soft—almost inaudible—sigh mixed in.

  Like someone underground, separated by five hundred years of dust, pressing against his bones and whispering:

  —Found you.