Chapter Twenty-Two: Blood Spider Silk

At night, Old Ma went to check on Xingman Xing once more. Just as during the day, there was no response at all.

I couldn't understand why he felt the need to check again at night. Was there some hidden reason behind this?

"Go try pulling the curtains again," Old Ma instructed me.

I walked to the window, grasped the curtains, and was about to pull them when something felt off. Glancing at my hand, I noticed cobwebs on the fabric. They hadn't been there during the day—how had they appeared now?

"What's wrong?" Old Ma asked.

"Nothing," I replied, pulling the curtains open. A small, dark shadow flashed past the window and vanished upward.

Startled, I pressed my face against the glass and looked up, but saw nothing. It was probably just a moth or a bat flying away.

Night had fallen, and without sunlight, Xingman Xing showed no reaction at all. Old Ma gestured for me to close the curtains again.

After doing so, I walked back to the bedside. San Xing asked anxiously, "Ma, what exactly is wrong with Xingman? Have you figured it out?"

A flicker of confusion flashed in Old Ma's eyes, but it disappeared immediately. He cleared his throat and said to me, "Go fetch my gourd."

I returned to the guest room and brought him his gourd.

Old Ma intoned, "Evil spirits, begone, may peace and longevity reign!" Then, taking a mouthful from the gourd, he sprayed the water over Xingman Xing, who remained utterly motionless.

Wasn't that gourd just filled with his "special drink"? Did it have another purpose?

After spraying the water, Old Ma declared, "Holy water to repel evil and strengthen the body. That will do for today. I am weary from travel—let us look again tomorrow."

With that, he began massaging his shoulders and legs as he shuffled toward the door, looking utterly exhausted.

I watched him, thinking to myself that our journey here could hardly have been more relaxed—he was simply putting on a show, making an excuse for not having found anything. Most likely, the water in his gourd had no particular effect at all.

Old Ma and San Xing left the room, and I followed them out. Just as I turned to close the door, I saw Xingman Xing's head seem to move. Her face, which had been directed at the wall, now angled toward the window, her gaze seemingly fixed there.

I was stunned, about to call Old Ma, but then her head turned back, her expression empty and devoid of emotion, exactly as before.

What was that just now? Could she be faking it? Impossible—even if she were the greatest actress alive, no one could go a month without sleep or rest.

I watched her for a moment, then closed the door.

Back in the guest room, Old Ma had already claimed the bed, half-reclining and lost in thought.

As I spread bedding on the floor, I casually probed, "You couldn't figure out what's wrong with Xingman Xing, could you?"

Old Ma leapt up at once, snapping, "Couldn't figure it out? Me? You think you can test me, child? I could solve this with a snap of my fingers! It's just that age has made my memory unreliable. I can't recall her symptoms right now, but once I've rested tonight, I'll settle this tomorrow!"

So it was just as I suspected. My doubts about the old man only grew—could he really be relied upon?

Gourd in hand, Old Ma resumed sipping his concoction. The room was soon filled with an odd aroma—a blend of mint and cilantro—growing ever stronger.

He exhaled contentedly, muttering, "Strange, there isn’t the slightest sign of a spirit or haunting. This is troublesome—what on earth is afflicting her..."

I finished making my bed and lay down, covering my mouth and nose. I mentally tallied the days since I’d left Foshan—a month allotted, and seven days already gone. I had twenty-three left, and who knew how long this matter would take, or how much time the business with Second Master Wei would require. My time was precious, and I could not afford delays.

The odd smell lingered in the room, making it hard to breathe. Combined with the leisurely pace of the journey so far, I was hardly sleepy at all.

I spent most of the night with my eyes half-shut, stubbornly awake.

I had no idea whether Old Ma was asleep. His side of the room was utterly silent—not even the sound of him turning over, as if he were dead.

Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned, then finally sat up.

The chill of late autumn swept in through the window, making the curtains billow. The yellow glow of the streetlamp outside streamed in.

With the fluttering of the curtains, there seemed to be something else in the air—something slender, barely perceptible to the eye, only detectable as a feeling.

I got to my feet and glanced at the bed. Old Ma lay perfectly straight, the white sheet neatly covering him, resembling the rigid stillness of a body awaiting a wake. It made me want to check if he was still breathing.

I moved to the window and reached into the wind, my hand coming away sticky. Spider silk.

It wasn’t spider season—why were there webs everywhere?

I reached out a few more times, and found a thick patch of silk at the window. The threads were surprisingly tough, with a faint, elusive scent, and seemed to have a tint to them.

Gathering a handful of silk, the smell became clearer—reminiscent of rust, but far more repulsive, with an oddly familiar undertone. I brought it close to my nose; the scent filled my sinuses, and suddenly I remembered—this was the smell of blood!

By the dim streetlight, I examined the silk in my hand. The color was indiscernible, but it was dark. A suspicion formed in my mind: if it smelled of blood, it was probably blood-red.

I’d never smelled spider silk before, so I didn’t know if this was normal, but I’d certainly never seen blood-red threads. Could it be the work of some rare species?

A dark shadow flickered at the edge of my vision. I shuddered and looked sharply to the windowsill—nothing.

The night breeze stirred the curtains, and in the dim corner, something seemed to be hiding. That shadow had slipped inside.

I brushed the silk from my hand and reached for the curtain, intending to shake out whatever was concealed there.

Just as my hand touched the fabric, two slender legs shot out from behind the curtain, and a black creature emerged from the darkness.

Startled, I jerked my hand back.

A massive spider crawled out, its body thick and round, its eight legs spread wider than my palm! Its size rivaled that of a mole cricket! Good heavens, how could there be such a huge spider in this room?

Thinking how close I’d come to reaching into its lair made my heart pound with lingering fear. That was close!

The spider crouched on the curtain. Suddenly, its eight legs tensed and it leapt straight at me!