Tricked 139: Yinling Flower

Jiang Yan couldn’t be sure if this flower truly existed, for she’d never seen one so bizarre herself. Yet judging by the desire she sensed, this flower most likely did exist—and probably even had a physical form.

Otherwise, the patrol captain wouldn’t have felt such an intense urge to conceal it.

—It was easily discovered, so it had to be hidden well.

Furthermore, if the flower belonged to the captain himself, he wouldn’t have dared make such bold decisions in place of the old masters, immediately sealing off all news. So the flower was most likely the property of the old masters, or of a particular old master.

Because of the flower’s existence, even with enemy troops on the verge of attacking the village, the residents of Lingren Village were not allowed to leave.

Granted, these could be two separate matters: hiding the flower’s existence was one thing, keeping the villagers locked inside another.

Several theories sprang to Jiang Yan’s mind.

Ultimately, she leaned toward the latter.

That is, the existence and growth of the flower likely had some other origin, unrelated to keeping the villagers within Lingren Village.

The old masters probably feared their own wicked deeds being exposed, so they’d alerted the patrols in advance: if news of foreign soldiers getting close came, they were to trap every villager in this place.

Because of drought, famine, war, and Lingren Village’s unique, secluded location, the settlement had long operated beyond anyone’s control. To satisfy their own desires, the old masters denied the villagers their rights, turning the whole place into their private domain, casually slaughtering and enslaving the refugees who fled there.

But this was wrong, and not to be tolerated.

The country belonged to the people; every inch of its land was theirs to go where they pleased. Kicking people out was one thing, but killing them with iron clubs was utterly senseless.

So if the villagers escaped and exposed the misdeeds of the various old masters to the world, the old masters would be brought to justice. Even if, thanks to the war, they avoided punishment for a time, what they’d done would come back again and again—eventually, retribution would fall.

So, better to kill the villagers by trapping them.

Once the people were dead, the old masters could go off to live new lives elsewhere—still rich, still respectable, genial, “kind-hearted.” Even if any survivors escaped to denounce them, with so few and so little evidence, things would eventually quiet down and settle.

Jiang Yan considered all this as she climbed the stairs at the theater.

Having spent time with Jiang Yan, Shen Xiaoxiao could recognize her look of contemplation, so she kept her mouth tightly shut, refusing to disturb her.

On the second floor, Jiang Yan returned to her room.

She opened the window and looked down.

The number of patrols had obviously increased. Nine-person squads, seven or eight teams, now paced the street in rotation. The produce cart drivers who tried to talk with villagers were stopped and quickly escorted out.

In barely ten minutes, all the vegetable trucks were gone from Lingren Village. The main gate boomed shut. The starved, desperate refugees were left outside.

These refugees, after traveling days on foot, had no idea what had happened lately nor what their home villages were suffering.

All they knew was that Lingren Village now refused—blankly and wordlessly—to take them in.

Jiang Yan was about to look away when she caught sight of a familiar figure in her periphery.

It was Jin Yuebai.

She was talking to the newsstand owner—here to buy a paper, likely. But today’s shipment to Lingren Village had already been burned; the owner, not daring to explain, waved his hands awkwardly.

They went back and forth for quite a while before Jin Yuebai suddenly stopped. She stared at him for a few seconds, then moved on to buy vegetables and fruit from a stall.

As she paid, she looked up and saw Jiang Yan.

Jin Yuebai gave her a smile, asking in a clear, just-audible voice, “I lost my right earring last night, a jade-green one. I didn’t drop it at the theater, did I?”

Jiang Yan was startled.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Haven’t seen it. Either you lost it elsewhere, or someone picked it up.”

Jin Yuebai shrugged it off, unconcerned. “Alright, just asking.”

“It’s not worth much anyway. If it’s gone, it’s gone.”

She reminded Jiang Yan not to stick out of the window for safety, then headed for Flower Street with her groceries.

Watching her go, Jiang Yan straightened up.

She leaned on the window’s edge. At last, Shen Xiaoxiao decided it was safe to speak, so she asked, “Sister Jiang Yan, what are you looking at?”

“Not looking—waiting.” Jiang Yan explained: “The newsstand stopped selling papers, the village gate was shut, and refugees turned away. Such sudden actions will definitely stir suspicion among the villagers. If they don’t explain things soon, the people will start to panic, maybe even fight amongst themselves. The old masters’ll find an excuse, if only to buy time to escape safely themselves.”

“I’m just wondering what excuse they’ll come up with.”

Jiang Yan peered out the window again. Seeing that nothing was happening yet, she got Shen Xiaoxiao to help flip the laundry drying outside.

They quickly turned the clothes, then returned to the second floor.

This time, Jiang Yan stood by the window for half an hour before seeing an anxious patrol squad hurry by and paste handwritten bulletins on every shop door.

Villagers gathered round, their faces darkening: “—Plague?”

“How could there suddenly be an outbreak of plague both east and west?”

A man in a gray robe sighed, “No wonder they chased off all the vegetable vendors and closed the gates. We really should just stay in for now—a plague’s deadly, you know!”

Another villager suggested, “Shouldn’t we seal off the back road as well?”

“Every household’s got enough rice and flour—we won’t starve for a few months. Let’s just get through this for now!”

But someone objected: “But didn’t the paper say last week that the province next door’s at war? If fighting spreads here… what if foreign troops come? If the mountain road’s blocked, how do we escape?”

“Best not to seal it.”

The gray robe frowned, “And if we don’t? What if someone sneaks off and comes back—maybe carrying disease? We ought to keep everyone tightly controlled!”

“Don’t take this lightly. If even one person comes down with plague, the whole village could be doomed!”

The patrol captain joined in: “The best thing now is to keep everyone in. Don’t panic—help is sure to come.”

No one said more.

Plague frightened everyone more than foreign soldiers, whose arrival—or not—was an uncertain threat. The plague seemed imminent and deadly.

So, after some thought, everyone agreed to seal the village.

As the crowd dispersed, the patrol captain and the gray-robed man exchanged glances, sharing a sly look. Jiang Yan watched their act, curling her lip before drawing back.

Shen Xiaoxiao had overheard the discussion below, and she exclaimed, “My god, why are they lying to everyone?”

“If foreign soldiers come and block off the back, won’t it trap people inside to be slaughtered?!”

“That’s exactly what they want—no route of escape,” Jiang Yan answered.

“But the plague excuse won’t last. The villagers are confused now, accepting the explanation on instinct, but soon they’ll doubt,” Shen Xiaoxiao said, worried.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jiang Yan replied, “As long as the villagers stay calm for a few days, that’s enough. Three days suffices for the old masters to flee and for the road behind to be properly blocked off. After that, the old masters live free while the villagers are left to their fates.”

At last, Shen Xiaoxiao fully understood.

She stared at the villagers below, scrambling to buy daily goods, and stammered, “Are they even human? Those old masters and the patrols, they’re just beasts. And so are the foreign soldiers—a whole pack of beasts!”

After some time, she added with a bit of hopeful denial, “…Maybe the soldiers will just take a detour and Lingren Village’ll be spared. Otherwise, we’ll be living in hell—even if we survive, it’ll be a miserable existence.”

“I’ve read online—when foreign troops capture a village, no one gets out easy. People are treated worse than animals, and there’s all sorts of experiments: dehydration, degreasing, poison gas, it’s… it’s a fate worse than death.”

Jiang Yan shook her head. “Not likely.”

“Those kinds of experiments are as deadly as a bullet, and the energy field won’t create ‘sure death’ scenarios. Lingren Village has a way out for us, we’ve got a shot—if we can solve both the character route and the mystery as we go.”

Shen Xiaoxiao nodded vigorously.

She clenched her fist and cheered, “Long live Sister Yan!”

Jiang Yan had no idea what she meant. She glanced at Shen Xiaoxiao in confusion. Shen Xiaoxiao only looked more confused herself.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

The day passed quietly.

Time flew. As the sun set, Jiang Yan and the others gathered in the main hall for dinner.

Xi Jueyun and Liu Shaochun had by now started discussing the plague. Fang Xuyu’s brow was tightly furrowed, chiming in now and then, filled with worry.

Jiang Yan glanced at Xiao Congye, knowing she hadn’t told anyone else what she’d read from the lip movements.

Jiang Yan completely understood her reasoning—

Xi Jueyun was selfless, and Liu Shaochun too was fiercely loyal. If Xiao Congye had told them, they’d never be able to keep the news from the villagers, and then the patrol would surely target the whole theater.

People always consider themselves and their dearest first.

Xiao Congye’s top priority was the safety of those in the theater.

And right now, the old masters’ only reason for lying was to avoid panic—so they could slip away quietly. If the villagers revolted, the patrol squad had guns and plenty of ways to silence everyone.

After dinner, someone from Old Master Fang’s household came to fetch Fang Xuyu.

The servant reminded them, “Tomorrow’s my master’s fiftieth birthday. Every shop’s expected to send a representative and a gift—after all, you’ll all need Old Master Fang’s patronage to do well next year, won’t you?”

Xiao Congye rose to nod. “Tomorrow night, Troupe Leader Xi and Shaochun will attend.”

One last chance to profit before fleeing.

Jiang Yan didn’t look up, just helped herself to a piece of braised eggplant. Xiao Congye sat back down and continued her meal. The hall’s atmosphere quickly returned to routine—save for talk of the plague and how much to give Old Master Fang for his birthday.

Since she didn’t join in, Jiang Yan finished eating the fastest.

She got up to go to the restroom. Before leaving, she caught Shen Huanhuan’s eye; Shen Huanhuan instantly understood and headed out herself, feigning a trip to the toilet.

They met in a corner on the second floor.

Shen Huanhuan whispered, “What is it, Sister Jiang Yan? Did you find a clue?”

“Not sure if it’s a clue,” Jiang Yan said. “Do you know this kind of flower?”

She proceeded to draw, in Shen Huanhuan’s palm, the black blossom she’d seen.

Shen Huanhuan was the most well-read of their group, and knew many rare things. Now, frowning, she confirmed, “Petals full of eyes?”

Jiang Yan nodded. “Yes, entirely black, every petal dotted with several eyes, blinking—very eerie to look at.”

Shen Huanhuan dropped her gaze, thinking for a long time.

After several minutes, she looked up, “From that description, it sounds like a Yinling Flower—a once-in-a-millennium flower, a symbol of disaster.”

“A symbol of disaster?” Jiang Yan frowned.

“Yes,” Shen Huanhuan said seriously. “Legend says it only blooms where resentment is densest. It hates sunlight, thrives in places utterly cold and dark, every blossom rooted above uncountable bones. However many eyes are on each petal, that’s how many corpses’ nutrients it’s absorbed. The more eyes, the stronger the effect.”

“Can you cultivate this flower artificially?” Jiang Yan asked.

Shen Huanhuan thought, “I’ve never heard of it, but if someone knew its conditions and just kept feeding Yinling Flowers corpses, they might survive, maybe even form a sea of Yinling Flowers.”

“But its growing conditions are extremely harsh. My master only ever mentioned it once, from two thousand years ago—a Yinling Flower grew in a massive pit of the dead with over ten thousand corpses. Out of that pit, a dozen ‘Infant Spirit Flowers’ bloomed, and it took a psychic a huge effort to destroy them.”

Jiang Yan nodded.

Finally, she asked the most critical question:

“What does the flower do?”

Shen Huanhuan quickly said two words, “Addictive. Hallucinogenic.”

“You can tell from the name—‘Yin’, for opium: a drug.”

“Once someone inhales the pollen of a Yinling Flower, they’re addicted. Every week they have to take it again, or else their whole body becomes wracked with pain, their temper vicious and out of control, attacking anyone nearby. Anyone who smells it, their life is ruined.”

“And as for hallucinations…”

Shen Huanhuan explained, “First, users see fantastical visions, light and color blazing before their eyes, losing control—hurting themselves or others. Second, just getting within five meters of a Yinling Flower causes hallucinations, so harvesting it is very dangerous and costs many lives.”

Jiang Yan understood.

Shen Huanhuan asked, “Sister Jiang Yan, you saw a Yinling Flower? In this village?”

Jiang Yan nodded.

She said, “The old masters of Lingren Village are cultivating Yinling Flowers with the lives of the refugees.”

“Maybe for…”

Shen Huanhuan pressed, “For what?”

Jiang Yan answered coolly, “For money.”