Chapter Thirty-Four: Auditing the Accounts

“I... don’t know.”

“I don’t know.” The vengeful spirit recoiled in fright, shrinking back with an expression of pure terror that even she could not fully comprehend.

— Su Changling recognized that look: it was the near-instinctual fear and avoidance that arises when one’s deeply held beliefs, the very foundations of their survival, are suddenly shaken.

Just as she herself had fainted the last time she was overwhelmed by such a sudden upheaval.

Now, this female ghost likely wanted nothing more than to escape.

“Don’t know? Then take your time to think it over. We still have plenty of time.” Su Changling’s gaze remained calm as she gradually cornered the spirit. “You can give me your answer tomorrow, or the day after.”

“In fact, any day before I leave the Cheng family estate will do—just don’t wait until the very last day.”

“After all, I came down the mountain this time to capture the ghost pearls that escaped the mountain gate, and along the way, to recover my lost six souls—including you.” The girl spoke plainly and honestly, expression unreadable. “If you’re unwilling to come with me, it’s going to be very difficult.”

“Then I’ll have no choice but to keep fighting.”

“Sounds like,” the ghost suddenly laughed, “you don’t really want to fight me.”

“Yes,” Su Changling nodded in agreement, “because I can’t win.”

“Your swordsmanship is clearly far more skilled than mine—I can’t pull a surprise attack on you like when I fought the Demon King.”

— The person who understood her best in this world was none other than herself.

That was why she had been able to lead her about like that before.

Recalling those times when she had been treated like a dog led on a leash, Su Changling couldn’t help but raise her hand to press her throbbing brow.

The vengeful spirit burst out laughing, “I rarely see you with such a good temper.”

“Well, at least I should have more patience with myself than with others,” Su Changling replied, her eyelashes lowering slightly. “Otherwise, wouldn’t my temper be utterly ruined?”

“Indeed, it was terrible.” The ghost grinned, “At least your temper a hundred years ago was still terrible.”

“If only you had the good nature you have now back then, maybe... but never mind.”

The spirit murmured, then seemed to recall something and sighed deeply.

Su Changling caught the unspoken meaning behind her words and was about to ask more, but the ghost slipped away like a fish diving into water, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“Hey...”

How impatient.

Had she always been this impatient?

Unable to catch even a shadow of the ghost, Su Changling rubbed her nose and turned toward the old street nearby to search for traces of other ghost pearls.

*

The copper bell tolled at the first hour of the morning, eight o’clock sharp, as the morning sun slanted through the window and door.

The makeup shop, which usually opened early to welcome customers, still kept its doors tightly shut today. Behind the modest shop, measuring about six meters wide and nine meters deep, Cheng Yingsue sat composed at the table, adorned in full jewelry and headpieces, while her staff stood before her, all looking sullen and barely daring to breathe.

“Second Miss, your tea.” A perceptive maid swiftly brought the tea, which the young lady took a delicate sip of before setting down the pale blue glazed cup with a faint clink.

The servants glanced nervously at the trembling surface of the tea inside, their hearts involuntarily chilled.

Cheng Yingsue scrutinized the line of shop assistants standing like quails, her lips tightening into a thin, straight line.

She fixed her gaze on the group of scheming misfits until one timid young assistant, nearly overwhelmed by the silence, stammered two words: “Checking accounts.”

“Good,” Cheng Yingsue said, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the speaker with a hint of cruelty. “Do you know exactly what account I’m here to check today?”

The silence deepened, no one dared to answer.

Unfazed, the young lady waved for her maids to bring forth the ledgers she had already pored over countless times at home and then began methodically reading through them, starting from the head clerk down through the shop staff like a grim roll call.

*

“Whether you don’t know or don’t want to know, it doesn’t matter—I brought the ledger with me,” Cheng Yingsue said deliberately, flipping to a marked page and reciting the entries aloud.

“On the sixth day of the third month, the eleventh year: Purchased one hundred thirty stones of red and blue flowers for making rouge, costing two thousand eighty silver taels; purchased eighteen stones of borneol, and twenty-seven stones each of fragrant wood and amber, totaling three thousand five hundred silver taels.”

“On the seventh day of the third month, sold four boxes of medicinal rouge, totaling twelve silver taels; sold three boxes of medicinal face cream, fifteen silver taels; sold ten boxes of red flower rouge, five silver taels.”

“The total was twenty-seven taels and five qian; tax was twelve, totaling five taels and five qian in tax.”

“On the eighth day of the third month...”

“Shopkeeper Zhan.” The young lady suddenly addressed the shopkeeper after reading through an entire page, causing him to nearly collapse from his knees weakening. “Present.”

“Can you explain why, in the eleventh year’s first month, sales of the shop’s ‘medicinal cosmetic’ rouges and face creams sharply declined, yet before the existing stock sold out, the shop purchased so many raw materials for making medicinal rouge again in the third month?”

Cheng Yingsue slowly closed the ledger. The shopkeeper wiped the cold sweat from his brow and stammered, “Ah, well... that’s mainly for researching new... new rouges.”

“Moreover... Second Miss, our shop has a strict rule that rouges older than one month cannot be sold.”

“So... that’s why the boss ordered continued purchases of raw materials for rouge—because rouges made in the first month would be unsellable by March.”

“Oh? Is that so? Rouges older than one month cannot be sold?” Cheng Yingsue sneered and clapped her hands, commanding her maid to bring a perfectly packaged brocade box. “Shopkeeper Zhan, take a look at this rouge my maid bought from our shop four days ago—what date is inscribed on the inside of the box?”

Zhan took the box, cold sweat now streaming down his back. “It... it’s dated May of the fourteenth year.”

“And what month and year is it now?” the young lady pressed.

“August... August of the fourteenth year,” the shopkeeper’s voice trembled faintly.

“Exactly. It’s already August of the fourteenth year.” With a sharp slam, Cheng Yingsue struck the table. “Rouge made in May was bought back into my estate by my maid in August.”

“Shopkeeper Zhan, is this your claim that rouges older than one month are not sold outside?!”