Going by name alone, Wú Jiǔ City didn’t seem like a particularly fun place to be. It was literally in the name: the city of no alcohol.
And yet, as Jiao Ziyu finally made it through the city gates, the city had either undergone a serious attitude change in recent years or been founded by a group of outrageous liars. Because the very first thing that Jiao Ziyu saw upon entering the city was a wine merchant peddling his wares – and then another, and then yet another, followed by at least half a dozen more. It would’ve been far more appropriate scenery if the city had called itself Jiǔguǐ, the city of drunkards.
Jiao Ziyu wasn’t there for any of that though. What had led him here was neither the promise of no alcohol nor that of plenty, but rather something else entirely. First, there was the issue of the Red Devil, and then, more recently⸺
“Doctor? Ah, you mean the Little Hermit, yes?”
The speaker was one of a group of three men – or three drunkards to be specific. They were sat at a table at one of the city’s restaurants, and Jiao Ziyu had quite casually claimed the fourth chair, taking a seat and the opportunity to make a few initial inquiries.
“The Little Hermit?” Jiao Ziyu repeated, tilting his head slightly to the side. Because that was a funny name for someone who apparently lived right in the middle of the city.
“Ah, yes, funny story that,” another man quipped. “Not the most sociable for sure, but quite skilled. I suffered a bad break a while back, and he fixed that one right up.”
“True, true,” the third man said, nodding to himself. “My daughter got herself bitten by a venomous snake. Luckily, the Good Doctor was available.”
“Quite an oddity though,” the first man noted. “That, and the company he keeps.”
Indeed. “Oh, do tell me more, my good sirs. Is it true that the Good Doctor can treat almost any ailment?”
“That is indeed true!” the second man said, lifting his cup in a toast that was quickly reciprocated by the others – and by Jiao Ziyu himself, because he would hardly have managed to endear himself to them quite so quickly if he hadn’t offered to buy them another round of alcohol.
“Truly a marvel!” the third man said. “It’s such a shame though. My daughter was quite taken by him, and I for one certainly wouldn’t have minded having such a son-in-law. But⸺”
He trailed off, and the men exchanged looks and then promptly burst into laughter.
“You’re dreaming while awake again, my friend!” one of them crowed. “Better watch your back tonight. Better buy another bottle and offer it up to the Red Devil when he comes to hunt you down.”
Hearing this, Jiao Ziyu stiffened, genuinely caught off guard. Because that guy, what had he just⸺?
“Ah, yes,” the first man said, stroking his own beard. “As an outsider, no wonder you don’t know. But you might end up seeing him, especially so if you plan on sticking around. A bit unnerving, yes, but largely harmless. Just make sure you don’t make eyes at the Good Doctor though, because the Red Devil doesn’t like that.”
“Forget about the Red Devil,” said the second man. “The Good Doctor doesn’t like it, and only a fool would attempt to lay hand upon him. Remember that raving outsider a while back, that bushy-browed bastard? The Good Doctor broke his fingers and the fall from the window broke his arm.”
Ah. “The Good Doctor sounds quite fierce. Quite frightening.”
“No need to be afraid, my new friend,” the third man said, patting him comfortingly on the arm. “The Good Doctor is quite mellow until you cross him, but if you cross him, then⸺”
“Mellow?!” the other two immediately crowed and then promptly descended into laughter. “Dear friend, you’re delusional!”
By the sounds of it, it seemed as though the Good Doctor was something quite fierce, at least underneath. Still⸺
“What is the relationship in-between the Good Doctor and the Red Devil?” Jiao Ziyu asked.
Curiously, a strange silence descended upon the lot, and seemingly upon the rest of the restaurant as well. Even without turning around, Jiao Ziyu could feel eyes upon them, paying rapt attention. And indeed, even the drunkards seemed to notice, sobering up immediately.
“Young Master,” the first man finally said, his voice gone quiet. “Perhaps it’d be wise not to make inquiries about such things.”
And Jiao Ziyu, playing the role of a clueless tourist, nodded fervently.
It was quite an interesting coincidence that Jiao Ziyu would stumble upon all this. He had initially set off towards the city following the rumour of the Red Devil.
However, on the way, yet another rumour had reached his ears, and Jiao Ziyu had found that he wasn’t the only one headed towards the city when he had hitched a ride with a merchant, who’d been drawn there by the presence of another: The Good Doctor, the Little Hermit.
Initially, Jiao Ziyu had thought that this was likely just some unscrupulous charlatan preying upon the common folk.
Now however, learning about the other’s seeming connection to the Red Devil, he did wonder. The local population seemed quite wary of discussing it as well – or at the very least of clearly defining it.
Jiao Ziyu would obviously be getting to the bottom of that though, and the first step towards this lay in locating a certain clinic.
Fortunately, there were numerous locals capable of pointing it out to him, although his final guide made sure to inform him that the Good Doctor wouldn’t be in today. The young boy pointed out a notice board, and although the boy himself couldn’t read, Jiao Ziyu certainly could, confirming that such was indeed the case.
The clinic was still open though, and so, Jiao Ziyu shamelessly went inside.
The room immediately to the left appeared to be an apothecary of some sort, and Jiao Ziyu naturally gravitated towards it. He rather doubted that they’d be selling anything that would be of use to him, but... considering everything, it would’ve been foolish not to at least go and check it out.
Inside, there were two clerks – a man and a woman, looking similar in both age and temperament. Observing the two of them out of the corner of his eye, Jiao Ziyu had a distinct feeling that they had a very affectionate relationship. Maybe they were even husband and wife? In any case⸺
“Hello there, Young Master. What are you looking for?”
The speaker was the female clerk, greeting him once the previous customer had left with their order. Jiao Ziyu momentarily considered asking her about the whereabouts of their master, but he wisely refrained.
“I’m looking to acquire some Diānqié.”
Predictably, the pair startled. Then they shared a wary look before the woman spoke up once more. “For what purpose would you need that, Young Master?”
To lie or not to lie; that was the question – or to lie a little or to lie a lot. “I need it to counteract the poison of the Wūtóu flower.”
“The Wūtóu flower?” the woman echoed, growing pale. “Oh my.”
Detecting the sympathy in her tone and demeanour, Jiao Ziyu looked appropriately pained, as if he had been the one suffering from the poison – acting like he was someone far younger and not roughly the same age as them. Any cultivator watching would’ve had a thing or two to say about his behaviour, or made their opinions known in other ways.
However, here there were no other cultivators to bear witness or judge. Instead, there was the woman, who looked at him and then at her husband, almost like she was pleading with him.
“We’re not authorised to handle such strong poisons,” the man said in turn, offering up a respectful bow. “Please be understanding of this.”
And Jiao Ziyu understood – he certainly did. However, how could he back down now, honestly?
The pair’s reactions had told him that someone in this whole operation – most likely the rumoured doctor – had a fair degree of familiarity with and likely also access to both poisons, provided by the Red Devil or otherwise.
“I wish to be understanding,” Jiao Ziyu said. “However, as things are, I’m running out of time.”
He schooled his expression to match his words – to match the person he was making himself out to be. Because to them, he only seemed like a young man – a cultivator – who’d had the misfortune of coming into contact with the Wūtóu poison, likely with the dried, powdered variety so favoured by assassins and demonic cultivators.
The woman obviously had a good heart, and her husband as well. However, Jiao Ziyu had no real qualms about deceiving them in order to get what he wanted – the desired plant, an audience with the Little Hermit, or both.
“Well,” the woman said at last. “Unfortunately, Young Master’s visit is ill-timed. It’s a full moon tonight, so the doctor will likely be absent tomorrow as well.”
A full moon?
Leaving the apothecary, Jiao Ziyu considered the information he had gathered up until this point. He considered it, and while deeply in thought, he wandered about getting the lay of the land, so to speak. Because obviously, even though he was deeply in thought, he didn’t let his guard down – because that would’ve been stupid, especially so in a place like this.
Thus, Jiao Ziyu was by no means oblivious to the young woman trailing behind him – he rather doubted she was an assassin though, given the rather poor job she did in following him. It was likely some local looking to make some extra money, and it was certainly not impossible that she had noticed him back at the restaurant and decided to follow him then.
Truthfully, this was something that Jiao Ziyu really did not need. However, at the same time, he recognised it as a definite opportunity of sorts. Thus, he turned into an alleyway and waited for her to catch up.
It didn’t take too long for her to do so either, stumbling right into the alleyway, and at the sight of Jiao Ziyu there waiting, she obviously flinched. She didn’t run off though and instead slowly made her way closer, offering up a bow.
“Young Master,” she said. “Are you a cultivator?”
Hoh? “Who’s asking?”
At this, young woman released a shuddering sigh, then shook her head and took another deep breath, steeling herself as she took another step towards him.
“This humble one’s name is Changmei, surnamed Li,” she finally managed, voice and gaze both lowered. “I have a request to make.”
This could be troublesome, Jiao Ziyu privately thought, but he opted to humour her nonetheless. “A request?”
“Yes,” she said urgently, taking another step closer before stopping and bowing once more, keeping her head lowered. “This humble one knows it is a terribly audacious request, but... if Young Master is indeed a cultivator, then...”
She trailed off, taking a moment to regain her compose.
“Please,” she then said, her voice very quiet. “The Good Doctor, Little Hermit, please help him. I beseech you!”
O⸺kay?
