Chapter Five: The Curious Cat

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On the second floor of the Watching Tide Inn, in a secluded private room by the window.

Proprietor Qian led the way with a fawning smile, bowing and nodding, followed by a middle-aged scholar whose demeanor was steady and reserved—this was the distinguished guest from the capital who called himself Zhou Yan.

Catching a glimpse of the woman inside the room from the corner of his eye, Proprietor Qian couldn’t help but grumble inwardly.

This so-called Priestess Situ had arrived half a month ago, bringing with her a disciple named Lu Chenyuan—clever in appearance but somewhat dull in reality—and had taken up residence in the woodshed at the back of his inn.

She claimed to interpret dreams and tell fortunes, yet in these past ten days, the hours she spent awake seemed fewer than those she spent drunken.

If she were a charlatan, then her face and bearing would put to shame even the most pampered noblewomen of the Divine Capital. Sometimes, as she lounged beneath the old pagoda tree in the courtyard, drinking wine with an air of nonchalance, even he—a man seasoned by the storms of life—had to inwardly applaud her charm.

But if she were truly a person of great cultivation, then why would she have her disciple labor as a menial worker for days on end just to pay for a jug of cheap liquor? She even seemed to run a constant tab.

She was as enigmatic as the empty cup in her hand—clear on the surface, yet impossible to see what she truly held within.

Suppressing his tangled thoughts, Proprietor Qian’s smile grew even more humble and respectful as he introduced, “Master Zhou, this is the Priestess Situ I spoke to you about.”

Inside, Situ had made herself comfortable, reclining languidly in a grand armchair, one hand propping her chin while the other idly twirled an empty wine cup. Her gaze seemed to rest on drifting clouds beyond the window, or perhaps on nothing at all, her entire posture suffused with indolence.

Lu Chenyuan stood quietly by her side, refilling her tea.

The moment Zhou Yan entered, Situ’s gaze drifted, almost nonchalantly, to his waist.

There hung a curious token—neither gold nor jade, but dark and muted, its surface etched with fine silver threads depicting the mountains and rivers of the Nine Provinces, the vast expanse of the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands—an image of boundless majesty.

At the center of the token was inlaid a crystal the size of a grain of rice, resembling a tightly shut eye, exuding an unnameable eeriness.

Her glance was fleeting—a dragonfly skimming the water, leaving not a ripple behind.

Zhou Yan’s gaze fell upon Situ, and he thought: “What a breathtaking woman!”

Her cloud-like hair was slightly disheveled, her blue robe somewhat worn. She appeared only in her early twenties, yet her beauty seemed not of this mortal world.

Her brows and eyes bore the sharpness of a swordsman and the grace of a poet. Even in her current state of languor, touched by the residue of last night’s wine, her demeanor was all the more striking.

Even Zhou Yan, weighed down by heavy worries, found himself dazed for a moment upon seeing her.

But only for a moment.

As an official who had survived the perils of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau for years, his first instinct was not admiration, but caution.

An alarm went off in his mind: “How could someone of such presence end up in this tiny town of Zhenhaichuan, passing herself off as a common dream interpreter? Something is amiss!”

He instinctively probed her cultivation with his spiritual sense, but it was like a clay ox entering the sea—he sensed nothing.

His wariness heightened—

Either she was an ordinary mortal with no cultivation whatsoever, or her abilities far surpassed his own, to the point of being inscrutable.

At that moment, a subtle scent of wine seemed to overwhelm the fragrance of tea in the room.

Zhou Yan’s vigilance swiftly turned to disappointment.

He shook his head at himself, self-mocking.

If she were a mortal, then today’s business was a farce.

If she were a true master, a sage playing at mortal life, why would she care for his petty fee or truly help him resolve his troubles? It was likely just a game.

Either way, the outcome seemed the same.

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He thought, Today’s visit is surely in vain.

“So be it. Since I’m here, I might as well enjoy the moment.”

Having come this far, he decided to treat it as an amusement. He cupped his hands and, using the explanation he’d prepared, spoke in a low, steady voice:

“I am Zhou Yan, come from the Divine Capital, a merchant procuring rare treasures from the Eastern Sea for the royal family. Of late, I have been plagued by a strange dream. Hearing of the priestess’s reputation for relieving worldly woes, I have come to seek your guidance.”

He paused, as if recalling the nightmare, his voice dropping unconsciously:

“I dreamt I was lost in endless darkness, surrounded by countless indistinct voices, buzzing like flies and mosquitoes. I could never make out what they were saying. Sometimes, the darkness would split open, and from the crack came a light—neither bright nor dim. Staring at it too long, I felt my very soul being drawn in…”

Situ listened without hurrying to reply. She spun the empty wine cup around her fingers before lazily lifting her eyelids.

“Master Zhou,”

She asked with a faint, enigmatic smile, “This dream of yours—surely it hasn’t troubled you for just a day or two, but for a good while now, hasn’t it?”

At the address “Master,” Zhou Yan’s heart gave a jolt.

He had introduced himself simply as a royal merchant—how had this woman discerned he was an official?

His face betrayed nothing, but inside, waves of shock rose. He dared not underestimate her now.

Just as he was about to explain further, Situ turned to Lu Chenyuan and said,

“Yuan’er, go downstairs and watch over our stall at the door for me. If anyone tries to take advantage, remember to ask them first about the feng shui of their ancestral tomb.”

Lu Chenyuan understood—his master was sending him away to speak privately with the guest.

He agreed and withdrew, though he muttered inwardly,

“Ask about their ancestral tomb’s feng shui… Every time we run into ruffians, we’re the first to flee. If a fight really broke out, our heads would be the first cracked—when would there ever be time to ask about their ancestors?”

Once Lu Chenyuan’s footsteps had faded, calm returned to the room.

Situ turned her gaze back to Zhou Yan, smiling lightly.

“Master Zhou, I cast another divination for you just now. I wager you’ve had another dream. You likely dreamt of confessing your troubles to your superior, only to be berated for having an unstable heart and being unworthy of your post, threatened with a fall from grace—did you not?”

Zhou Yan’s eyes narrowed involuntarily at her words.

Had he ever dreamt such a thing?

Yet what she described was the very reality he most feared, the truth he dared not utter!

As an Astral Observer of the Imperial Bureau, to be harmed by the very omens he observed would be the greatest disgrace among his peers and spell the end of his career.

He had never spoken of this to anyone.

Looking at the woman before him, cold sweat pricked his brow.

This was no common street magician, but a master who could see straight into one’s heart.

He sprang to his feet, bowing deeply to Situ, his voice quivering:

“Priestess, you speak the truth! This is precisely what plagues me!”

Situ made no comment, but stretched out a slender finger and refilled her cup with tea, asking idly,

“Then tell me—in your true dream, aside from the crack and the noise, did you see anything else?”

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Prompted by her guidance, Zhou Yan concealed nothing more.

“I saw, through the Astral Viewer…”

He got only halfway before Situ raised her hand to interrupt.

“Wait.”

She pointed at him, then herself, and said slowly,

“I interpret dreams. What you’re about to say—was it truly in your dream?”

Zhou Yan was quick to grasp her meaning.

He composed himself and began anew.

“Yes, Priestess. In my dream, the crack… it seemed almost alive, opening and closing, pulsing gently. And I always felt that deep within the fissure, an eye was watching me coldly.”

Situ nodded thoughtfully.

She drank the tea in her cup, then spoke with a light, offhanded tone, offering her “interpretation”:

“Oh, that’s nothing.”

“Our strange neighbor upstairs, perhaps, keeps a cat.”

Zhou Yan was taken aback. “A cat?”

Situ laughed, her smile, bright and inscrutable, catching the sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Yes, a cat.”

She raised a finger and wagged it in the air, as if teasing an invisible feline.

“Think about a cat’s nature, Master Zhou.”

“It’s curious, always peeking through cracks in doors and holes in walls to observe the world outside. That stare you felt—that was the cat watching you.”

“When it sleeps, it snores, its belly rising and falling—the pulsing you saw was its breath.”

“When it’s hungry, or bored, it mews a little—the muttering you heard was it begging for a bit of dried fish.”

Zhou Yan was dumbstruck by such an explanation—this was beyond anything he’d ever heard, bordering on the absurd.

Yet beneath the surface nonsense, he sensed a deeper, uncanny truth that he could neither grasp nor dismiss.

He steadied himself and pressed on, “Then what should I do? Is there a way to quiet the cat?”

Situ finished the last of her tea, rose, and walked toward the door, leaving Zhou Yan with only her unhurried, graceful figure and a drifting reply:

“A way?”

“If you have the skill, climb through the crack and scratch its chin—it might be content, and stop making noise.”

“If you don’t…”

She paused, opened the door, and her voice came back through the panel, half warning, half amused:

“Then keep your distance from the crack. For a curious cat may well extend its claws.”