The Illusion of Pear Blossoms

“Hah? That’s it? Just such a small question?” I almost blurted out. “I thought you were going to ask her about a treasure map, a mountain of gold and silver, or something of that sort.”

I cleared my throat and said,
“I heard she was merely a cook you hired from the labor market. If you want to know her name, shouldn’t you ask your steward?”

“Yes, she was indeed a cook—” Yanshu’s fingers brushed back the white hair at her ear, slowly tucking it away, “But do you know how she died? An assassin came to kill me. He was a formidable one. His quenched steel scissors ripped through my soft armor, and he was about to split me open when she appeared. With a pair of silver chopsticks, she blocked his strike. Even though she was past seventy, she moved faster than lightning. She twisted his arms until they snapped and pinned him to the ground. Just as everyone thought the danger was over, the assassin spat out a hidden poisoned needle. It pierced her throat. The poison was fatal, death upon blood. And just like that, she was gone. I still had so many questions to ask her… but she died.”

With a puff, Yanshu lit a candle. The dim room brightened a little.

I saw a tiny hole at the base of her throat. My eyes drifted lower—to her hands. Wrinkled, pale fingers… but the thick calluses in her palms were unmistakable. These were the hands of a warrior, hardened through countless hours wielding blades.

“She is the fourth assassin to die in her hands.”

Gongsun Bai arched a brow.
“I recall, three years ago, you provoked a barbarian tribe called the Laqi. They placed a bounty on your head, and assassins from all over the jianghu came after you. For protection, you hired a bodyguard.”

“Yes,” Yanshu admitted, “the renowned Wan Ling, famed across the martial world as the Fast Blades. I paid her to protect me for three months.” His eyes softened as he looked at the corpse in his arms. “That woman… she was Lady Pear.”

He caressed the old woman’s hand with almost unbearable tenderness.
“She had miraculous skill. With twin crescent blades she moved swifter than even the deadliest assassins. No one could match her speed. She lived in my residence for three months and saved me many times. But when the three months were over, she vanished. No matter how I searched, I could not find her again.”

“So now you suspect that this cook is none other than Wan Ling herself?” Bai asked, his voice calm. “I have heard of a rare poison, called Thousand Days. Those afflicted by it experience time a thousand times faster. One day for an ordinary man would be three years for the victim. Perhaps… she was poisoned.”

Yanshu’s body trembled. “I… I don’t know.” But his expression betrayed him. He already knew, but could not admit it. That is the way of human hearts—we can look at truth and still refuse it.

I decided to guide him forward.
“If you wish to confirm this woman’s identity, I can ask her for you.”

Yanshu’s eyes widened.
“You can make the dead speak?”

“I have my methods. I can ask her certain questions. But let me be clear—I never do business at a loss.”

“I never take advantage of others either. Name your price, Master Su.”

Seeing him so broken, I could not bring myself to demand too much. Glancing around the room, my eyes landed on a purple-gold incense burner. Its surface was sand-polished, glowing faintly with golden hues.

I pointed to it.
“That incense burner. Give it to me.”

“You need not be polite.”

“I’m not being polite. I just happen to need one. This one is fine. I like it.”

Yanshu handed it over. It was warm in my hand, not a common object at all.

“Do you have anything personal of Lady Pear’s?” I asked. “The longer she kept it close, the better. A comb, earrings, necklace—even a bellyband would do.”

After a long pause, Yanshu pulled out a silver pendant.
“This. I made it myself, a phoenix-shaped bangle. She never liked jewelry, but she wore this always. When she left, she took nothing with her—except this. Then, one day, I found it back in my chamber.”

“That will do.” I took the pendant. Items worn close to the body always carry a trace of their owner. Examining it closely, I brushed the grooves with a fine brush and found a single strand of hair. Perfect.

I wrapped the pendant and hair in silk and told Yanshu,
“Now, please step outside.”

“Why?” he frowned.

“Because this is a family secret technique. Outsiders cannot watch.”

I signaled Bai with my eyes. He led Yanshu outside. I could hear their voices through the door, but not their words. A quarter-hour later, Bai returned.

“I’ve never heard of a method that lets you enter the memory of the dead.”

“That’s because you’ve seen too little,” I shot back.

Truthfully, when I first read about the Bodhi Illusion Arts in my master’s scrolls, I hadn’t believed it either. The last page said: The Bodhi Art traverses both the living world and the underworld. It can seek the memories of the living and the dead. But the living are safe; the dead are not. If the deceased hasn’t been gone too long, one can still trace their memories through items they cherished.

After a brief explanation, Bai finally understood.

I tucked the pendant and hair inside my robes, lit a slip of paper inscribed with her name, and turned to Bai.
“I’ll be going in now. Watch the incense burner for me.”

“Why the burner?”

“Because it anchors the ritual. If I get trapped in her world…” I grabbed his wrist, my voice tightening, “You must find a half-immortal named Tu Xin. He’s my master. Only he can save me. He lives on Lingxu Mountain.”

Bai raised a brow.
“The legendary mountain of immortals?”

“Yes. He dresses in green, has a bad temper—” I rambled nervously until Bai clapped my shoulder.
“Stop fretting. With me here, nothing will happen to you.”

Golden smoke coiled upward from the incense burner. But unlike the pale streams I had seen before, this smoke was radiant—like a five-clawed golden dragon, twisting in the air. My master had once said the shape of cause and effect varies with the soul. Golden dragon smoke… what fate did that mean again?

I stared, dazed, until Bai seized it in his hand.
“What are you doing? If you wait any longer, the line of causality will vanish.”

“Oh—oh!” I grabbed the tail of the smoke.

Instantly, I was dragged in. Wind roared in my ears, scenes flashed past in a blur. When at last I landed, snow-white pear blossoms stretched endlessly before me.

The golden smoke… it belonged to an illusionist.

Which meant—this cook, this old woman… she too was a master of illusions.

By the heavens.