Chapter Fifty: Death Strikes at Midnight

“Boss, we’re in luck today. Two guests delivered themselves right to our door—this time we’ll make a fortune,” the hunched waiter said, his tone brimming with scheming intent.

“Don’t get careless. Besides, that girl who came to stay earlier doesn’t look like she has money. Leave her be for now,” the innkeeper replied, his narrow eyes glinting with cunning.

“She may be poor, but we could still sell her to the brokers and fetch a few coins.”

“You rascal… Of course, anyone who enters this inn is our property. But first, let’s focus on pocketing the silver right in front of us.”

“You’re right, boss. But there are three of them over there. They might be hard to handle. Should we call our brothers over?” the waiter hesitated.

“Idiot!” A sharp smack rang out as the waiter was struck hard. “Just drug their water. If you call the others, there’ll be less money to split. Or do you want to share your cut with them?”

“Oh no, boss, I was just saying! Besides, you only ever give me the scraps. What’s there to share anyway?” The waiter rubbed his head and quickly backtracked.

“That’s enough. Get their tea up to them. As for the penniless girl, let her go hungry for now—we’ll deal with her after taking care of the others,” the innkeeper muttered, already scheming how much profit could be wrung from these guests.

“Yes, yes, I’ll go right away.”

Meanwhile, Xuexue sat at the bedside, tending her wounds, wondering why no one had come to offer a meal. She found it odd—they must be too preoccupied to bother with her at the moment.

She hadn’t relaxed for long when the door quietly creaked open. She turned slightly. “Is it the waiter?”

Instead, three young women entered uninvited. Before Xuexue could react, they quickly bound her hands and feet with handkerchiefs and gagged her so she couldn’t make a sound.

“Don’t make a fuss, or don’t blame me for being harsh,” said one woman, who seemed a maid. Her movements were rough, her tone commanding. She wore a pale pink dress, her face rather plain.

“She doesn’t look like she’ll cause any trouble,” another woman said with a laugh, glancing at Xuexue with utter disregard.

“True,” the maid agreed, placing something on a chair. “Miss, please sit here. This room is much worse than ours, it reeks of something foul.”

The third, who had been silent, sat gracefully. She was clearly the mistress of the other two, all three dressed in finery—especially the seated woman, clad in deep violet robes, a jade pendant at her waist, her slender figure wrapped elegantly. A black gauze veil hid her face, but her eyes shone with cold, haughty beauty.

Xuexue sat quietly at the bed’s edge, making no attempt to struggle.

“Miss, these people are bold indeed, daring to plot against us. Let’s see what becomes of them,” the maid said as she deftly carved a hole in the wall with a dagger, giving them a clear view into the next room.

They watched as the sneaky waiter crept inside, carrying a tea set, craning his neck and calling out for the young ladies. He set the tea down softly, tiptoeing further in. Suddenly, a dreadful scream erupted—

Ah!

Xuexue heard the anguished cry, but in moments, all fell silent again.

“Miss, the waiter’s dead,” the maid in pink said gleefully, a smile on her lips.

“Feiyi, drag him in here. The stench in this room is truly unbearable,” the veiled woman finally spoke, her voice gentle but tinged with disdain.

“Yes.” Soon Feiyi dragged the waiter’s corpse over. His death was ghastly—veins bulging, his face twisted in terror. His mouth hung open, and a small black insect crawled out, which Feiyi deftly trapped in a porcelain vial.

The cause of death was clear—killed by that little black bug.

Xuexue silently observed their actions. Why had they brought the body to her room?

Her look of confusion was mistaken for fear. Feiyi addressed her, “Don’t be afraid. As long as you behave, we won’t take your life.”

Xuexue nodded hesitantly.

“Strange, her eyes seem to have some problem,” said the woman in purple, rising to examine Xuexue before turning to the other maid. “Qingshu, let her speak.”

The gag was removed.

“I’ve had weak eyes since childhood,” Xuexue said, feigning fear, her head bowed as if too timid to meet their gaze.

“Poor thing,” Feiyi remarked, though her face showed not a trace of pity.

“Let’s go—the innkeeper will be up soon,” the woman in purple decided, her long skirt trailing regally across the floor.

Qingshu followed her out. Feiyi ordered Xuexue, “Don’t make a sound or you’ll lose your life.” She took another porcelain vial, poured something onto the waiter’s corpse, then left the room.

Once they were all gone, Xuexue finally raised her head, frowning slightly. Such rudeness without anyone’s leave was intolerable.

Meanwhile, the innkeeper, waiting downstairs for the waiter’s report, grew anxious at his absence.

“Could something have gone wrong?” he asked the cook, a plump woman.

“I bet he got distracted by those pretty young ladies upstairs,” the cook said, her chubby face trembling with laughter. “Why not go check?”

“Well… I suppose I will,” the innkeeper replied, sneaking upstairs.

He went to the room where the woman in purple stayed, knocking with a show of courtesy. He expected to hear the waiter but was instead greeted by a maid. “Innkeeper, what’s going on in this place? We’ve been waiting ages for tea—this is outrageous.”

The innkeeper, taken aback, questioned her, “No one brought you tea? The waiter didn’t come up?” Suspicion gnawed at him.

“That’s my question for you. Why are you asking me?” Feiyi retorted sharply.

“Don’t be upset, miss. I’ll look into it right away,” he said, placating her with a smile before leaving.

Had the waiter gone to the poor girl’s room by mistake? Quietly, he went next door and knocked. When there was no response, he pushed the door open.

Inside, he found the waiter lying on the floor. Rushing over, he called, “Waiter! Waiter!” shaking the body. But as he did, a white worm from the corpse crawled onto him.

Oblivious, the innkeeper stammered, “What happened here? Did you kill him?” He was terrified by the corpse, trembling as he looked at Xuexue.

Xuexue remained silent, her head bowed.

“You witch, I’ll kill you!” Though the waiter’s death was strange, Xuexue seemed weak—a perfect target for his anger. He drew a dagger to strike, but suddenly felt thousands of pinpricks all over his body.

He collapsed, writhing in agony, howling for mercy. “Miss, spare me… have mercy! Please, don’t kill me!” Crawling to the bedside, he clung to Xuexue’s leg, begging for his life.

As his screams echoed, Xuexue sat quietly on the bed, her arms around herself, while laughter floated over from the adjacent room—those young women, clearly taking pleasure in the chaos.

The commotion drew the cook, who lumbered upstairs, knife in hand, her bulk making the wooden stairs creak.

“Innkeeper, I’m coming to save you!” she cried, her voice booming.

But just as she reached the top, Feiyi kicked her back down with ease, snuffing out her bravado instantly.

A loud thud sounded as the cook collapsed below, blood streaming from her head.

Inside, the innkeeper still begged for his life, but blood trickled from his mouth. He slumped to the floor, blood seeping from his eyes, nose, and soon his ears as well.

Xuexue remained curled on the bed, the thick moldy stench now mingling with the reek of blood, making her nauseous.

“Qingshu, our new white worm is quite potent. In just a quarter of an hour, he’s dead as a doornail,” Feiyi said smugly, coming into the room, nudging the innkeeper’s corpse with disdain.

“Feiyi, you haven’t dealt with that fat woman yet,” Qingshu said from the doorway, looking with disgust at the two corpses before stifling a yawn.

“So which bug should we use? The white one, the black one, or maybe the butterfly worm?” Feiyi mused, as if discussing something amusing rather than the taking of lives.

Xuexue groped her way out of the room—staying with corpses was unbearable.

“What are you doing out here? Don’t you want to sleep tonight?” Feiyi asked, seeing her in the corridor.

“I… I’m scared,” Xuexue replied, hugging her arms, her whole body hunched, her face unreadable.

They ignored her, busy dealing with the bodies.

Downstairs, the fat cook struggled, inching her way toward the door.