Chapter 902: Encounter with the Divine Ointment

Editor: Henyee Translations

The news of Chu Qingzhi’s supposed demise elicited a mix of responses—celebrations from her enemies and concern from her allies.

Figures such as the Emperor, ministers who had benefited from her benevolence, and many others lurking in the shadows wrote to Tang Jinghong, inquiring about the actual events.

Letters snowed upon Tang Jinghong like winter flurries.

If not for prior communication with Chu Qingzhi, Tang Jinghong might have believed she had truly met her end.

Though letters kept arriving, responding to them posed a challenge. Everyone awaited his reply to confirm Chu Qingzhi’s fate. Tang picked a few significant ones to respond using coded language, leaving the rest unanswered to maintain a veil of ambiguity about the actual situation.

Amidst these tumultuous discussions, Zeng Huo and Lou Ze (Chu Qingzhi in disguise) arrived on the outskirts of Linzhang City, which had resumed its normal activities, allowing them easy entry.

Upon entering, Chu Qingzhi immediately sensed an unpleasant odor permeating the air. The further they ventured, the stronger and more nauseating the smell became. What she eventually saw was something she wished she hadn’t—streets lined with opium dens, frail men shuffling in and out.

The men entering these dens looked emaciated, with glossy, pain-filled eyes—ghostly shadows of their former selves. Those who came out wore expressions of euphoria, intoxicated and detached from reality.

Passersby gave the dens a wide berth, their faces marked with disgust and helplessness.

Suddenly, the door of one den swung open, and two attendants dragged out a young man, throwing him onto the street.

“Without money, you dare to smoke the divine ointment!”

“If you come back here again, I’ll kill you!”

The young man, despite the harsh fall, paid no heed to his pain. He crawled back towards the den, begging, “Please, just let me have one more hit. I’ll bring the deed to my house…”

Lou Ze paused at the sight, particularly struck by the fact that the expelled individual was just a teenage boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen. Despite his youth, he looked emaciated, his skin wrinkled like that of a man in his thirties.

Lou Ze approached the boy and asked, “If you had a choice, would you touch this stuff again?”

The boy replied without hesitation, “I would never touch it again. I was deceived into trying it; I never would have willingly smoked the divine ointment…”

Lou Ze produced a small bottle from his sleeve, tipped a pill into the boy’s mouth, and within moments, the boy’s cravings ceased. The rapid effect of the pill brought calm to his once desperate eyes.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, the boy bowed repeatedly, “Thank you, brother, thank you.”

Lou Ze gently responded, “Get up. Go home and start your life over.”

“Will do, brother. I promise never to touch divine ointment again.”

Having witnessed this transformation, Zeng Huo was astounded by the pill Chu Qingzhi had given him earlier—how could it have eradicated the boy’s addiction so quickly? Yet knowing Lou Ze’s true identity, he dared not inquire further.

As they continued their walk, they decided to grab a meal at a local restaurant. They ordered a private room and a vast array of dishes—after the recent stresses, a good meal seemed necessary.

Zeng Huo watched the table fill with food, “Can you really eat all this?”

Lou Ze looked up, “Yes, why? Can’t I?”

“Go ahead, eat,” Zeng Huo replied, focusing on his own meal.

Noticing Zeng Huo’s tense demeanor, Lou Ze commented, “I don’t bite, you know. And I treat those who help me quite well. Just eat.”

Zeng Huo nodded in acknowledgment, somewhat relieved.

After their meal, the plan was to gather intelligence on the magistrate of Linzhang City. Killing required preparation, and Chu Qingzhi also sought to investigate the magistrate further.

As they stepped down from the restaurant, they noticed several young men heading towards an adjoining opium den.

Spreading her senses, Lou Ze discovered a door inside the restaurant that led directly to the opium den. Curious, she followed the young men inside.

The den was a dismal place with small cubicles partitioned by screens, each containing a small table flanked by lounge chairs where patrons lay enveloped in smoke.

When an attendant noticed them, Lou Ze inquired, “Is there space available?”

The attendant, with a broad smile, confirmed, “We have a private room available.”

As they were led to their room, Lou Ze asked about the establishment, “How long has this place been operating? How’s the quality?”

Casually, the attendant boasted, “We’ve been open for over two years now, and the quality of our divine ointment is the best you’ll find. You can rest assured, sir.”

“Bring us your best divine ointment then,” Lou Ze requested.

“Right away, sir,” the attendant replied with a nod.

They were led to a private room, a modest space that offered a respite from the denser smoke of the main hall. The attendant gestured for them to sit. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

As they settled in, a maid came in with the supplies for smoking the divine ointment. She hesitated upon entering, her eyes darting nervously between the two men.

“Do you need instructions on how to use this?” the maid asked timidly.

Zeng Huo glanced back at her sternly, “Whether we know how or not, you better serve us well.”

The maid nodded quickly, her hands trembling slightly, “Of course.”

Lou Ze took the divine ointment and examined it closely, sniffing it to assess its quality. As expected, the craftsmanship was primitive compared to modern standards, but the addictive potency was undeniable once lit. “How long have you been working here?” he asked the maid.

“Just over a month,” she replied softly.

“And why are you here?” Lou Ze’s tone was gentle, prompting her to open up.

Her story poured out, “My father sold me here. He destroyed our family because of his addiction to the divine ointment. He sold my mother, my sister, and me to cover his debts.”

The cruelty of addiction was starkly evident in her words. Once touched by this substance, escape seemed nearly impossible.

“Would you like to go back?” Lou Ze asked her.

She sobbed softly, “More than anything. I dream of it. But I know it’s impossible now.”

“There’s always a possibility,” Lou Ze reassured her. “Wait a few more days.”

The maid wasn’t convinced, assuming no one who frequented the opium den had the power to change her fate. Once hooked on the divine ointment, life often followed a despairing trajectory towards destruction.