"Coming right away, right away!" The waiter, who had been serving tea to another table, showed a moment of surprise before quickly grabbing two teacups and a teapot, hastening toward Gu Ning'an and Zheng De's table.
After setting the cups down, the waiter didn't pour the tea immediately but instead leaned closer and whispered, "Gentlemen, this spot has great acoustics, but it's also a bit eerie... Are you sure you don't want to move further back?"
Zheng De waved dismissively with a bold expression. "No need! We're here for the best experience!"
Gu Ning'an glanced at Zheng De and simply smiled. "Please pour the tea."
"Of course!" The waiter swiftly poured tea for both men, then brought over a plate of peanuts and another of spiced beans, placing them on the table. "Gentlemen, you've got real courage—this is on the house."
Gu Ning'an nodded. "Thank you."
The activity at the front row drew the attention of many seated in the back.
"Well, looks like someone's got the guts to sit there again... Should we start a betting pool on how long they'll last before running off?"
"Shh! Keep it down! Do you even know who that man in the green robe is? Stop spouting nonsense!"
"Who is he?"
"That's none other than Gu Ning'an from Ansi Courtyard!"
"My goodness! Even an immortal is here to listen to stories? No wonder that kid Zheng De isn't afraid—who'd worry about anything with an immortal sitting beside them?"
Though their voices were soft, they didn't escape the sharp hearing of Gu Ning'an. He simply smiled and paid no mind to their remarks.
Before long, two attendants carried in a fully black screen and placed it around the storyteller's desk, enclosing it entirely.
At the same time, the attendant at the door closed the main entrance and shuttered the windows on both sides.
With that, the teahouse was plunged into dim light, relying solely on a few oil lamps scattered around the room.
The atmosphere immediately grew tense. Conversations ceased, leaving only the heavy breathing of nervous patrons.
Inwardly, Gu Ning'an couldn't help but admire the teahouse owner's knack for creating suspense.
After all, for a story about malevolent spirits, dim lighting and a closed-off space significantly heightened the tension.
The black screen shrouded the storyteller's desk completely, and with the limited oil lamps in the front row, it was nearly impossible to discern the screen and desk unless one knew they were there beforehand.
A soft rustling of footsteps echoed faintly, likely the storyteller emerging from somewhere and taking their seat behind the screen. From the acoustics, it was evident that only those in the front row could catch these subtle sounds.
Clap!
The sharp crack of the storyteller's clapper resounded like sudden thunder, startling the audience into shivering.
Whoosh, whoosh! Wind noises arose, and the oil lamps flickered unsteadily!
Boom, boom!
Muffled thunder rolled in, followed by the pattering of rain.
The vivid imitation of wind, rain, and thunder came from behind the screen, perfectly in sync.
Gu Ning'an sipped his tea, quietly marveling at the storyteller's extraordinary vocal skills.
"It is said that in the old dynasty, wars were unending, and the people lived in misery!"
"In the far west of the old dynasty, there lay a dilapidated village with barely a few dozen households, all occupied by the elderly, the sick, and the weak."
"On a certain auspicious day, the village's only pair of young lovers were wed."
"The groom stood at eight feet tall, gaunt and sallow, with a red cloth tied across his eyes..."
"The bride was petite, her head covered by a dark red veil... When the guests greeted her, she responded with only slight nods. Beneath the veil, there wasn't a single sound from her..."
"On the wedding night, the bride sat silently by the bedside while the groom, visibly nervous, slowly lifted the red veil..."
"As the veil fell, a pair of clear, almond-shaped eyes were revealed. Below them, a gracefully upturned nose—perfectly sculpted. However, beneath that delicate nose, her lips were nowhere to be found..."
Gulp!
The sound of heavy swallowing rippled through the teahouse. Many in the audience couldn't help but cover their ears, struggling to continue listening.
"'My wife, are you hungry?'" the groom asked. At some point, a bowl of mushy, bloody meat had appeared in his hands. "'I spent all day catching this rabbit—have a taste.'"
The bride nodded slightly, then tilted her head back. A thin, bloody seam beneath her chin began to part, cracking open wider and wider, with streaks of blood trickling out.
The groom carefully pinched a small handful of the bloody meat from the bowl and gently stuffed it into the splitting seam... gulp, gulp—the bride, mouthless as she was, began swallowing the putrid meat, her throat undulating grotesquely with each gulp.
Clap!
The storyteller's clapper struck suddenly, and the previously extinguished oil lamps in the hall flared back to life. The shutters and main door were thrown open from the outside.
The once-dark hall was suddenly bathed in light. Those seated in the back row were in various states of terror: some curled up under their tables, some trembling against the walls, and others huddled together in search of comfort. Each was drenched in sweat, their faces pale as ghosts.
Clearly, the story of the "Faceless Demon" had scared them out of their wits.
The storyteller's black screen had vanished at some point. A man with a goatee stood there, holding a folding fan. With a casual shake of the fan, he scanned the crowd before his gaze settled on Gu Ning'an.
"Sir, you don't seem afraid?" The storyteller's voice was completely different now—smooth and magnetic, a stark contrast to the raspy tone he used during his performance.
Gu Ning'an clapped and smiled. "Afraid? Not at all. But your story was excellent—it felt as if I was there myself."
The storyteller smiled faintly at the compliment but remained indifferent. After all, what good was a ghost story if it failed to frighten its listeners?
"You flatter me," the storyteller replied with a bow before stepping closer to Gu Ning'an's table. "May I take a seat?"
"Of course," Gu Ning'an gestured invitingly, then casually asked, "Your story is quite unique. May I ask which book it comes from?"
Swish!
The storyteller closed his folding fan with a snap and replied confidently, "You might not believe me, sir, but I dreamed this story myself!"
Clatter!
Zheng De, who had been peeling peanuts, froze mid-action, dropping the peanut onto the floor. Hastily picking it up and brushing it off, he stared at the storyteller, now entirely serious. "When did you dream it?"
The storyteller, unbothered by the question, answered openly, "I can't recall the exact date, but it was about two months ago. I've since shared this tale across Gucheng County. Seeing how well it was received, I finally dared to perform it publicly."
Hearing this, Zheng De turned to look at Gu Ning'an. The latter, sensing the gaze, simply smiled, rose from his seat, and said, "I have other matters to attend to, so I'll take my leave..."