CHAPTER 600: 232 SILENT GARDEN_3

And so Four Seasons Manor fell into the hands of the Yu family. For decades, the Yu family thrived, their prosperity akin to flowers over brocade and raging fire boiling oil. People speculated about the legend of Wansui Mountain’s dragon veins. Clicks of tongues insinuated that the geomancy master from back then truly possessed profound abilities.

A few lanterns illuminated the manor, like scattered stars embellishing the night sky—distant and enigmatic.

Everyone knew the four gardens—Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, and Chrysanthemum—each embodied a distinct seasonal beauty, yet none were aware of the solitary peak at the manor’s northwest corner. Treacherous and steep, it could only be accessed by crossing a suspension bridge on foot, as no vehicle could navigate its perilous terrain.

The mountain air was cold, punctuated by the occasional sound of insects, their eerie echoes amplifying the lone and desolate chill of this winter night.

"Dr. Zhu, slow down," the steward turned back to glance at the woman walking behind him.

Clad in a white coat, her heavy mushroom-shaped hair framed her face, while a pair of black-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her dark complexion nearly blended into the night.

She was an utterly unremarkable figure—one who would be hard to distinguish in a crowd. Only the white coat she wore lent her any semblance of importance.

His name was Wei Lai, a steward from the head wife’s household, her confidant tasked with many responsibilities, including overseeing Silent Garden.

The elderly couple’s health had deteriorated. Out of benevolence, the head wife privately instructed him to find a skilled doctor—especially discreet—and smuggle them inside without alerting the old matriarch. No matter the cost, no matter the rare medicines required, they were to prolong the couple’s life as much as possible.

The person confined in Silent Garden bore a unique status; it was imperative that no inkling of their presence was leaked. The choice of doctor had to be made with utmost caution. Wei Lai thought of a distant niece from his wife’s hometown, a graduate of Mingren University’s medical school, currently employed at an upscale private clinic. Thus, he approached her, leading to this visit.

The woman spoke in a flat voice that matched her wooden, stolid demeanor: "No need to stand on ceremony, Uncle. Just call me Keke."

Wei Lai arched a brow. Despite her dull appearance, the girl seemed surprisingly adept at handling social pleasantries.

"Once we’re inside, no matter who you see or what you hear, you must keep it buried deep inside—never let a single word leak out, or else...."

Wei Lai’s cold voice carried an overwhelming oppressive force, blending chillingly with the mountain’s nighttime winds. The unsettling foreboding seeped into one’s very bones.

The woman’s expression remained stiff. Her reply, muddled by the gusting wind: "I understand. Rest assured, Uncle."

As the suspension bridge came into sight, Wei Lai cast her a sideways glance. "Can you manage?"

The woman slung her single-strap medical kit securely across her body and rubbed her hands together. "Uncle, go ahead first. I’ll follow closely behind."

"Watch carefully how I cross and make certain to keep your balance steady at all times...," Wei Lai instructed.

The suspension bridge wasn’t long—only about two meters or so. He was accustomed to crossing it frequently, but for a young girl...

As Wei Lai stepped onto solid ground and turned back, he suddenly saw the woman already standing behind him. Startled, he stumbled backward, his face paling alarmingly.

"Y-you... are you Keke?"

The cold wind swept through, sending an icy shiver down his spine.

The woman coughed lightly. "Uncle, it’s me."

"How did you move so quickly?"

Wei Lai couldn’t help but wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. For a moment, he truly thought he had encountered a ghost.

"I grew up in the mountains; crossing these kinds of suspension bridges comes naturally," she explained.

Wei Lai let out a relieved sigh. "So that’s it, then."

He didn’t suspect a thing, as he knew his wife genuinely hailed from a remote mountainous region.

Leading her onward, Wei Lai navigated around a rocky cliff. In the near distance, a manor emerged, nestled amid a sheer precipice. The mountain winds howled, bringing to mind haunted mansions in horror tales. The atmosphere was steeped in eerie bleakness, amplifying the ominous sensation.

Two black-clad guards stood at the manor’s entrance, one stationed on each side of the heavy wooden door. At hearing footsteps, they straightened their stance, eyes forward.

Wei Lai pushed the wooden door open, walked a few steps, then looked back.

The woman was still standing at the threshold, gazing up at the plaque over the doorway.

Tonight’s sky was wrapped in oppressive clouds, with forecasts calling for sleet. Yet, unbeknownst to them, the moon had briefly poked an eye through a gap in the swirling cover.

By that faint sliver of ethereal moonlight, she managed to make out the words scrawled in peeling, mottled paint on the plaque.

Silent Garden.

Wei Lai frowned. "What are you dawdling for? Hurry up and come in."

After all, she was just a young woman visiting such a place for the first time; it was only natural for her to be unnerved.

The woman lowered her gaze, ascended the steps, and crossed the doorway.

None noticed the grip with which her fingers clutched the strap of her medical kit—the knuckles bone-white with a frigid desperation.

The manor retained its classical architecture but bore the scars of neglect. Everywhere spoke of disrepair, with an air permeated by desolation. The icy moonlight and roaring mountain winds accentuated the compound’s decaying, grim bleakness.

If one were scouting a setting for horror films, this place would be ideal.

"Do you need me to shove it down your throat to make you drink? What a bloody joke, acting all high and mighty like some aristocratic lady—bah!"

The shrill voice of a woman’s angry scolding pierced through the thick silence, drifting from the western annex. Right after, the crashing sound of a porcelain bowl shattering followed, echoing unmistakably through the isolation of the mountain woods.