Chapter Eighty-Three: The Blood-Red Jade Cicada of Panjiayuan

Back then, they actually found a jade cicada inside the corpse’s mouth! Old Liao leaned in, speaking with utmost seriousness.

“Was it exactly the same as this jade cicada?” I asked.

“Not quite,” he replied. “According to those present at the time, the cicada they discovered was even more unsettling—a blood-red jade cicada, crimson through and through!”

Old Liao gesticulated animatedly beside me, as if determined to impress upon me the eerie and mysterious scene of that day.

“So what exactly happened back then?” Driven by my curiosity about this cicada, I pressed him for details.

“Heh, you’ll have to wait for the next installment to find out.”

Old Liao wore that infuriating, mischievous expression, making me curse him inwardly for putting on airs again.

Suppressing the urge to swear, I tugged at his sleeve and pleaded, “Master Liao, come on, just tell me. I’m sincerely asking for your wisdom.”

Old Liao took the sweat towel from around his neck, wrapped it lightly around his left forearm like a Taoist’s horsetail whisk, and intoned, “Boundless heavenly honor! My friend, such secrets of fate cannot be revealed.”

Too much—utterly insufferable!

I charged forward and landed a punch squarely on his face. “I’ve had enough! If you keep up this act, I’ll toss you off the building!”

Rubbing the bruise forming around his eye, Old Liao grumbled a few words and finally resumed his story.

The blood-red jade cicada from Panjiayuan that year had indeed sparked strange and sinister events in the capital’s archaeology circles.

At the auction, the starting bid for the cicada wasn’t high. Although the blood-red gemstone was rare, it was, after all, just a jade burial object—not particularly valuable in terms of form or symbolism. The starting price was only five thousand.

Panjiayuan at the time was home to a host of influential and capable figures whose expertise and connections had, to some extent, driven the antique trade’s development there.

Among those present was a renowned expert nicknamed Crooked San, who, for various reasons, happened to attend the auction that day.

In local parlance, Crooked San was known as a “Treasure Prophet”—in plain terms, a man with a keen eye for appraising treasures. Normally, with his own means, he wouldn’t have made it into such a high-level auction, but fortune smiled on him that day. He followed a wealthy young heir—someone he’d once helped unearth a hidden gem—and managed to secure a seat beside his patron, there to take in the spectacle.

The blood-red jade cicada appeared very early in the auction, given its modest starting price. The young heir’s true aim was a pair of double-horned, intricately carved jade ruyi, a piece of exceptional craftsmanship and artistic merit. So, when the cicada appeared, he barely spared it a glance and even muttered, “Why bring out a dead man’s tongue pad? What bad luck.”

Crooked San, sipping tea beside him, heard this and found his interest piqued. After a few glances, his eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Master Liu, mind if I bid on this piece for a bit of fun?”

The young heir, no fool, immediately sensed there was more to this than met the eye. Crooked San had been hoping to quietly snag the piece for himself, but now that his patron was interested, he knew he’d likely leave empty-handed.

“So, San, what’s this thing really worth?” the heir asked, absentmindedly turning a jade thumb ring in his hand, not even looking at Crooked San.

Seeing that he could no longer conceal the truth, Crooked San confessed, “Compared to this, that double-horned jade ruyi is hardly worth mentioning.”

The heir was stunned but inwardly thrilled. He signaled his assistant to start bidding.

Many in the audience recognized Crooked San and were keenly aware of his skill, so more and more buyers joined the fray. The atmosphere in the main hall quickly became feverish, even though the event had barely begun.

Crooked San watched with mounting excitement as his patron repeatedly raised the paddle, driving the price higher and higher. After three sharp calls and the heavy fall of the auctioneer’s gavel, the young heir won the blood-red jade cicada for a staggering three million.

The price far exceeded his expectations, leaving him unable to compete for the coveted double-horned jade ruyi, which eventually sold for only 2.8 million—less than the cicada’s final price. The turn of events astonished experts, collectors, and enthusiasts alike.

At this point, Old Liao paused for a sip of tea, then remarked, “If my memory serves me, the gold-threaded jade cicada that appeared this time bears exactly the same carving and shape as the blood-red cicada from Panjiayuan back then.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. Could there really be such a coincidence?

“So what exactly happened afterward?”

Old Liao said the events surrounding the blood-red cicada at Panjiayuan were even more bizarre than what we had encountered, stoking my curiosity further. He blew aside the tea leaves floating in his cup and grinned. “A month later, that young heir, Liu, went mad. Armed with a kitchen knife, he slaughtered everyone in his family’s courtyard—his parents, the maid, the butler, friends—fourteen people in total.”

I gasped, chilled to the bone. Could the blood-red cicada have caused such a heinous crime?

According to Old Liao, after acquiring the cicada, the heir was so enamored with it he wore it day and night, never taking it off—not even to bathe. As time passed, Crooked San noticed that the cicada’s red hue grew ever deeper, its milky base becoming thoroughly suffused with crimson, until the entire piece appeared as if soaked in blood.

Then Old Liao raised his head. “Do you know who the original owner of the cicada was—the one who sold it to that young heir?”

“Who?”

“Crooked San himself.”