In New Orleans, 1865, the air was thick with the humid mist of the Mississippi River and thesmoke of gunpowder of war. The shadow of the Mexican-American War had not yet lifted, yet this port city was already eager to don the trappings of the Gilded Age. I, Seraphina Su, or by my hometown name—苏婳 (Su Hua), stood before the mansion left by my late husband, fingers clutching the brass key, its齿痕 (tooth marks) digging painfully into my palm.
"Madam, this is what the先生 (sir) specifically instructed to be given to you." The lawyer handed over a carved sandalwood box, painted with cinnabarspell (talisman) I could not understand, "He said you wouldUnderstand."
I took the box, and the moment my fingertips touched the sandalwood, a刺骨的寒意 (piercing cold)scurry (shot) up my spine. Inside the box were neatly folded five dresses—Rococo-style gowns, yet inlaid with ancient jade from the East among the intricate lace and绸缎 (silk satin). On the waistband of the top one, a blood jade carved into the shape of a phoenix shimmered with an诡异的光泽 (eerie luster) in the sunlight.
"These are..."
"Treasures the先生 (sir) brought back from the Far East." The lawyer pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, "Said to be relics of a certain witch dynasty."
That night, I examined the dresses under gaslight. When my fingers brushed the cuff of the third gown, a青玉 (green jade) button suddenly fell off, striking the floor with a清脆的声响 (clear, crisp sound). I bent to pick it up, only to see the button roll under the dressing table. Kneeling on the carpet to reach for it, my forehead hit the tabletop, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.
When I opened my eyes, the looking glass of the dressing table no longer showed my reflection. Instead, aChinese stylecourtyard appeared in the mirror; by moonlight, a woman in a dark blue旗袍 (cheongsam) was arranging strange patterns with porcelain shards. She suddenly looked up, our eyes meeting—her eyes were like two bottomless pools of ink.
"Finally found you, descendant of the Su family." Her voice echoed directly in my mind, "I am Lorelei Wu, sealed in this mirror for sixty-three years."
I stumbled backward, knocking over the tea table. The silver tea set crashed onto the marble floor, alerting the maids downstairs. By the time they arrived, the mirror's surface had returned to normal, leaving only the青玉 (green jade) button lying quietly in my palm, burning like a hot coal.
Three days later, I wore the blood phoenix gown to the state senate dinner. When Senator LaCroix approached, the ancient jade on the dress suddenly grew hot. I instinctively pressed my chest, only to hear Lorelei's voice: "Ask him about the railroad bill."
My tongue moved involuntarily: "Senator, I hear you oppose the Pacific Railroad passing through Chinatown?"
LaCroix's blue eyes suddenly失焦 (lost focus), answering like he was hypnotized: "Yes, those yellow people should be driven out..." His words戛然而止 (abruptly stopped), as my hand unconsciously stroked the phoenix pattern on the gown. The senator's pupils dilated, and hechange one's mind: "I've changed my mind. The railroad will go through there."
After the dinner, I trembled as I removed the gown in the carriage. Strange characters embroidered with silver thread had appeared on the silk lining, with faint凸起 (raised bumps) to the touch. Lorelei's voice spoke again: "This is女书 (Nüshu), the secret script passed down by the women of your Su family for generations. Now it has chosen you."
Meanwhile, across the Charles River at Harvard University. Evangeline Nie aimed the copper ring of a Tesla coil at an old parchment scroll; the pages of The Concord Codex翻动 (flipped) violently under high voltage. She didn't notice, in the shadowy corner of the lab, a fragment of blue and white porcelain渗出 (oozing) dark red liquid.
"Crank up the voltage!" Evangeline shouted to her assistant, the cuffs of her modified kimono stained with oil, "How many witches did these Puritan codices burn? Today must—"
The arc suddenly炸裂 (exploded), plunging the building into darkness. When the backup gaslights came on, the codex had turned to ash. What Evangeline didn't see was that the ashes formed a Chinese character: "婳" (Hua).
In the textile workshop of New Orleans' slums, Celestia Chang stared at the suddenly stopped sewing machine. The needle was wrapped with red silk thread,勾勒 (outlining) a curse pattern identical to those from her hometown of Xiangxi on the canvas. A strange female voice echoed in her ears: "Remember this stitch, child. With each stitch,默念 (silently chant) the name of your enemy..."
At dawn, I knelt in the mansion's basement, with a diary found in the sandalwood box's hidden compartment spread before me. My late husband's潦草的笔迹 (scrawled handwriting) recorded his见闻 (observations) in the Far East: "Today I saw the legendary 'Mirror of Worldly Judgment'; the Wu woman who held it claimed to predict war outcomes. I traded my revolver for it, but she warned that sealed within the mirror..."
The diary ended there. I stroked the deep nail scratches on the last page, suddenly understanding why the lawyer's eyes had闪烁 (flickered) when delivering the box. These were never treasures—they were penance.
The oil lamp in the basement suddenly went out. In the darkness, the ancient jade on all five dresses glowed simultaneously, projecting star map-like纹路 (patterns) on the ceiling. Lorelei's voice surged from all directions: "Su Hua, are you ready? The witch dynasty has waited too long for revival."
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, noting phoenix patterns identical to those on the gown appearing at the corners of my eyes. In this moment, I finally understood the phrase my grandmother had written in女书 (Nüshu) on her deathbed: "Bloodline is fate."
As dawn light filtered through the stained glass into the basement, I made my decision. The most magnificent sixth dress—a wedding gown embroidered with gold thread符咒 (talisman)—layQuietly at the bottom of the sandalwood box, waiting for its owner to complete the final ritual.