Shen grabbed a flashlight from under the counter, his hand steady despite the way his throat tightened. The back room door stuck when he pushed it, as if something was leaning against the other side. With a sharp creak, it gave way, and the faint glow grew brighter—coming from a cracked blue and white porcelain vase on a rickety shelf. The sour odor hit them full-force now, mixing with the earthy smell of aged tea leaves.
“Stay behind me,” Chen whispered, summoning the silver glow to her palms. The light cast long shadows over stacks of dusty boxes and mismatched furniture. Her eyes scanned the room, stopping at a small figure darting toward a tin of loose tea on the table. It was no bigger than her fist, with skin the same blue-and-white pattern as the vase, and tiny hands clutching a handful of jasmine tea.
“Got you,” Chen said, moving faster than the goblin could react. She cupped her hands around it, the glow from her palms creating a soft barrier so it couldn’t slip away. The goblin squawked, kicking its tiny feet and dropping the tea leaves. “Let me go! That’s my tea!”
Shen shone the flashlight on the scene, his mouth hanging open. “What... what is it?” The goblin bared its pointed teeth, its voice high and indignant. “I’m a Porcelain Goblin, thank you very much. Not some ‘it.’” Chen tightened her grip gently, making sure it couldn’t escape but wouldn’t get hurt.
“You’re the one tearing the ledgers and moving the antiques,” she said, her tone firm. The goblin’s squirming slowed, but its eyes stayed sharp. “So what if I am? He deserves it.” It nodded toward Shen, who frowned in confusion. “I don’t even know you. Why would I deserve this?”
“Your grandfather trapped me in that vase fifty years ago!” the goblin snapped, wriggling to point at the cracked porcelain. “Said I was ‘stealing his precious tea’—as if a few leaves matter. I sat in the dark for decades, and when that stupid curse of yours shook the shop last month, the vase broke. Now I’m here to make your family pay.”
Chen’s glow dimmed a little as she processed the words. This was the “root” Zhang had talked about—the old misfortune feeding on the talisman’s curse. She knelt down, setting the goblin on the table but keeping her hand hovering nearby. “Trapping you was wrong. But taking it out on Shen isn’t fair. He didn’t even know you existed.”
The goblin crossed its arms, but its anger softened. It glanced at the spilled tea leaves, then at Shen’s confused face. “He’s just like his grandfather—staring at me like I’m a bug. But fine, I’ll admit it. I knocked over the ledgers. I moved the teacups. I even loosened that sign at the bakery last week.”
Shen’s eyes widened. “You did that? Not the curse?” “The curse made it easy,” the goblin said. “It weakens the luck around him, so my tricks work better. But the chaos? That’s all me.” Chen nodded, feeling a weight lift. They’d found the culprit. Now, they just needed to fix the wrong that started it all.
She looked at Shen, who was still staring at the goblin. “We need to make this right. For both of you.” The goblin huffed, but when Shen reached for the tin of jasmine tea and set it in front of him, its tiny fingers twitched toward it. Maybe, after fifty years of anger, a little tea and an apology could start to heal the grudge.
