After returning to her own small courtyard, Nan Yang told Grandma about the marriage arrangement that had fallen from the sky. Grandma was so shocked she couldn’t speak for a long while.
Once the shock passed, Grandma indeed trembled all over with anger.
“What a fine Lu Family… They want to break off the engagement yet still save face, unwilling to leave any grounds for criticism. In the years when Lady Zhou managed the household affairs, the two families were so close! The Lu Family is particular, always wanting the best of everything—the writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones from the Imperial Academy, food, clothing, and daily necessities, none of which were cheap. Hosting garden poetry gatherings and mountain retreats required not only money but also connections. Lady Zhou poured her dowry from her maiden family into it as if it were free… Both sides clearly took it for granted!”
“How much money and effort did Lady Zhou painstakingly spend to care for the young lords of the Lu Family who were studying? Even a birth mother would only do so much, all for the sake of securing Eldest Cousin Lu for Second Miss! They… they, now that Eldest Cousin Lu has completed his studies and entered officialdom, he’s marrying the legitimate daughter of the Wei Family instead, and pushing a Lu Family collateral branch son onto you! I… I’ll throw away this old face of mine and fight my way to the Lu Family’s doorstep!”
Nan Yang quickly blocked the courtyard gate with her back. “Calm down, Grandma! You’re still ill.”
Grandma was so angry she was nearly frantic. “Second Miss, the immense dowry your birth mother brought into the Wei Family was truly poured into it! All for the sake of planning a good marriage for you! What does this count as now? They’re all bullying you.”
Nan Yang supported Grandma and moved her toward the house.
“Look on the bright side, Grandma. The Lu Family isn’t that important. Your own health is what matters most. Don’t ruin yourself with anger over others. Think of it this way—I’ll be married off soon.”
Grandma choked on her coughs, unable to stop. “Marrying off can be marrying up or marrying down, marrying a person or a ghost! Lu Sanlang is just a collateral branch cousin…”
At this point, she grew agitated again. “The son of a Lu Family collateral branch—his father has been a minor eighth-rank official his whole life. How good can the son be? No prospects, no money, not even entitled to ancestral property when the family divides! How can he compare to the legitimate eldest son of the main branch, who’s the Shanyang Taishou?! No, Second Miss, you must fight with all your might—”
Nan Yang stopped under the setting sun and pointed at herself. “Look at me, Grandma.”
Grandma paused, falling silent, and examined her carefully.
The golden light of the setting sun shone on the young girl’s fresh and lovely face, like a flower on a branch in early spring greeting the breeze for the first time. She had completely inherited her mother’s oval face and fair skin.
She was born with a pair of watery, slightly downturned innocent round eyes. Up close, one could see the fine golden down on her delicate skin illuminated by the sunlight.
Grandma’s heart softened into a pool of water, her gaze gentle. “Second Miss is truly beautiful.”
But what Nan Yang wanted Grandma to see was not her appearance.
She pointed at herself calmly and evenly. “Grandma, see clearly. I am only a Wei Family concubine-born daughter. My birth mother has gone mad, Father has long forgotten about this daughter of his, and I still have to rely on my Legal Mother to prepare the dowry.”
“As the saying goes, every pot has its lid. Eldest Cousin Lu looks down on me, but I look down on him too. I think Lu Sanlang is quite good. A Wei Family concubine-born daughter paired with a minor official’s son—one can’t provide a dowry, the other has little future. It’s a well-matched marriage.”
Grandma was stunned for a moment, about to burst into angry curses again, when Nan Yang slowly began counting on her fingers: “Besides, Eldest Cousin Lu. We haven’t seen each other in six years, and as soon as we meet, he criticizes me.”
Grandma: “…”
“He looked down on my soiled and unclean dress, saying it brought shame to the Wei Family. When he saw me lying in the roadside ditch, he didn’t say a word, but his eyes were full of disdain. He has been picky since childhood—picky about himself and others. When I was little, I liked playing with him only because he was good-looking.”
Grandma: “…And now? Lu Dalangjun is still handsome, graceful as a jade tree in the wind.”
“There are plenty of good-looking people besides him. I think Lu Sanlang is quite handsome too.”
Nan Yang recalled the brief meeting in the flower hall and truthfully described the appearance of the Lu Family’s Third Young Master, Qingze:
“He’s grown tall, like a willow tree in spring. His temperament isn’t very steady—he kept nervously stealing glances at me, timid yet persistent, like a tabby cat crouching by the water’s edge trying to steal fish.”
Grandma burst into laughter through her tears.
The two chatted and laughed as they finished their evening meal. Grandma, tired from her illness, went to bed early.
Nan Yang closed the windows one by one.
Suddenly, a small black ball was thrown from somewhere, bouncing a few times on the windowsill before landing on the blue brick floor inside the room.
At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Holding an oil lamp, she searched around for a long time before finding a small wax pill under the corner of the long table.
Nan Yang stared at it suspiciously for a while, then tentatively squeezed it—the wax pill shattered.
A thin, rolled-up slip of paper appeared in her palm.
It was paper of unknown origin, thin and delicate when rolled up, but surprisingly large when unfolded.
A bold and unrestrained cursive script appeared before her eyes, its vigorous strokes seeming to pierce through the paper.
Nan Yang: …
She had stopped attending the female tutor’s school at the age of ten. As a child, she had diligently practiced regular script and could recognize running script, but reading wild cursive was a struggle.
Nan Yang read it once under the lamp, stumbling through the words:
“‘In the seventh month, the Fire Star declines; in the ninth month, winter clothes are given out.’
Box… something has silk gauze, why wear grass… something? Wear what clothes? And you want me to reply with a wax pill?”
Dingxiang Yuan was secluded. During the day, a few people might come by, but after nightfall, no one visited except Grandma and Nan Yang. Tonight, she had bolted the courtyard gate herself.
A quiet, empty courtyard, a mysteriously appearing wax pill after dark, a slip of paper that looked more like ghostly scribbles than wild cursive, and a very strange message.
The first two lines were clearly from the Book of Songs, but the following lines were completely off.
…Was it wild cursive or ghostly scribbles?
Come to think of it, the gates of the underworld open on the fifteenth day of the seventh month. Now, at the end of the seventh month, the gates hadn’t fully closed yet.
Could it be that a few restless souls hadn’t made it back in time, wandering the mortal world after dark every night, searching for a living person who could understand their ghostly scribbles to seek justice on their behalf?
Late at night, Nan Yang felt a shiver run down her spine.
She couldn’t understand it. She didn’t want to investigate. It was late, and she was tired.
Nan Yang brought the small slip of paper close to the oil lamp. With a soft sizzle, she clasped her hands and murmured a prayer:
“This humble believer, with mortal eyes and a mortal body, cannot understand the ghostly scribbles of the underworld. Go find someone in the mortal world who can understand them. Don’t come looking for me.”
After destroying the evidence, she felt a wave of relief as she closed the last window, pulled up the thin quilt, and lay down to sleep.
Soon, the sound of even, shallow breathing filled the room.
Outside the house, crouched behind a low wall, a stunned spy stared in disbelief.
News from the Wei Family spread after dark, crossing the long street in less than half an hour and reaching the hands of the master.
The spy who had infiltrated the Wei Family knelt and reported, “Master, forgive this humble servant! Wei Erniangzi… she opened the wax pill and read it once, but she seemed… dissatisfied. After reading it, she directly… burned the slip of paper. There was no reply…”
Dissatisfied?
Xiao Chengyan tightened the reins, his narrow, dark eyes narrowing slightly.
He reined in his horse abruptly, and the numerous accompanying guards behind him all halted their steeds in the dark alley.
The hooves of all the horses were wrapped in cloth strips, and small wooden sticks were placed in their mouths—a common military practice for swift movement, ensuring no sound was made during late-night travel.
Under the faint, flickering moonlight overhead, over a hundred fine horses stood silently in the deep darkness of the alley. The combined shadows of men and horses appeared eerie, casting large, swaying silhouettes on the walls lining both sides of the narrow lane.
All the light cavalry held their breath, listening as Xiao Chengyan spoke:
“What was unsatisfactory?”
The scout lowered his head, not daring to look at his lord’s expression. “Wei Er Niang muttered to herself, saying, ‘I can’t understand these ghostly scribbles from the underworld. Go find someone in the mortal realm who can read them’…”
Xiao Chengyan: “…Hah.”
Di Rong hung his saber on his horse and laughed heartily. “My lord, I told you the characters should be written more clearly. Wei Erniangzi has been harshly treated by her family and stopped attending school at just ten years old. She truly can’t read your wild cursive script!”
“Well said.” Xiao Chengyan nodded. “You’ll write the second draft when we return and deliver it personally to the Wei residence.”
Di Rong’s laughter immediately ceased: “…”
The sound of their conversation disturbed a few households in the alley. Gates creaked open, and two or three women peered out to see what was happening.
Overhead, tree shadows swayed, and strange dark figures flickered across the alley walls.
Before the women could discern what terrifying presence had passed through the deep alley, the shadows vanished into the pitch-black mouth of the lane.
The light cavalry slipped silently out of the dark alley, emerging onto a broad, long street lined with endless stretches of gray-tiled walls.
At the end of the walls stood a grand vermilion gatehouse, brightly lit even in the dead of night, with guards standing watch, swords at their sides. This was Dongping Lane, where the capital’s nobility gathered.
High above the brightly lit vermilion gate, three large characters on a black background with gilded clay shone clearly:
[Prince Qi’s Mansion]
The leading black horse moved soundlessly down the long street, reining to a stop at another alley entrance three hundred paces away.
Both sides of the ambush were in position as Xiao Chengyan halted his horse.
In the distance, the gates of Prince Qi’s mansion were ablaze with light, with several stewards waiting eagerly outside.
The Son of Heaven was gravely ill, and Prince Qi, playing the part of a filial son, entered the palace daily to attend to him, returning only late at night. Today was no exception.
He would be back soon.
Xiao Chengyan was waiting for him.
Soon, the sound of scattered hoofbeats and clamor reached his ears—Prince Qi’s retinue was returning from the palace.
Prince Qi, arrogant and flamboyant by nature, likely found the daily pretense of attending to the ailing emperor in the palace extremely tedious. Unwilling to ride in a carriage upon leaving the palace at night, he rode at the forefront of his entourage, leading them through narrow alleys as a shortcut.
After all, in the capital, under the watchful eye of the Son of Heaven, with home within reach and a retinue of over a hundred men personally guarded by the commander of the mansion’s left guard, what could possibly go wrong while passing through a dark alley?
Taking the shortcut through the narrow lanes, there were two alleys to choose from.
In both dark alleys, many pairs of gleaming eyes lay hidden.
Prince Qi’s luck tonight was not particularly good.
He chose the alley where Xiao Chengyan was waiting.
A melodious whistle echoed from the dark alley, its trailing note carrying a hint of pleasure.
From the depths of the dark lane, a flash of bright white blade light gleamed—thud! A muffled sound reached their ears.
The lead horse collapsed, its head rolling far away.
Prince Qi fell to the ground, his face smeared with a thick, bloody fluid. In terror, he opened his mouth to scream, only to have more sticky liquid spatter into it, filling his mouth with the taste of blood.
That muffled thud was like a battle drum, and more dark shadows surged forward like a tide!
Before his eyes, white light flickered; in his ears, muffled groans rose and fell.
Prince Qi was stunned for a moment before suddenly realizing that the bloody liquid splattered all over his face and body was fresh blood—horse blood, human blood! The people and horses around him were being systematically slaughtered, their throats slit one by one!
From the depths of the dark alley came a terrified, frantic scream, “How dare you! Who dares attack this prince? Protect me! Protect me!!”
A tall black horse trotted briskly out of the narrow, shadowy alley and onto the broad main street, breaking into a light canter.
Tonight was the twenty-ninth day of the seventh month. Thick clouds gathered, blotting out the stars and moon, leaving the long street so dark one could not see their own hand in front of their face. Only as the horse drew closer did its form become visible.
Trailing behind the horse were two people.
The two being dragged were actually dressed respectably, but their fine silk robes were so caked in blood that the original colors were indistinguishable. They were bound together like dead dogs, motionless.
The unusual commotion quickly drew the attention of the many servants outside Prince Qi’s mansion. Numerous pairs of eyes turned suspiciously toward the scene.
Parading through the streets late at night, disregarding the curfew, dragging prisoners behind a horse—each of these actions was the unmistakable mark of a powerful noble. Uncertain of the visitor’s identity, no one dared speak up immediately.
“Might I ask who you are…?” A steward from the prince’s mansion stepped forward with a forced smile, calling out from a distance.
The black horse did not stop, its tall silhouette blending into the shadows of the roadside wall.
“Just passing through,” Xiao Chengyan replied, his long saber resting across the horse’s back as he continued riding forward. As he passed the mansion’s main gate, he added leisurely, “Give my regards to Prince Qi.”
When the figures being dragged behind the horse’s tail finally emerged into the lantern light surrounding the mansion’s entrance, their bloodied faces revealed, the people of Prince Qi’s mansion reacted as if they had seen ghosts, screaming in terror!
“The Left Guard Commander! The Left Guard Commander who escorted His Highness Prince Qi into the palace!”
“Master Zhai! Master Zhai, the strategist His Highness values most!”
“The Left Guard Commander and Master Zhai have been dragged to death by the horse!!”
“Someone! Summon the mansion guards!”
Chaos erupted in Prince Qi’s mansion like a swarm of headless flies. It was only after some time that numerous guards and attendants hurriedly led horses out of the mansion, clamoring as they gave chase.
They soon discovered the nearby dark alley littered with corpses—all of Prince Qi’s personal attendants. The prince himself, however, was not among them.
The entire city was searched until dawn, when Prince Qi was finally found in a ditch in the western part of the city. He stood there blank-faced, unresponsive to calls, his throat making guttural sounds. Unable to stand or speak, he seemed to have been frightened into a state of shock, as if his mind had snapped.
The attackers vanished without a trace into the pitch-black night.
Three neighborhoods away.
At the newly established Huaiyang Marquis Mansion, a grand family banquet was in full swing that evening, with the hall filled with lively feasting and drinking.
“This marquis has been hosting a banquet at home. Whoever claims I went out late at night is maliciously slandering me, with intentions worthy of death. They might even be the mastermind behind the plot to harm me.”
Xiao Chengyan dismounted and entered the mansion, accepting a cup of wine and downing it in one gulp before taking his seat at the head of the banquet table.
“Tonight’s family banquet celebrates the addition of a new Household Steward to this marquis’s ranks, alongside General Di and Mr. Ming: Mr. Yang.”
Yang Shenzhi, the former magistrate of Shanyang County, sat with a livid expression in the seat of honor at the banquet.
That morning, he had been dragged by Marquis Xiao into the palace for an audience with the emperor. Somehow, Marquis Xiao had managed to obtain an imperial edict, and as a result, a new appointment had been issued.
He, Yang Shenzhi, was no longer the magistrate of Shanyang County but a subordinate of Marquis Xiao: the Household Steward of Huaiyang Marquis.
Xiao Chengyan raised his cup in a toast. “Tonight, the twenty-ninth day of the seventh month, is dark and windy… perfect for slaughtering pigs and sheep.”
Amidst the barely contained laughter of his personal guards, Xiao Chengyan raised his cup unhurriedly:
“The first cup of wine is to tonight’s fine night.”
“The second toast, to our Household Steward, Mr. Yang.”
“The third toast, to all the brave men present here. Let us all drink up.”
Amidst the lively toasts at the full table, everyone raised their glasses in celebration of the Marquis Mansion’s newly appointed Household Steward, Mr. Yang. Yang Shenzhi remained silent, accepting every toast without refusal, clinking his cup and drinking heavily.
…I want to die.
Might as well drink myself to death.
While the feast outside was in full swing, with people drinking heartily and feasting on large chunks of meat, Di Rong was sent inside to transcribe the note.
The iron-tower-like man sat before the desk, clutching the brush, scratching his head in frustration, as he meticulously copied the second wax-sealed secret letter for his lord in neat, straight-lined regular script.
After finishing, he presented it to Xiao Chengyan, only to have it crumpled up and thrown away in disdain.
Amidst the clamor and urging of toasts during the second half of the feast, it was now Xiao Chengyan who sat at the desk, stroke by stroke, copying the second wax-sealed secret letter to the Wei Family in a perfectly neat, calligraphy-like regular script.
The next day, inside the inner quarters of the Wei Family residence.
On the last night of July, Nan Yang stood by the window, holding the second wax pellet in her hand, utterly bewildered.
This fierce ghost is quite considerate…
Knowing she couldn’t understand the ghostly scribbles, it switched to writing in regular script.