“Eighteenth Lady, who is my father?…”
“Mother?”
“Yes!”
The night was deep and still, a solitary lamp flickered on the desk.
Xu Jichun, his eyes hazy with drink, stared at the delicate young woman before him.
The lamplight was dim, its glow casting a misty shadow over the woman.
She appeared to be around seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a simple pale green coarse-cloth skirt. Her dark hair was loosely tied into a single bun, unadorned with jewels or flowers, save for a wooden hairpin slanting through it. Loose strands at her temples swayed gently in the night breeze.
One of her hands rested lightly on his head, stroking it softly, while the other remained firmly pressed against a small red cloth pouch at her waist.
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting shifting shadows.
One seated, the other standing, they gazed at each other in silence for a long while beneath the moonlight by the window.
Finally, Xu Jichun could no longer hold back and spoke first: “Young lady, my mother is dead.”
“That’s right, I am a ghost.”
Thud—
Xu Jichun collapsed to the ground.
Had she frightened him to death?
If a ghost harms a human life, it will never enter Samsara again.
Eighteenth Lady was so terrified she burst into tears: “My son, you must not die!”
Perhaps sincerity moved the heavens, for Xu Jichun slowly opened his eyes, lying on the ground, and looked at her in confusion: “Are you really my mother?”
Hearing this, Eighteenth Lady immediately stopped crying and sniffled, “Your name is Xu Jichun, courtesy name Zi’an. You are from Hengzhou and are exactly twenty-two years old this year, am I right?”
Xu Jichun nodded, half-convinced and half-doubting: “Then… why haven’t you reincarnated?”
Having stood for too long, her legs had grown somewhat numb.
Eighteenth Lady sat down on the ground beside him: “My son, I originally intended to reincarnate. But when I reached the Naihe Bridge, I couldn’t bear to leave you, so I fled from the Underworld.”
Xu Jichun pursed his lips in thought.
He remembered his aunt saying that his birth mother had died in a dilapidated temple after giving birth to him, succumbing to a difficult labor.
His aunt happened to pass by the temple that day and heard his cries.
Entering the temple, she found a woman dead inside. She buried the woman and took him away to raise him.
The female ghost’s account matched his aunt’s story.
Suspicious of the ghost’s peculiarities, Xu Jichun asked another question: “Then… why have you only come to find me today?”
“I’ve been watching over you for years! But you studied day and night, and I couldn’t bear to disturb you, so I drifted to the capital.” Eighteenth Lady spoke while wiping her tears with her sleeve, looking utterly pitiful. “I broke the rules of the Underworld, and now I wander the world as a solitary soul, with no one to offer me sacrifices. I had no choice but to appear today, only to ask you to fulfill your filial duties.”
“Filial duties?”
“Yes, filial duties.”
“My son, I deliberately waited until you achieved success in the imperial examinations before daring to appear in your dreams.” Eighteenth Lady’s eyes brimmed with tears, occasionally glancing up tearfully to feign pitifulness. “And I’m not picky—just three bowls of pig trotters as offerings each day will do.”
His family was not in Hengzhou but in the distant Hengqú Town, far from Hengzhou.
The small town was remote, sparsely populated, with only a dozen or so households in the entire town.
From a young age, he had been diligent in his studies, either rising early and retiring late to study with his teacher or following his master to learn about investigating cases.
Unless one was close to him, it would indeed be difficult to know of his diligence.
Now, regarding the identity of the female ghost before him, Xu Jichun was about seventy to eighty percent convinced. He then asked his final question: “If you are my mother, then what is my date of birth?”
Eighteenth Lady froze in place. In her haste to solicit a ritual tonight, she had not inquired about his birth date.
As she wiped her tears with her sleeve, she thought of an excuse: “My son, I drank a sip of Meng Po’s Soup in the Underworld and have forgotten much of my past life. Though I cannot remember your birth date, I know well that you take after me—you cannot handle alcohol.”
Otherwise, how could he fall over after just three cups from a pot of sweet wine?
The tables had turned, and now it was Xu Jichun who stood dumbfounded.
It was true that he got drunk at the mere taste of alcohol, and very few knew about this flaw. His aunt had once said this weakness might have been inherited from his birth mother.
The female ghost before him was actually his birth mother.
Naturally, Xu Jichun agreed without hesitation to her request for filial piety: “Alright. Mother, do you still need incense, candles, or paper money?”
Eighteenth Lady: “If it’s convenient for you, you can burn some for me.”
Xu Jichun: “Mother, tomorrow I will set up an Ancestral Tablet for you in my room and make offerings. By the way, Zi’an still doesn’t know Mother’s name?”
“Calling me ‘Mother’ sounds so distant. You can call me Eighteenth Lady,” Eighteenth Lady said, beaming with joy.
“Eighteenth Lady? Wouldn’t it be unfilial to address my elder directly by name?” Xu Jichun frowned.
Eighteenth Lady patted his shoulder affectionately. “Between mother and son, there’s no need for such formalities. From today on, we’ll address each other separately—you call me Eighteenth Lady, and I’ll call you Zi’an.”
Most of his drunkenness had faded, and Xu Jichun relaxed his brow. “Eighteenth Lady!”
“Yes!”
The lamplight on the table overshadowed the moonlight as Eighteenth Lady waved goodbye to Xu Jichun. “Zi’an, remember the three bowls of pig trotters.”
Xu Jichun: “I’ll go out right now to buy pig trotters for you.”
“No need to rush. The city hasn’t been peaceful lately. Go after you wake up.”
“Thank you for your concern, Eighteenth Lady.”
Eighteenth Lady drifted through the door and left, leaving Xu Jichun standing alone in the room, stunned once more, before he collapsed again. “She really is a Ghost…”
It was still early, and the city gates had not yet opened.
With no other choice, Eighteenth Lady wandered the streets alone, feeling quite pleased.
Halfway there, passing by Xunshan Ward, which bordered the canal, she saw a crowd gathered in a corner, whispering among themselves.
Was there some excitement?
Having wandered Luòjīng for eighteen years, Eighteenth Lady loved nothing more than joining in on the excitement and immediately drifted toward the corner.
But instead of excitement, she saw the corpse of a man whose heart had been gouged out.
Officials stood in a circle with swords drawn, while a coroner examined the body inside the circle.
The onlookers chattered among themselves—
“Looks like a scholar, how pitiful…”
“Is this the fifth one?”
Just as she was about to drift away, Eighteenth Lady turned back at the sound, staring intently at the horrifying male corpse.
This poor man—she seemed to have seen him somewhere before?
Even after leaving the city and returning to Fúshān Tower, she still couldn’t remember who the man was.
Having been away for days, the tower was unusually quiet today.
Eighteenth Lady tiptoed back to her room, afraid of being caught and scolded by Meng Yingqiu.
Unexpectedly, as soon as she entered her room,
the icy-cold Meng Yingqiu was sitting upright inside. “Finally decided to come back?”
Eighteenth Lady obediently apologized. “A Ruo, I was wrong.”
Meng Yingqiu expressionlessly tossed her a piece of paper. “Congratulations, you finally have someone making offerings to you.”
“?”
Eighteenth Lady took the paper and examined it closely. On the thin sheet, it was clearly written: At the first quarter of the hour of Chen, Xu Jichun offered Eighteenth Lady three bowls of pig trotters and twenty sheets of paper money, totaling fifty wen in Nether-wealth.
After eighteen years, this was the first time she had received offerings.
Eighteenth Lady hugged the paper, weeping with joy. “Good son, I didn’t misjudge you!”
Meng Yingqiu crossed her arms and sneered. “No matter how bold they are, they only dare to impersonate someone’s siblings. But you—you actually impersonated someone’s birth mother. When the half-year deadline arrives, I’ll see how you handle it.”
Impersonating someone’s relatives or friends to receive offerings was strictly forbidden by the Underworld.
However, to placate the resentment of Lonely Ghosts, the Underworld tacitly allowed Impersonation Offering Requests in practice.
However, the impostor must use Nether-wealth to exchange for a genuine visitation dream from the deceased’s real relatives or friends through the Underworld within six months to atone for the sin of ritual solicitation.
Eighteenth Lady hunched her shoulders and retorted, “At worst, I’ll bribe the True Lord of the Five Paths with all my Nether-wealth to let Xu Jichun’s reincarnated birth mother appear to him in a dream…”
Last year, the woman who made offerings to Su Yingtang longed to see her elder sister, who had been dead for thirty years.
She heard from Su Yingtang that the True Lord of the Five Paths accepted a thousand taels of Nether-wealth and promptly arranged for the woman’s reincarnated elder sister to enter her dream.
If Su Yingtang could do it, she certainly could too.
Meng Yingqiu, instead of getting angry, laughed and flicked his sleeve as he walked out.
The three bowls of pig trotters on the table were still steaming. Eighteenth Lady picked up a bowl, sat on the rickety canopy bed, and happily read the paper in her hand while devouring a pig trotter with the other.
Faint voices of a man and a woman could be heard from upstairs. Eighteenth Lady wiped her mouth and washed her hands.
Then, with her head held high and chest out, she strode out and headed straight to the third floor.
Upon reaching the third floor and seeing the flirtatious couple, she raised the paper high above her head and sauntered back and forth beside them.
When Su Yingtang saw the contents of the paper, her expression suddenly changed: “Someone made offerings to you?”
The man was even more agitated, hopping around: “How could anyone make offerings to you?”
Eighteenth Lady was unfazed by their reactions: “Moyu’er, I know you envy my good luck.”
Moyu’er flushed red and retorted, “No one could possibly offer—”
Before he could finish, Su Yingtang forcefully covered his mouth and smirked: “Eighteenth Lady steps in dog dung every day she goes out, so it’s rare for her to stumble upon a stroke of luck.”
A pair of sarcastic, wretched lovers.
Eighteenth Lady curled her lip, tucked away the paper, and headed downstairs.
After three steps, she turned back and strode up to Moyu’er: “Where did you get those clothes?”
Moyu’er looked down at the lanshan he was wearing: “My elder brother, who made offerings to me, burned them for me last night. All the scholars in the capital wear this robe.”
She remembered who the male corpse was.
It was that reckless scholar who was with Xu Jichun yesterday!
Rumor had it that the heart-removing killer specifically targeted scholars.
Eighteenth Lady broke into a cold sweat. What if the killer struck while she was away and murdered Xu Jichun… Wouldn’t she end up with nothing and burdened with sin?
“No, I must guard him.”
“Who are you going to guard?”
Ignoring Su Yingtang’s questioning, Eighteenth Lady floated swiftly to the Gaosheng Inn.
In the room on the second floor, Xu Jichun sat alone by the window, his shoulders trembling as if he were crying.
Eighteenth Lady hurriedly floated to his side: “Zi’an, what’s wrong?”
Xu Jichun turned at the sound of her voice. Eighteenth Lady was right in front of him, almost nose to nose.
The human and the Ghost were too close. He subtly moved his chair back, managing to put half a step between them: “Brother Heyu died because of me last night.”
“Is Brother Heyu that reckless scholar from yesterday?”
“Yes, his name is Zhao Guangning. He was an excellent elder brother.”
“How did he die because of you?”
“Alas, he felt he had spoken out of turn yesterday, so he detoured to the South Market to buy an inkstone, saying he wanted to apologize to me.”
But Zhao Guangning had been out all night and still hadn’t returned to the Zhuangyuan Inn by morning.
Since he was usually impatient, his fellow villagers assumed he had gone straight to Xu Jichun’s place to apologize after buying the inkstone yesterday, so they didn’t go looking for him.
Unexpectedly, just moments ago, officers from the Jingzhao Prefecture found Xu Jichun and informed him that a male corpse with its heart removed had been discovered this morning in Xunshan Ward.
While examining the body, the coroner found a blood-stained letter in the sleeve of the male corpse.
The letter began with the first line at the very top, written: Zi’an.
At that time, among the crowd, there was a scholar who knew Xu Jichun and immediately brought the officials to the Gaosheng Inn.
The identity of the male corpse was thus revealed: it was Zhao Guangning, a jinshi from Ruzhou.
He died around the middle of the hour of Xu last night, and after his death, his heart was gouged out.
And the murderer was most likely the serial heart-gouging criminal who had recently been terrorizing the capital.
After recounting the whole story, Xu Jichun was already in tears.
If he hadn’t made plans with Zhao Guangning yesterday for the poetry society gathering, Zhao Guangning wouldn’t have rushed to the South Market and thus met his untimely death.
It was his own loose tongue that had killed Zhao Guangning.
Eighteenth Lady didn’t know how to comfort him, so she imitated how Meng Yingqiu usually comforted the crybaby Qiu Sese, gently patting his back: “Zi’an, don’t blame yourself. The fault lies with the murderer, not you.”
Xu Jichun buried his face in his arms and wept bitterly: “Brother Heyu treated me with sincerity from start to finish, and now he lost his life because of a single word from me. I truly have failed him.”
Ever since he soared to success and placed third in the imperial examination,
those scholars who once wore friendly faces no longer looked kindly upon him.
Zhao Guangning was one of the few who genuinely congratulated him.
Yet such a good man died on his way to buy an inkstone for him.
The more everyone said it wasn’t his fault, the deeper his guilt grew.
He cried as if his heart were being torn apart. Eighteenth Lady scratched her head in confusion, then simply stepped forward and hugged him.
She remembered clearly: once, when Qiu Sese threw a tantrum, rolling on the ground and crying nonstop, Meng Yingqiu picked her up, rocked her back and forth a few times, and the crying stopped.
Eighteenth Lady originally intended to pick up Xu Jichun and gently rock him.
But after gritting her teeth and trying several times, he remained as immovable as a mountain, leaving her sweating profusely: “Zi’an, you’re so heavy.”
A hazy ethereal phantom clumsily attempted to lift him horizontally. Xu Jichun, at a loss, simply broke into laughter through his tears. After laughing enough, he wiped his eyes dry and asked, “Eighteenth Lady, did you have something to find me for?”
Eighteenth Lady rummaged through her small bag and handed him the piece of paper: “Zi’an, thank you. I’ve received your offerings.”
Xu Jichun skimmed through the contents of the paper in an instant: “Ren Liuzheng, exists. Eighteenth Lady, who is Ren Liuzheng?”
Eighteenth Lady: “The accountant at the tower.”
Xu Jichun: “The tower?”
Eighteenth Lady: “Yes, I live in Fúshān Tower.”
Xu Jichun rubbed the paper in his hand, curious: “You’re clearly a Ghost, so why is this paper visible and tangible, like real paper?”
Eighteenth Lady said proudly: “The paper used in Fúshān Tower comes from the Underworld. It’s the most special paper in the Three Realms. Whether human or Ghost, all can see it.”
With the conversation between the human and the Ghost now opened, Xu Jichun cautiously asked about his own father: “Eighteenth Lady, who is my father?”
Eighteenth Lady guiltily turned her face away, her eyes darting around.
The names of all the Ghosts in Fúshān Tower flashed rapidly through her mind.
In the end, she selected one of the Ghosts to be Xu Jichun’s nominal father: “Your father? His name is Helan Wang. He’s somewhat good-looking, but he was short-lived.”
“Do I need to fulfill filial duties for my father?”
“No need. Who knows where he’s died off to.”
Author’s Note:
Lǐjiǔ is a low-alcohol sweet wine [dog head holding a rose] with an alcohol content of about 4%.