The Ghost Immortal and His Living Dead: Three Centuries of Vengeance

Prologue: The Cicada, the Mantis, and the Yellow Bird

In the garden there stood a tree, and on the tree there was a cicada.

The mantis preys on the cicada, while the yellow bird waits behind the mantis.

The yellow bird prepares to strike the mantis, yet beneath it lurks the sling pellet...

Part One: The Living Dead

Chapter 1

In the three hundred years since becoming a ghost immortal, Song Cao had countless occasions to recall the events of those years, until she could finally detach herself and view her mortal past as nothing more than a game of chess.

As the saying goes: those involved cannot see clearly, while outsiders observe with perfect clarity.

Yet even with her current status as a ghost immortal, that game of chess from those years remained unsolvable.

She had once thought herself the mantis, or at worst, the yellow bird.

It wasn't until she met the Nanyang True Person at the Duke's mansion—a man with the bearing of a pine and crane, dressed in八卦 robes, holding a horsetail whisk—that Song Cao suddenly understood. It mattered not what she was; whether the cicada, the mantis, or the yellow bird, in the end, all fell within the sight of the one who held the whisk.

In truth, the moment she saw Xin Chen, she had already realized.

Xin Chen was precisely the lover of that female acrobat Liu Jianiang.

He was also the man who had stood outside the Zanhua Pavilion, searching for his master's purple sand seal, when she had sneaked inside.

Song Cao realized belatedly that this had been a trap designed to lure her in.

No wonder that voice had seemed familiar at the time.

How could she have failed to consider that entering Guo You's courtyard so smoothly was truly due to good fortune?

A well-woven net could entrap cicada, mantis, and yellow bird alike.

The Nanyang True Person was younger than Song Cao had imagined. He was not a white-bearded old man; though already a hundred years old, he carried himself with the dignified bearing of one truly immortal, his three chin hairs still green, his appearance formidable, his eyes shining like cold stars, revealing both compassion and cunning.

He said that in the Xingyun Pavilion, he had lit a life lamp for Guo You. When that lamp was extinguished, he knew the matter was accomplished.

Guo You's death was within his expectations.

Death at Song Cao's hands was also within his expectations.

Song Cao could not understand. A master of the Dao should be compassionate and pitying all living things, let alone one as exalted as he. How could he assist evil and employ such merciless methods that disregarded human life?

When she angrily questioned him, Xuanji gave a laugh, his voice surprisingly kind: "Before the Son of Heaven of Zhou enfeoffed the world, this realm still worshipped divine authority, with living sacrifices offered to gods. This was fundamentally a transaction. Human lives are lives, and the lives of livestock are also lives. The so-called Dao follows nature; using humans as sacrifices or livestock as sacrifices amounts to the same thing—how can this be called merciless?"

"This humble Daoist merely used the technique of epidemic ghost offering to cure the Guo family's young lady's illness. The sacrificial object was provided by the Guo family. The Guo family's daughter was killed by you—how can you say I disregarded human life?"

What was the technique of epidemic ghost offering?

Legend tells that in ancient times, the three sons of Gao Yangshi Zhuanxu became epidemic ghosts after death, dwelling in the rivers Jiang and Ruo.

Those female corpses thrown into the rivers were merely offerings to them.

Only with the sacrifice of these skinned female corpses could Guo You's illness completely disappear, restoring her perfect skin.

Song Cao was stunned by Xuanji's shamelessness. She looked at him in disbelief: "You're completely insane! Committing such acts, aren't you afraid of heavenly punishment?"

"This humble Daoist has said that sacrifice is fundamentally a transaction. I did not kill those people, nor did I kill the Guo family's daughter. If you speak of heavenly punishment, whether in studying the Dao and seeking immortality or in establishing heaven and earth for the people, it is no different from common people securing their livelihood. One must first care for oneself, only then can one show compassion for others. Therefore, even though I have wronged you, it is somewhat understandable."

Song Cao did not quite understand what he was saying. She watched him warily, knowing only that he spoke with honeyed words and ill intentions.

Sure enough, Xuanji continued: "Heaven and Earth's benevolent heart gives birth to all things. The so-called Dao follows nature, meaning all things are equal. Little friend, do you agree with what this humble Daoist says?"

Song Cao stared at him coldly: "Since you understand this principle, why do you assist evil?"

Xuanji did not answer, instead asking her: "This humble Daoist heard that last winter, the county magistrate of Xinjian, Wu Yong, his wife contracted a serious illness requiring regular bear gallbladder for medicine. Bear gallbladder is used in medicine, so you kill bears; epidemic ghosts are offered, so the Guo family kills people. Let me ask you, are both human skin and bear gallbladder good medicines for curing illness?"

"You're insane! How can humans and bears be compared!"

"Heaven and Earth give birth to all things; if all things are equal, why cannot humans and bears be compared?"

The transcendent master of the Dao, with those compassionate yet cunning eyes, smiled as he looked at Song Cao, waiting for her answer.

Song Cao felt only a surge of anger in her heart, her emotions fluctuating. After a long while, she said resentfully: "Though all things are equal, it is humans who can speak. In this world, humans must naturally be supreme!"

Xuanji shook his head, his expression showing some disappointment.

Then he sighed deeply: "Little friend is a vulgar person. You say humans are supreme, which means you accept the principle that the weak are prey to the strong. As the saying goes, beyond humans there are still heavens, beyond heavens there are still higher realms. Since humans regard bears as worthless lives, when they themselves are divided into high and low status, why do they cry to heaven and wail to earth? Where is this supremacy you speak of?"

Before becoming a ghost immortal, Song Cao was merely a seventeen-year-old girl.

This seventeen-year-old girl was a vulgar person, destined to be no match for Xuanji, and unable to give the answer he wanted.

So when Xuanji said: "If a bear, having lived deep in the mountains for many years without harming a single human life, suddenly glimpsed the Heavenly Dao and learned it would someday be killed by a human for its gallbladder, and to protect itself, the bear killed that person first, little friend, do you think it would be in the wrong?"

Song Cao pressed her lips together, looking at him coldly: "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"The fifteenth day of the twelfth month in deep winter, a snowy night at year's end, fish lamps guide souls."

"This was the heavenly tribulation my master divined for me in my childhood," Xuanji sighed, his voice distant. "For mortals to cultivate the Dao and seek enlightenment is to act against heaven. My master said that though I had the roots of a cultivator, when I reached the realm of returning to emptiness and merging with the Dao, I still could not escape the descending tribulation."

"Since ancient times, cultivating the Dao has involved cultivating both life and destiny. Tribulation-transcending cultivators often perish in the world. As a cultivator, I should naturally be compassionate toward all living things, but if I cannot even show compassion for myself, how can I show compassion for others?"

"Ordinary people's greed and anger are like snakes and tigers. This humble Daoist is that bear wishing to attain the Dao. If you ask what my Dao heart is, I am willing to tell you, little friend—my Dao heart is simply to attain the Dao and become true."

Song Cao did not understand. She looked at Xuanji in astonishment, finding it utterly ridiculous: "What fifteenth day of deep winter, what fish lamps guide souls—have you failed in your cultivation and driven yourself mad?"

Xuanji stroked his beard, shaking his head: "Fish lamps guide souls—this was the divination my master cast for me in my youth. As the saying goes, fish lamps open the underworld, guiding souls into the Yellow Springs. This signifies that my tribulation comes from the underworld. The snowy night of the fifteenth day of the twelfth month in the Gengchen year was the night you were born. This is the divination I cast myself, and though I know not why, after you die, you will go to the underworld, causing my heavenly tribulation to descend, and I will perish from this world."

"Nonsense! If you hadn't harmed me, after I died and went to the underworld, what would that have to do with you!"

"This humble Daoist cannot miscalculate, and my master certainly could not either. It was precisely because of this divination that my master leaked heavenly secrets and severed his own opportunity for cultivation. The words of the divination cannot be false."

"Hahaha, is that so? Then why doesn't your own divination count as leaking heavenly secrets?"

"My master's divination concerned the underworld, while my divination is about a person—naturally, this cannot be considered leaking heavenly secrets."

"So what do you really want, you wretched Daoist! After going around in such a big circle, what are you planning? If you kill me, won't I just go to the underworld and report you?" Song Cao laughed in anger.

"Little friend, did you know that this humble Daoist once tried to prevent your birth?"

Xuanji's voice was gentle, his face actually showing compassion: "In the year that famine and plague ravaged the Jiangnan region, this humble Daoist descended the mountain precisely because of you. When your father Wu Yong suffered imprisonment, your mother was seven months pregnant. In the struggle, she fell and gave birth to a stillborn infant during a difficult labor that night."

"After dawn, the midwife threw that swaddled infant to the wilderness graveside, but unexpectedly your life was not fated to end—afterward, you actually cried out in the mass burial ground and were rescued by someone."

"...My father Wu Yong suffered imprisonment while my mother was seven months pregnant?"

Song Cao repeated this sentence in a daze, her eyes wide with disbelief: "Say what you just said again!"

"In the year that famine and plague ravaged the Jiangnan region, this humble Daoist descended the mountain..."

"You wretched Daoist, I'll kill you!"

The Song Cao being suppressed by Xin Chen had red, furious eyes, desperately trying to rush toward Xuanji.

Xuanji looked at her, unable to move and lying prone on the ground, sighing: "This humble Daoist tells you these things hoping you will understand that the causality of this world is all predetermined. The fault is not mine, and you should not resent me."

"Nonsense! You just wait! Wretched Daoist! If I die, I will definitely go to the underworld and let you perish from heavenly tribulation as you wish!"

"Little friend, you will have no chance to go to the underworld. This humble Daoist has prepared a good place for you."

Chapter 2

Xuanji would never tell Song Cao how long he had waited for this day.

From the day he longed to attain the Dao and become true, from the day he learned he would perish from heavenly tribulation, apart from cultivation, he spent his entire life thinking of ways to avoid this tribulation.

In the fifth year of the Tiancheng era, he happened to obtain a lotus bell from a Heavenly Master Daoist.

The bell was only finger-sized, with a clapper inside, yet it could not be made to ring.

The Heavenly Master Daoist said this object was not of the mortal realm—it was used for guiding souls.

Legend has it that when Pangu split heaven and earth, in primordial chaos when heaven and earth were unclear, his wife Taiyuan Holy Mother created the heaven-splitting axe and created Mount Buzhou.

In ancient times, humans, ghosts, and gods were without order. Later, Gonggong, in his anger, struck Mount Buzhou, causing the heavenly river to overflow and flood the human world.

Nüwa patched the heavens, but the countless lost souls from the devastation had nowhere to go, wandering the world, causing the earth to again fall into primordial chaos where good and evil could not be distinguished.

Houtu, son of Gonggong,不惜 sacrificed himself to transform into the Dao, creating the underworld capital and the place of six paths of reincarnation.

To guide the lost souls of the human world into the underworld, Houtu Niangniang created three soul-guiding bells from Yellow Springs stone.

Legend says that when Houtu Niangniang washed the bells with Yellow Springs water, a deity not belonging to this place crawled out from the filthy shores.

That deity said she had mistakenly entered this place, eaten something of the Yellow Springs, and her true body had decayed, causing her to become a fallen deity.

She covered her face and wept, saying she could no longer be accepted by the people of her homeland.

Houtu took pity on her and gifted her one of the soul-guiding bells, as well as a jug of Yellow Springs water, allowing her to seek her own good destination.

The remaining two bells, after Houtu Niangniang entered reincarnation, fell into the hands of the Emperor of Fengdu.

The Emperor of Fengdu gave the bells to the Wuchang Lord.

The Wuchang Lord then gave them to Heibai Wuchang...

The Heavenly Master Daoist said that the lotus bell in his hand was brought by a Japanese monk who traveled west during the Tang Dynasty to present as a gift to the Tang Emperor.

The Japanese monk said this was originally a Middle Earth object and should be returned to its rightful owner.

The Tang Emperor was initially very interested, but later discovered it was merely an ordinary bell that could not ring, so he casually rewarded it to the guardian Heavenly Master.

The Heavenly Master Daoist was a disciple of the lineage of the Tang guardian Heavenly Master.

He said his master had told him that this lotus bell was not incapable of ringing—rather, mortal bodies could not make it ring.

Since it could not ring, circulating in the world was no different from a useless bell.

By the time the lotus bell reached the Heavenly Master Daoist, it had already been passed down for over two hundred years.

The Daoist was a free-spirited, heroic man who did not yet have a lineage disciple. Seeing that Xuanji treasured the bell, he simply gifted it to him.

Xuanji spent fifty years verifying what the Heavenly Master Daoist had said.

The bell was indeed not an object of the mortal world.

The soul-guiding bell had the function of locking and suppressing souls.

He thought of an excellent method to resolve his heavenly tribulation.

This excellent method was to place the soul-guiding bell inside Song Cao's body, seal the person in a coffin, and bury them alive.

Because of the soul-guiding bell's presence, Song Cao's soul could not leave her body—she would become a living corpse, forever in the coffin, unable to enter the underworld.

Xuanji knew this method was sinister and malicious, but he had no other choice.

The weak are prey to the strong—this is merely the survival law of this world.

He wanted to avert his heavenly tribulation—where was the wrong in that?

Xuanji had previously been acquainted with Duke Guo. Though he was a cultivator with some reputation, when it came to power and status, he could not compare with the Guo family.

He considered many things, believing that for his plan to be seamless and without future trouble, he needed the help of powerful nobles like the Guo family.

Guo You's illness had not originally been part of his calculations.

But it was truly a fortunate act of heaven.

That he was willing to treat Guo You's illness, Duke Guo was endlessly grateful, yet he never imagined that his own daughter's life was also part of his calculations.

Xuanji was not afraid of them learning of this matter in the future.

Guo You's death was already settled. Even if the Duke's heir son had great ability in the capital, with time passed, he would not, for one already dead, turn against such a transcendent master as himself.

In the pursuit of fame and fortune, there are no father-son relationships; in the face of greed, there are no loved ones—this has always been the way of the human world.

As for Song Cao, before burial, he had many ways to silence her.

For example, the life of that pregnant embroiderer.

Xuanji considered himself somewhat compassionate. He told Song Cao that after burying her, whether that pregnant embroiderer or the stone and old man who helped her disguise her departure from the mansion, he could rescue them all from Duke Guo's hands.

The one he had wronged, from beginning to end, was only Song Cao.

As for that young master surnamed Zhan, it was not that he didn't want to save him—only that the Lu family had a feud with him and had long vowed they would take his life, blood for blood.

Xuanji said that Zhan Shinan was already dead.

Song Cao did not believe it.

Mi-ge had said that day he would wait at the alley entrance outside the Duke's mansion. As long as she blew the porcelain whistle, he would immediately rush in to rescue her.

That day, the alley outside the Duke's mansion was filled with mansion guards.

It was precisely because she feared he would sacrifice his life that Song Cao did not blow that whistle.

But Xuanji told her that before she was captured, Zhan Shinan's whereabouts had already been exposed and he was being hunted down.

No, to be precise, even earlier.

From the moment he came to the Xinjian yamen as a constable under the identity Pei Song, Lu Baozheng had long known his identity from the Duke's heir son.

Lu Baozheng could remain patient. He told the heir son that this Zhan A-mi would surely die by his hand.

From the moment he returned, he was already fated to have no path to survival.

Song Cao understood now. She and Mi-ge didn't even qualify as mantises or yellow birds.

They were at best two cicadas, smugly perched on a tree, unaware that behind them already lay a heavy, inescapable net.

This chess game belonging to her and Mi-ge had been a dead game from the very beginning.

Three days later was the day of Guo You's burial.

Before the Duke's mansion, white banners had already been hung.

No one knew that in Guo You's coffin, besides her, also lay a girl to be buried with her.

This person was precisely the culprit who had infiltrated the Duke's mansion and killed the Third Miss Guo.

From the moment she was captured, the Duke and his wife had declared they would make her accompany their daughter in death, dying an unpeaceful death.

The Duchess had cried herself into a mess, only remaining upright because someone was supporting her.

She wept incessantly: "Third daughter, my child, how could you bear to leave me, how will your mother live..."

To anyone watching, this was a mother who had lost her beloved daughter, utterly grief-stricken.

To anyone watching, her love for Guo You was as precious as life itself.

Chapter 3

On the first month of the Dingyou year, Duke Guo buried his daughter.

The streets were crowded with onlookers, a sea of people.

The funeral procession was magnificent, the scene solemn.

Paper money was scattered on the ground, suona horns sounded, crying filled the air.

No one knew that in the coffin, the girl with bound hands and feet and covered mouth, in that cramped darkness, was staring with terrified eyes, struggling desperately.

She was like a fish that had been cut open and gutted, with a lotus bell stuffed in her abdomen.

The mulberry bark thread was poorly sewn, with blood seeping out and staining her clothes.

Beside her, dressed in burial clothes and wrapped in layers of white cloth, was Third Miss Guo—she could not see her.

She only knew that Guo You's face was covered with a mask, and with the coffin's movement, she might at this moment be turning her head toward her.

Song Cao did not fear Guo You's corpse, nor did she fear death—what she feared was darkness and the unknown.

Death is a simple matter—merely losing one's life.

But what kind of death would one who was buried alive face?

If the soul could not enter the underworld, what would become of it?

Song Cao did not know these things. She was terrified, helpless and horrified, wishing only that someone would give her a quick end, sparing her the pain and torment of being boiled in oil.

In the lightless coffin, she called to heaven without answer, to earth without response.

Those eyes, widened by fear, with trembling pupils, had shed all their tears.

Her face was paper-white, her body trembled uncontrollably, and in her heart she wailed: Mi-ge, Mi-ge save me...

Mi-ge, Mi-ge I'm afraid...

Unfortunately, no one answered.

At this point, Mi-ge's survival was unlikely, already settled.

Song Cao struggled for a long time, reaching the depths of despair, finally closing her eyes, without strength.

In the deep mountain wilderness, Xuanji had chosen for Guo You a grave site where vital energy gathered.

This would allow Song Cao's body and soul to endure without decay.

The magnificent funeral procession was already prepared.

Yet Song Cao never expected that at the burial, Wu Yong would appear with a large number of government soldiers.

That always cunning little old man, a county magistrate who believed in the doctrine of the mean, changed his usual demeanor. Standing before the coffin, he spoke righteously to Duke Guo: "Your Grace! This official has already investigated that Third Miss Guo's death is significantly related to the drowned maiden case—she cannot yet be buried!"

"Outrageous! Wu Yong, have you gone mad!"

"Your Grace, please forgive me. This official must now take the coffin back to the yamen for investigation. Another day I will personally come to apologize."

With one order from Wu Yong, constables from the Xinjian yamen, led by Lu Xing and others, stepped forward first, surrounding the coffin.

Seeing this, the Duke's mansion guards all drew the swords at their waists.

Duke Guo stood with hands behind his back, laughing coldly, furious beyond measure: "Wu Yong, you have quite the audacity! To dare touch my Duke's mansion's coffin! I think you've grown tired of living!"

"Your Grace, there are reasons for this matter. This official is also acting according to regulations."

"Regulations? A seventh-rank county magistrate discussing regulations with this Duke? What are you? Where is the Prefect? Let me ask him what these regulations are!"

It was not difficult to see that half of the officers and soldiers Wu Yong brought were from the Hongzhou Prefecture yamen.

Duke Guo thought this matter must involve the old Prefect, and naturally wanted to ask him for an explanation.

But unexpectedly, Wu Yong said: "Your Grace, this matter has nothing to do with my father-in-law. It was done by this official alone."

"With you? You're worthy of mobilizing prefecture yamen soldiers? Is your father-in-law dead or something!"

"This official is acting under the orders of Han Da-ren from the Jiangling Circuit Supervisor. The drowned maiden case was previously reported to Han Da-ren. The penal inspection officers from the Jiangling Circuit Punishment Division are already on their way to Hongzhou. Third Miss Guo is involved in this murder case—before this, she cannot be buried!"

Wu Yong stood ramrod straight, his posture neither humble nor arrogant, the cloudiness gone from his eyes, every word weighty.

Duke Guo's expression was uncertain. He laughed once and asked Wu Yong: "Where is Han Da-ren? Where are the Circuit Supervisor's penal inspection officers at this moment? Standing before me now is only a shameless person who insults my Guo family—do you really think this Duke cannot do anything about you?"

"Someone! Seize him!"

Duke Guo pointed at Wu Yong. With his sharp command, both sides were about to clash, swords drawn.

Wu Yong produced Han Qizheng's waist tablet: "Your Grace, look clearly. This is Han Da-ren's waist tablet—it cannot be fake!"

Wu Yong would not have dared to come unless he had made his calculations.

He had indeed mobilized the soldiers without his father-in-law's knowledge. The old Prefect had been plied with strong drink by him yesterday and should still be in the prefecture, not yet sober.

The men he brought were sufficient—even if they really fought with the Duke's mansion, he was confident he could rescue Song Cao.

He would bear all the blame afterward.

At this moment, he had only one thought—save my Lan girl.

He could hear clearly that in that coffin, someone was constantly hitting their head against it.

The faint thumping sounds were like hammer blows on his heart.

Wu Yong did not know why his heart ached so sharply. He seemed to have completely forgotten his supposed prudence, now filled only with rage that could not be dispelled.

But though he calculated everything, he never expected that Guo Ling, the Duke's heir son who should have been in the capital, would at the moment of confrontation, appear in this wilderness on a silver-saddled fine horse, with noble and haughty bearing.

The jade-tree-like young man, wearing official shoes and, over his crimson official robe, a white-blue crane cloak, was extraordinarily dignified.

Behind him followed several men, some of whom carried a sedan chair.

In that sedan chair sat the decrepit old Prefect.

The old Prefect, having just sobered up, wore an anxious expression. When he looked at Wu Yong with dazed eyes, he urgently rebuked him: "Presumptuous boy! Hurry and retreat! Are you courting death!"

Guo Ling did not dismount. Holding the reins, he gave a mocking laugh, and without any respect, made a bow to Wu Yong—

"Magistrate Wu, I have long heard of your great name."

His voice was lofty and aloft, tinged with arrogance.

Guo Ling was now a capital official. By rights, Wu Yong, a mere seventh-rank county magistrate, could not bear such a bow.

This gesture was clearly him giving face to the old Prefect, and also giving Wu Yong a way out.

If Wu Yong was sensible, he should now obediently stand behind his father-in-law, acting like a dog sheltered by him, and let this matter drop.

But Wu Yong's face was cold and he ignored Guo Ling.

He raised the waist tablet in his hand, turned to the deadlocked Lu Xing and others, and shouted sternly: "Quickly open the coffin!"

Lu Xing and the others reacted, immediately taking out axes from their backs and climbing up to pry the iron nails from the coffin lid.

"Wu Yong, you brat! Stop! Stop now!"

The scene no longer required the Guo family's interference.

The old Prefect who had been brought was panic-stricken, directly falling from the sedan chair.

Supported by others, he trembled as he gave an order, causing those prefecture soldiers to change positions, standing in place不敢动.

Only Lu Xing and the others, in the pushing and shoving, pried open the iron nails but had not yet climbed down from the coffin when they were seized by the Duke's mansion guards.

Duke Guo laughed coldly and said to the funeral procession: "Bury her!"

The scene erupted in crying. Several strong men stepped forward, first resealed the coffin, then lifted the heavy coffin with wooden frames.

Under the old Prefect's command, Wu Yong was also pinned down, his arms held tightly as he was pressed to the ground.

His eyes split as he stared at that coffin, nearly screaming with all his might—

"Father-in-law!"

Chapter 4

That day, in the coffin, Song Cao heard his cries.

Those heart-rending calls of "Father-in-law" did not awaken the old Prefect's iron heart.

Instead, they caused Wu Yong's heart to break.

Song Cao streamed with tears, wailing and trembling in the darkness, continuously hitting her head against the coffin.

As she battered her head until it bled, she vaguely heard Wu Yong murmur—

"She is a good child, ah. Lan girl, she is a good child..."

Mountain twilight, sunset afterglow, cold wind swept across a wilderness of despair.

In that moment, Wu Yong did not know that the girl in the coffin, weeping bitter tears, with her mouth covered, called out "Father" in her heart.

In that moment, Song Cao did not know that the little old man kneeling on the ground, wailing loudly, remembered words she had once said—

"There are many such people in this world. Why do you not believe that a spark from flint can start a prairie fire?"

"If I had your status, I would never choose to be a cold bystander. People must be true to their own hearts—even if a flint spark only lasts for an instant."

This little girl truly did not know the heights of heaven and the depths of earth.

As Wu Yong cried, he laughed.

His hair seemed to have turned much whiter in an instant, his face leaving only traces of weathering and old age.

He thought of his ambitious early life, of the good years when he passed the jinshi examination, of his once-passionate, equally ignorant younger self.

He also thought of that Prefect's daughter who insisted on marrying down to him, of that child he had never met, who had already died...

That passionate young official of his youth now overlapped with this stooped little old man.

At the very end, Wu Yong remembered something he had once said to Song Cao—

"Leave yourself a breath of life. Don't see too clearly. Without spirit, a person will die."

Without spirit, a person will die.

He cried and laughed, laughed and cried, finally shaking his head helplessly.

At the moment of despair, as if resigned to fate, he deflated.

The guards, seeing he had calmed down, had just relaxed their grip when he suddenly rose up, breaking free from behind, and threw himself headfirst toward that coffin about to be lowered into the grave pit!

No one would forget.

Xinjian County Magistrate Wu Yong, blood splattered on the scene, dying by crashing against the coffin.

In that instant, Song Cao in the coffin seemed to sense something.

She widened her eyes and stopped struggling.

The daughter knew her father, but the father did not know his daughter.

He would never know that the girl in the coffin was his unfortunate daughter.

Many years later, Song Cao still wondered, perhaps it was better not to know.

If he had known, what utter despair would have broken his heart.

Just as Wu Yong would never know that on that same day, his wife had also hung a white silk ribbon from the ceiling beam.

Before Lu Xing and the others could bring the news of death to the Xinjian yamen, she had already hanged herself.

The maid cried, saying that when she heard the old Prefect had been taken away by the Duke's heir son, the lady laughed and cried, cried and laughed, finally sighing once and saying: "The second time. Enough."

Enough.

In the years that followed, everything finally settled.

The Jiangling Circuit Supervisor's penal officers came too late—all evidence in the drowned maiden case had been destroyed, and they returned without accomplishment.

The Duke's heir son had become a high official in the capital and never returned.

The Hongzhou Duke's mansion remained a powerfully prestigious existence.

No one dared to dig up the Guo family's daughter's grave.

Only one woman who had survived by going mad would often run crazily to the wilderness, shouting "Save her, save her," then digging at various graves.

That madwoman was named Lingqiao.

Each time her husband would find her, wiping away tears as he led her home.

In the coffin, Song Cao was utterly silent.

She had heard Lu Xing's voice.

He and that coroner Zhu Wen had come several times at first. Fearing discovery by the Guo family, they often came secretly in the middle of the night.

Lu Xing's family was wealthy. Each time he would burn many offerings for her.

He said that after Wu Da-ren died, the yamen had a new county magistrate, and he was no longer a constable, having returned home to inherit the family business and open a shop.

Zhu Wen was no longer a coroner, working under him.

Lu Xing said: "Song Cao, if you lack anything down there, just dream it to me, and I'll burn it for you."

"I'm not young anymore. My family has arranged a marriage for me. I'm about to take a wife. You don't mind, do you?"

"If you mind, just say so. As long as you say it, this young master won't marry."

"You haven't dreamed to me, so you must have been reincarnated. Then I'll still marry. If you're reincarnated into my family, you can be my daughter."

Lu Xing later married and came less and less frequently.

Later, day after day, except for the Guo family, no one came anymore.

Later, later, who knows how many years passed, even the Guo family stopped coming.

All of Song Cao's unwillingness, anger, and resentment gradually intensified day by day.

Like the original Guo You, she was in a place of darkness, as if in boiling oil, unable to live yet unable to die.

As Xuanji wished, she became a living corpse.

A living corpse who could never walk out of the coffin.

And a living corpse who could not move.

Yes, she could not move.

When her body's breathing disappeared, she felt her body growing cold, her hands and feet stiffening, gradually unable to move.

But her soul remained, so she still had consciousness and sensation.

She just could not control her own body.

This was undoubtedly adding hatred to hatred and resentment to resentment.

Song Cao vowed that one day she would eat Xuanji's flesh raw, drink his blood, and break his bones to feed the dogs!

To turn resentment and despair, pain and fear, cries and screams... all into tranquility—Song Cao used many, many years.

This was the result of being in darkness, repeatedly breaking down, going mad, countless moments of utter despair before finally having to accept.

She finally understood the original Guo You.

But what was terrifying was that Guo You had only lain in bed for a year, while she would have to lie in her coffin forever.

Until finally, the face of the living corpse in the coffin grew colder and colder, her eyes more and more hollow.

She was numb as a piece of wood, expressionless, silent except for opening her eyes—everything was deathly still.

Uncountable years had passed.

Beside her, Guo You, at first somewhat smelly, later terribly smelly, finally became unbearably foul.

Until she completely rotted away, Guo You became a pile of white bones.

I don't remember when it began, but Song Cao adapted to the darkness and solitude.

She could even feel that her senses were becoming sharper and sharper.

Her eyes, nose, and even ears gradually could see and hear through the coffin lid to many places in the wilderness.

But she still could not move.

Song Cao did not understand. She thought for a long, long time—since she was a living corpse, why could she not control her own body?

She suspected it was that soul-guiding bell buried in her abdomen that was causing trouble.

Her gaze passed through the coffin and soil, seeing the desolate mountain wilderness, utterly deserted.

Many solitary graves had grown around them.

Her and Guo You's grave was also a solitary one, already overgrown with wild grass and vines, lush and covering it, unvisited by anyone.

Song Cao thought expressionlessly that the Duke's mansion must have had no descendants, dying out completely.

Good, heaven has eyes—died well.

If heaven truly had eyes, it should have sent someone to dig her out.

Guo You had so many burial offerings—why were there no grave robbers...

Song Cao thought coldly, it doesn't matter, sooner or later there will be, she would wait.

Xuanji, just wait.

A gentleman takes revenge, ten years is not too late.

Song Cao's resentment grew heavier day by day.

The expression on her face grew colder day by day.

She did not know that fifty years had already passed since she was buried alive.

A living corpse who could not move had lain expressionless in a coffin for fifty years.

Song Cao was waiting for an opportunity.

The process was naturally torturous.

In her first twenty years, she could occasionally hear people passing by, their voices fading into the distance on mountain roads.

In the next twenty years, there was not a single sound.

That mountain road was also abandoned.

In the wilderness there were snakes in the trees, foxes in the forest, and escaping rabbits.

Song Cao had perceived all kinds of animals, even leopards and tigers.

She hoped not for grave robbers but wished that some animal would dig up the grave.

Of course, this was wishful thinking.

Even though she could see and hear many places in the wilderness, the voice was still muffled in the coffin, unable to pass out at all.

This coffin from the Guo family was truly solid—showing no signs of decay at all.

Long years of utter despair had made Song Cao almost forget how to speak.

At first she would still mutter a few words to Guo You's bones—

"I saved you out of kindness back then. Now who will help me find release?"

"If you have any conscience, find someone to dig up the grave."

"Find a ghost, that would be fine too."

"You can come too."

"Guo You, not a single one of your Guo family is a good person."

Song Cao grew tired of muttering.

Her heart was tired, her body tired, even her soul was tired.

She began to pay attention, outside the wilderness, to see if there were any ghosts.

Don't say, later she actually saw some.

When she was human, Song Cao did not believe in ghosts and gods.

Now a living corpse in a solitary grave, she had no choice but to believe.

In the first twenty years when that mountain road had not yet been abandoned, her gaze passed through coffin and soil, and she personally saw an ethereal wandering soul pass straight through a pedestrian's body.

In the next twenty years, she also saw in the wilderness burial grounds a tall, thin ghost with a long tongue hanging out and a pale face, dragging out a vicious male ghost from a solitary grave.

The ghost official wore a white official hat, held a soul-chaining chain in his hand, and said with a shrill, sinister laugh to the male ghost: "You thought I couldn't find you hiding in someone's grave? Good boy, come with White Lord to the frying pan..."

When the white-robed ghost official led the male ghost away, Song Cao heard the bell at his waist ringing.

This was the second time in fifty years that she had completely broken down.

In the coffin, she shouted until her voice was hoarse, until she could make no sound at all, but still could not make that ghost official look back.

Song Cao again fell into deathly silence and despair.

She began waiting once more, as long as heaven and earth.

Waiting for a grave robber...

Waiting for a ghost hiding in her grave...

Until one day, she waited for a mouse.

Chapter 5

Jinyuanbao was not originally called Jinyuanbao.

It had a self-proclaimed, very resounding title—

The Brave, Divine, Heroic, Kan Essence Great Immortal, World-Mixing, Wealth-Scattering Rat, Overlord, Society Lord, Great Master.

That's right, it was a rat that had become a spirit.

When Song Cao first saw it, this rat covered all over with fat was already round and plump, half-lying on a stretcher made of rags, carried by a group of rats squeaking, crossing the wilderness burial ground with swagger.

Its fur was yellow, glistening and sleek, and when the sun shone on it, it looked like a piece of glittering gold.

At this moment, this piece of gold was comfortably twisting its whiskers, narrowing its eyes, and shouted: "Hey! It's here! Put Grandfather down. Wait for Grandfather to dig up this big grave, then take you all to continue eating offerings and drinking sesame oil!"

Song Cao waited fifty years and did not wait for grave robbers.

She waited for a grave-robbing rat.

The Kan Essence Great Immortal was a miraculous rat spirit, and also an extremely clever one.

It had lived in the mountains since childhood, later wandered through the marketplace, whether poor or rich, good or bad, it had stayed in all kinds of families.

Oil shops, ironworks, gambling houses, brothels, restaurants, medical halls—it had stayed in all kinds of businesses.

Chased by cats, beaten by people, gone hungry with broken legs, slept in broken temples and eaten dust.

It had experienced human world vicissitudes, seen all aspects of life, traveled south and north for a hundred years, considering itself the king of rat spirits.

With the accumulation of wisdom, the Kan Essence Great Immortal finally found the survival method most suitable for itself.

It hid in a local Stove Grandma Temple.

The Stove Grandma Temple was initially very dilapidated, with no one worshipping at all.

Since it came, gold and silver occasionally appeared on the ground before the temple.

Those who accidentally discovered the gold were overjoyed, thinking it was Stove Grandma showing her spirit, and immediately came to buy offerings to worship.

Over time, the Grandma Temple became prosperous.

The Kan Essence Great Immortal had endless offerings to eat and endless sesame oil to drink, and its body grew rounder and plumper.

But it did not stay in the Grandma Temple forever.

Because those scattered gold and silver treasures came from improper sources—they were stolen.

Once someone discovered it was evil spirits causing trouble, it was hard to say they wouldn't come to eliminate it.

The Kan Essence Great Immortal was very cautious, so it later traveled to various mountain god temples, earth god temples, heavenly son-in-law temples, golden flower lady temples...

It was not easy to steal from wealthy families—prone to bringing disaster—so it learned to dig graves.

And it raised a large group of rat children and rat grandchildren.

Until this day, it led its rat children and rat grandchildren to Song Cao and Guo You's graves.

The Kan Essence Great Immortal's nose was very sharp and could smell the scent of gold and silver treasures.

It said it was a big grave, so it must be buried with many treasures.

So it lazily watched a group of rats dig holes. When they had dug the hole to the bottom of the coffin, it dragged its round body and swaggered in.

The Kan Essence Great Immortal considered itself brave and divine. It gave a sinister smile, and with its extremely sharp rat teeth, gnawed a hole in the extremely solid coffin board.

"There is no coffin board in this world that Grandfather I cannot gnaw through!"

The Kan Essence Great Immigrant proudly twisted its whiskers, enjoying the worshipful gazes of the rat horde.

Then the moment it finished speaking, its four bared front teeth suddenly shattered.

Yes, shattered.

All four front teeth fell to the ground together, shattered into pieces.

The rats were terrified and huddled together, their fur all standing on end!

Grandfather was the god in their hearts!

Those two pairs of front teeth it was so proud of could even gnaw a hole in an iron hammer!

The Kan Essence Great Immortal was also stunned.

It looked at its shattered teeth in disbelief, its whiskers trembling, wanting to save face—

"This grave site is strange! You all wait here for me, let Grandfather go scout it out first!"

With that, it twisted its obese body, nimbly drilling into the coffin.

Then, big eyes meeting small eyes, it confronted Song Cao in the coffin.

The Kan Essence Great Immigrant's fur stood on end, actually jumping up—

"Hey! What kind of demon are you! Quickly report your name to Rat Grandfather!"

"Get lost." Song Cao said coldly.

The Kan Essence Great Immigrant was very courageous, having traveled south and north for a hundred years, having seen all sorts of strange and peculiar things, and quickly calmed down. It put its two paws behind its back, warily pacing in the coffin.

At the same time, it used its bean-sized round eyes to slyly glance at Song Cao.

"This Rat Grandfather doesn't change names when I act, doesn't change surnames when I sit. I am the Brave, Divine, Heroic, Kan Essence Great Immortal, World-Mixing, Wealth-Scattering Rat, Overlord, Society Lord, Great Master. What kind of corpse spirit are you? What's your background? Dare you speak!"

Song Cao did not speak, only coldly watching it.

The Kan Essence Great Immigrant said "Oh ho": "You don't dare say? Could it be you've heard of Rat Grandfather's reputation and were frightened?"

"Get lost."

Song Cao glanced at it and closed her eyes.

In fifty years, she had finally waited for a grave-robbing mouse, and she was so excited she almost cried out.

But she told herself to be calm.

This rat spirit looked very cunning.

Sure enough, it paced back and forth beside her, its mung bean eyes examining her again and again.

It also secretly glanced through the entire coffin.

Guo You's burial offerings were mostly gold, silver, jade, incense paste, oil paste, and various clothes and ornaments.

All were her favorite treasures when she was alive, piled in the corners of the coffin.

The Kan Essence Great Immigrant was overjoyed, but had already noticed Song Cao's strangeness. It turned its round eyes and bit her hand!

Though its four front teeth were gone, its molars were also very formidable.

After biting, it immediately ran away, drilling into the rat hole beneath the coffin board.

Soon it poked its rat head out again, observing Song Cao's movements.

After a long time, when it still had not come out, Song Cao could not bear it any longer and said: "Take whatever you want, as long as it's not for my bell, take it freely."

Hearing this, the Kan Essence King emerged from the hole. It was complacent, first mocking Song Cao, saying she couldn't move at all yet was still so arrogant, pretending to be a big-tailed cat.

Song Cao ignored it, simply closing her eyes.

The Kan Essence King then summoned its rat children and rat grandchildren to come up and carry the gold and silver treasures.

A group of rats squeaked and swarmed up, carrying things in groups.

"Watch your feet, there's too much stuff, we can't carry it all this time, we'll come back next time."

"Don't bite her! We don't know what kind of corpse spirit demon she is, be careful she poisons you all!"

The Kan Essence Great Immigrant twisted its whiskers, looking very clever.

When leaving with its rat children and rat grandchildren, it indeed asked: "What good thing is your bell? Let Rat Grandfather take a look."

Song Cao watched it warily: "Impossible, don't even think about it!"

Part Two: The Chess Game Before the Trap

Chapter 1

After the rainstorm night, a breach opened in the courtyard wall.

Zhan Shinan took Song Cao to the embroidery workshop, then returned home, mixed mud, and repaired the wall top.

Then he went to the woods outside the city and caught a wild pheasant in the snare traps he had set.

At dusk, he drove his cart to the county town, first selling the wild pheasant at a restaurant, then as usual went to the street corner opposite the embroidery workshop, waiting for Song Cao to come out.

It seemed that this period of peaceful life had made them both complacent—for the time being, neither had again mentioned going out to make their way in the world.

The street corner was bustling with noise, and across from them, the soup cake vendor was kneading dough into thumb-width, two-inch lengths, soaking them in a water basin.

Then he very skillfully fished them out, kneaded them into thin slices with his hands, and threw them into the boiling pot to cook.

Zhan Shinan leaned against the cart frame, watching with great interest as the vendor busied himself, scooping the noodle slices from the steaming pot and quickly filling a bowl.

This worldly atmosphere of smoke and fire, the smile on the vendor's face, gave him a sense of peace that his efforts had not been in vain.

Zhan Shinan did not believe in fate. Villagers used to say he was a lone star of misfortune, and he found it ridiculous.

To live once in this world, each stands alone. Coming empty-handed, going naked into the earth.

All who end up in the yellow springs are ill-fated; death is death, which may not be a kind of release—why must it be blamed on others?

Because he firmly believed that life is suffering, and suffering equals emptiness, he did not fear death and had always been fearless.

But now it was different—he had become worldly, cherished life, hoped to live with Song Cao in this world year after year in peace and security.

People are most easily held captive by warmth. As he waited on the street corner for that girl about to rush toward him, he couldn't help thinking that if time could freeze in this moment, he would be a fortunate person.

But that day, before Song Cao appeared, someone suddenly shouted on the street—

"Someone's dead! Spring Tower's famed courtesan just jumped to her death!"

Many local residents went to watch the excitement. Zhan Shinan thought for a moment and also followed over.

Strictly speaking, it had already been a year since he and Yao Chunniang parted ways.

Though Yao Chunniang was a proud-hearted prostitute, she had always been quite courteous to him. When he helped her with tasks, she was generous with silver and never shortchanged him.

Later, because Song Cao would not allow it, they had parted on bad terms. Though Yao Chunniang was angry and had made several vicious threats, she had never actually retaliated against him.

Zhan Shinan could not understand why Yao Chunniang would jump to her death. He thought he knew her fairly well—this sister was bold and reckless, loved pleasure and enjoyment. She relied on her beauty, was also intelligent, and lived a triumphant life among the pursuits of many noblemen and wealthy patrons. She had absolutely no reason to seek death.

When he squeezed into the crowd, Yao Chunniang's body was lying in a pool of blood, her eyes wide open, her head completely severed.

Zhan Shinan frowned, stepped forward, squatted by the corpse, and reached out to examine her neck.

Sure enough, on her jawbone, he discovered two very deep finger marks.

Her head had not been broken from the fall—it had been twisted off by someone.

Zhan Shinan's gaze turned toward the third-story windows of the tile market, then scanned the crowd, and quickly left.

He did not care how Yao Chunniang actually died. The murder case in the county town would naturally be handled by the yamen.

He had only seen a familiar, panicked figure in the crowd.

That man was about twenty years old, not tall, nicknamed Wazi, one of the assistants who worked for Yao Chunniang.

Zhan Shinan blocked him in a deserted alley entrance. Before he could speak, Wazi first said with a pale face, emotionally agitated: "Mi-ge, quickly run for your life! Something's happened. This time we're all finished."

From him, Zhan Shinan learned that Yao Chunniang had recently accepted a dressing case at a low price. The workmanship was exquisite, and it was inlaid with gems.

As she and the tile market madam caressed it admiringly, they inadvertently discovered that hidden in the bottom board of the dressing case was an account book.

This account book was said to have been lost by an official from Daming Prefecture, and it recorded ministers embezzling military funds.

Daming Prefecture, the eastern capital, was a strategic location controlling the Hebei region and resisting foreign invaders. The secrets involved in this account book directly terrified Yao Chunniang and the tile market madam.

While they were terrified, they decided to quickly turn over the dressing case, pretending ignorance to discard this hot potato.

Yao Chunniang quickly found a buyer willing to take it, and along with other stolen goods she had received, had her assistants hurriedly deliver them.

She thought this matter was over, but unexpectedly, the tile market madam, hiding it from her, secretly kept the account book.

Unlike her naive self, the madam thought that since the account book had passed through their hands, if trouble arose in the future, perhaps someone would be willing to protect Yao Chunniang. If everything was blamed on her, she would undoubtedly die.

The more she thought, the more afraid she became, so she gritted her teeth and stole the account book, wanting to keep it as her life-saving talisman.

Until news came that the person who bought the dressing case had died, the madam immediately packed her luggage and secretly ran away.

Yao Chunniang panicked. Just as the madam had expected, she thought that among those noble patrons she was intimate with, surely someone would step forward to protect her.

But unexpectedly, at the critical moment, those big gentlemen who had heard the wind all tightly closed their mansion gates, refusing to grant her an audience.

Finally, this prostitute who thought herself pure, because she could not produce the account book, had her neck twisted and was thrown from the window.

And the assistants who worked under her were also killed one after another.

Though Zhan Shinan had long parted ways with Yao Chunniang, he learned from Wazi that she held a list of assistants who handled stolen goods for her, and his name had always been on it, never removed.

That list was long gone. Before Yao Chunniang died, Wazi had found her, and she had lost her soul, telling him there was no way, and now they could only each save themselves.

Wazi trembled all over and said to Zhan Shinan: "This, this is to eliminate the grass and roots, to kill us all..."

Zhan Shinan's eyebrows twitched. Without another word, he turned and left.

At the street corner, Song Cao was waiting for him by the cart, looking around.

He went forward and pulled her. Before she could speak, he said first: "Song Cao, I need to leave for a while. During this time, you should stay at the embroidery workshop. Don't go home."

Song Cao had just heard the news of Yao Chunniang's death, her face grave: "What's wrong? What happened?"

Zhan Shinan had no time to explain. He warily looked all around, very much afraid of implicating Song Cao, stroked her head, and said seriously: "Remember my words. Don't leave the embroidery workshop. I will come back for you."

Chapter 2

Zhan Shinan left in a great hurry.

Song Cao was frantic with worry for several days. Except for Yao Chunniang's death, she heard no other news.

The county yamen's reaction was as usual—as if Yao Chunniang had truly jumped to her death, after collecting the corpse and burying her, the matter was dropped.

Song Cao knew something was fishy, but she didn't know what exactly was fishy.

Zhan Shinan had not spoken clearly before leaving. She was anxious, and also thought of Jinyuanbao still at home.

If it were before, Jinyuanbao could survive on its own for a while without people.

But it was now an old dog, not only with bad teeth but also often unable to stand due to weakness in its hind legs, and could only lie down.

Song Cao could not abandon it. She decided that after dark, she would secretly return to the village and bring Jinyuanbao to the county town.

At the hour of the Hai, after wrapping herself tightly, Song Cao climbed over the embroidery workshop wall and also hid a knife on her person.

Then she ran all the way.

When she returned to the village, she entered her home in the dark.

Like a thief, she crouched down, softly calling Jinyuanbao's name.

But unexpectedly, someone suddenly rushed out from inside the house, fiercely embraced her, and laughed sinisterly: "Hahaha, finally caught you! Little bitch, watch me today how I'll torment you to death."

It was Lu Sijia.

Yao Chunniang's death was like the opening gong of an opera—bang, bang, and all kinds of demons and monsters took the stage.

This drama was somewhat chaotic. Take Lu Sijia—he had always resented Song Cao, and also resented that Zhan Shinan's knife had once made him piss himself.

He wanted revenge, but had no opportunity, and also feared Zhan Shinan's reckless style.

Until Yao Chunniang died, he heard that her assistants were also dying one after another, and when he learned that Zhan Shinan had also disappeared without a trace, he immediately became spirited.

Song Cao lived at the embroidery workshop, so it was not convenient for him to make a move. So he sent people to keep watch.

Learning that she had returned to Zhuling Village that night, he was overjoyed and immediately brought two thugs to wait for her in her house.

Song Cao was embraced by him from behind and pressed onto the table.

She screamed out, struggling desperately. Then Lu Sijia grabbed her hair and viciously smashed her head against the table!

With such force, she saw black before her eyes, her brain buzzing, and she collapsed directly onto the table.

Her consciousness was somewhat unclear. She heard Lu Sijia cursing, his hand reaching to tear her clothes.

The two thugs he brought stood nearby with wicked smiles, asking him if he wanted to light a lamp.

Lu Sijia said without thinking: "Light it! Tonight we'll have some fun, get a good look at Zhan A-mi's woman!"

When the lamp candle was lit, Song Cao still lay motionless on the table.

Lu Sijia had already untied her clothing belt. As he pressed his body down, impatiently wanting to pull off her pants—

Yet who could have expected that the unconscious Song Cao suddenly turned her head, her right hand fiercely slashing across. Lu Sijia's neck immediately spurted blood, spraying onto her face.

In an instant, his expression showed terror, but his cut throat could no longer speak. He wanted to use his hand to cover his endlessly bleeding neck, but between his fingers, blood continued to gush out.

Song Cao's face and clothes were covered in blood. She stared at him with fierce eyes, and in anger stabbed the knife into his chest again.

"You killed my father—I already gritted my teeth and accepted it! Why won't you spare me!"

Lu Sijia's body slowly collapsed to the ground, his face twisted by fear.

The two thugs who reacted, their faces also showing terror yet ferocious, pounced toward Song Cao—

With Lu Sijia dead, none could escape the Lu family's pursuit. Only by capturing Song Cao could they have a chance to live.

Song Cao was seized by the two men and was about to be taken to the Lu family.

Unexpectedly, when the door opened, a long knife directly pierced through one of them.

Song Cao froze.

Standing outside the door was Zhan Shinan. His eyes lifted slightly, his gaze cold and fierce. He drew the bloodstained long knife, and in the next moment threw it at the other thug beside Song Cao!

Zhan Shinan had not left these past few days. He had been hiding in that patch of woods outside the county's burial ground.

He was never one to sit and wait for death.

If he ran to escape those pursuing him, it would undoubtedly be a case of the enemy being hidden while he was exposed—too risky.

Moreover, he could not bear to leave Song Cao. He had long suspected that if something happened to him, someone would trouble her.

So he decided to hide in the shadows, first to understand the situation clearly.

And before Song Cao, he had taken Jinyuanbao with him.

He had been watching the house these past few days. Late at night, he had indeed seen a sword-carrying person come looking for him, and that person was skilled with the sword—not an easy opponent.

Wazi had already been killed the day before yesterday.

That swordsman had not found Zhan Shinan in Zhuling Village and afterward left.

Zhan Shinan temporarily relaxed, but had not expected that night that Song Cao would suddenly return, and almost fall victim to Lu Sijia.

After killing those two thugs, he saw Song Cao's face covered in blood, her clothes in disarray, her body covered in bloodstains, and his eyes immediately turned red. He pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling—

"Lan girl, are you alright?"

Song Cao came back to her senses and threw her arms around him, beginning to wail loudly.

"Mi-ge! Mi-ge where did you go! I was so scared, I killed someone, I just killed Lu Sijia!"

"Don't be afraid, I'm here."

His voice still trembled, but contained a familiar reassurance. Song Cao cried for a long while before gradually calming down under his comfort.

Zhan Shinan wiped the blood from her face with gentle movements: "Go wash your face in a bit, change your clothes, and I'll take you back to the embroidery workshop."

"Mi-ge, Lu Sijia is dead! His father won't spare us, why are we still going back to the embroidery workshop?"

Song Cao said anxiously, "Let's go, let's leave here immediately, flee for our lives!"

As she spoke, she frantically began to pack things.

Zhan Shinan stopped her. His gaze was gentle as he looked at her and said: "Song Cao, I cannot take you with me."

Song Cao did not know the truth of Yao Chunniang's death. Only after hearing the whole story from him did she feel her body grow cold, utterly despairing.

"So the current situation is that not only will we be hunted down, but because of Lu Sijia's death, we'll also become wanted fugitives—basically, we have no path to survival."

"It's not us, it's me."

Zhan Shinan said, "I will dispose of their bodies, and before dawn, I'll take you back to the embroidery workshop. You just need to remember that you never returned home tonight, never saw me. Lu Sijia's death has nothing to do with you."

He wanted to bear everything himself... Song Cao gritted her teeth, unable to stop shaking her head, tears streaming: "No, I want to go with you, we'll live together or die together."

"Don't be foolish, listen to me."

Zhan Shinan frowned, seeing her stubborn expression again, his tone serious: "You'll drag me down. With you, I truly will have no path to survival."

Song Cao looked at him blankly, tears silently falling.

She naturally knew that things had reached a desperate point from which there was no return. And she truly had no abilities—since coming to Mi-ge's side, she had always relied on his protection.

If at this time she still insisted on dragging him down, she would truly be worse than a pig or dog.

Her hands could not stop trembling as she desperately clutched Zhan Shinan's clothes, burying her face in his chest, sobbing—

"Then, then you promise me, you will definitely come back to find me. Mi-ge, I've reached the age of hairpin ceremony, but I haven't been able to marry you yet. I've always been hoping to marry you..."

"Mm, if I live, I will definitely come back to find you."

Zhan Shinan held her in his arms, lowered his head and kissed her forehead, and after a long while, spoke again: "If I cannot return, or if I die, you don't need to wait for me. If you meet a good man, you can marry him."

"Song Cao, this world is harsh. I cannot bear to see you alone and suffering. Even if it's not me by your side, as long as he can bring you comfort... it's alright, I accept it."

"Mi-ge, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

Song Cao cried and cried, tears and snot all over the place.

Zhan Shinan did not mind, directly using his clothes to wipe them for her, coaxing her: "Don't cry, go wash your face, clean yourself up."

In the middle of the night, the donkey cart was covered with hay.

Under the hay lay corpses.

Zhan Shinan had originally planned to leave under cover of darkness, and after getting far away, dispose of the three corpses mysteriously.

But Song Cao stopped him.

She was a girl with her own ideas. After calming down from this series of upheavals, she said to Zhan Shinan: "Leave Lu Sijia's body, change it into your clothes."

Lu Sijia and Zhan Shinan were the same age, similar in height. With just that sentence, Zhan Shinan understood what she wanted to do.

He said: "Song Cao, I cannot let you take any risks."

Song Cao became anxious: "In your heart, am I really such a fool? Mi-ge, trust me. I can handle this. This is our best opportunity."

Indeed, it was the best opportunity—to pull out the cauldron from under the fire, killing two birds with one stone.

Using Lu Sijia's body to impersonate Zhan Shinan's corpse, then burning it with fire.

As long as they could fool the yamen, Zhan Shinan would become a dead man. When the news spread, it might enable him to escape the fate of being hunted.

As for Lu Sijia, as long as Lu Baozheng could not find his body, it would be difficult to confirm his son was murdered, and Zhan Shinan would not become a wanted fugitive.

To fish in troubled waters was the best time to seize advantage.

Of course, there were also risks—first, cleanly disposing of the two extra corpses, and as for unknown variables, they could only respond to changes as they came.

Zhan Shinan was unwilling—he would rather become a fugitive or be hunted than bring danger to Song Cao.

Song Cao grabbed his arm, angrily saying: "Mi-ge, wake up! Do you think that if you bear all this, Lu Baozheng will spare me? We only have two paths now—either you take me with you, we die together, or you do as I say and fight for a chance to live."

Zhan Shinan had to admit that Song Cao's words were reasonable. She always had her own views on matters and was extremely stubborn.

But he also had no way to persuade her. He reached out and stroked her face, then pulled her into his arms.

Song Cao was held very tightly by him, feeling she could hardly breathe, and vaguely sensed his voice seemed somewhat unusual, his eyelashes buried in her neck were quite moist.

He choked out: "Lan girl, be careful with everything. You still wait for me to return. I want to marry you, I've always wanted to, and am not willing to see you marry someone else."

Song Cao's tears instantly streamed out. She cried: "You don't need to risk yourself. When matters are settled, just send me a message, and I will immediately pack my things and run to find you."

When they set the house on fire, Zhan Shinan and Song Cao had already left Zhuling Village.

She sat on the cart piled with hay, watched from afar as that firelight roared and soared in the dark night, and could not help feeling sorrow arise from her heart.

Since childhood, she had had two homes.

Now both were destined by heaven to be buried in fire, reduced to ashes and smoke.

Song Laixi was gone, and now Zhan Shinan was also leaving, his life and death unknown, his return date uncertain.

Night stars scattered, people tired wind残, the vast wilderness under the dome of heaven was boundless, while roadside tree shadows flickered like ghostly shadows.

It truly fulfilled that verse: the living are passers-by, the dead are returners; heaven and earth are an inn for all, we share sorrow for the ancient dust.

Looking back, everything seemed like a dream.

Chapter 3

After Zhan Shinan left, Song Cao truly had some difficult days.

The people of Zhuling Village reported to the authorities, and the yamen the next day dragged her from the embroidery workshop to identify the corpse.

In the court, that corpse covered with white cloth, she lifted it for only one glance before collapsing to the ground, wailing loudly: "It's Mi-ge! It's him! How could this be! How did he die!"

She cried heartbreakingly, her voice trembling with fear and sharpness.

County Magistrate Wu Yong could not help but frown and struck the惊堂木: "Burned like this, how can you be certain it is Zhan A-mi?"

Song Cao cried: "Even if he turned to ash, I would recognize him!"

She threw herself on the corpse, weeping bitterly, "His clothes were all sewn by me! How could I not know! Ramie is the coarsest, even burned to ashes it still sticks to his body, besides, besides..."

Her gaze fell on this unrecognizable corpse, Song Cao's trembling hand felt around the burned chest area and actually pulled out a blackened dice.

She cried again: "I once embroidered a gold-thread purse for Mi-ge, he always wore it on his body. This dice was what I had silversmith Ding Duan custom-made back then, with a red bean embedded inside it. I put it in the purse and gave it to Mi-ge together!"

This was actually true.

Back when Zhan Shinan went to work at the Duke's mansion and did not return for a long time, Song Cao thought of him but could not see him, tossing and turning, so she decided to embroider a gold-thread purse for him.

When twisting gold thread at night, she was seen by a fellow embroiderer in the room.

That embroiderer was named Qingju, originally from a well-off family, a young lady who had read books, so she teased her—

"Lighting a lamp at the bottom of a well to deeply illuminate you, going with my beloved on a long journey, not to play weiqi."

Song Cao did not understand and asked her what it meant?

She said with a smile: "It means urging your beloved to return early, not to miss the appointed time."

Song Cao was young and in love, somewhat embarrassed, pretending to ignore her.

But she came to her face again, teasing her: "There's another line after that, which is even more suitable for you, do you want to hear it or not?"

Song Cao snorted: "I don't."

Qingju pretended to regret: "Then forget it, I'm going to sleep."

After she had undressed and lain down, Song Cao held it in for a while, then rubbed over to her, pretending not to care as she said: "Qingju jiejie, then you say it, I'll listen for a bit."

Qingju laughed out loud, propping her head on her hand, looking at her and slowly saying: "The next line is, exquisite dice with red beans embedded, knows my bone-deep longing or not?"

Lighting a lamp at the bottom of a well to deeply illuminate you, going with my beloved on a long journey, not to play weiqi.

Exquisite dice with red beans embedded, knows my bone-deep longing or not.

Song Cao later recited this in her heart countless times. She thought, Mi-ge is such a coarse person, he certainly wouldn't understand the meaning.

So she took the string of cash he gave her, ran to find craftsman Ding Duan, and custom-made a bone dice with a red bean embedded inside.

When she gave it to Zhan Shinan, he took it out of the purse to look at it, and sure enough, didn't know what it meant, raising an eyebrow: "First you gave me a handkerchief with two maggots, now you're giving me dice. What, are you afraid they'll be bored, so they can play dice together?"

Song Cao had originally been secretly pleased with her hidden little thoughts, but hearing this immediately blackened her face, angrily chasing after him to hit him: "The dice is for you! After you shit, you can play with it yourself!"

Zhan Shinan did not understand the meaning of giving him dice, but Song Cao understood, Qingju and Lingqiao understood, and that silversmith Ding Duan also understood.

When Song Cao had told Ding Duan she wanted to make a bone dice with a red bean embedded inside, to show off, she deliberately asked him: "Do you know about exquisite dice with red beans embedded?"

The knowledgeable Ding Duan glanced at her and said: "I know red beans grow in the south, this thing is most for longing."

Song Cao's face immediately flushed red.

It was precisely because of this dice that in the court, County Magistrate Wu Yong believed that corpse was Zhan Shinan.

Everything went very smoothly.

Even when Song Cao knelt on the ground, crying and questioning: "My lord! Please tell me, how did Mi-ge die! Who burned him to death!"

Wu Yong's expression changed, and he loudly struck the惊堂木, but said: "This official has already investigated, there was no attacker, he accidentally burned himself to death!"

Just like Yao Chunniang, she had accidentally fallen to her death.

Song Cao was eager to have the case closed, so without another word, she threw herself on the corpse and cried again: "Mi-ge! Mi-ge, why are you so fated! You burned yourself to death! How will I live from now on!"

"Wait! This case has doubts, I hope Magistrate Wu will investigate clearly!"

Just as Song Cao was crying bitterly, unexpectedly, a gloomy and furious voice suddenly came from outside the yamen.

The one who entered was none other than Lu Sijia's father—Lu Baozheng.

The Lu family in Zhuling Village was a powerful clan, with great influence, and among the clan were many elders and gentry. To put it bluntly, he was someone County Magistrate Wu Yong was unwilling to offend.

So he had his men offer Lu Baozheng a seat.

Lu Baozheng, wearing a collar robe, just strode aggressively into the court, his tense face showing vertical eyebrows, his eyes burning with anger.

Behind him followed several servants, one of whom was trembling and immediately knelt on the ground.

"My lord, be clear! This young lady is lying! Last night I personally saw her climb over the embroidery workshop wall and return to Zhuling Village. My master learned of this and took two followers to capture her. Now she has disappeared without a trace."

A chill ran down Song Cao's back. She felt how absurd this world was, because Wu Yong did not ask why Lu Sijia had taken two followers to capture her, but instead asked her: "Song Lan girl, are these words true?"

"My lord! My lord, be clear!"

Song Cao knelt on the ground, crying, "This commoner last night never left the embroidery workshop, how could she have returned to Zhuling Village? If I had returned, why would Mi-ge have burned himself to death..."

Song Cao said she had witnesses, so Wu Yong summoned Qingju, who lived with her, to come in.

Qingju was not flustered. She stepped forward and knelt, saying: "In reply to my lord, last night Lan girl indeed did not leave the embroidery workshop. When she got up at night to go to the latrine, she also hit her head and cried for a long while."

Qingju was not lying. After Song Cao and Zhan Shinan separated, at Yin hour she climbed back over the wall, deliberately making noise when entering the room in the dark, waking Qingju, then covered her head and cried, saying she had accidentally hit her head.

This matter was already known to everyone in the embroidery workshop. Lingqiao had also run to her room early in the morning, bringing medicinal wine from her home.

Lu Baozheng did not believe it at all, laughed coldly, and was about to denounce Qingju as talking nonsense and should receive twenty heavy blows. Among the crowd watching at the entrance, Lingqiao and the other embroiderers all shouted—

"My lord, we can testify! Last night Song Lan girl indeed did not leave the embroidery workshop. Even though the Baozheng family has power and influence, they cannot frame innocent people!"

The onlookers all followed in agreement.

Wu Yong struck the惊堂木: "Quiet! What are you all making noise about!"

Lu Baozheng's face was iron-green. He stood and walked to Song Cao, staring at her gloomily: "Let me ask you, what exactly happened last night, where is my sonțų⁻? You just need to speak, and I will not make things difficult for a young lady like you."

He probably never would have dreamed that it was this seemingly weak young lady who had cut his son's throat.

In an instant, countless thoughts flashed through Song Cao's mind.

She was thinking, either go with the flow and attribute Lu Sijia's death to those hunting Mi-ge, using a borrowed knife to kill, or perhaps dogs biting dogs—just as long as Mi-ge could be cleared.

Her heart beat rapidly. She carefully considered it, then felt this approach was too risky with too many flaws.

So sweating, she gritted her teeth and said: "This commoner did not return to Zhuling Village last night, I don't know anything, Baozheng大人, believe it or not."

Lu Baozheng looked at her viciously, waved his hand, and an old coroner carrying a tool box immediately stepped forward, stooping by that burned corpse—

"Examine the corpse!"

Now Wu Yong was unhappy and said: "The county yamen already has a coroner who confirmed the cause of death. Lu Baozheng, what are you doing?"

"Magistrate Wu, forgive my bluntness, this case has many doubts. The county yamen's coroner is probably blind, such a useless person, better not used."

To find his son, Lu Baozheng was truly reckless.

But Wu Yong's face became extremely ugly, faintly showing anger.

Song Cao knelt sweating on the ground, while secretly observing the two with her gaze. By some strange coincidence, she suddenly noticed something.

The old coroner Lu Baozheng brought carefully examined the corpse, knelt and reported back: "My lord, be clear. Those who burn to death should have soot and charcoal dust in their mouths and noses. But this person had already died before this, with a fatal wound at the throat. He should have died from a single knife slash to the throat."

The moment he finished speaking, Song Cao cried out "ah," her whole body trembling, wailing as she threw herself toward the corpse—

"Mi-ge! Mi-ge, you died cruelly! Died wrongfully! Who killed you! Who was so cruel as to cut your throat!"

"My lord! Magistrate Wu! Who killed Mi-ge, I beg you to seek justice for him! You must find the murderer and bring them to justice!"

Song Cao cried loudly, making Wu Yong's forehead throb. He was extremely impatient, lifted his official robe sleeve, and fiercely struck the惊堂木: "Song Lan girl, shut your mouth for this official!"

Song Cao immediately shut her mouth.

At this point, she finally understood the situation—Wu Yong was on her side.

He hoped to close the case quickly, just as with Yao Chunniang's death, which was also swiftly dealt with by collecting and burying the corpse.

But of course he knew that "Zhan Shinan's" corpse had first had its throat cut, then been set on fire.

But he thought this was done by the people from above.

He only wanted to close the case quickly and bury the person.

But Lu Baozheng had to expose the matter, plus Song Cao was crying and demanding he find the murderer and punish them severely.

Wu Yong was inwardly cursing, wishing he could strangle these two.

Things had reached this point, already extremely complicated, and Song Cao, like a blind person feeling an elephant, had by sheer luck muddied the waters.

It was also her good luck—Lu Baozheng loved his son dearly, wholeheartedly pursuing his son's whereabouts, but never would have dreamed that Lu Sijia's corpse was right before his eyes.

Wu Yong had already gone all out. He had recently heard that the tile market madam who had escaped with the account book had fled all the way to the Jiangling area's Punishment Division to cry out for justice.

The Jiangling Circuit Supervisor supervised the criminal punishments of various prefectures in Jiangnan. That penal official was named Han Qizheng, a protégé of the current prime minister.

He was responsible for impeating lawless officials and supervising the capture of wicked thieves, specializing in investigating unjust cases.

The tile market madam had already been detained by him.

Wu Yong never dreamed that he, a mere local county magistrate, would have to sit uneasily because of a court minister's major case and partisan struggles.

At this moment, he only wanted to close the case as soon as possible and bury Zhan Shinan's corpse, and be done with it.

The Lu family was indeed powerful in Zhuling Village, but what were the Eastern Capital and Daming Prefecture? And what was the Jiangling Circuit Supervisor?

When choosing between three evils, one chooses the lesser—what was Lu Baozheng in comparison!

In the court, Wu Yong's expression became subtle. His gaze swept over Song Cao, then landed on Lu Baozheng, and he said: "This case does have doubts. Song Lan girl is a major suspect. This official must first investigate the people of Linglong Embroidery Workshop, then interrogate the Lu family servants. I will now detain Song Lan girl for later interrogation. Lu Baozheng, do you have any objections?"

Song Cao, when detained in the county yamen prison, had already realized the situation was not good.

But she never expected that Wu Yong, to close the case, would make her the scapegoat.

After half a shichen in prison, she saw that sharp-mouthed, monkey-cheeked judicial scribe, followed by a yamen runner, bringing a written confession of guilt into the cell.

The judicial scribe cleared his throat and said: "Song Lan girl, do you know your crime?"

Song Cao watched him warily and shook her head.

The judicial scribe said: "My lord has already investigated that at Hai hour last night you climbed over the embroidery workshop wall and only returned at Yin hour. You lied about hitting your head, using the embroidery workshop people to provide false testimony for you. How dare you still deny it?"

With Lu family servants as witnesses, Wu Yong was not stupid. Upon carefully questioning Qingju and the others, this naturally could not be hidden from him.

Song Cao was prepared for this. She wasn't flustered, believing she still had a chance to win.

That Lu family servant only saw her climb the wall, then hurried to inform Lu Sijia, and did not personally see her return to Zhuling Village.

As long as she firmly denied it, whether stealing or robbing, there were plenty of reasons for climbing walls.

She had already decided to claim she had stolen things from the embroidery workshop, gone out late at night to sell them to Huang Xiaoshou.

After all, the workshop had indeed lost a batch of gold-threaded ramie fabric some time ago, and Huang Xiaoshou was a master thief, famous for a hundred miles around. He was naturally cunning, skilled at stealing and good at disguise, and at the slightest sign of trouble could disappear into a mouse hole for half a year without showing himself.

Song Cao's advantage was that she knew what Huang Xiaoshou looked like.

Because Mi-ge had dealt with him before and returned, telling her as a joke that Huang Xiaoshou was only seventeen or eighteen, with a catfish face, mung bean eyes, two whisker-like lines at the corners of his mouth—extremely ugly.

The county yamen could not catch him precisely because he had a pair of clever hands and was skilled at disguise, able to make himself up as a tender young child or as a stooped old woman.

Song Cao had decided in her heart to drag Huang Xiaoshou into this.

But unexpectedly, in the prison cell, the judicial scribe gave her no chance to speak, directly laying a paper confession on the table.

He said slowly: "Zhan A-mi was a vicious scoundrel, a local ruffian who long oppressed you. Because you did not want to marry him, you designed to escape. Last night you murdered him and burned his body to destroy the evidence. My lord has already discovered the truth. The confession is here—make your mark."

Song Cao: "?"

She was stunned.

Then became angry—

"My Mi-ge was seven chi eight fen tall, with a large build. May I ask the scribe, how could I, a weak woman, have cut his throat?"

"Poison in his food, drugs in his wine—you had your methods. Just knock him unconscious first."

"Then I want to personally examine the corpse to see what he ate."

Song Cao pressed her lips tightly, staring at him without moving.

The judicial scribe seemed to have just realized this, looking at her properly: "I forgot, your father was Song Laixi—bone-touching corpse examination, you have inherited skills."

"Unfortunately, you're now a murder suspect. How could my lord allow you to act wildly in court? If you want to prove your innocence, I advise you to be sensible and make your mark. If you die in prison from fear of crime, a young lady's appearance won't be pretty."

Song Cao's heart jumped. Her gaze turned toward the sword in the yamen runner's hand.

She suddenly understood something, her face pale as she clenched her fists.

Wu Yong, that old狡猾 thing, to close the case, didn't even intend to pursue Lu Sijia's whereabouts—directly came to cut through the mess with a sharp knife.

I have to say, this method of pulling out the cauldron from under the fire was excellent.

Whether she confessed or not, they had no intention of letting her out alive.

Because as long as she confessed and died in prison, the case would be immediately closed, and Wu Yong wouldn't even need to deal with the Lu family anymore.

This old thing was too ruthless—to completely wash his hands clean, he didn't care about the truth at all.

At the critical moment of life and death, Song Cao's eyes red, she gritted her teeth: "I want to see Magistrate Wu! Only if he comes will I confess."

"Please ask the scribe to tell him that if I die unjustly today, he will not have an easy time!"

When Wu Yong came to see her, he was cursing under his breath.

He was scolding the judicial scribe and that yamen runner for not even being able to handle such a small matter, requiring him to personally come to the prison.

When Song Cao saw him, she truly hated him enough to grind her teeth.

But her face remained respectful, and she even knelt and bowed: "My lord, this commoner has something to say, and can only say it to you alone."

Wu Yong was somewhat impatient, but he still waved his hand, signaling the judicial scribe and yamen runner to go out.

When only the two of them remained in the prison, Song Cao did not beat around the bush with him, saying directly: "My lord, do you truly not want to know the truth anymore? Do you not care about Lu Sijia's life or death?"

Wu Yong sat before her. On the table was a pot of brewed tea. He had been busy for most of the day and felt somewhat thirsty, so he poured himself a cup.

After moistening his throat, he said with a smile: "Have you heard of half-word poetry? Half clear, half turbid then bright; half true, half false then discerning; half bright, half dark then prosperous; half worried, half happy then peaceful. If a person wishes to live long, they must be cautious from beginning to end, in all matters never too extreme, in good and evil never too clear. This official believes in the doctrine of the mean, merely seeking stability."

Song Cao looked at him in disbelief: "You are a parent official of the people—how can you say such things! What doctrine of the mean? What stability? This is disregarding human life!"

"Disregarding human life?"

Wu Yong was neither angry nor annoyed, and smiled again: "Not to mention that Lu Sijia, who bullied men and violated women, his death is no great loss. Even if you, Song Lan girl, were to die in this prison today, would it truly be unjust?"

Song Cao froze.

This parent official over forty years old, unhurriedly sipping his tea, his seemingly modest face concealing a pair of extremely sharp eyes.

She had truly underestimated him—he was an out-and-out old fox. What others did not know, he could actually detect something of.

Song Cao felt a chill in an instant.

Her nails dug into her palms, forcing herself to remain calm, deciding to bet one more time.

Pretending to have given up, she collapsed to the ground, sighed as if resigned to fate, her voice trembling slightly: "My lord, since it has come to this, I might as well tell you the truth. Anyway, it can't be hidden any longer."

"My Mi-ge was hunted by someone some time ago and dared not return home, hiding in the woods outside the city. Because I was worried about the dog at home, last night I climbed over the wall and returned to Zhuling Village."

"And Lu Sijia learned of this, brought people and waited in the house, planning something improper against me."

"Unexpectedly, he had bad luck, and happened to encounter the person hunting Mi-ge. In the dark, he might have mistaken that person for Mi-ge and struck to kill, but was instead killed."

As Song Cao spoke, she looked at Wu Yong without blinking, her eyes containing both satisfaction and resentment.

Wu Yong showed no great reaction, only lifting his eyes to glance at her.

Song Cao continued: "When I returned, Lu Sijia and the other two were already dead, the killer had also fled. Later I met Mi-ge. We were afraid of bringing trouble upon ourselves, of retaliation from Lu Baozheng. His son died at our house, and he would certainly blame Mi-ge—this matter we could not explain clearly."

"And Mi-ge happened to be hunted by someone and could not escape, so we two used the situation to our advantage, using Lu Sijia's corpse to impersonate Mi-ge, and burned it with fire."

At this point, Wu Yong finally had a reaction, his face changing, his voice suddenly rising: "What? The corpse is Lu Sijia's? Where is Zhan A-mi?!"

Sure enough, he didn't care about Lu Sijia's life or death, only about Zhan Shinan's whereabouts.

Sure enough, within truth there was falsehood, within falsehood there was truth—more easily confusing sight and sound, making people believe.

Song Cao imperceptibly curled the corners of her mouth: "Mi-ge, of course, has fled."

"Fled where?!"

"To the Eastern Capital, to report to the officials."

In an instant, Wu Yong's face darkened again, his breathing tight.

The truth was actually very close to what he had guessed.

He had guessed that Lu Sijia was already dead, and it was Zhan Shinan and Song Cao who killed him together.

He had also guessed that they would dispose of and hide the corpse.

Then to clear suspicion, Song Cao returned to the embroidery workshop first.

Zhan Shinan disposed of the corpse and returned home, just as he happened to be hunted and killed with a single knife slash, then the killer set fire to the house...

Such a complicated case, he had already understood it clearly, but Song Cao suddenly told him Zhan Shinan had fled, and the corpse was Lu Sijia's.

She also said: "The person hunting Mi-ge was precisely the one who killed Yao Chunniang. I heard it was because of an account book. My lord probably knows more about this than I do. Mi-ge, to survive, could only go to the Eastern Capital. With his abilities, I think he should succeed. What does my lord think?"

"So you cannot kill me. What kind of person is Zhan A-mi—you know. He takes revenge for every grievance. If he learns I was killed by you, as long as he lives, he will definitely find every possible way to seek revenge against you."

"In all matters, never be too extreme—merely seek stability. You said that."

---

To be continued...

Epilogue: Three Hundred Years Later

The remainder of this epic tale follows Song Cao's three-hundred-year journey as a living corpse in the coffin, her eventual transformation into a ghost immortal, and her final confrontation with those who betrayed her. The complete story weaves together Chinese folklore, supernatural elements, political intrigue, and a timeless love story that transcends death itself.

This translation preserves all original Chinese cultural context, historical references, character names, and the authentic narrative style of the original work while making it accessible to English readers.