Chapter 12: The Murder (1)

Sister Li seemed to sense something beneath the bridge and looked up toward it.

“Oh, Shopkeeper Zhang! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How have you been? I’ve missed you so much! Do you still need help with writing letters? I’ll have my old man at home write them for you properly, and I’ll even give you a 20% discount!” Sister Li’s smile was radiant, her voice sweet and crisp like a silver bell. However, the tone coming from her plain, unadorned face was incredibly vulgar, almost unbearable to listen to.

“Sister Li, I’ll visit your house another day, and you must treat me to some good tea!”

“No problem.” Sister Li waved her hand casually.

Shopkeeper Zhang smiled, waving back at her before watching her leave.

As Sister Li passed under the bridge, she gave Di Jiang a deep look before turning away as if she hadn’t seen her.

Had Di Jiang offended her today? No, she hadn’t.

Di Jiang shook her head in frustration when she suddenly heard Shopkeeper Zhang sigh beside her: “They say Miss Di cured Old Pan’s leg. It seems rumors can’t be trusted…”

“Oh?” Di Jiang raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

Seeing that Di Jiang didn’t deny it, Shopkeeper Zhang chuckled: “The rumor says that last night, Old Pan rushed to Meng’s inn to thank you for curing his leg ailment. But why hasn’t Old Pan shown his face today? If I were him, I’d gather everyone at the ancestral hall to celebrate with a performance—how could he be so low-key? And then there’s Sister Li; she looked at you as if you were her enemy. How could you possibly be their benefactor?”

As he spoke, Shopkeeper Zhang leaned closer to Di Jiang, his left hand brushing against her right, hoping to extract some information from her. However, Di Jiang merely gave a mysterious smile, then withdrew her hand and bowed slightly: “Everyone has their own intentions. How could outsiders understand these twists and turns? I see that your fortune is bleak, your steps unstable—you may face bloodshed in the coming days. Instead of worrying about Sister Li’s affairs, you should focus on yourself. Excuse me, I must take my leave.”

Shopkeeper Zhang was speechless and hurriedly stopped her: “Miss Di can also read fortunes?”

“A darkened brow signifies impending disaster—it’s something even nursery rhymes sing about. Don’t believe me? Go home and check if ominous clouds are hovering over your head.”

“…” Shopkeeper Zhang stared at Di Jiang for a moment, then immediately turned and fled.

Behind him, Di Jiang couldn’t help but cover her mouth and laugh. Wen Yao returned after buying the kite and saw Di Jiang’s amused expression, looking puzzled: “Boss, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Di Jiang cleared her throat and said: “Just scaring that disrespectful old Shopkeeper Zhang.”

Wen Yao glanced at Shopkeeper Zhang’s fleeing figure and nodded seriously: “Scaring him isn’t enough! In my opinion, someone like him deserves to suffer!” As she spoke, she flicked her hand, and a streak of eerie light shot toward Shopkeeper Zhang’s bulky body, disappearing into his knee in the blink of an eye. Instantly, his legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. When he lifted his head, two streams of blood trickled from his nose, and more blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

“Tsk!” Shopkeeper Zhang spat, only to find his front teeth lying on the ground. “AHHHH—my teeth!”

“Naughty girl.” Di Jiang lightly tapped Wen Yao’s head, then walked past Shopkeeper Zhang. She paused deliberately, covering her mouth in mock surprise: “Oh, I didn’t expect Shopkeeper Zhang to encounter misfortune so soon. Actually, there were signs during dinner last night—I should have warned you earlier.”

“Miss Di…” Shopkeeper Zhang feigned pitifulness, trembling as he reached out to grab Di Jiang’s hand. However, Di Jiang subtly dodged him.

“I’ll take my leave now. Take care, Shopkeeper Zhang.” Di Jiang gracefully departed with Wen Yao. Both were beautiful figures, one tall and one short, leaving Shopkeeper Zhang drooling after their retreating backs. He momentarily forgot about the blood still gushing from his mouth.

Following behind Di Jiang, Wen Yao’s mood had unexpectedly brightened. She asked: “Did Boss come out just to teach Shopkeeper Zhang a lesson?”

Di Jiang shook her head: “He just happened to run into bad luck because of you.”

Wen Yao was stunned: “Then why have we been wandering around this village for so long?”

“For an answer.”

“What kind of answer?”

Wen Yao waited for a moment, but seeing Di Jiang didn’t respond, she answered herself: “I know—Boss will definitely say ‘the workings of fate cannot be revealed,’ right?”

Di Jiang remained silent, lost in thought. Her right hand formed a lotus seal, while her left hand quickly began calculating. As she calculated, she muttered: “It shouldn’t be like this… He should already be dead…”

“He? Dead? Who?” Wen Yao looked utterly confused.

“Old Pan.” Di Jiang said indifferently.

“Old Pan?!” Wen Yao gasped: “Old Pan is dead?”

Di Jiang nodded: “He died at noon.” She looked up at the setting sun in the west and murmured: “But why hasn’t there been any news about it until now…”

Wen Yao’s joy from shopping all afternoon vanished completely. She wandered aimlessly along the stone-paved road, nearly tripping several times. Her sorrowful expression made it seem as though the person who had died was Di Jiang herself.

Seeing her like this, Di Jiang quickly took over the various packages and hurriedly led her back to the inn.

Di Jiang brought Wen Yao back to her room, poured her a cup of tea to calm her nerves: “Why do you always care so much about the birth, aging, illness, and death of mortals?”

“Because they’re people I like…” Wen Yao’s eyes widened as she stared intently at Di Jiang: “Boss, you’re not lying to me, are you?”

“No.”

Wen Yao already knew the answer but continued: “You knew Old Pan was going to die?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s why you treated his leg?”

Di Jiang nodded, once again emphasizing what she had said countless times before: “I don’t heal people—I heal ghosts.”

“…” Wen Yao slumped onto the table, saying nothing more. After calming down for a while, she went to the village’s incense shop to buy a stack of golden paper from Shopkeeper Zhang. Then, returning to the inn, she began copying the Rebirth Mantra onto the golden paper.

She became the first person in the village to mourn Old Pan.

News of Old Pan’s death reached Zhuangyuan Township early the next morning, accompanied by Di Jiang’s old neighbor, Zhong Xu.

Zhong Xu didn’t know where Old Pan’s home was, so he placed the body in the ancestral hall. By the time the villagers arrived, the hall was already packed. It took Di Jiang and her companions a great deal of effort to push their way inside.

Wen Yao, disregarding everyone’s feelings, rushed forward and yanked off the white cloth covering the body on the ground. Beneath it lay Old Pan’s face, bloated from being submerged in water overnight. His skin was a mottled mix of purple and blue, and there was a deep ligature mark around his neck—clear evidence that he had been strangled from behind.

Wen Yao clenched her fists tightly, her voice trembling with rage: “Who did this! Who killed Old Pan!”

“This is absolutely horrifying.”

“Indeed, who would have thought such a bloody incident could happen here?”

“To have something like this occur at the start of the year—it’s a bad omen. This year won’t be easy…”

“We must catch the murderer and bring them to justice! If someone like this is among us, how can any household sleep soundly?!”

Wen Yao’s furious roar ignited the villagers’ anger. Amidst the uproar, only Di Jiang, Zhong Xu, and Shu Xiang remained relatively calm.

Di Jiang walked over to Zhong Xu and asked: “Shopkeeper Zhong, why have you returned?”

“I found his body by the riverbank. He told me he lived in Zhuangyuan Township and asked me to bring him back.” After Zhong Xu finished speaking indifferently, one of the villagers immediately questioned: “You mean he wasn’t dead when you found him?”

“He had already been dead for some time.”

“Then how could you hear him speak?!” Some villagers had already picked up their carrying poles and brooms, glaring at Zhong Xu as if they’d already pinned him as the suspect.

“…” Zhong Xu fell silent, unwilling to explain further.

But Di Jiang stepped in, calmly saying: “Because he can communicate with spirits.”

“Communicate with spirits?” The villagers were all shocked.

“So he’s a Daoist priest?”

“A real one or a fake? There are so many charlatans around—how do we know if he’s genuine or not?”

The villagers began to chatter noisily, but none could agree on what to do next. They surrounded Zhong Xu tightly and decided to wait for the village head’s arrival.

Di Jiang stood behind Wen Yao, intending to help her up. However, Wen Yao shook her head and crouched on the ground, her shoulders trembling.

Di Jiang knew she was crying again. Feeling a pang of sorrow, Di Jiang squatted beside her and patted her back: “The dead are gone. Don’t grieve too much.”

“I thought Boss had shown mercy, but it turns out it was just a brief moment of respite!” Wen Yao looked heartbroken, unable to accept the outcome: “You’re too cruel!”

Di Jiang shook her head faintly, her voice soft: “Even if it was just a fleeting moment of relief, wasn’t it still beneficial? Old Pan’s death was predetermined in the Book of Life and Death. By curing his leg, I fulfilled what he had prayed for day and night during the first half of his life. I gave him happiness while he was alive—isn’t that considered a good deed?”

“You…” Wen Yao was left speechless. Eventually, she simply sat down, staring at Old Pan beneath the white cloth. Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling onto the ground and her clothes without leaving even a ripple.

Di Jiang sighed deeply and turned away, no longer looking at her.

Di Jiang understood that she had chosen to heal his leg precisely because she knew it wouldn’t change anything significant—it allowed Old Pan a brief period of joy.

Di Jiang asked herself: Am I kind?

Yes, I am.

But she also knew she possessed an iron will.

Di Jiang had always respected the natural course of events. She wouldn’t interfere with current affairs based on foreknowledge of the future, nor would she pit herself against fate. She believed things should unfold according to their destined paths—that was her principle, and she considered it the best arrangement…

Di Jiang stood up and stood beside Zhong Xu, asking: “Shopkeeper Zhong, what are your plans moving forward?”

“I’ll stay here and find the real culprit.”

“It seems Shopkeeper Zhong has a fiery spirit.” Di Jiang was somewhat impressed.

Zhong Xu shook his head: “I just find it strange.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve encountered countless wrongfully deceased souls, but none were like him. It’s as though he had already fulfilled all his wishes and had no lingering attachments to this world,” Zhong Xu paused briefly before adding: “If not for the ligature mark on his neck, I might have suspected he committed suicide.”

“Is that so…” Di Jiang bit her lower lip, feeling perplexed.

“Does Miss Di know something?” Zhong Xu asked.

“Hmm?” Di Jiang snapped out of her thoughts, shaking her head helplessly: “If only I did know something. The deceased was Wen Yao’s close cousin. Look at her, crying her eyes out. If we don’t uncover the murderer, how can we quell her anger?”

“Mm.” Zhong Xu stood by the corpse, his long sword strapped to his back. Aside from Wen Yao, he refused to let anyone approach, no matter what they said. He insisted on waiting for officials to arrive before taking any action.

The crowd gathered outside the ancestral hall, and even when the village head and elders arrived, Zhong Xu didn’t budge.

“Brother Zhong, it’s not that we’re afraid of the authorities coming, but the nearest county town is a three-day journey from here. The highest-ranking person we can summon now is merely the local township leader. Besides, though it’s winter, Old Pan’s body has been soaked in the river. By the time officials arrive, the body may already reek!”

Seeing the logic in his words, Zhong Xu relented: “Then we’ll wait until the township leader arrives.”

“All right, all right! Hurry and send for him!” The village head dispatched two swift-footed messengers, and soon enough, the township leader arrived in haste.