Chapter 5: The Female Ghost

“Boss, Boss... why does that female ghost look so familiar?” Wen Yao stammered, clearly startled.

“There’s something strange about this,” Di Jiang nodded. She, too, had noticed the anomaly.

Though the female ghost’s face was a ghastly green, contrasting sharply with her crimson lips, even through the eerie colors, her delicate and refined features were still recognizable—she bore an unmistakable resemblance to Princess Zhaohe, Wu Jingyi, whom they had seen at the mansion!

Before Di Jiang could think further, Zhong Xu began chanting incantations under his breath. His longsword quickly left his hand, hovering in the air as it streaked toward the ghost’s forehead.

“Not good—he’s trying to destroy her!” Di Jiang thought with alarm. Without hesitation, she rushed forward, throwing herself directly onto Zhong Xu, knocking him off balance. At the same moment, the lantern in Wen Yao’s hand flew out, and the female ghost vanished in a flash of red light.

“D-Daoist Master, I’m so sorry! I was just so excited to see you that I didn’t notice the pebble on the ground, causing you to trip—it’s all my fault!” Di Jiang pinned Zhong Xu to the ground, bowing her head repeatedly in apology.

“Why is it always you?!” Zhong Xu’s lips trembled, his brows furrowed tightly. Clearly, he was furious.

“I came to burn incense...”

“On a rainy day? What kind of nonsense is that!”

“Today is... the death anniversary of Wen Yao’s mother. I accompanied her here.” Di Jiang widened her eyes, pointing at Wen Yao while looking sincerely at Zhong Xu. Her earnestness was so convincing that any ordinary person would have softened at the sight. Behind her, Wen Yao mechanically nodded along.

But Zhong Xu wasn’t an ordinary person. His heart was harder than stone.

Seeing his lack of response, Di Jiang continued, “Look, we’ve brought all the incense, candles, and paper money. We didn’t expect to run into you here—what a coincidence! Let’s go find Abbess Liuyun and have a drink together?”

“Go drink by yourself!” Zhong Xu snapped impatiently. “Get off me first!”

“Oh, alright.” Di Jiang feigned reluctance but slipped as she tried to push herself up, accidentally falling right back into his arms.

“Daoist Master, I really didn’t mean to!” Di Jiang exclaimed.

Zhong Xu frowned, giving her no quarter. With a shove, he pushed her away, causing her to fall awkwardly onto the wet ground. Rainwater soaked her skirt, dirtying her clothes.

“How barbaric of you!” Wen Yao hurriedly helped Di Jiang up. Di Jiang shook her head, signaling that she was fine.

Di Jiang still wanted to console Zhong Xu, but seeing his icy expression, she found she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She knew that whatever she said now would be hollow—she had indeed interrupted him in the middle of his task.

“Did you do this on purpose?” Zhong Xu coldly asked.

“Hmm? What?” Di Jiang blinked, deciding to play dumb until the end.

“That woman earlier—is she someone you know?”

“Woman? What woman? Are you waiting for a woman in a nunnery?” Di Jiang glanced around, pretending to search, but her face radiated one hundred percent sincerity.

“You… Fine!” Zhong Xu snorted, refusing to spare her another glance. He retrieved his sword and took off using qinggong (lightness skill), his white robes fluttering behind him as he disappeared into the night in the blink of an eye.

“What’s worrying him so much? Life is meant to be enjoyed. Rushing around like that—how can he appreciate the beauty around him? Wen Yao, let’s go back.”

“Not following him?”

“What’s there to follow? I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”

“...Alright.” Wen Yao nodded, helping Di Jiang perform a shrinking technique. With a single step, their surroundings shifted abruptly. They suddenly appeared on South Street in Taiping Prefecture. Fortunately, no one was around; otherwise, their sudden appearance would have drawn gasps of astonishment.

Di Jiang glared at Wen Yao. “Next time, don’t be so reckless. It’s not good if someone sees us.”

“But I was worried about you, Boss...” Wen Yao frowned, pointing at Di Jiang’s wrist. “Boss, your hand is bleeding.”

“Blood?” Di Jiang was startled. Looking down, she saw a patch of crimson beneath her left wrist.

The next moment, her vision blurred, and within moments, she lost consciousness.

“Boss!” Wen Yao was alarmed, quickly checking her breathing. Relieved to find she was only unconscious, Wen Yao hoisted her onto her back and rushed toward the shop. As they passed Zhong Xu’s coffin shop, Changsheng curiously peeked out.

“What are you looking at?! This is all your boss’s fault!” Wen Yao shouted at him. Changsheng immediately shut the door, his eyes wide with fear, as though he’d seen a pack of wolves or tigers, desperate to avoid them.

Back at the shop, Shu Xiang saw the two in such a state and hurried over. “What happened?”

Wen Yao carried Di Jiang upstairs to her bedroom, laying her on the bed before rushing downstairs to fetch medicine. “I don’t know what happened—I just know Boss suddenly fainted! Quickly check what’s wrong with her. I’ll go get some wound powder for her wrist!”

“Alright.” After Shu Xiang examined her pulse, checked her pupils, and tested her breathing, he finally exhaled in relief. “Boss is just sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” Wen Yao brought a basin of water, soaking a handkerchief and wringing it dry before handing it to Shu Xiang.

“Yeah, she’s even snoring.” Shu Xiang calmly took the cloth, gently wiping Di Jiang’s wrist. Even in her sleep, Di Jiang didn’t so much as furrow her brow.

After Shu Xiang cleaned the blood from Di Jiang’s wrist, Wen Yao carefully applied hemostatic powder to the wound, bandaging it with gauze. Once the wound was treated, both returned to their rooms to rest.

________________________________________

Early the next morning, just as dawn broke, the sound of firecrackers echoed through the southern market of Taiping Prefecture. After the firecrackers ended, mournful music accompanied by monks chanting sutras filled the air, disturbing the peace.

Di Jiang, who had slept dreamlessly through the night, woke to the racket. Dragging her weary body, she opened the window groggily, only to see neighbors she rarely encountered sticking their heads out of their windows.

“Who is it? How can anyone sleep with this noise!”

“Who dares hold a funeral in the southern market?”

Di Jiang remained calm. She knew that the southern end of Taiping Prefecture was close to the rear gate of the imperial palace. Firecrackers and mournful music were rare here, and even weddings or funerals were usually conducted discreetly. Anyone bold enough to make such a spectacle here was likely someone wealthy or powerful. Complaining wouldn’t help.

Just then, the door to the pharmacy downstairs opened, and Shu Xiang emerged, fully dressed and holding a broom.

Seeing him sweeping so early, Di Jiang thought admiringly, “Shu Xiang is becoming more and more diligent. And then there’s Wen Yao—a lazybones who sleeps like the dead. Not even this commotion woke her; she won’t be up anytime soon.”

Di Jiang tapped on the window, and Shu Xiang looked up to see her leaning against the windowframe, smiling at him.

Shu Xiang didn’t mention last night’s events, simply saying, “Good morning, Boss.”

“Morning,” Di Jiang smiled and nodded. “Go see who’s holding the funeral.”

“Yes.” Shu Xiang nodded, setting the broom aside and heading out.

After freshening up, Di Jiang went downstairs to open the shop. The mournful music had woken the entire neighborhood, and even the coffin shop across the street had opened its doors.

Changsheng was carrying coffins outside, lining them up at the entrance. Soon after, Zhong Xu also emerged.

“Good morning, Boss Zhong,” Di Jiang waved at him.

Zhong Xu initially ignored her, but when he noticed the bandage on her wrist, he reluctantly nodded at her in acknowledgment.

Delighted, Di Jiang thought to herself, “This is a good start, right?”

As she pondered, Shu Xiang returned.

“Boss, it’s Pear Garden—they’re holding a funeral for Ruan Qingmei, the actress who passed away last month.”

“She passed last month, and they’re only holding the funeral now?”

“It seems Lord Rui’an ordered it.”

Di Jiang nodded, indicating she understood. Their conversation was overheard by Zhong Xu across the street. He coldly remarked, “Funerals are for the living to see. Doing all this now—what difference does it make to the dead?”

Hearing Zhong Xu’s words, Di Jiang couldn’t help but admire him. “Boss Zhong runs a business dealing with the dead, yet his words are truly extraordinary.”

She gave him a heartfelt thumbs-up, only to receive a glare in return. Zhong Xu snorted, shooting her a sidelong glance before leaving with Changsheng.

Watching the solemn, similar silhouettes of master and apprentice, Di Jiang couldn’t help but burst into laughter, leaning against the doorframe.

Zhong Xu felt her laughing at him and turned back, glaring daggers. His eyes were filled with disdain, as though wishing to skin her alive and break her bones.

Di Jiang was taken aback by his hostility, thinking, He’s being unnecessarily unfriendly.

“Shu Xiang,” Di Jiang sobered up, calling softly.

“Yes.”

“Do you think Zhong Xu dislikes me?”

“He doesn’t dislike you,” Shu Xiang replied without looking up, his expression indifferent. “He hates you—intensely.”

“Is it really that bad?” Di Jiang was shocked.

“Not exaggerated at all.”

“Oh, I need some quiet time.” With that, Di Jiang left the shop, heading upstairs to her room.

Once inside, she leaned against the window, lost in thought.

Reflecting on their days as neighbors, Di Jiang felt wronged. Whenever she had delicious food or drinks, she always set aside a portion for Zhong Xu. Why did he dislike her so much?

“He shows respect to Abbess Liuyun and behaves normally toward others, but his attitude toward me is so dismissive—it’s truly hurtful...”

Just then, Di Jiang felt a chill run down her spine and caught an unusual scent in the room. It wasn’t the aura of the living but the icy, fetid presence of the underworld.

Turning around, she was startled to see a woman standing stiffly in the corner, dressed in a bridal gown. Her eyes were vacant, staring ahead—whether at Di Jiang or out the window, it was unclear. The atmosphere around her grew heavy, as though even the air trembled.

Yet her demeanor remained as regal and aloof as a princess, standing still without crying or making a fuss.

Who else could it be but Wu Jingyi?