Chapter 572: Deserved

The incident occurred at East Tongzi Road and the places called the Cold Palace, such as West Third Institute and North Third Institute, where staff and a few night‑shift guards saw palace maids and eunuchs dressed in ancient costumes, as well as a woman who seemed to be a consort. It wasn't cosplay because everyone's feet were almost indistinct like mist, and their faces were a pallid iron‑blue, looking unlike any living person.

The Forbidden City is huge, over 700,000 square meters in total, with at least 300,000 square meters of non‑public areas, and ever since the Ming Dynasty there have been rumors of hauntings. Back then the palace housed tens of thousands of people, mostly women and eunuchs, so it was always bustling day and night. The sense of gloom in the Forbidden City only began to appear as the imperial era waned, when the dwindling staff forced the abandonment of some halls.

The National Museum's storage is not far from the Forbidden City, separated only by a plaza. That night a cloud‑water spear rose straight up, its blade flashing with cold light, and an endless aura of ferocity caused any creature within thirty meters to flee in terror. Uncontrolled, the long spear suddenly hammered itself into the main gate, triggering a sharp alarm. Meanwhile, in the Peking University constant‑temperature storage, the tiger's roar from the coffin grew ever more thunderous and violent, and it seemed about to bellow.

As the capital, Capital (Jingcheng) seems to lack the power to suppress the realm—this ancient city has recently seen several mysterious sites, resulting in a few casualties. Such matters must be dealt with swiftly if possible, and must not attract the public's attention if they can be avoided. Yet some people are born with a penchant for digging up filth, and if they happen to be the well‑paid public intellectuals who take foreign money, the situation becomes even harder.

It is well known that the municipal administration of the capital has long been mismatched with its status, a substandard shoddy system, perhaps even worse than that of some second‑tier cities in the east. So demanding that they promptly block the news is simply a trap, not to mention that some hereditary "officials" are stirring trouble within. Consequently, reporters from the notorious sarcastic media Fake Manchurian Gazette slipped into the Forbidden City, where the rumored incident had occurred.

To say that the two reporters were decent at their primary job, they could even pose as tourists visiting the Forbidden City for the sake of fake news—still not ready to be blocked, they had to be prepared for any change. Remarkably, they managed to scale the wall and hide in the sealed courtyard, and at night they furtively took flashlights and cameras to search for the so‑called eerie spot. They had only heard rumors of anomalies, generally dismissing them as hysteria, never truly believing such a thing could be real.

They came here looking for a pretext of mismanagement at the Forbidden City; the two walked down an empty corridor, where there were no lights—only the moon overhead, their small flashlights, and of course their phones, provided illumination. On this path, even the faint footfalls sounded crystal clear at night. "Is that an echo?" one whispered. "Probably," the leader replied.

Pat‑pat footfalls combined with the echo always made them feel as if someone was behind them, so after only a few steps they turned to look, each time finding nothing. Even so, as they kept walking they grew increasingly uneasy and chilled, and the urge to look back grew more frequent. Fortunately nothing happened; ahead was North Third Institute, and they could hear what seemed to be voices from the next building—perhaps the night‑patrol staff.

After all, this place is not far from the Zhenfei Well, where the consort Zhen was dragged out and thrown into the well to drown. When they reached it, the two finally exhaled, "If they invite me next time, I won't come." one said. "Did you hear what they're saying?" the other asked, but instead of answering, he waved and whispered. Both fell silent, straining to hear the so‑called staff's words as they patrolled nearby—having turned off their flashlights to avoid detection.

The spoken voices were clear in the silent night—soft but distinct—and as they listened the sounds drew nearer, as if the other side of the wall was approaching... The two exchanged a bewildered glance. "What are they saying? Why can't we understand?" Fortunately the report's headline was already set: "Staff secretly escort tourists for night visits…" The first charge was ready.

The incomprehensible speech was probably because the speakers were tourists, likely wealthy people from Eerduosi, Inner Mongolia, so they were speaking Mongolian? In any case the words sounded vaguely like Beijing dialect—seemingly understandable yet not. As the voices faded, the two realized they had been standing there for a while, feeling considerably more relaxed. So they habitually glanced behind them...

A number of people followed behind, each clad in hemp‑cloth sleeves, wearing helmets with red tassels, and among them women with hair tied in buns and long robes; they formed two rows trailing the two reporters. Upon seeing this, the two gasped, and a "Mama" scream rang through the night sky. Their limbs grew weak, rolling and crawling, unable to find an escape route. "Help!" they shouted, hoping the passing tourists would hear and rescue them.

Nothing happened at first, but the figures gradually approached, and upon entering, their faces appeared bluish in the moonlight. Then the two felt a chilling cold and stiffness, as if icy iron rings were tightening around their bodies—several eunuchs reached out, grasped their arms and lifted them up. The North Third Institute's main gate swung open, its interior brightly lit yet the glow remained a bluish hue.

Even though they had no desire to enter, their feet felt as light as if stepping on clouds, and the two drifted inside...

The Fake Manchurian Gazette filed its report twenty‑four hours later, and they also contacted the Forbidden City's management to request a search for their reporters. By the time anyone began looking, daylight had already broken—neither the Forbidden City staff nor the local police were willing to search at night, and editors of the newspaper certainly would not go either; they would merely condemn the palace and police in print for neglecting lives and failing to conduct a night‑time search.

As for why the reporters came, the newspaper could not conceal it and frankly admitted it. Two hours later, in the locked courtyard of North Third Institute, the bodies of the two were found... The two adult men had shrunk to the size of ten‑year‑old children, one perched on a very old circular chair inside a sealed palace chamber, the other curled up on a bed inside. Their hair was gray, their faces twisted and wrinkled beyond recognition, with only their eyes and mouths gaping wide, causing everyone to gasp in a cold breath.