Chapter 44: Harvesting Ghosts

In the afternoon, the number of visitors coming to pay respects dwindled; the concubines, exhausted from their morning performances of wailing and grief before outsiders, now slacked off, warming themselves by the firepots when no one was around, only letting out a half-hearted wail when someone arrived.

Suddenly, a man in a yèsā robe and cloud-treaded shoes stood before the funeral hall.

Another job, the concubines groaned half-heartedly, but the man raised his palm, and a gray, soybean-sized pill rolled out into the firepot.

Whoosh—

From the firepot, now reduced to embers, a column of flame shot up over ten feet high.

Though fierce, the flame was an eerie dark green.

Countless tiny, bizarre creatures—half-real, half-illusion—rose from the column, filling the entire compound.

Whether concubines in the funeral hall or servants secretly looting property in the front and back courtyards, all were swarmed by insects.

The compound erupted into chaos! They slapped at the insects, fled in panic—but to no avail; soon, the insects pounced upon them.

Some burrowed through their nostrils, ears, and mouths; others melted directly into their skin.

In moments, all fell silent again.

Everyone trembled with fear, though the insects seemed to leave no visible effect after entering their bodies.

Yet none believed those insects were truly “harmless,” given the horrifying scene they had just witnessed.

“Come here.”

The man gave the order, and everyone obediently gathered before the funeral hall.

“Where is Qiao Zian’s study?” the man asked coldly.

The concubines scrambled to lead the way.

Moments later, the man turned Qiao Zian’s study upside down and roared in fury: “Where is it?!”

The concubines stared blankly: “What are you looking for, my lord?”

The man stormed out of the study and began searching room by room.

“Hey… my lord…” the concubines rushed to block him—each of their rooms hid silver, gold, jewelry, land deeds, and property papers.

Now was the time to choose money over life.

The man bellowed: “Get out of my way!”

A wall of flame surged forward, sending the concubines screaming and retreating in panic.

Yet whenever he found valuable items, he ignored them and tossed them aside; jade ornaments shattered under his sweep, making the concubines’ hearts ache as if torn apart.

For over an hour, the man searched every corner of the Qiao residence.

He searched every servant, maid, and concubine multiple times.

When the man searched Qiao Zian’s principal wife, a strong servant flew into a rage and resisted on the spot—only to be instantly burned into a charred stump!

Yet he still could not find what he sought.

He suddenly remembered something and returned to the study, examining it closely: one vase was missing from the side table in the outer hall.

“Someone got here first!” he gritted his teeth and turned away, fleeing swiftly.

Scholars’ decorative items followed strict conventions; Qiao Zian, obsessed with refined elegance, would never have made such a mistake.

“My lord, spare us!”

The concubines screamed, begging for an antidote—but the man’s shadow was already gone.

…

The man did not leave Wangjing Fang ; he wound through its alleys, confirmed no one followed, then slipped into the back courtyard of a solemn mansion in the northeast corner.

Here was a quiet rear garden.

Compared to the Qiao residence, it was several times larger.

Among the trees stood several refined pavilions; he pushed open a door and said bluntly: “It’s gone!”

Inside, an old master reclined on a concubine couch, reading a scroll.

“Is Qiao Zian truly dead—or is he using that item as a stepping stone to defect to someone else?” the old master asked.

“He wouldn’t dare.”

The old master set down his scroll and pondered: “The Qūhuì Office went to Hégōng Alley today—there’s a boy there who seems entangled in Qiao Zian’s case.”

“The Qūhuì Office came? Then we can’t wait any longer—I’ll go bring back that boy.” He acted decisively and turned to leave.

“Come back!” the old master snapped: “You’re an outsider—you don’t understand Shanhe County. Hégōng Alley is strange.”

He tapped his fingers on the table: “Send Lǎo Qián. Test the depths of Hégōng Alley—if there’s an opening, bring the boy back.”

“Master, if Xu Yuan is truly involved, we absolutely cannot let him fall into the Qūhuì Office’s hands!”

The old master frowned: “I know what I’m doing. Keep watching the Qiao household—perhaps the item was stolen by one of their own traitors.”

“Rest assured—all members of the Qiao household have swallowed my poison pill; their every move is under my control.”

He went out and called in “Lǎo Qián,” then gave him his orders.

Lǎo Qián was wrinkled, thin, hunched over—looked as if a breeze could knock him down.

He accepted the master’s command without a word, nodded, and returned to prepare.

The old master did not yet know that two capable Captains of the Qūhuì Office had suffered heavy losses at the entrance to Hégōng Alley—otherwise, he would have been far more cautious and not sent Lǎo Qián so lightly.

After settling these matters, the old master picked up his scroll to resume reading, when a boy walked down the path outside the gate and bowed: “Master, County Magistrate Wang Mingqian requests an audience.”

The old master didn’t even lift his eyelids: “Refuse.”

“Yes, Master.”

At the mansion’s gatehouse, Wang Mingqian, dressed plainly and unaccompanied, dared not show the slightest resentment, left his gifts, and slunk away.

…

Lǎo Qián lived in a row of cold, shadowed rooms beneath the west wall of the rear garden.

All of his group had been brought back by the master from Nandu.

After receiving his orders from the master, Lǎo Qián returned to his room to prepare.

On the rafters hung several hanged ghosts—he took them down, one by one, and packed them into sacks.

Then he picked up a hoe and dug up jars and bottles from beneath the wall.

After thinking, he went out and summoned a cart, rode out of the city to Qīlǐ Pù, and retrieved his own “net cage” from a small river outside the village, buried months ago.

Inside were seven or eight half-human, half-fish drowned ghosts.

Lǎo Qián collected them all.

He returned to the city as dusk was about to fall.

“Have a meal, then get to work.”

…

Xu Yuan was also eating dinner.

Tonight’s meal was meat-filled baked buns—Xu Yuan’s favorite.

Pork belly cut into cubes, mixed with chopped green onions, beaten eggs stirred in for the filling.

The outer crust was kneaded by his stepmother, rolled to the thickness of two sheets of hemp paper, then pan-fried until golden on both sides.

Xu Yuan ate three or four buns in quick bites, barely full, when he realized a problem: today was already his second day back; at most, tomorrow, this daily feast of fine food would end.

He would soon be taken for granted.

Lin Wanmo was actually lazy—even though she acted dutiful and industrious before the elders of the alley, she couldn’t fool Xu Yuan, who had lived with her for over a decade!

Of course, his stepmother never intended to hide it.

She was an excellent cook—but hated cooking.

To maintain this standard of living, Xu Yuan felt he must do something to make her feel guilty.

So he reached into his robe, pulled out a bundle, and tossed it onto the table.

Clang!

Clang!

Coincidentally, Lin Wanmo had just tossed out a bundle herself!

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(End of Chapter)