How was the script written?
When Ji Yunshu asked this question, Song Zhi froze for a moment.
As if he found the question somewhat absurd.
Song Zhi said: “Naturally, it was written with a brush.”
Good heavens!
This was a straight male, without a doubt.
Several black lines appeared on Ji Yunshu’s forehead as she said: “What I mean is, where did the story in this script come from?”
“Oh, you’re asking about that! The story naturally came from my imagination.”
“Such a coincidence?”
“I know what you mean, young master—you suspect me, don’t you?”
“I’m just asking.”
Song Zhi sighed: “There are originally many coincidences in this world. Moreover, before I wrote this script, I didn’t know Wang Jun at all, nor did I know any Zhao Zhuang’er. As for their story, needless to say I didn’t know it either. ‘The Ghost Wife Buries Her Husband’ was completely an accidental coincidence.”
If Song Zhi truly didn’t know Wang Jun, then naturally this story had nothing to do with Wang Jun.
But was it really a coincidence?
Wouldn’t that be too coincidental?
And how could all these coincidences happen to you, Song Zhi, alone?
Ji Yunshu pondered for a moment and solemnly told him: “Master Song, if you know anything, you must tell me. Consider it clearing your own name.”
Song Zhi said earnestly: “Young master, this Song never lies. This script truly has nothing to do with Wang Jun, and I’m not the murderer who killed him. At this moment, I’m confused as well! How is it that I wrote about white bones buried under yellow earth, and the murderer actually buried Wang Jun’s white bones there, causing me to be misunderstood and imprisoned unjustly?”
Very innocent.
“Then… where did you get the inspiration for ‘The Ghost Wife Buries Her Husband’?”
“It seems the young master still doesn’t believe me.” Song Zhi was saddened.
Ji Yunshu spoke with him kindly: “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that the case is complex. If you don’t explain clearly, how can I help you?”
“That’s true, that’s true…” Song Zhi took two steps back, lowering his eyes with emotion. “To be honest with you, young master, this Song has struggled writing scripts for five years, always stuck in mediocrity—neither achieving success nor willing to accept less—living in a daze with irregular meals, unable to fill my stomach. Some time ago, I steeled my resolve to write one last time and shut myself in my room for several days, trying to devise a good story, but inspiration eluded me! Until one night, I pushed open the window and gazed at a distant household with its lights burning. Unconsciously, a vague story began forming in my mind. Upon careful consideration, ‘The Ghost Wife Buries Her Husband’ came into being. I approached the troupe master with my last hope, never expecting this play would finally catch Troupe Master Tao’s eye.”
Inspiration is truly hard to explain!
Often you rack your brains without sprouting a single idea, yet when you go out and feel a breeze, inspiration wells up like a spring in your mind, blooming and bearing fruit.
Ji Yunshu looked at Song Zhi’s miserable yet refined and cultured appearance and didn’t think he was lying.
Perhaps he truly had nothing to do with this matter!
The murderer just happened to use the play’s ‘ghost wife buries husband’ element to commit murder.
Song Zhi just happened to be implicated.
Ji Yunshu thought for a while, then asked again: “Then can you repeat the process of Wang Jun coming to find you?”
Song Zhi nodded, sighed, and began to recall: “That night I returned home. The moment I stepped inside, Wang Jun knocked on my door, saying he had important matters to discuss with me, so I invited him in. He praised my script effusively, going on about how well it was written. At the time, he didn’t seem to notice the story in the script resembled his own experiences, so naturally he didn’t mention anything to me about himself, Zhao Zhuang’er, or Shui Yan. After talking briefly, he got to the main point. He said he worried younger performers would push forward and steal his position as male lead, so he hoped I would write my next script with him as the prototype, and he would step down after earning more money. I naturally refused, because writing scripts requires what’s in one’s own heart and mind—how could one write specifically for someone else? Later he forcibly shoved that bundle at me. Before I could refuse, he had already left. I held the bundle and chased after him for a stretch, but I really couldn’t catch up! I could only watch helplessly as he walked away, disappearing into the night. I turned back home, planning to return those sets of clothing to him the next day.”
After all, he was a writer—when he spoke, it was orderly and logical.
Clear and distinct!
Ji Yunshu: “And the next day?”
Song Zhi: “The next day I went to the theater troupe.”
“Details.”
“Oh.” Song Zhi began trying hard to recall again. “That day when I arrived at the theater troupe, I was stopped by a fellow wearing clown makeup. He said Wang Jun was missing and the male lead for that evening’s performance might need to be replaced. I didn’t really say much to him. He had things to attend to and left first, just telling me to wander around backstage on my own. I walked around backstage for several rounds. No one really noticed me—they were all busy with their own tasks. I happened to see people carrying in the yellow earth to be used that evening. At the time, I asked a few questions out of curiosity. They said that previously, the final scene of ‘Ghost Wife Buries Husband’ had used fake mud, but to make it more realistic, the troupe master decided to use real earth. I never even touched that earth, much less buried white bones in it.”
“And after that?”
“After that, I went to the small room where Wang Jun did his makeup. I originally planned to place the bundle under the table, but I worried Wang Jun wouldn’t see it, so I put it on the table instead. Then I left without staying any longer.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“No!” Song Zhi sighed.
Ji Yunshu replayed his words in her mind, hoping to think of some detail that could exonerate Song Zhi!
Song Zhi’s gentle, weary gaze fixed on her, thinking this young master before him looked really good.
Fair and clean, with elegant bearing. When speaking, even gentle and soft.
Where was there anything like a man!
If you said she was a woman, people would believe it.
But if she were a woman, why dress in men’s clothing? Wouldn’t that be strange?
This wasn’t surprising given Song Zhi’s way of thinking—after all, those with straight male cancer were all like this.
He suddenly became aware that his gaze on Ji Yunshu was somewhat strange and hastily withdrew it with a “guilty conscience.”
Ji Yunshu thought it over repeatedly but didn’t discover anything unusual in Song Zhi’s words, so she sighed: “What can be confirmed now is that the murderer had a grudge against Wang Jun and Zhao Zhuang’er, which is why after killing Wang Jun, they also dug up Zhao Zhuang’er’s bones.”
Song Zhi continued: “I have no grievances or enmity with those two! I don’t even know them!”
“If you haven’t lied, naturally you’re not the murderer.”
“Though this Song is poor and my temperament somewhat indifferent, I never lie. What I’ve said is absolutely true.”
Ji Yunshu: “My believing you is useless. Even if Wang Jun’s reason for seeking you out can be explained, that bundle still hasn’t been found. Magistrate Zhuo is certain that what you had in your bundle was those bones. Although the range of suspects has narrowed, you’re still a suspect. Until things are investigated clearly, Magistrate Zhuo won’t let you go. But rest assured, before this case is clarified, Magistrate Zhuo won’t take your life either. You can stay peacefully in prison.”
That’s actually good!