The three of them looked at one another, all of them feeling a shiver run through them. Jiang Ling muttered: “Making Imperial Guards for a burial — does someone have a death wish?”
If discovered, this wasn’t merely a matter of losing one’s head — entire families would be implicated.
Ren Yao frowned: “Do we keep investigating?”
She had thought this was simply a murder case — the motive, love, money, or revenge, nothing beyond the ordinary. Who could have imagined that tangled up within it was something so alarming.
They weren’t in too deep yet; there was still time to withdraw. If they continued and genuinely uncovered someone overstepping their bounds — would they report it or not?
Failing to report would make them accomplices to treason; reporting could plunge a court that had finally settled into stability back into turmoil.
The sight of false charges being used to accuse people of treason in the era of cruel officials was still vivid in Ren Yao’s memory; she had been young then, but her revulsion at those petty, scheming people had stayed with her. The last thing she wanted was to become one of them.
Ming Huashang was quiet for a long while, then said: “It’s getting late — not a good time to investigate further. Let’s call it a day. Everyone go home and think it over. If you still want to continue, meet me at our usual spot tomorrow. If you’d rather not get tangled in this, then don’t come — what’s happened these past few days, we’ll consider it as if it never happened. I trust everyone’s character: none of us will say a word.”
Jiang Ling and Ren Yao made no response. Ming Huashang took that as their agreement. She drew a long breath, let herself be carried with the crowd, and walked toward the street’s exit. “Then I’ll head back first — until we meet again.”
When Ming Huashang said those words, she was genuinely considering giving up. She had only wanted a secure position to rely on for the rest of her life — there was no need to get herself killed over it.
She should have realized it long ago. The Wei household might count as a substantial family among common people, but set against Luoyang itself, it was not even a grain of sand. For a household like theirs to be haunted by strange occurrences — what could possibly command the attention of the Xuan Xiaowei, who answered to the Empress herself?
Ming Huashang had no interest in speculating about the motives behind all this. The more you knew, the sooner you died; she just wanted to live her own life in peace. She made up her mind — she was done with this entirely. Ming Huazhang had never approved of her involvement, and perhaps being eliminated was the ending that would leave everyone satisfied.
When she got back to her chambers, Zhao Cai and Jin Bao complained as usual about how she had been out all day. That day Ming Yu and Ming Shuo had both been in the Old Madam’s presence — only Ming Huashang had been absent; the Old Madam hadn’t said anything, but her expression had made it plain she was displeased.
Zhao Cai gave earnest counsel: “Young Mistress, you can’t go on being so aimless. You’re sixteen now — marriage negotiations will come soon. If word gets out that you spend your days wandering the streets eating and sightseeing, your future mother-in-law might take a dim view of it. You’d do far better to settle down and practice your needlework.”
Ming Huashang was quiet for a good while. Then she said: “I’m a living person, not an embroiderer. Am I supposed to get married just so I can do needlework for their household?”
“There you go with the jokes again, Young Mistress,” Zhao Cai said with a laugh. “You’re Duke Zhenguo’s daughter, the apple of his eye — who would dare ask you to do needlework? But doing it yourself shows refinement; the young masters and their mothers in other households would think you virtuous, and that’s how a good match comes about.”
“Exactly,” Jin Bao chimed in. “If you can’t be bothered to actually do it, Young Mistress, just put in a stitch or two for appearances — I’ll do the rest for you. But you absolutely must stay in your rooms; otherwise it simply won’t look right.”
Ming Huashang gave a slow, quiet nod: “You’re right.”
Yes — how could she compare herself to an embroiderer? An embroiderer exchanged her skill and labor for a livelihood. And she herself — was only a beautiful ornament.
She couldn’t even compete with an embroiderer.
Zhao Cai and Jin Bao, seeing Ming Huashang nod, assumed she had taken the advice to heart and pressed: “Shall we send word to First Young Miss, so she can take you along for the needlework tomorrow?”
Ming Huashang didn’t stir. She asked suddenly: “Where’s Second Brother?”
“You’re asking about the Second Young Master?” Jin Bao was confused. “He hasn’t come back yet. These past few days he seems very busy — always out early and back late. Why do you ask?”
Ming Huashang felt a sudden image rise in her mind unbidden — Ming Huazhang from that night, standing in the light drizzle with an umbrella in hand, his figure clean and spare, swaying like river reeds in wind. He had asked her why she wanted to join the Xuan Xiaowei, and she had offered him all those high-minded reasons — yet here she was, barely two days later, ready to give up?
If that was the case, what right had she to tell Ming Huazhang that she didn’t want to spend her life simply following what her family had arranged, didn’t want her only purpose in life to be making a good wife and a good mother?
Zhao Cai saw that Ming Huashang had been still for a long time and called to her: “Young Mistress, what are you thinking? First Young Miss is probably still awake — there should be time to send word. Ruyi—”
“Don’t bother.” Ming Huashang suddenly spoke, cutting off Zhao Cai. “I made a promise to Second Brother — tomorrow, I’m still going out.”
Ming Huashang appeared again in Chongye Quarter at dawn. She had expected that after yesterday’s conversation, their hastily formed three-person alliance — not even three days old — would have quietly dissolved. Yet when she arrived, she found both Ren Yao and Jiang Ling already there.
Both of them were wearing expressions of studied indifference, as though they would sooner wrench their necks around backward than look comfortable. Ming Huashang stared at them for one startled moment, then smiled — and broke into a light-footed run toward them: “I’m sorry — I’m late. What’s gotten into the sun this morning? How are you both here so early?”
Jiang Ling gave a superior huff: “You’re just slow. I was the first one here.”
“Nonsense,” said Ren Yao, not bothering to be tactful. “I was already there behind the tree long before you. Your eyes are just useless.”
“All right, all right — early or late, it’s all beside the point. Food is what matters.” Ming Huashang asked: “Have you both had breakfast?”
“No,” said Jiang Ling impatiently. “Whoever came last has to pay.”
“Who decided that?” Ming Huashang argued the point the moment money was involved. “I disagree. Ren Jiejie, do you agree?”
Ren Yao said placidly: “I think the one who arrived in the middle should pay.”
Ming Huashang immediately agreed; Jiang Ling was incensed: “Yesterday the rule was whoever came last pays; today it’s whoever came in the middle — do you two have any principles?”
“The principle is that whoever most people agree on, that’s the rule,” said Ming Huashang, putting the matter to rest with a decisive clap of her hands. “Stop dawdling — I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”
Ming Huashang said nothing of the day before; Jiang Ling and Ren Yao said nothing either. The three of them bickered and jostled their way down the street as the morning sun broke through the thin clouds and scattered a carpet of gold on the ground behind them.
After breakfast, as had become their custom, they bought a few extra flatbreads and distributed them among the young beggars, letting the children keep watch on the Wei household. The three of them continued following the leads from the day before. When the sun had begun to decline toward evening, a young beggar came running over to report that someone had come to stand under the locust tree, wanting to trade information for a reward.
The hundred-coin-per-piece offer was still open; if the information proved especially valuable, the reward would increase. Things had stalled on their end anyway. After a brief discussion, they agreed that Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling would go hear the new information while Ren Yao continued the current line of investigation.
Ming Huashang followed the beggar child down a narrow, shadowed alley tucked away from the main street. Inside stood a middle-aged man with a cloth wrapped around the lower half of his face, pacing in the shadows. The moment he caught sight of them he hurried over: “You’ve finally come. Is this the place to trade information for money?”
Ming Huashang saw the narrow, sharp eyes above the cloth and felt herself tense: “It is. Why do you have your face covered?”
Ming Huashang felt a twinge of regret for bringing Jiang Ling — she should have brought Ren Yao instead. But Jiang Ling was, at least, a hot-blooded young man; his presence should be enough to give an outsider pause. If Ming Huashang had come alone, she wouldn’t have dared approach a place like this.
The man radiated an unsavory quality from head to toe. Though she couldn’t see his expression, Ming Huashang could feel that he was smirking obsequiously: “Don’t take offense, Miss — I still have to make my living at the Wei household, and I’m afraid of trouble if anyone finds out. I heard that your patron wants to write strange tales? Then the young miss has come to exactly the right person — I know all sorts of things. Put them in a book and I guarantee they’ll be scandalous and enthralling, a smash success.”
Scandalous? Ming Huashang frowned. Her instinct said this was another person trying to squeeze money out of a fabricated story. “I have no time for your invented nonsense. If you have nothing real to offer, we’ll be on our way.”
“Wait, wait!” The man moved to grab Ming Huashang’s arm. Jiang Ling pushed his shoulder to stop him and raised an eyebrow: “What do you think you’re doing? If you have something to say, say it — keep your hands to yourself.”
Thanks to Jiang Ling, Ming Huashang stepped clear of the man’s reach. Her expression had grown decidedly strained. The man seemed to understand that these two were not to be trifled with, and twisted his hands together as he continued, eyes darting and ingratiating: “I’m not making anything up — I saw this with my own eyes. Second Young Miss may be called the second apprentice, but she’s no better than a woman for hire — first she served the master, and later she was to be married off to the First Young Apprentice. Now isn’t that a case of keeping everything in the family?”
Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling both went still.
From the look of this man, Ming Huashang had expected nothing decent out of his mouth — but she hadn’t expected this. After a moment her expression had gone entirely cold; and even Jiang Ling said, visibly displeasured: “You’d invent filth like this for a few coins? What do you take us for?”
“I didn’t invent it!” The man protested his innocence. Afraid of losing his reward, he had by now forgotten his worry about being recognized. “I do the night rounds at the Wei household — no one knows the Wei family’s secrets better than me. The master talks about being a strict teacher and managing the apprentices with discipline — but the ‘teaching’ he gives them at night, and what they get up to behind closed doors — that, I can’t say for certain.”
Ming Huashang’s face was cold as ice. She said: “Our patron, though he wishes to compile strange tales, is above all a man of principle and integrity. Spreading slander about your own household’s principals — our patron would rather make enemies than take any part in it. I’ll see to it that your words are conveyed directly to the master of the Wei household.”
“No, please don’t!” The man panicked, and blurted out, no longer caring whether he might be recognized: “It’s all true! Those two — master and apprentice sharing the same woman — they have guilty consciences; of course they’d never admit it. They’ll deny everything.”
“You’re still talking!”
Jiang Ling pressed a hand to Ming Huashang’s shoulder and fixed his eyes steadily on the man: “You swear on your life that everything you’ve said is true?”
The man raised his hand, looking genuinely frightened but eager to please: “It’s true! God, what terrible luck I have — just trying to earn a few extra coins and I end up tangled in this!”
Jiang Ling’s fingers tightened slightly. He had knocked about the world long enough to tell real speech from invented; there was cruelty and exaggeration in what this man said, and a good deal of malicious assumption — but he was not lying outright.
These things had really happened.
Ming Huashang pressed her lips together tightly, her face deeply troubled. This was the kind of topic only Jiang Ling could pursue further. He steadied himself and asked: “You said just now that master and First Apprentice shared one woman — meaning only Wei Baixuan suffered this; Wei Zhuyan was not subjected to the same treatment?”
“That’s right,” said the man, and something lewd flickered in his eyes. “Third Young Miss is beautiful and clever — she’s been groomed since childhood to be the First Young Apprentice’s wife. She’s not the same as a — well, as a thing to be used. The Second Young Miss is plain, dull, unremarkable; walking down the street, no one would give her a second glance. If not for her skill at making puppets, how would she ever become a proper wife?”
Ming Huashang’s voice came out cold and steady as she picked up the thread: “What do you mean?”
The man said: “I once overheard the master tell the First Apprentice that the Second Young Miss had learned the Wei family’s secret craft. If she were allowed to marry out, she would inevitably carry the puppet-making skills with her to another household. So the First Young Apprentice would have to make do and marry her. But the master would not stand in the way of his relationship with Third Young Miss — once the wedding was settled, the First Young Apprentice was welcome to keep Third Young Miss close as a concubine, with everything a proper wife would receive, except the title. The First Young Apprentice really has got himself a good deal — all he has to do is swallow the humiliation of marrying a woman his master has already had, and in return he gets a beautiful woman, the family assets, and a good name. If it were me, I’d take that deal too…”
Ming Huashang despised the filth in the man’s mouth — but his account had a beginning, middle, and end, and no matter how much she wished to dismiss it, she had to accept that most of what he said was probably true.
She pushed down her revulsion and asked: “When did you hear this?”
The man thought, then scratched his head: “It should have been the thirteenth day of the second month — I remember it was a moonless night, and the road was very hard to walk. I was doing my rounds near the main courtyard and heard the master speaking to the First Young Apprentice in private.”
Ming Huashang asked: “How did Wei Moyuan respond?”
“I didn’t hear,” the man said. “Just then I ran straight into Hua Nu — scared me half out of my skin; I thought I’d walked into a ghost. I completely lost track of what was said after that.”
Ming Huashang pressed: “If the master intended for Wei Baixuan to be the wife and Wei Zhuyan the concubine — did Wei Zhuyan know any of this?”
The man shrugged: “I’m just the night guard — how would I know what was in Third Young Miss’s mind? Though she probably had some idea. She and the First Young Apprentice are close, and the master dotes on her especially. The only reason the master would be willing to put her in a lesser position was for the sake of the Second Young Miss’s puppet-making skills. She’d stay on without having to work or worry about the household’s business — just live comfortably, and enjoy a privileged life even as a concubine. What would there be to object to?”
Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling exchanged a glance. She took the money and tossed it to the man, then asked: “This information is very useful — here is your payment. Is there anything else you know? For instance — what kind of puppet was Wei Baixuan working on before she died?”
The man’s face lit up when he saw the coins. He accepted them with greedy eagerness, counted them to make sure, then bowed his head with a fawning smile: “Thank you, Miss and Sir. I do the night rounds, so I’ve always tried to give those Wei household puppets a wide berth — they give me the creeps, especially the ones the Second Young Miss made. But the puppet she was working on before she died must have been very important. On the fourteenth, when I passed by the main courtyard, I heard the Second Young Miss and the master arguing — she was shouting something like ‘it’s either her or me; if you want the design, you’ll have to drive Wei Zhuyan out.’ After that the steward came and told everyone to clear the room and shut the door, and I didn’t catch what happened next.”
Ming Huashang raised an eyebrow: “What design?”
“It seemed to be a design for making a puppet,” the man said. “I didn’t hear the first part clearly. I only know it was a puppet for some very important personage — extremely significant — and at present, only the Second Young Miss knew how to make it. With a design, everyone could work on it together.”
“Where is the design now?”
The man spread his hands: “How would I know that?”
Jiang Ling gave the man another string of coins, then held them just out of reach as the man leaned toward them. His gaze sharpened with a quiet warning: “If you breathe a word of tonight’s conversation to anyone—”
“I would never dare,” the man said, bowing and scraping. “I still need to make my living at the Wei household — how could I let this get out? Sir and Miss can rest assured.”
After the night guard had gone, Jiang Ling looked at Ming Huashang: “What do you make of what he said just now?”
Ming Huashang pressed her lips tight; her expression was very grave: “I was hoping he was making it up — but the times and details he gave were too specific. Most of it is probably true.”
The two fell into silence. Then Ren Yao’s voice carried in from outside the alley: “Second Miss, Jiang Ling — what are you two doing hiding in here? I’ve been looking everywhere. The people sent to the northern capital are back — come and—”
Ren Yao noticed something was off in their expressions. She raised an eyebrow: “What’s happened?”
Inside the private dining booth, Ren Yao heard Ming Huashang’s account and went rigid with fury, both fists clenched tight: “That hypocritical wretch — let me go deal with him right now—”
“Ren Jiejie, calm down — we mustn’t startle the prey.” Ming Huashang held her back. “Tell us what they found in the northern capital first.”
The people the Marquis of Pingnan’s household had sent to Taiyuan were back. Ren Yao was still seething, and her voice came out clipped and hard: “Many years ago there was indeed a troupe called the Wu Family Puppet Troupe — it was very well known in the northern capital in its day, with Wei Yanqing as its lead performer. He didn’t go by that name then — he was known as Yuqing. His master, the troupe’s original founder, has been forgotten by most; people just called him Old Troupe Leader Wu. Old Troupe Leader Wu’s own puppet shows were nothing remarkable, but he had raised a talented son and taken on an exceptional apprentice. When the old leader handed the troupe’s affairs over to his son, the son — Wu Kong — and his apprentice Yuqing swiftly made a name for themselves in Taiyuan. Yuqing’s marionette performance, Transcendence, was especially celebrated — even noble families invited him to perform in their private residences. But with great fame came great strife; rumors began circulating that Wu Kong and Yuqing had fallen out. Then Yuqing’s voice was ruined, and he left Taiyuan. After that, the friction died down.”
Ming Huashang asked: “Yuqing made his living with his voice; he must have been very careful to protect it. How did he lose it?”
“That isn’t known,” said Ren Yao. “But the rumor among the people is that Wu Kong was jealous of his apprentice-brother and poisoned Yuqing’s voice out of spite.”
“And afterward?”
“Afterward, with his voice ruined, Yuqing had nothing left to offer the troupe. He left Taiyuan in disgrace, returned to his original surname Wei, and renamed himself Yanqing. Everything after that matches what we’d already heard about the Wei household: though he could no longer perform puppet theatre, he turned entirely to crafting the puppets themselves, and built the business up into what it is today.”
Jiang Ling said: “He rose and fell twice, then found a third path — for all that, he must have had real ability. If his voice was truly poisoned out of him, did he just accept it and do nothing? Was he truly willing to let it end there?”
“That’s what I found strange,” said Ren Yao. “The people who went to inquire told me that shortly after Yuqing left Taiyuan, Wu Kong’s daughter was abducted by a trafficker — she was only six years old when she disappeared. After losing his daughter, Wu Kong was devastated. He searched for his beloved child everywhere, let the troupe fall entirely to ruin, and in the end vanished without a trace.”
Ming Huashang asked: “What year did Wu Kong’s daughter go missing?”
“Twelve years ago.”
“So if Wu Kong’s daughter is still alive, she would be eighteen years old now.” Ming Huashang looked at the other two, her expression unreadable. “Wei Baixuan is exactly eighteen this year.”
Jiang Ling said, incredulous: “Are you saying Wei Baixuan is Wu Kong’s daughter? Wu Kong’s daughter went missing, and Wei Yanqing just happened to take in his apprentice-brother’s child — how could the world be that coincidental?”
“Indeed — how could the world be that coincidental.” Ming Huashang murmured the words, and as she did, the light in her eyes gradually intensified — burning so bright it was almost difficult to look at directly. “Unless it was never a coincidence at all.”
Ming Huazhang returned home again, treading the very edge of the curfew. He pushed open the gate — and sensed immediately that something was off.
He looked up. There, inside, was a visitor he had not expected.
Ming Huashang’s eyes were blazing as she looked at him and asked: “Second Brother — tell me honestly: is your mission really about investigating rumors of a haunting?”