Just moments ago, he had been an imposing marquis surrounded by attendants, commanding respect and authority. Less than an hour later, Yun Ye found himself transformed into a poor scholar confined to his study. Sitting on the hard wooden bed, he pondered for a long time but couldn’t make sense of it all. He gazed at the pile of books on the desk, the two hard dried cakes in the black bowl beside them, then looked at his tattered mosquito net and the thin mattress beneath him that reeked of mildew. He shook out a blanket covered in patches and examined it for a long while, still unable to understand what this was all about.
Was this some kind of poverty awareness exercise? Empress Zhangsun would never engage in such pointless activities—she was someone who cared deeply about status and dignity. Even if Yun Ye had committed a grave crime and was to be executed the next day, Zhangsun would ensure he was well-fed, well-dressed, and thoroughly cleaned before being sent to the execution ground.
Yun Ye wasn’t the only one suffering. Two guards crouched on the wall had nearly curled into balls from the cold, their white breath condensing as they breathed on their hands, though it likely provided little warmth.
“Come down and warm yourselves inside for a while. I have questions to ask,” Yun Ye called up to the two guards.
But those two fellows acted as if they’d seen a ghost, immediately adopting the appearance of men strictly performing their duties. They gripped their sword hilts tightly, said nothing, kept their mouths firmly shut, and stared ahead with blank, unknowing eyes.
Yun Ye walked around the courtyard for a full half hour and saw three or four dozen such guards. Though each was frozen stiff as a turtle, not a single one accepted his invitation to warm up inside. The east, south, and north sides all had guards, but the west side had none. Man-high reeds rustled in the cold wind, and beyond them lay the Qujiang Pool. This year, Qujiang still hadn’t frozen over; the wind swept across the water’s surface, stirring up rippling waves.
By the water’s edge, Yun Ye actually discovered wild rice stems—the very ingredient used to make diaohu rice. Only a fool would gnaw on dried cakes when he could have diaohu rice. He cut two bundles with his small knife—tonight’s dinner was now secured. Walking along the hardened mud of the Qujiang shore, he used a stone to break through the thin ice in a small ditch. Three-inch-long fish poked their heads up through the ice hole to breathe. He sharpened a bamboo stick into a small spear and in just a few moves, speared four or five small fish. He couldn’t take too many—he’d be staying here for two months after all. When Empress Zhangsun said two months, she absolutely meant not a day less. Imperial family members were like that about keeping their word, demonstrating their unwavering authority. Even if she was wrong, Yun Ye would still have to stay the full two months. As for whether there would be compensation afterward, that depended on the Empress’s mood.
His hunting expedition ended in failure. Though there were plump rabbits everywhere, Yun Ye chased them three times and returned empty-handed each time. Roasted rabbit for dinner was clearly off the menu, but he’d set some rope snares tonight and see what his luck brought.
The kitchen was completely empty—this wouldn’t do at all. He grabbed a guard and told him that while they needn’t send food, the kitchen seasonings and utensils must all be provided. Just inform Liu Jinbao outside—this shouldn’t count as breaking the rules.
For a long time there was no response. Just as Yun Ye finished rubbing the wild rice grains loose and was preparing to roast them in a bamboo tube, the guards delivered the kitchen supplies. Everything looked familiar—it seemed they’d simply moved the entire Yun family kitchen over, lock, stock, and barrel. Everything was there except rice and flour.
As the guard handed over the items, a slip of paper made its way into Yun Ye’s hand. He had no time to read it—eating was the priority. He braised three fish and made soup with two, though he lacked a handful of coriander for garnish. By the time the fish were done, the diaohu rice was cooked.
It was a decent meal. Hearing the guards’ stomachs growling, Yun Ye pretended not to notice and invited them to eat together. No one responded. If they starved to death, it was their own fault. Yun Ye ate a full large bowl of diaohu rice, consumed two braised fish, saved one for a midnight snack, and felt warm all over after the steaming fish soup went down.
After cleaning up, Yun Ye added charcoal to the brazier. Listening to the charcoal crackling, his suspicions grew heavier. This type of brazier had nearly been replaced by iron stoves throughout Chang’an. Everyone knew coal burned longer and warmer than charcoal, and most importantly, it was safer. In previous winters, hundreds of people died each year from charcoal poisoning, but since iron stoves appeared, such incidents had become rare. There was no reason to still use braziers here. Finding charcoal in Chang’an required going to the West Market—no one else sold it anymore. Without customers, charcoal burners had switched professions. Why go to such trouble to arrange for this?
He pulled out the paper slip and glanced at it—it bore Li Chengqian’s secret seal. On it was written just one word: “Ghost!”
After seeing this word, Yun Ye felt the urge to curse. So they wanted him to catch ghosts? Yuan Tiangang, Li Chunfeng, Daoist Xihua, Monk Daoxin—if those didn’t work, even Xuanzang would do. Why grab him for this task? These arrangements were really meant to trick ghosts!
The wind blowing through bamboo groves and rain pattering on withered lotus leaves, combined with the rustling of distant reeds—every crow in Chang’an seemed to be perched in the large trees along Qujiang’s shore, cawing away. Why weren’t they in the city looking for food? What were they doing here?
There was hardly any need for additional atmosphere—even without ghosts appearing, this could scare one or two people insane. Had Emperor Li lost his mind? Of all the people to send ghost-hunting, why send someone who knew no martial arts and understood no magic?
At least they had some conscience—they’d sent guards to help. Those men weren’t much use, but they could boost morale and chase away the crows.
Yun Ye had been reading the *Book of Rites* for a while. When he looked up again, he discovered it was pitch black outside. The guards who had just been patrolling with lanterns were nowhere to be found. Had ghosts eaten them?
“Parrots can speak, yet remain birds; orangutans can speak, yet remain beasts. If people today have no ritual propriety, though they can speak, are they not still beast-hearted? Only because beasts lack ritual propriety do fathers and sons mate indiscriminately. Therefore the sages created ritual to teach people, so that through ritual propriety, people would know to distinguish themselves from beasts.”
Confucius once said: “The Master does not speak of strange phenomena, physical exploits, disorder, or spirits.” Yan Zhitui said the most absurd things in the world were ghosts and spirits. Li Gang said: “The superior person does not generate fear; if fear is generated, ghosts and spirits will invade.” So Yun Ye tried his best to immerse his thoughts in the *Book of Rites*, not considering matters outside.
Something fuzzy was stroking his neck. Yun Ye stiffly turned his head, prepared to see a rotting ghostly face. The result was disappointing—it was just the torn mosquito net that had somehow draped over his neck and was swaying left and right in the wind. Irritated, he flung the mosquito net aside and continued reading. Empress Zhangsun had said he must memorize the *Book of Rites* within two months, so he absolutely had to memorize it. Compared to malevolent ghosts, Empress Zhangsun was more frightening.
As long as a person doesn’t frighten himself, there aren’t many truly scary things. Yun Ye considered himself a staunch atheist and naturally didn’t believe in ghosts. The problem was his mind was full of terrifying scenes. Damn it, Sadako had nothing better to do than climb in through windows. Only now did he realize that watching all those horror films had been a truly idiotic behavior.
It was actually snowing. Chang’an had just entered winter and had already seen two snowfalls. His bladder was uncomfortably full. He really wanted to just relieve himself inside the room, but thinking this was his dwelling place, he forcibly dismissed the notion. He went out and turned left, found a sheltered spot, and took care of business with great satisfaction. He returned to his room feeling content, but when he reached the doorway, all his body hair stood on end—there were two rows of footprints at the entrance…
Emperor Li sighed and stood at the palace gate, gazing toward the dark Qujiang in the distance. Turning back to Empress Zhangsun, he said: “Why does my eyelid twitch so violently? I keep feeling something ominous is about to happen.”
“Your Majesty is overthinking. Rest assured, Yun Ye will be fine. I asked Old Duke Qin, and he said that to break through this mystery, only Yun Ye would do. Cheng Yaojin said the same. Though Niu Jinda said nothing, he didn’t object either. Yun Ye has experienced many things we cannot imagine. A man who crossed a thousand miles of vast forests alone—without exceptional courage and wisdom, killing Dou Yanshan and escaping from a dragon’s jaws would be utterly impossible.”
“When I saw the deadly centipedes he brought back, Doctor Sun told me privately that this type of centipede is called a ‘flying centipede’ and specifically feeds on the brains of livestock and humans. He once encountered them in the Ba Mountains and fled a hundred li overnight, still feeling terrified when recalling it. If you want to use the Zoroastrians as sacrificial pawns, you must first understand what sort of people these so-called ghosts and demons really are.”
“Before dinner, Chengqian asked me about it. I deliberately mentioned ghosts and demons, then denied it. Without even thinking, I know Chengqian must have tipped off Yun Ye. A prepared Yun Ye will surely uncover the truth behind these incidents.”
“The Qujiang area has been desolate for far too long. I know that Xuanba’s death has always been a knot in your heart. You two brothers had the closest relationship. If Xuanba hadn’t died early, you wouldn’t have had to suffer so much, nor would the throne have been stained with so much blood, resulting in estrangement between father and son and brothers turning against each other. I just want to unravel this mystery, so that when we die and go to meet Eldest Brother and Third Brother, we can explain things clearly. Otherwise, even in death, neither you nor I will have peace of mind.”
Emperor Li lowered his sleeves, his figure desolate. Waving his hand dismissively at Zhangsun, he walked away. At this moment, Emperor Li’s form seemed to stoop; the ramrod-straight bearing he usually displayed was completely gone, and the emperor who could laugh and chat through any dangerous situation had vanished. Concealing himself in the darkness, his weary voice emerged: “The Hong Funv of those years was truly a hero, her martial arts skills rarely seen in this world. Even Li Jing was no match for three exchanges with her. When she accepted your entreaty to investigate Xuanba’s cause of death, she disappeared for three days. We finally found her among abandoned graves—alive, but with her personality drastically changed. Every year on New Year’s Day, she would go mad for three months. Even Yun Ye with all his supernatural abilities could do nothing; he could barely awaken Hong Funv but couldn’t completely cure her.”
“I am extremely worried that Yun Ye will follow in her footsteps. Since ascending the throne, the Bai Qi Si has devoted half its energy to this matter. Apart from Yan Zhitui obtaining the four words ‘Land of Huaxu,’ we only have this abandoned residence by Qujiang. I demolished a perfectly good imperial garden and dug three feet deep without finding a single trace or clue. If we cannot find the truth of the matter, I will die with my eyes unclosed.”