At the fifth watch, before dawn broke, the sky remained dim, and the drumbeats from the Sky-Reaching Tower echoed across the capital, signaling the end of the curfew.
Only when the final drumbeat faded did Achan reluctantly open her sleepy eyes.
Today was the day of Lady Xiao Lin’s funeral procession, and it was best to go early. She needed to head to the Zhao residence soon.
After dressing, Achan pushed open the window a crack. A cold gust rushed in, making her shiver, and she quickly closed it.
The weather wasn’t good today, fitting for sending off the departed.
Walking through Changping Lane, the shops along the road were still closed, but faint voices could be heard from a wonton stall at the street corner, known for its delicious meat wontons.
Achan had rarely risen so early and finally had the chance to visit the stall, but having eaten a steamed bun with hot water before leaving, she was full, though her mouth lacked flavor. She could only leave with regret, hoping for another chance.
When Achan arrived at the Zhao residence, the sky was still not fully bright, but the household seemed bustling with many people gathered, their voices lively.
Entering the courtyard, she saw the Zhao family members, their expressions solemn as they gazed toward the memorial hall. Soon, several sturdy men carried the coffin out from the hall, while others brought out the altar, still bearing Lady Xiao Lin’s spirit tablet.
Achan felt puzzled. Wasn’t the coffin supposed to be moved only at the designated hour? What were they doing?
Moments later, several Daoists emerged from the hall.
The leader, an elderly Daoist with white hair and beard but a youthful face, wore red ritual robes and held a ritual bell. Behind him, seven Daoists each carried a black wooden box, seemingly preparing for a ceremony.
Seeing the Daoists, Zhao Ming approached, his demeanor highly respectful. “We must trouble Master Jingyun this time.”
Master Jingyun smiled. “Lord Zhao, rest assured.”
After greeting Zhao Ming, Jingyun turned to the altar. The seven Daoists stepped forward one by one, placing their black wooden boxes on it.
Jingyun rang the ritual bell, and the surrounding breeze suddenly stilled, though the trees in the courtyard rustled. The coffin’s lid jolted upward, as if something inside were trying to break out.
The younger Zhao Wenqi hid behind Old Lady Zhao, while Zhao Wenyue screamed, retreating several steps.
Only Zhao Ming remained relatively calm, though his face looked grim.
When the bell stopped, Master Jingyun turned to Zhao Ming with a troubled expression. “Lord Zhao, your wife died unjustly, and her lingering resentment shows signs of turning her soul into a vengeful ghost. A decision must be made quickly.”
“What… what can be done, Master?” Zhao Ming asked.
Stroking his beard, Master Jingyun replied, “There are two options. First, when Lady Zhao begins to transform into a vengeful ghost, I can disperse her soul, but this would prevent it from entering the underworld.”
“And the second option?”
“Seal her soul in the coffin with a rebirth talisman, venerated for years at our temple, to gradually dissipate her resentment. However, it may take a hundred years for the resentment to fully fade, and the Zhao family would need to reopen the coffin to release her soul to the underworld for rebirth.”
Zhao Ming hesitated, seemingly finding neither option ideal.
Before he could decide, Zhao Wenyue shouted shrilly, “Choose the second one, Father. We choose the second.”
“But that would trap your mother’s soul in the coffin for a century,” Zhao Ming said, his expression showing reluctance.
“It’s better than her becoming a vengeful ghost and harming our family,” Zhao Wenyue retorted.
“Wenyue is right. My daughter-in-law wouldn’t want to become a ghost and hurt others,” Old Lady Zhao quickly agreed.
Just as Zhao Ming seemed about to consent, a figure rushed to the coffin, embracing it and crying out, “You can’t do this to Madam!”
It was Sun Mama.
She looked as if she hadn’t slept all night, her eyes bloodshot, dark circles beneath them.
“Someone, pull her away. Don’t let her disrupt the master’s ritual,” Zhao Wenyue snapped, her face darkening as she ordered servants to drag Sun Mama off.
How could Sun Mama’s strength match two robust servants? She was quickly pulled from the coffin.
As she passed Achan, she cried out, “Miss, please speak for Madam!”
Only when Sun Mama’s voice faded did Achan turn to the Zhao family. She approached Zhao Ming. “Uncle, these two methods sound too horrific. Perhaps there’s another way. You wouldn’t want Aunt, who devoted half her life to this family, to end so tragically, would you?”
Zhao Ming pondered silently, but Zhao Wenyue snapped aggressively, “Ji Chan, our family’s affairs are none of your business.”
Achan’s expression remained calm. Looking at Zhao Wenyue, she said deliberately, “The person lying in that coffin is my aunt, your mother.”
Zhao Wenyue seemed startled by Achan’s gaze and fell silent.
At that moment, Zhao Wenqi, who had been hiding behind Old Lady Zhao, spoke up. “I believe Madam was kind in life and wouldn’t want to harm anyone in death. But what if she truly becomes a vengeful ghost? When you blame Father and Sister, please consider Grandfather, Grandmother, Father, Sister, and the entire household. The living are what matter most.”
What a righteous condemnation from one so young.
His eloquence at such an age explained why the Zhao family cherished him.
His words swayed those who had been wavering, and many showed agreement.
It was just sacrificing Lady Xiao Lin, who might become a vengeful ghost. She was already dead, so why care so much? The living were more important.
Zhao Wenqi’s words sealed the matter. Zhao Ming patted his head and gave Achan an apologetic smile. “This child speaks without restraint, but…”
He sighed and turned to Master Jingyun. “Do as Wenyue said.”
Master Jingyun nodded and resumed the unfinished ritual.
Achan watched coldly as Jingyun used the blood of three sacrificial animals to mark each of the seven black wooden boxes. When opened, they revealed seven coffin nails, each engraved with intricate, arcane runes.
The seven nails were driven into the coffin lid. With each nail, a piercing, shrill scream came from within, until the final nail silenced it completely.
When Jingyun set down the ritual bell, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, as if they had just survived a life-or-death ordeal.
No one considered why Master Jingyun had prepared seven coffin nails in advance.
“The hour has come. Begin the procession.”
The sky had brightened unnoticed, and with the ritual complete, it was time for the funeral.
Lady Xiao Lin’s coffin was carried out, led by the Zhao family, followed by the Daoists and the household servants, all claiming to see Madam off.
In moments, the courtyard was empty.
The Zhao family’s funeral procession left the residence, heading grandly toward the city gates. Achan didn’t follow.
As she exited the Zhao residence, a crowd of onlookers gathered outside, gossiping.
Someone said, “That Lady Zhao wasn’t exactly kind. I heard her own son caused her death. What a miserable end.”
Another replied, “Such a pity for Lord Zhao. They say he was deeply devoted to her.”
“Indeed. I used to see him buying snacks for her. And now she’s gone.”
Listening to the crowd’s chatter, Achan slipped away, heading home.
She hadn’t gone far when someone called out, “Miss.”
Turning, she saw Sun Mama.
The disheveled Sun Mama from earlier had tidied herself slightly, a cloth bundle slung over her shoulder.
“Sun Mama, are you…?”
Sun Mama lowered her eyes. “Madam gave me my contract of servitude long ago. Now that she’s gone, I can’t stay in the household.”
Just earlier, the steward had ordered her to leave immediately.
Good. She had no intention of staying.
“That household’s hearts are black.”
“Then come rest at my place first,” Achan offered.
Sun Mama nodded. “Alright. I have something to tell you.”
They walked back to Achan’s home, entering the somewhat empty shop. Sun Mama didn’t go upstairs to rest but sat with Achan at the table.
Achan had boiled water before leaving, and now could only offer Sun Mama plain hot water.
Holding the steaming cup, Sun Mama’s tense expression seemed to ease slightly.
After a sip to wet her throat, she said, “Miss, after today, I’m leaving the capital.”
Achan wasn’t surprised. With what had happened in the Zhao household, especially with Zhao Wenyue, they wouldn’t tolerate Sun Mama.
“Where will you go?”
“I should’ve returned to my hometown years ago, but I couldn’t bear to leave Madam and kept delaying. She even said I could stay for my old age. Who could’ve foreseen such a tragedy?” Sun Mama’s tears fell as she spoke.
Achan didn’t offer comfort, waiting quietly until her sobs subsided before asking, “Do you have enough for travel expenses? If not, I can…”
Sun Mama shook her head, stopping her. “Madam gave me plenty of silver. I have enough for the journey and beyond. I came to you because I have something to say.
I’m useless, unable to do anything for Madam even knowing the truth, but I must tell you. You’re her only kin left.”
Sun Mama’s expression was grave, and Achan replied earnestly, “Please, tell me.”
“Lord Zhao… Zhao Ming had an affair with Madam Su, and Zhao Wenqi is their son. I suspect Old Master and Old Lady Zhao knew.”
Seeing Achan’s unchanged expression, Sun Mama gave a bitter smile. “When did you realize, Miss?”
“I had suspicions yesterday,” Achan said, then asked, “And you?”
Sun Mama’s eyes reddened, recalling the previous night. “Last night, I went to the memorial hall and saw Zhao Ming there, speaking to Madam’s coffin. Then that woman arrived. Shamelessly, they embraced right in front of her coffin.”
Achan frowned. “What did you hear?”
Sun Mama’s face paled, her eyes tinged with panic. “I heard him say the eldest young master is a failure, unfit to inherit the family. To let Zhao Wenqi stay legitimately, someone had to be sacrificed.”
“And?” Achan’s voice grew cold.
Who was sacrificed? Zhao Wensheng, Lady Xiao Lin, or both?
“That woman said she came to offer incense for Madam, but Zhao Ming said she didn’t deserve it, claiming Madam killed their child.” Sun Mama’s eyes burned with anger. “Madam didn’t even know about any child. If she had, she’d have divorced him long ago. It wouldn’t have come to this!”
“There’s one more thing…” Sun Mama hesitated, unsure if she should continue.
“Go on.”
Achan’s calm demeanor seemed to steady her. After composing herself, Sun Mama continued, “I made a noise leaving and nearly got caught. But the hall’s door suddenly slammed shut, blocking him. I wonder if Madam… hasn’t left? Did Zhao Ming suspect and call that Daoist to perform the ritual?”
“It’s not impossible,” Achan said. As an ordinary person now, she couldn’t see ghosts, but Master Jingyun’s methods didn’t seem fake.
Lady Xiao Lin’s soul was likely still present, though whether it would become a vengeful ghost was uncertain.
Sun Mama choked, “Miss, Madam’s life was so bitter. Deceived in life, denied peace in death. I shouldn’t burden you, but I’m afraid if I don’t tell you, when I’m old and gone, no one will remember her suffering.”
Achan said earnestly, “I’ll remember everything you’ve told me today, Sun Mama.”
Tears welled in Sun Mama’s eyes. “I’ve failed Madam, knowing the truth but unable to act.”
“Evil people will face retribution,” Achan said.
“But when will it come?” Sun Mama murmured.
She knew the truth but had no proof, and no one would believe her.
Zhao Ming was too good at pretending. In a few years, when Madam was forgotten, he could marry that woman, letting her take Madam’s place.
Their son would inherit the Zhao family.
Would she live to see their retribution? No one could answer.
After Sun Mama left, Achan closed the door tightly. In the dim room, she sat at the table, staring at the now-cold water in her cup.
She wasn’t Ji Chan, and Lady Xiao Lin wasn’t her kin.
Yet, at this moment, a spark of nameless anger burned in her heart.
The Zhao family had gone too far.
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