Chapter 14: Ghosts, Monsters, and Scavengers

Someone had died, and the matter became grave. Master Wu quickly sent someone to report to the authorities. The officials, seeing it was Master Wu who made the report, did not dare neglect the case; they immediately dispatched constables and a coroner to examine the old guard’s residence.

After inspecting the corpse, the coroner declared that the man had been dead for at least a month. Yet from the time the old guard left Master Wu’s home to the discovery of his body, only five or six days had passed. The coroner at first refused to believe he could be mistaken. Typically, a corpse first stiffens, then darkens. Around the fifth or sixth day, it begins to bloat, becoming what folk called a “giant’s apparition.” By twenty days, the flesh collapses and decays. Judging by the state of the old guard’s corpse, with flesh rotten and skin ruined, it must have been dead for at least a month.

However, countless people had seen the old guard recently, all swearing they’d met him just days prior, lively and vigorous. The more the coroner listened, the more his expression soured. He quietly pulled aside one of Master Wu’s stewards and said in a hushed voice, “This matter may involve unclean things. The authorities cannot handle it.”

“Hurry home and tell Master Wu to seek out monks or Daoist priests, have them perform rituals—perhaps it will help.”

The steward returned to report to Master Wu, who became frightened and summoned a famous local master to perform a ritual at his home. But, as fate would have it, the master’s arrival only made things worse. After confidently assuring Master Wu that the evil spirits had been banished, the master began to cough up blood as soon as he returned home, fell gravely ill, and died within three days.

Master Wu, at his wits’ end, sent someone to report to the authorities again, but the constables avoided his family entirely. Upon inquiry, it was revealed that the coroner had also gone home, inexplicably began coughing blood, and died within days.

News spread, panic gripped the entire Wu household, and many hired servants fled. An orderly home was thrown into chaos.

Thus, the tale arrived at the present, picking up where Li Miao had first overheard the conversation.

“My brother-in-law is fearless. Master Wu’s household has been short-handed these days, and they pay generously, so he went to work there.”

“And wouldn’t you know it, he really did encounter a ghost!”

The narrator lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Just the night before last, he was walking in the courtyard and felt the wind grow colder and colder, so cold he couldn’t bear it.”

“He thought, since no one was watching, he might as well return to his room and sleep.”

“But on his way back, he saw the ghost.”

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“A female ghost, hair disheveled, dressed in white, her face covered in blood.”

“Below her eyes were two dark, hollow sockets, and blood flowed from those holes, dripping onto the ground.”

“Plop, plop, plop…”

The speaker, caught up in his tale, even mimicked the sound of blood drops hitting the floor.

Li Miao laughed, amused, and played along: “And then?”

“Then? He fainted, of course.” The man reached for the wine jug, only to pour out a few drops, looking at Li Miao with a fawning smile.

“While he was recuperating, he had a dream—also terrifying. You see, this wine…”

“Oh, it’s finished.” Li Miao rose and clasped his hands to the group. “I won’t intrude any longer—please enjoy your drinks.”

The group watched Li Miao depart in disappointment, poured their own cheap wine into his jug, scrubbed it thoroughly, and shared the drink, continuing their idle chatter.

Li Miao returned to the table; all the dishes had been served. No one had touched their chopsticks in his absence. Xiao Si and Wang Hai were still lingering over each other, but Mei Qinghe had already opened her eyes and was staring intently at a plate of sweet-and-sour fish, silent.

Li Miao approached the table, smiled, and said, “Eat, what are you waiting for?”

Only then did everyone begin to eat.

While dining, Wang Hai asked Li Miao, “Brother, how long do you plan to stay here this time?”

“Stay for what?” Li Miao glanced at him.

“When I saw your eyes light up just now, I knew we wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon,” Wang Hai replied with a smile. “After all, I’m just here to see the world with you—whatever you decide, we’ll do.”

“You say it as if following me is a hardship,” Li Miao said. “Your salary won’t suffer for it.”

Wang Hai nodded in agreement.

After the meal and drinks, Li Miao stood and said to the three, “Wait here for me. I’ll go find us some money and a place to stay.”

With these words, he strode out the door at a leisurely pace.

Now, Pingshan Garrison was not an ordinary prefectural or provincial city, but a military outpost. The Grand Shuo dynasty inherited the previous system of garrison troops, establishing outposts in various regions for stationing, recruiting, and training soldiers. Soldiers needed food and entertainment, so villages and towns grew up around these outposts, gradually flourishing.

Unlike Li Miao’s previous life’s Ming dynasty, where vengeance and feuds ran rampant and the authorities were powerless to intervene, the outposts were patrolled by troops, making their law and order better than most provinces. Locals migrated here in droves, so the area was even more prosperous than typical prefectural cities.

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Li Miao was heading to the residence of the chief officer of Pingshan Garrison, intending to solicit funds and favors.

He arrived at the garrison commander's office and addressed the soldier guarding the gate: “Is your commander in?”

The soldier lazily raised his head, sizing up Li Miao. Though Li Miao wore plain clothes and showed signs of travel, his cheeks were rosy and his voice robust, not at all an ordinary man. The soldier dared not slight him.

He stepped forward and clasped his hands. “Do you have a visiting card or a letter of introduction, sir? I can announce you.”

Without a word, Li Miao produced his Embroidered Uniform Guard badge and flashed it before the soldier.

The soldier’s expression changed instantly, bowing deeply. “Sir!”

“Please, follow me to the guest room. My lord is handling affairs inside; I’ll announce you at once!”

Li Miao nodded and followed him into the office, where attendants brought tea. The soldier hurried off to deliver the message.

Soon, hurried footsteps echoed outside, and a man strode in briskly.

He looked to be in his forties, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted—Pingshan Garrison’s commander, Xu Siyuan. His appearance was imposing, but at this moment his face was flustered, his clothes loose, and the faint scent of cosmetics lingered. It seemed his “official duties” were open to interpretation.

Xu Siyuan approached and bowed deeply to the seated Li Miao. “I did not know an imperial envoy was visiting—my apologies for failing to welcome you properly!”

According to Grand Shuo’s official hierarchy, the garrison was on equal footing with the Embroidered Uniform Guard; Xu Siyuan was a third-rank official. For him to bow so humbly to Li Miao, a mere captain, was a show of utmost deference.

He could hardly be blamed. The garrison system had long decayed, with empty payrolls and exploitation an open secret. Each emperor found it necessary to execute a few officials to set an example. The executioner was usually the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

So Xu Siyuan’s attitude was not surprising.

Li Miao quickly stood. “Commander, there’s no need for such courtesy.”

“I am here on other business. Today, I hope you can grant me a favor—nothing more.”

“Ah? Ahahaha—” Xu Siyuan was taken aback by Li Miao’s directness, then laughed in relief.

“Anything you need, anything at all!”