The Chen family was hypocritical. To cover up the truth, they chose an auspicious burial site and buried Qianhu He and the He sisters together, erecting three tombstones.
For the first few years during Qingming Festival, they still sent people to tend the graves, performing for outsiders to see. Later, seeing no one inquiring about the two He family orphans, the Chen family became too lazy even to maintain appearances. The graves went untended, with grass growing taller than people, and rabbits even digging burrows in the tombs.
Lu Ying commanded his subordinates to dig up the graves and open the coffins overnight to verify the truth about the He sisters’ deaths.
Perhaps Miss He, who had been tortured to death by her former fiancé, knew from beyond the grave. With the first shovel of earth, thunder crashed, followed by lightning that instantly illuminated the night sky, revealing even the fine down on the grass atop the graves.
“There are ghosts!”
The Imperial Guards digging the grave hastily dropped their shovels.
Hearing about ghosts, Wang Daxia, who feared them most, immediately retreated into the carriage, lit a windproof, rainproof horn lantern, and bowed toward the He family graves:
“Three souls, tonight we don’t mean to disturb your eternal rest. We’re investigating the truth of Miss He’s death. You wouldn’t want to die in confusion, would you?”
Wang Daxia threw the half-beaten book boy toward the graves: “Grievances have their source, debts have their creditor—don’t look for me, seek revenge on him! He’s an accomplice!”
The book boy knelt at the graves, kowtowing like a stuck candle: “It wasn’t me! I’m just a house-born slave—my whole family’s lives are in the master’s hands. If the young master told me to go east, I wouldn’t dare go west!”
“Still trying to argue!” Wang Daxia shoved the shovel into the book boy’s hands: “You committed this sin—you dig.”
The book boy said he didn’t dare.
Lu Ying’s face was more frightening than the dark sky. He lashed out with his whip: “Will you dig or not?”
“I’ll dig!” The book boy dragged his injured body, shouldered the shovel, and began shoveling earth.
By coincidence, just then a thunderbolt struck down, hitting the shovel the book boy had raised. The book boy screamed as his clothes instantly caught fire, then fell and struck his head against Miss He’s tombstone, dying instantly.
The book boy’s head was split open, white and red matter flowing everywhere, with a lightning-shaped burn across his back.
With such a death, it was impossible to tell whether he died from divine retribution or from cracking his skull.
“Oh my heavens, there really are ghosts!” Wang Daxia grabbed his horn lantern and fled in panic, once again retreating into the carriage.
Lu Ying didn’t know whether to mock Wang Daxia or be grateful to him.
If Wang Daxia hadn’t been afraid of ghosts and temporarily changed the grave-digging personnel, the one struck by lightning might have been an Imperial Guard.
Bean-sized raindrops began falling. With heavy rain and lightning strikes, Lu Ying didn’t dare let his subordinates risk using iron tools like shovels and hoes to dig graves. Digging by hand wasn’t realistic either, so he said: “We retreat first. Carry away the book boy’s corpse. Tomorrow when the rain stops, we’ll bring coroners to exhume the graves.”
Wang Daxia, hiding in the carriage, rarely agreed with Lu Ying’s actions: “Commander Lu is wise! Absolutely right! Tonight is too ominous. Better to wait until noon tomorrow when yang energy is strongest.”
West Sanli River was in the suburbs. It was nearly midnight now, and the city gates had long been closed. Unable to return home, Lu Ying chose a nearby inn to spend the night.
Wang Daxia, afraid of ghosts, insisted on going farther to stay at nearby Tian’an Temple: “…Inns aren’t clean. Temples have bodhisattvas to ward them off—all ghosts retreat.”
In just one night, the Imperial Guards’ impression of Wang Daxia improved dramatically. Thanks to him tonight, otherwise that lightning bolt might have struck anyone.
Seeing Wang Daxia—who feared nothing and dared play cat and mouse with Imperial Guards in the streets—show fear for the first time, terror quickly spread through the team. The Imperial Guards voiced their agreement:
“Commander Lu, this subordinate thinks Wang Daxia makes sense. Tonight was too ominous.”
“Seconded.”
“This subordinate also seconds it. Better to stay at Tian’an Temple. Though the journey is longer, in a temple we have divine protection and can actually sleep.”
If Wang Daxia alone had made the request, Lu Ying definitely wouldn’t have listened. But with all his subordinates agreeing with Wang Daxia, plus tonight’s events being truly eerie, if he stubbornly insisted on staying at an inn, people’s hearts might scatter and the team would be hard to manage.
“Go to Tian’an Temple,” Lu Ying ordered.
Everyone traveled forward through the rain.
Meanwhile, in northern Beijing’s Sweet Water Lane, Wei Caiwei was dreaming.
She dreamed of her most helpless, powerless childhood when her sister died with her unborn child, and Chen Dalang and Wang Pozi wanted to poison her mute. She fled desperately for her life.
She wandered north, her small bundle’s meager savings robbed by a group of beggars who even stole her shoes!
Ragged and tattered, she too became a beggar, begging for food and sleeping on the streets. Soon she fell ill.
One day it rained heavily. She lay by the roadside without even the strength to find shelter.
The rainwater washed the filth from her body, revealing her delicate, pale features, while also taking away her body heat. She felt she was about to die…
No!
I must live, I must have revenge!
The will to survive made Wei Caiwei suddenly wake from her nightmare, her body ice-cold. She had kicked off her covers while sleeping. She heard the patter of heavy rain beating against the windows, faintly mixed with dripping sounds, and caught the distinctive earthy smell of rain.
The evening had been stuffy, so Wei Caiwei had opened both north and south windows for ventilation. She hadn’t expected midnight rain to drift inside.
Wei Caiwei parted the gauze curtains, lit a candle, and closed the windows, but could still hear dripping sounds.
Following the sound, Wei Caiwei went to the adjacent study and discovered the roof was leaking. Rainwater struck the wooden floor with rhythmic thuds.
Wei Caiwei quickly moved several copper basins to catch the rainwater. Not just the second-floor study—she placed two downstairs as well, as rainwater seeped through the study’s wooden floor to the first floor.
The rain continued until the fifth watch before stopping, filling the copper basins to the brim.
She had only moved in three nights ago. The first night at Sijia Inn, the second night cohabiting with Young Master Wang, the third night encountering heavy rain and a leaking house.
Not one peaceful night.
This house belonged to Wang Daxia. Wang Daxia had been personally driven away by Wei Caiwei and was currently missing, but the leaking roof needed urgent attention.
Wei Caiwei was unfamiliar with the area and didn’t know what to do, so early in the morning she went to Machang Alley to find Broker Chen. First, he was the intermediary for this house—when there were problems with the house and the landlord couldn’t be found, she could still contact the broker.