The Tale of the Black Basin

He looked at Old Xu's graying hair, his fingers stained with mud and cracked, and his bloodshot eyes.

Zhou Sheng didn't know how to explain it to him.

Perhaps, for Magistrate Zhu, making it impossible for the poor to live was his path to officialdom.

Three years as a knowledgeable prefect, a hundred thousand taels of silver.

If they didn't wring the people dry and exploit them to the extreme, where would the bribe money come from to grease the wheels everywhere?

And the most tragic thing was, even if Uncle Xu's resentment turned him into an evil corpse, he couldn't get revenge.

Because Magistrate Zhu's mansion also kept a Guardian Soldier; even without Zhou Sheng, he would have been discovered by that Guardian Soldier soon and torn to shreds alive.

He couldn't get revenge when he was alive, and he couldn't get revenge when he was a ghost.

"This old man has lived long enough, my life is cheaper than grass, and my death is insignificant. But my poor Cui Cui, she hasn't even gotten married yet, and she was defiled and killed!"

"Doctor Yu, Little Zhou, this old man is useless. I can only beg you, to get justice for that child..."

He wept tears of blood, and as he spoke, he knelt down and kowtowed heavily.

Zhou Sheng wanted to help him up, but Yu Zhensheng held his arm.

"Only when you accept this bow can he rest easy."

Hearing his Master's telepathic message, Zhou Sheng's heart trembled slightly. He seemed to understand something and no longer interfered, silently accepting the kowtow from the elderly man.

After this bow, Old Xu's residual soul seemed to have finally exhaled its last breath, showing signs of dissipation.

Watching the figure that was disappearing, Zhou Sheng suddenly felt a pang in his chest.

Uncle Xu had never cried out about his own injustice. He seemed to genuinely believe that his life was cheap and his death insignificant, only caring about Cui Cui, whom he had raised since childhood.

But Zhou Sheng clearly remembered that Uncle Xu was a very good person. When he helped Zhou Sheng with his vocal training back then, they had agreed on ten copper coins a day for an hour of training. But he always went over time, just to ensure Zhou Sheng's voice reached its best condition.

He even often came over on agreed rest days, offering his services for free, simply because he liked Zhou Sheng's good voice and didn't want him to waste it.

Such a kind, simple, and benevolent elder should not have met such an end.

"Uncle Xu, I accept your request."

As Uncle Xu's ghostly soul gradually dissipated, Zhou Sheng suddenly spoke, his voice firm and his gaze sharp.

"Not just for the innocent Cui Cui who died unjustly, but also for you."

"In this world, only one type of person has a cheap life, and that is someone who does evil. Not you."

A person who makes a living with their own skills and labor, someone who can selflessly raise an abandoned infant, their life is more precious than gold.

"Uncle Xu, give me something, and please let me sing the Ghost Opera."

Zhou Sheng forced a smile.

"There's a rule in our line of work. Once we accept something from someone, we must finish the performance, no matter what it is."

Old Xu was stunned. He looked at the young man's clear eyes and determined face, which were no different from the boy from twelve years ago.

"Little Zhou, I have nothing to leave you, so let me tune your voice one last time."

"Okay."

Yu Zhensheng took out a Huqin from his home and handed it to Old Xu.

"What a good instrument!"

Old Xu, who had played the Huqin his entire life, praised it profusely with just a gentle touch. The blood and tears in his eyes disappeared, replaced by an almost devout focus.

The bow hair lightly rested on the outer string, the ring finger suspended in the air, trembling slightly.

"Bang... bang... bang..."

Three muffled sounds like a drumbeat.

Then, the middle finger pressed against the string, drawing out a mournful sound, like weeping, like longing, like complaint.

The familiar melody immediately told Zhou Sheng which opera it was.

"Before I could speak, tears welled up. I implore your honor to listen carefully."

"I live in Ping'an Village, Nanyang, my surname is Liu, my given name is An, and my courtesy name is Shichang..."

The Tale of the Black Basin.

Zhou Sheng opened his mouth to sing. His voice was not loud, but it was rich and resonant, like clouds obscuring the moon, like waves on water.

Old Xu immediately played with more vigor, his eyes half-closed, as if not fully shut, his head swaying slightly, completely immersed in the moment.

"Trading silks, I returned home. Zhao Da and his wife, driven by greed, murdered me. Master and servant lost their lives. I beg your honor to dispense justice!"

In the last line, Zhou Sheng maximized his vibrato and sustained notes, perfectly blending with Old Xu's melodious and clear Huqin playing, flowing naturally.

At this moment, a spirited look appeared in Old Xu's eyes, as if he had completely entered another world, forgetting all the troubles and pain of reality.

He smiled instinctively.

And then, in this state of mind, the Huqin music abruptly stopped.

Crack!

The precious Huqin fell to the ground, its strings vibrating.

Zhou Sheng stopped singing, his gaze lowered, silent.

Even though the Luoshu in his mind was now radiating brilliant light and had accumulated a lot of energy, he felt no joy.

After a long while, he finally spoke.

"It costs ten coins to warm up my voice, Uncle Xu. I don't have money for you this time, so I'll sing a Ghost Opera for you instead."

"I hope you'll like it when the time comes."

Yu Zhensheng sat on his chair, having not intervened from beginning to end. Watching his disciple's every word and action, a ripple flashed in his eyes.

He didn't know if it was relief or complexity he felt.

This child was too much like him.

He hoped he wouldn't follow his old path in the future.

"Danshan, what are your plans?" he asked.

"Master, I plan to visit the Zhu Mansion again. First, I need to figure out the whole story, and then I need to probe the Zhu Mansion's defenses."

Hearing this, Yu Zhensheng nodded slightly.

"Good, that's some progress."

"Then tell me, how do you plan to enter the Zhu Mansion?"

Zhou Sheng thought for a moment and said, "Aren't you going to see the County Magistrate's wife? As your disciple, it should be natural for me to accompany you to the Zhu Mansion for a follow-up examination."

"What about the Guardian Soldiers? How will you handle them?"

Yu Zhensheng said calmly, "Let's be clear first. Since you promised to sing a Ghost Opera, you have to resolve this matter yourself. I won't help you deal with the Guardian Soldiers."

Jade cannot be made into a useful object without carving.

His disciple had great talent, no less than his own back in the day. The only thing he lacked was experience.

Therefore, in recent years, after Zhou Sheng successfully cultivated his Dao, he had also begun to intentionally let him handle some matters alone to hone his skills.

This way, he would have a better chance of surviving the upcoming Ghost Opera of the Ghost Festival and graduating.

Zhou Sheng looked up at the rising sun outside the window, his eyes flashing.

"Master, you said that we who perform Ghost Operas must also understand how to leverage favorable timing, location, and human relations. Although the Guardian Soldiers are fierce, they wouldn't dare to come out when the yang energy is at its peak at noon."

"That will be the best time to investigate the Zhu Mansion!"

Hearing this, Yu Zhensheng finally showed a hint of a satisfied smile. Without praising him, he simply said.

"Once the plan is made, act accordingly."

He stretched, then walked to the water tank in the corner of the room, extending his finger to tease the goldfish.

"Fish in shallow water cannot grow into sea dragons, and birds in cages cannot become eagles in the clouds."

"Danshan, go ahead and do it."

"If anything happens, don't be afraid. Your master..."

"...will help you clean up the corpse."

Zhou Sheng: "..."