Lu Pan

"More than a month ago..."

After listening to Cui Cui, Zhou Sheng's heart stirred, and he fell into thought.

That was precisely when Shen Jinhua had performed The Injustice to Dou E and died upon the stage.

Shen Jinhua had lost her own head, while the magistrate's wife had gained a new face.

The greatest beneficiary of all this was Magistrate Zhu. He had turned the yellow-faced crone in his household into a beauty one in ten thousand, and from then on could rightfully wallow in a land of tenderness, indulging in wine and women.

The fog was gradually clearing, and the truth of the whole matter was about to come to light.

Yet what echoed in Zhou Sheng's ears now were the lines Shen Jinhua had sung before her soul scattered into smoke.

"If even June snow cannot cover these innocent bones—

Why make me spend half my life in paint and powder... playing Dou E..."

Shen Jinhua, who had died such a miserable death, likely never dreamed that her tragedy had merely come about because a magistrate wanted his wife to have a prettier face.

"Cui Cui, how much do you know about Magistrate Zhu?"

Zhou Sheng's gaze turned faintly cold as he continued questioning her.

An ordinary magistrate naturally could not command Ghosts and Gods to accomplish such a thing. Clearly, there was something extraordinary about Magistrate Zhu.

Cui Cui thought carefully before saying, "I entered the household late and do not know much. But I heard the older servants mention that Magistrate Zhu had been a poor scholar in his early years. He had little talent and was down-and-out, yet he suddenly seemed to awaken, passing the examinations again and again..."

Zhou Sheng's heart stirred, and a cold smile appeared in his eyes.

This was probably not an awakening, but a change of heart.

If he could replace his wife's head, why could he not replace his own heart, one that could not grasp letters or ink?

He suddenly recalled a story from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio called Lu Pan.

The scholar Zhu Erdan had stumbled by chance into an acquaintance with Lu Pan of the Underworld. Dull by nature and lacking talent, he had been given an exquisite heart by Lu Pan, and his abilities had soared.

Later, dissatisfied with his wife's ugly appearance, Zhu Erdan had once again sought out Lu Pan and had his wife fitted with the head of a young beauty.

Even after Zhu Erdan died, he became an Underworld Official of considerable grandeur, often returning to the mortal realm to instruct his son as though he had never died at all.

When Zhou Sheng had read that story back then, he had found it quite interesting. But when such a bloody thing truly happened by his side, he finally understood that it had seemed interesting only because it had not befallen him.

Some had lost their own hearts. Some had lost their own heads.

But who could speak for them?

Perhaps Magistrate Zhu, like Zhu Erdan, had an extraordinary connection with some great figure in the Underworld.

"Cui Cui, how did you die?"

Seeing that the incense stick was nearly burned out, Zhou Sheng asked his final question.

Cui Cui's body trembled. Pain, struggle, and terror flashed through her eyes.

"After Grandpa was beaten out of the household that night, Magistrate Zhu came looking for me. He wanted to force himself on me. I refused, so he beat me, then left behind a hairpin."

"Soon, servants claimed that I had stolen Madam's hairpin. Madam seemed to believe them. She was very disappointed in me and stopped caring about me."

"Then..."

"Those guards... they... they defiled me..."

"Which guards?"

"...All of them."

Zhou Sheng froze.

"All the male guards in the household... took part. They said it was called a pledge of allegiance. Whoever refused must be harboring thoughts of leaking the secret and was disloyal to Master."

"I cried and begged the older sisters and aunties who had cared for me before to save me. They had clearly heard everything, but they all pretended not to."

"It hurt so, so much. It felt as if my whole body were being torn apart. Later, my throat went hoarse, and I could no longer cry out. The pain made me faint, so..."

"I do not know how I died either. It seemed like... I died from the pain?"

Zhou Sheng's face remained calm, but the hand hidden in his sleeve clenched until it turned white.

This poor little girl had ultimately been tortured to death by pain itself.

"Brother, I do not know what I did wrong. Those uncles, older brothers, sisters, and aunties who were so kind to me every day—why did they treat me like this?"

"Brother, I miss Grandpa so much."

After leaving Grandma Cui's home, Zhou Sheng remained silent the entire way.

Having peeled back layer after layer of fog, he finally saw the truth of the whole affair. Yet that truth was far too heavy.

The time it took an incense stick to burn was short. Cui Cui's departed soul soon returned to the Underworld. Perhaps in the future, she would be reincarnated.

Meng Po's Soup could make her forget the suffering of this life, but those questions she had asked at the end—Zhou Sheng felt that he would likely never be able to forget them.

When he returned home and saw his disciple looking utterly lost, Yu Zhensheng gave a soft sigh.

"Every outstanding Ghost Opera Performer has experienced joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, beyond what ordinary people could imagine. That is why a Ghost Opera Performer's heart must be hard enough, cold enough, to survive upon the stage of Ghosts and Gods."

"Master, I understand."

"No, you do not."

Yu Zhensheng shook his head, then suddenly asked, "Now that you know everything, do you still intend to perform Old Xu's Yin Opera?"

Just as Zhou Sheng was about to speak, Yu Zhensheng waved a hand and cut him off.

"At this point, I will no longer hide it from you. Though Magistrate Zhu has no cultivation, his background is considerable. He has ties to an important figure in the Underworld. Those rampaging soldiers were likely sent by that great figure to protect him."

"He had long since seen through our identities. That day, he used water as ink and drew a pattern upon the table—the Ghost Gate Pass of the Underworld."

"In another two months, you will complete your apprenticeship. During the Ghost Festival, you must pass through the Ghost Gate Pass and enter the Underworld to perform for Ghosts and Gods. It will be a journey with nine chances of death and one chance of life."

"If you provoke another great figure of the Underworld, and they secretly play some tricks, you will be in even greater danger upon the stage!"

Yu Zhensheng looked deeply at him and said, "Think it through before making your decision. If you choose to give up, I will not blame you. No matter how great the rules may be, what are they compared to one's life?"

"Yes. No matter how great the rules may be, what are they compared to one's life?"

After hearing his master's words, a complicated expression appeared on Zhou Sheng's face.

"Master, people often say that good people receive no good reward."

"Shen Jinhua was a good person. She often used the money she earned from opera to aid orphans, yet she died with her head severed. Uncle Xu was a good person, yet he was strangled and sunk into the river. Cui Cui was also a good person, yet she was tortured to death by pain..."

"Good people truly seem to receive no good reward."

"But should good people truly receive no good reward?"

Zhou Sheng slowly raised his eyes. Not a trace of dejection remained within them; in its place was a sharpness like a treasured sword leaving its sheath.

The vigor in the young man's eyes seemed even more dazzling than the sun beyond the window.

"On the way back, I kept thinking about the question Cui Cui asked me at the end. Why did those people treat her that way?"

"I could not answer that question. But then I suddenly realized that this question was never meant for me to answer."

After a pause, he grinned, revealing a mouthful of stark white teeth. Killing Intent seemed to flicker in his eyes, and his brows rose like blade edges.

"Since I cannot answer it, I will send them down there and let them answer it themselves."

"And see whether the eighteen levels of hell have a place for them."

Sensing the boiling killing intent upon his disciple, Yu Zhensheng offered no judgment. He merely asked lightly, "Have you decided?"

"I have."

"No regrets?"

"No regrets."

"Good. Then I shall teach you a few more new operas."

"Since you have decided to perform, make it spectacular. Once the gongs and drums sound, anything less than a fine opera will disgrace my, Yu Zhensheng's, name."

Wishing everyone a happy Mid-Autumn Festival!

Thank you to No Scallions for the generous reward, and thank you to reader 20230322105722047 for the two hundred reward points. Hearts!