Aftermath

Fang Ming returned to the crossroads and heard the Yin Soldiers report that no one had gone out. After all, it was pouring rain—who would go out now? Posting guards was only a precaution! Before long, Wang Liulang arrived to report as well. Fang Ming was overjoyed. He looked back toward Qingxi Township and said, "Before long, we'll be moving here..."

He had swept away every last bit of the incense and fire prayer power the ancestral hall had accumulated over the years. If the township wanted to build an altar, it would have to start from scratch and spend a great deal of effort. And with a newly built altar, how much fortune could it protect? Zhang Huaizheng was dead, and they wouldn't be able to find an Ancestral Spirit to serve for some time.

The lonely ghosts and wild spirits around the township had their chance now; they would certainly make a move. If Fang Ming withdrew the Yin Soldiers to the villages, the township would immediately become a den of demons. At that point, what choice would they have besides serving the Land God?

His subordinate didn't understand what he meant, but still offered his congratulations. "Congratulations, my lord!"

Looking at his subordinate's respectful demeanor, Fang Ming thought of how smoothly everything had gone and how he was prepared for the county's response. His spirits soared. Gazing into the distance, he murmured, "It's nothing but a little wind and rain!"

Inside the ancestral hall, Zhang San knew nothing of the great events unfolding. With the rain pouring down, no one would come to make offerings, so he had stolen half a day of leisure. He bought a little wine and some snacks, then drank alone in his room. Before long, he was tipsy; he stumbled back to his bed and fell asleep. When the village broke apart, he had felt a pang of alarm, but the wine had gone to his head, and before he could even come to his senses, he had lain down again. But after Zhang Qingyun was killed, Zhang San, who often paid his respects to him, felt the connection stir. Now his thoughts were in a tangle, and he could no longer lie still. He left his clothes behind, his chest bare, and went to the main room.

At the sight, it was as if a basin of cold water had been dumped over his head. Cold sweat poured down him, and every trace of drunkenness vanished. In the very center of the offering table, Zhang Qingyun's spirit tablet was already cracked through most of its surface. As Zhang San entered, the breeze he stirred up sent the tablet crumbling apart completely, its pieces scattering across the floor.

Zhang San's legs went weak. He had watched over the ancestral hall for years, so he knew what this meant. He stood stunned for a long while, then suddenly sprang up. He didn't care that it was pouring outside; he stumbled toward the Zhang household, repeating, "Disaster! Disaster..."

When he arrived, he found the Zhang household in chaos too. Many people were hurrying in and out of the gate without even carrying umbrellas, their faces full of worry. He reported why he had come and waited a long time, but still received no response. At last, he caught hold of a young servant he knew and asked, "I have something urgent. I need to see the master. Why haven't I heard anything for so long?"

The young servant wiped the rain from his face. Recognizing Zhang San, he lowered his voice. "Why are you still asking to see him? The master's dead!"

"Ah!" Zhang San was horrified. He had seen the master only a few days ago. How could he be dead already?

The young servant glanced around. Seeing that no one was paying attention, he continued, "I heard it was a sudden illness. He collapsed in his study and never drew another breath. We just called for Doctor Chen, who said it was a heart attack. He'd been dead for quite some time..."

Zhang San was dazed, but still asked, "Then who's in charge? I need to see Madam!"

The young servant eyed him suspiciously. In these circumstances, he wouldn't be asking to see her unless it was something serious. "Who else but Steward Zhang? But what exactly is it? Tell me, and I can report it for you. If it's something minor, you'd better head back now. The household's in utter chaos. Who's going to deal with you?"

With no other choice, Zhang San whispered into the young servant's ear. At first, the servant couldn't hear him. "What? What...? Speak up! The rain's too loud!"

After Zhang San repeated himself twice more, the servant finally understood. His face turned deathly white—not the kind of pallor he might have put on for show, but the color of genuine terror. Trembling, he said, "Don't lie to me. This is... this is... a calamity!"

Zhang San's expression hardened. "Who would joke with you at a time like this? Go report it!"

The young servant answered absentmindedly and headed inside.

At that moment, Zhang Huaizheng's bedroom was in chaos as well. Madam Zhang, his first wife, held their two young children and wept until her face was drenched in tears. Several concubines had gathered nearby, sobbing. Steward Zhang had just finished handling the affairs at hand. Seeing Madam Zhang in such a state, he felt a headache coming on.

Even so, he said, "Madam, please take care of your health. There are countless matters to handle, inside and out, and we still need you to take charge! The young master and young miss especially need your care!"

Madam Zhang and Zhang Huaizheng had been betrothed in childhood. Their marriage hadn't been perfectly harmonious, but they had gotten along well and shared genuine affection. That was why she grieved so bitterly. At his words, she looked down at the children in her arms. Tears still flowing, she felt lost and afraid. She steadied herself, stopped crying, and comforted them. "Don't be afraid, children. Your mother's here!"

With her resolve restored, she straightened up, a little color returning to her face. Her gaze swept across the room, lingering particularly on the concubine holding a boy. The woman's body trembled, and she began to cry even louder.

Madam Zhang said, "Stay here with the master for now. Steward Zhang, come with me to the side hall." She took the two children and went to the side hall with Steward Zhang. Then she asked, "What do we do now?"

Seeing Madam Zhang regain some of her former authority, Steward Zhang was glad. Using the young master and young miss to spur her on had indeed helped her pull herself together. He said, "Madam, we should first prepare the master's body for burial, then buy a coffin, set up the mourning hall, and send out the death notices. After the major rites, we can choose a burial site and an auspicious date for the burial."

A flash of cold light passed through Madam Zhang's eyes. She said icily, "The master has always been in good health, with no chronic ailments. You know that as well as I do. His death was so suspicious, yet you're urging us to bury him as soon as possible. What exactly are your intentions?" Her voice was edged with frost.

Steward Zhang dropped to his knees, striking his forehead against the floor until it bruised. "Madam, this old servant knows the master's death was suspicious. Someone may have murdered him. But we have no definite suspect. If we report it to the county authorities, do you know what the consequences could be...?"

Before Madam Zhang could ask, he continued, "If the county sends someone to investigate and discovers the master was murdered, the most likely culprits would still be people from the Zhang household. Then they could throw a few people in jail at random. Even Madam and the young master might be suspected!"

When he saw Madam Zhang sneer, he continued, "Of course, Madam and the young master certainly weren't responsible. But even if the county doesn't jail anyone, they'll still haul us in for questioning. Once that happens, we'll have to grease palms at every turn. If the master were here, we could manage. But now that he's gone, even his connections in the county won't be much use. The master has made the Zhang household prosper over the years. Do you think no one in the county envies us?"

Madam Zhang grew thoughtful. A chill seemed to enter Steward Zhang's voice. "The master has made some enemies over the years. They might take advantage of the fact that the Zhang household is now just a widow and orphans. If we run into a ruthless magistrate who rules that someone in the family murdered the head of the household and uses the chance to confiscate our property, that would destroy the whole family! County Magistrate Wei Zhun has a fairly good reputation, but we still can't let our guard down..."

Steward Zhang said, "So we can't report this to the authorities. We must privately invite someone to investigate. I swear I'll uncover the truth and avenge the master!" He bowed his head again, banging it against the floor with a series of dull thuds.

Madam Zhang thought it over for a while before her voice softened. "I was wrong to suspect you earlier. Get up."

Steward Zhang thanked her and stood. Then he said, "Aside from this, there's another matter of the utmost importance: the master's position as head of the village. That's the very foundation of the Zhang household."

Madam Zhang was startled. "Isn't Yun here? Could someone else be coveting the position?"

Steward Zhang gave a bitter smile. "The young master is only eleven. According to the old rites, he won't come of age until he's fifteen—four years from now. The position of village head can't be left vacant, and there are plenty of people in the Zhang clan!"

Madam Zhang gritted her teeth. "Can't we use our connections in the county? We can spend more money and have Yun inherit the position. I can manage things for him until then!"...

Steward Zhang's smile grew even more bitter. "Though the village head is only a minor official, he still governs a whole township. The position is so important that, if the founding emperor hadn't feared giving officials too much power for the county to control, it would have been ranked even higher. How could they possibly let the young master take such an important position now? Do you think they'd risk a repeat of what happened with He, the county clerk? As for you managing things in his place... Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but this isn't the imperial throne. There's no precedent for an empress dowager ruling as regent..."

Madam Zhang was startled; she knew she had spoken rashly. "What do you think we should do?"

Steward Zhang lowered his head in thought, then looked up with a plan. "We'll still need to spend money, but instead of asking them to let the young master inherit the position now, we should get a promise that the new village head is only holding it temporarily and will return it to the young master when he comes of age. It would be best to have that promise put in writing."

Of course, neither Madam Zhang nor the steward expected anyone who had devoured the meat to spit it back out. But with that promise, the young master would have a rightful claim and the moral high ground. If they later fought for the position, they would have a legitimate reason and face far fewer obstacles.

Madam Zhang nodded. Suddenly, she felt exhausted, but she forced herself to stay alert. "You're right. Let's do it that way..."

She was about to say something more when a young servant came half-rolling, half-crawling into the room, muttering, "Disaster! Disaster..."

Steward Zhang frowned, about to send him away, but the young servant saw Madam Zhang and the steward and rushed forward, dropping to his knees. Stammering, he said, "Madam, th-there's trouble. D-disaster..." Steward Zhang stepped forward and kicked him. "You useless fool! What could be worse than the master's death? Get out of here!"

The young servant took the kick, but it made him speak more clearly. His face was still pale as he said, "Madam, Steward, Zhang San, who watches over the ancestral hall, came to report that our ancestor Zhang Qingyun's spirit tablet shattered for no reason. I'm afraid... I'm afraid something terrible has happened..."

"What?" Madam Zhang was so shocked she nearly fainted. She rubbed her philtrum hard until she found the strength to speak. "You... say that again..."

The young servant bowed his head. "Our ancestor Zhang Qingyun's spirit tablet... is gone. Zhang San is outside. Madam can ask him herself!"

"I... I have to see for myself..." Madam Zhang forced herself to stand. The steward, who had been stunned as well, came to his senses and quickly called for several maids to support her. He also sent someone to hold an umbrella. They went to the gate, where Zhang San knelt and reported through his tears, "It was fine just yesterday. I went to check a little while ago, and it... it had shattered."

Madam Zhang didn't have the mind to listen. Supported by others, she and Steward Zhang went to the ancestral hall and entered the main room. The spirit tablet lay shattered across the floor in the very center. Her vision went black, and she fainted.