He Yulan

A blazing sun climbed to the heart of the sky, steaming the damp stone-paved road until wisps of mist rose from it. The whole of He Family Village lay beneath warm, humid sunlight, like a giant steamer.

The firecracker paper scattered along both sides of the street had dried and grown brittle in the scorching sun. It crackled beneath the boy's feet as he walked.

After parting ways with Feng Yushu, Ning Zhe ran alone through the empty streets. A faint smell of gunpowder drifted through the humid air, and firecrackers popped in the distance. The noise explained why the long stretch of road he had just walked had been deserted.

He came to an arch bridge upstream and stood by its railing, gazing into the distance. He could already see the grand He Manor Zhang Yangxu had mentioned.

Red lanterns hung from the broad lintel. The three-story timber building stood on a foundation of stone blocks, towering over the surrounding homes, most of which were only one or two stories tall. Even the courtyard walls were more than three meters high, making the mansion stand out like a crane among chickens.

The popping sounds Ning Zhe had heard were coming from the mansion. From afar, he could see several servants in blue robes and small caps lighting strings of firecrackers one after another on the steps before the main entrance. Their explosive reports rang through the streets, while red paper fluttered through the gunpowder smoke.

A set of red-lacquered tables and chairs stood to the left of the steps. An elderly man with white hair sat at a table, brush in hand, surrounded by a noisy crowd that seemed to be waiting in line for something.

Ning Zhe crept closer. A villager approached the desk and gently removed the yellow paper stuck to his face, placing it in front of the old man.

The yellow paper on his face read: [He Renliang]

The old man picked up his brush and wrote a string of curling characters on the paper, then gave a slight nod.

"He Renliang" stuck the yellow paper back onto his forehead. A servant nearby immediately let him through, and he entered the festively decorated He Family Mansion through the main gate.

Ning Zhe couldn't make out what the old man had written on the yellow paper. He could only see the crowd in line at the entrance to He Manor inching forward amid the hubbub. One after another, the yellow papers passed through the old man's hands, and one person after another walked through the gate.

This scene looks familiar, Ning Zhe thought.

When he was little, he had gone with his grandmother to a wedding banquet hosted by relatives in the village. It had been just as lively, with firecrackers and noisy voices mingling together. Ning Zhe had followed his grandmother through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to pay the gift money to the accountant.

If these people were lining up to pay their wedding gifts and attend the feast, then...

Ning Zhe raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the bustling crowd to the main gate of He Manor.

The vermilion gate was even more imposing than the Ancestral Hall on South Street, where the Snake God was worshipped. Like the entrance to the hall, a couplet with red characters on white paper was pasted on either side of it:

[Welcome the new marriage, flawless white jade]

[Bid farewell to the old, the full moon has its flaws]

[Contentment brings happiness]

"Is this a wedding banquet? Is someone in the owner's family getting married?" Ning Zhe couldn't help wondering.

The scene certainly looked like a wedding celebration. But even setting aside the strangeness of the red characters on white paper, the couplet's wording alone made something feel off. At the very least, if he were the one getting married, Ning Zhe would never accept a couplet like that pasted on his gate. It looked like bad luck.

"There are too many strange things about He Family Village. Even though I've figured out the Ghost's Rule, this village is still shrouded in mystery."

Ning Zhe let out a quiet breath and stopped dwelling on the unanswered questions. Keeping his movements light, he skirted the crowded main entrance and followed the tall wall around to the side of the mansion.

The buildings of He Family Mansion formed a square around a central courtyard. The main gate faced south, with side gates on the east and west and a back gate to the north. It had the imposing aspect of a north-facing building turned toward the south.

Ning Zhe didn't use any of the four gates. Instead, he went to a low house beside He Manor, climbed onto its roof with nimble ease, and crouched among the tiles. He peered over the wall to survey the mansion's interior.

The courtyard was bustling. Tables and chairs filled the main hall and side rooms, with guests scattered among them. The three strings of firecrackers at the entrance hadn't finished going off yet, so it wasn't time to serve the food. Ning Zhe saw guests chatting casually over tea and snacks, children chasing one another along the stone paths, and the kitchen staff bustling about.

It was an ordinary country feast. Nothing special.

If anything stood out, it was the couplet pasted by the entrance and the yellow papers on the guests' faces.

"Earlier, the ghost used Zhang Yangxu's identity to text Auntie, saying Ye Miaozhu died in He Manor." Ning Zhe scanned the area but saw no sign of anything unusual. "Where's her body? And where's Zhang Yangxu?"

Still puzzled, Ning Zhe finished surveying the grounds and didn't hesitate any longer. He leaped down from the roof, caught the top of the wall with both hands, and swung himself up.

The wall around He Family Mansion was built of square stone blocks and stood more than three meters tall. Climbing it would have been no easy feat for an ordinary person, and even harder for a high school senior who spent all his time cramming and neglected exercise. But Ning Zhe wasn't ordinary. He was in excellent shape—the kind of student who consistently ranked first in physical fitness tests while also placing near the top academically.

After nimbly climbing over the wall, Ning Zhe used the Albizia Tree planted beside it to hide himself, then quietly made his way to a row of guest rooms beside the main building.

The guest rooms, usually left empty, were now filled with tables and chairs, and quite a few guests sat inside.

After making sure no one had spotted him, Ning Zhe leaned against the wall and silently breathed a sigh of relief.

Just then, the rustle of conversation came from inside the room.

The voices were soft—not like ordinary people chatting, but more like rats sneaking into a granary and gnawing at the grain. They were clear, yet stifled. Ning Zhe focused and heard a woman's voice, deliberately lowered, murmur:

"What? Your offerings at home have been eaten too?"

"Sure have. The thief's pretty picky, too. Didn't touch a single grain of white rice, just scooped out a plum."

"Your kid's that naughty? They dared to eat the Snake God's offerings?"

"It wasn't the kids. A few of them were playing right in front of me the whole time. None of them even went into the Zhai Hall."

"If it wasn't the kids, then what was it..."

The guests didn't speak standard Mandarin. They had a heavy Hakka accent, but Ning Zhe had grown up in Ancient Tablet Town, so he could just about understand them.

Several Village Women were drinking tea and cracking sunflower seeds as they chatted about the offerings being stolen. They considered every possible culprit, from mischievous children to stray cats, but none of them could convince the others or come up with a definite answer.

Ning Zhe listened quietly until someone spoke up:

"Do you think the food we offer might not be for people to eat at all?"

"Don't say such things. Snake God Grandma hasn't shown her power in ages. How could she come down to eat?"

"Who can say for sure..."

The Village Women kept chattering for a long time. The three strings of firecrackers at the entrance finally finished going off, the tables and chairs in the main hall and rooms filled with guests, and the smell of meat wafted from the kitchen all the way to the guest rooms. At last, the feast began.

"I'll go get my kids."

A Village Woman wearing a square headscarf pushed open the guest-room door and walked toward the main hall along a stone path bordered by Dianthus flowers.

Taking advantage of the brief moment when no one was around, Ning Zhe moved softly, picked up half a brick that had been tucked away as a spare, and followed her. With a swift, decisive swing, he smashed it against the back of her head.

The back of the head was one of the most vulnerable and deadly parts of the human body. Even a child fooling around in a classroom could easily die from slipping and hitting the back of their head on a desk, let alone an adult man delivering a premeditated blow with a blunt weapon.

There was a dull crack, and the Village Woman crumpled to the ground. She died instantly, without a struggle.

The yellow paper stuck to her face immediately fell away. It read: He Yulan.

Blunt-force injuries usually didn't cause bleeding that was difficult to stop. Ning Zhe used the square headscarf on the Village Woman called He Yulan to wipe the blood from the back of her head, then stuffed the fresh corpse into the Lotus Jar, concealing the death just inches away beneath its bright green leaves and red flowers.

When he was done, Ning Zhe deliberately walked back the way he had come, making his footsteps clatter. He stopped outside the same guest room and gently knocked on the half-closed door.

"Who is it?"

"Oh dear, I don't know where the kids have run off to. I can't find either of them..."

A woman's voice drifted from Ning Zhe's throat. As the guest-room door swung fully open, the boy's shirt and trousers turned into simple Hemp Clothes, and his fair, tender skin darkened to the complexion of a farmer.

That was the Ghost's Rule:

—When everyone else in the room already believed the person knocking was He Yulan, then that was who he truly was.

Ning Zhe had stolen the identity of the Village Woman He Yulan and infiltrated the feast.