Page 48

"Why did you suddenly ask about that?" Yang Qingyuan paused, then smiled. "Of course we do. One of our Old Yang Family ancestors was a scholar. It's written in the genealogy. He passed the county-level student exam in the thirteenth year of Chongzhen and died in June of the seventeenth year of Chongzhen. But he didn't kill himself because he failed the examinations. The genealogy says that after the Ming Dynasty fell, he threw himself into the river and died for his country."

"Really?" After turning it over in his mind, Feng Yang still felt surrounded by fog. "Grandpa, can I look at our family genealogy?"

"You've never been interested in this sort of thing, have you?" Yang Qingyuan immediately chuckled. "When I made you two brothers memorize the genealogy before and locked you in the study, you were always trying to climb out through the window. Now you're curious?"

After teasing him for a moment, Yang Qingyuan said, "Go look for it in the study yourself. It's on the top shelf of the curio cabinet."

Because their grandfather had forced them to memorize the genealogy and the Four Books and Five Classics with a ruler when they were children, the Feng brothers had developed a serious psychological shadow toward their grandfather's study. Unless there was a reason, they would never set foot in that forbidden place. In his previous life, after Feng Yang's grandparents died, a fire had broken out at their home, burning the three large tile-roofed rooms and both courtyards to the ground. When Feng Yang returned with the Vengeful Ghost to pay his respects, all he saw was rubble.

So this was probably the first time in more than twenty years, before and after his rebirth, that Feng Yang had entered his grandfather's study.

The study had been decorated in imitation of Ming Dynasty architecture. The desk and chairs were made of nanmu wood, and several pieces of calligraphy and painting written by Yang Qingyuan himself hung on the walls, lending the room an antique charm. Feng Yang casually glanced at the writing on the wall and found the handwriting somewhat familiar, but he did not dwell on it. He walked straight to the curio cabinet, took a nanmu box from the uppermost compartment, and found the Yang Family genealogy inside.

Feng Yang carefully placed the nanmu box on the desk. Several stones his grandfather had collected, carving tools, and a few rubbings of inscriptions on bronze and stone were scattered messily beside it. Feng Yang had intended to move them aside, but the instant his gaze fell upon the handwriting on one of the rubbings, his pupils abruptly contracted.

The strokes flowed like clouds and moving water, vigorous as dragons and serpents. Beneath their rounded elegance lurked a faint, unyielding pride, their sharpness fully exposed. It was unmistakably the handwriting Feng Yang remembered from the Scholar Ghost.

Feng Yang clearly remembered that, in his previous life, the Scholar Ghost had written before him countless times in order to teach the Vengeful Ghost inscription carving. The Vengeful Ghost then copied it tens of thousands of times before finally mastering it. As a result, even the Vengeful Ghost Talisman on Feng Yang's palm carried a trace of the Scholar Ghost's refined grace amid its murderous decisiveness. The memory was too deeply etched into him for him to be mistaken.

But why did his grandfather's handwriting look exactly like that of the Scholar Ghost, who had drowned himself more than three hundred years ago?

In an instant, Feng Yang felt a chill coil up from his tailbone and slowly seep through his entire body.

Feng Yang's breathing caught as he impatiently opened the genealogy. On the eighth page was Yang Xiu's name. Born in the forty-sixth year of Wanli in the Ming Dynasty, he had passed the county-level student exam in the thirteenth year of Chongzhen and died on the second day of June in the seventeenth year of Chongzhen.

It was only a short line, yet even after Feng Yang read it over and over dozens of times, he could find nothing unusual.

After returning the genealogy to its place, Feng Yang went once more to the willow tree at the entrance of the village. He pressed his palm against its mottled, ridged bark, trying to use the Vengeful Ghost Talisman in his palm to resonate with the Willow Tree Spirit. After a long while, there was no response at all.

The Willow Tree Spirit and the Scholar Ghost had vanished at the same time, and the detail that the Scholar Ghost's handwriting was identical to his grandfather's cast a shadow over Feng Yang's heart. Something felt wrong.

But for now, Feng Yang had too few clues to draw any meaningful conclusion. After thinking it through, he could only bury these matters in his heart.

Because the matter weighed on his mind, Feng Yang remained somewhat absent-minded until the ancestral worship ceremony the next day. The Feng Family had returned to the village this time to announce to their ancestors the good news that Feng Yang had been admitted to a top university. Feng Yang needed to personally offer incense and burn paper offerings. Father Feng called Feng Yang twice, but he did not respond. Only after Feng Fei gave him a push did Feng Yang come back to his senses.

"What's been going on with you lately?" Feng Jianguo frowned tightly. Ever since his son came out of the fire, he had felt that Feng Yang's temperament and personality were somewhat different from before. He was worried that Feng Yang had been frightened by the ordeal.

"You barely took the calming medicine I prescribed for you before. How about taking another couple of doses later?"

Feng Yang laughed helplessly. "No need, right? It's so hot these days. Traditional medicine will make me overheat."

"I'll have the doctor prescribe honey pills or granules instead." Yang Liu was also very worried.

"Really, there's no need." Feng Yang continued refusing. "Every medicine has some toxicity. Better not take it if I don't have to."

"Then should I hire a spirit medium to calm your fright?"

Feng Yang's face darkened. If they actually invited a capable spirit medium, it was hard to say who would be calming whose fright.

After offering incense and wine, then burning a photocopy of Feng Yang's admission notice from Yanjing X University before the graves, the ancestral worship ceremony came to an end. They had finally returned to the village, and it was the height of July, when fruit was abundant and fish were fat. The Feng Family planned to stay in Willow Tree Village for a few more days, and take Yin Li and his friends around to have some fun as well.

During that time, Feng Yang kept pestering his grandfather, asking whether the willow tree at the village entrance had any legends or stories like those in Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. Yang Qingyuan had not expected that his grandson would become interested in tales of ghosts and spirits after coming home. He had never heard of anything unusual concerning the village's willow tree.

"You went out for a while, and now you don't want to study journalism anymore? You want to switch careers and become a screenwriter?"

Unable to hide his disappointment at failing to learn what he wanted, Feng Yang said, "Not really. I just think our village has quite a long history. How come there aren't any stories at all?"

Yang Qingyuan laughed. "If you're really interested, go borrow the local chronicles from the county library tomorrow. You might find something."

Feng Yang nodded, though he did not hold out much hope.

He even began to wonder whether the more than twenty years of experiences from his previous life that existed in his mind were real or false.

At that thought, Feng Yang became even more eager to revisit the other places he had gone in his previous life and see those people—or ghosts—again. He wanted to verify whether this world was truly the one where he had lived with the Vengeful Ghost for more than twenty years.