Murder Ghost

With one slash, he had ruined one of the man's eyes; with one sword stroke, he had ruined one of the man's legs.

Then the old escort chief had kept him at the escort agency, declaring before everyone, "As long as I, Qiao Fengchun, have a bite to eat, Meng E will have a bite to eat. When I, Qiao Fengchun, am gone, Meng E will be the eldest uncle to you lot."

But how could he truly put on airs? Since he no longer escorted shipments, he remained in the Qiao Household to manage a few matters, watching the younger generation grow up bit by bit and offering advice. Once the eldest son was able to stand on his own, he spoke even less. After all, he was a cripple, and more than twenty years had passed since those events. The eldest son still treated him as an eldest uncle, but he did not dare accept such treatment as his due. The servants and maids in the courtyard were all just children. They only knew he was an old member of the Household, yet they did not particularly respect a blind, lame man like him.

Now, on this escort run, nearly every man in the Household had died. What remained were widows, orphans, and womenfolk, who looked to those two women for money to stay alive while also resenting the eldest son.

Having lived so long, he knew what those people said behind his back—

"Why was he the one who came back? He took so many people to their deaths, so why didn't he die?!"

The warmth and coldness of human feeling, the harshness of the world. Two escort agencies that had been on good terms sent people to take a look. Seeing that the eldest son was clearly not going to make it, they left ten ingots of silver and never came again.

He could only use what little money he had to hire a physician for the eldest son, keeping a final breath hanging on while waiting for people from Qing'an to arrive.

The Qiao Household had another distant branch in Qing'an. There were still clan elders of high seniority there, and their line was thriving. He had secretly sent someone with a letter, telling them to come. The family estate could not possibly be allowed to fall into the hands of that beast Qiao Jiaming, who had thrown human relations into chaos, and those two whores.

After thinking for a while, the old man walked to the bedside and reached out to feel Qiao Duanhong's forehead.

It was even hotter. His cheeks had taken on a terrifying deathly gray, his eyelids trembled, and his lips had cracked open.

He still needed another dose of medicine. After considering it, the old man limped out the door toward the western courtyard. The closer he got, the clearer the sounds became.

He heard that beast say smugly, "...that prefect saw the jade... said it could certainly be used... they've already been... might as well send them to the prefect... hahaha... I'm only joking, I could keep them for myself too..."

Then came the wanton laughter of that little whore. "That old cripple... guarding them?... Let's see how many days he can guard them... once he dies..."

The old man felt a tightness in his chest. Raising a hand to cover his mouth, he gave a muffled, hoarse cough and felt something warm and wet in the web between his thumb and forefinger. Without looking, he wiped it away hard.

He knew it was blood. Those three beasts had angered him until he coughed blood... Truly, once a man was old, he was old. He was no use anymore.

The three inside had drunk too much, and their eyes and ears no longer worked well. So they did not hear him cough, did not hear him approach the door, and still did not hear him push open the little courtyard gate.

A lamp was lit in the pavilion in the courtyard, where the three were drinking. Qiao Liushi's clothes were disheveled as she lay crookedly in Qiao Jiaming's arms, a sight too vile to behold. Darkness swam before the old man's eyes, and he reached out to brace himself against the doorframe.

Qiao Liushi had been taken in as a concubine only the year before last. Qiao Wangshi had borne no children in ten years, and the Qiao Household had to have an heir. Meng E had only discovered last month that this woman had some entanglement with that beast. He had planned to finish this escort run, then give Qiao Duanhong a warning. Who could have known such a thing would happen?

And now, they were committing this filthy act right before Qiao Wangshi!

Qiao Wangshi did not look at them. She slowly drank her wine, lowered her head, and murmured to herself, "...that old cripple is not behaving himself. Sending a letter to Qing'an. Never mind whether it can even be delivered. Even if it gets there... the Qing'an side is not as useless as that dead ghost. Both branches came from Aristocratic Clans of the martial world, but over there... I heard they are even the richest family in Qing'an. Why would they think anything of this place? Besides, that old cripple is truly old now. Who could he send? Wang Qi. And who is Wang Qi? Does the old cripple not know that he is the distant relation of a cousin from my mother's family?"

After saying that, she covered her mouth and laughed. When she turned her face, she saw Meng E at the gate.

Yet after a brief flicker of surprise, she merely lifted her wine cup with slanted eyes and asked blandly, "Oh? Lao Meng. What brings you here? Is the eldest son well?"

The letter had not been sent. Meng E felt the tightness in his chest grow worse.

Wave after wave of dizziness washed over his eyes. He lowered his gaze rather than look at their ugly display, held onto the doorway, and forced himself to turn back. But after taking one step, the reek of wine and meat mixed with the scent of powder and rouge struck him. The fire in his heart could no longer be suppressed. With all his strength, he coughed once and spat out a mouthful of blood.

Then he could no longer hold onto the door and collapsed, swaying.

When he woke again, he found himself on the floor of the eldest son's room.

It seemed they had found someone to carry him in, then simply ignored him. There had originally been nine servants in the Household, but four had been dismissed these past days, leaving only five: one cook, two maids, and two attendants. The two maids watched over Qiao Jiaxin, while the two attendants watched this side. In truth, they were merely waiting for the eldest son to die.

He could not have been unconscious for long. The sky was still dark. He looked toward the door, where the two attendants were still standing guard, the door left open a crack. The old man slowly crawled up from the floor on his lame leg, caught his breath for a while, then went to the eldest son's bedside. He looked even worse, as if he were already dead.

The old man hurriedly reached out to feel his forehead and found that the fever had broken. The eldest son was no longer burning up; his forehead was ice-cold. It reminded him of his dead son. When his son's body had been pulled from the river, it had been the same temperature.

He stared fixedly at the eldest son's face for a while, then reached out and pulled the blanket up.

The letter had not been sent.

And the prefect... hm. He could not be relied upon either.

All at once, Meng E no longer felt stifled or hot. He suddenly felt very comfortable, his heart calm as still water. After thinking for a moment, he turned and walked to the door.

The two attendants hurriedly stood, rubbed their eyes, and reached out to stop him. "Oh, Master Meng, your health is poor. The mistress ordered you to rest in the room for a while. Don't go out tonight, all right?"

The old man looked at them silently for a while. The two attendants were startled to discover that his one remaining eye was no longer so clouded. It had become brilliantly bright. That brightness made them uneasy... such light should not belong to this old man.

In the three or four years since they had entered the Qiao Household, this old man had never raised his voice. He had only hunched his back, dragged his lame leg, and smiled kindly at everyone. That unease gave rise to a strange, ashamed anger in their hearts.

So they viciously shoved the old man and raised their voices. "Get back inside. We're speaking nicely to you, so don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit. This is no longer the Qiao Household of that dead man inside."

The old man grabbed the doorframe and did not fall. In a hoarse voice, he said, "The escort chief is already gone."

The two attendants exchanged a glance and snickered. "Why are you worrying about that? Worry about yourself."

Meng E nodded and turned back into the room.

"Old fool. Sigh, his mind doesn't work right. He just can't let it go." The attendant in the blue cap turned away and shook his head. "I didn't want to hurt him. I'm telling you, I learned a few days of fist and foot techniques myself..."

Before he finished speaking, the door creaked open again.

Both men turned their heads at once, their faces full of impatience. "I told you—"

Before the words had left his mouth, a piercing whistle split the air. A Golden-Thread Thick-Back Great Ring Blade hacked squarely into one attendant's face. With a thud, it buried itself nearly half a palm deep. The immense force made both his eyeballs burst out with a splat, dangling beside his face.

Then blood sprayed out as well.

The blue-capped attendant's eyes went wide as he stared at the blade, his body unable to move from the sudden shock and terror.

That blade was Qiao Duanhong's blade. It had hung on the wall in his room.

With difficulty, he rolled his eyes and saw the one holding the blade.

It was... that old cripple. But his face was cold as iron, and there was a light in his eye that the attendant had never seen before.

"Ah... you..." He managed those few sounds, instinctively reaching for the blade.

But a cold gleam flashed. With a splat, his head too went rolling down the steps.

The old man withdrew the blade, planted it against the ground, and panted wearily for a while. Then he reached out, wiped the blood from the blade, slowly smeared it across his own face, and smiled. His teeth and lone eye gleamed in the darkness.

"You children."

"When this old man was your age, they called me..."

"Murder Ghost, Meng E."