NO ONE COULD match Cui Buqu when it came to whipping up a storm.
From the moment they left the county office, rumors raced through Qiemo. Magistrate Gao's residence heard a ghost crying in the middle of the night, said some. Others whispered, A strange case from twenty years ago has resurfaced.
Much of the rumormongering was the work of spies placed by the Zuoyue and Jiejian Bureaus. Humans were naturally drawn to excitement—this kind of ghost story needed hardly any fuel to spread like wildfire.
News of the inn's haunting the previous night also spread. When Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao returned, they heard a guest in the hall on the first floor describing the experience in vivid detail to a friend.
"The well back there—can you see it? The moaning noises were coming from inside; I'm telling you, it was terrifying. I could hear it even with the blankets pulled over my head. Ah, it's too sad. Which family's lady met such a tragic end?"
"I don't know, but I looked in the well earlier. I couldn't even see the bottom—who knows if it's really dry. This inn really is cursed. How long has it been since the last haunting? But the county office is so far from here; how did the ghost get all the way to the magistrate's residence?"
"Doesn't that just prove how terrible the ghost's death was? The victim couldn't get justice, so they became a vengeful spirit growing more ferocious by the day. Magistrate Gao was sent here by the Sui court; he must have the emperor's aura about him. It makes sense for the woman's ghost to plead with him. Do you think Magistrate Gao will take up the case?"
"Ha! Forget it. Magistrate Gao hasn't done a damn thing since he arrived. You're not from around here, so you might not know. Recently, two vegetable-sellers got into a fight and one of them died. He didn't lift a finger then, so why would he do anything now?! Going to the king of Shanshan is probably a better idea. At least he'll do something."
Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao, sitting at the next table over, heard this last remark loud and clear.
The man was of course referring to Xing Mao. Though far from his homeland, he still saw himself as a king. His flatterers addressed him as such to keep him happy, and over time, the informal title had spread. Qiemo didn't belong to anyone; why shouldn't he set himself up as its king?
Feng Xiao and Cui Buqu had been responsible for the ghost that haunted Gao Yi last night, but they'd had nothing to do with the haunting at the inn. Clearly, Cui Buqu wasn't the only one trying to stir up trouble.
Cui Buqu didn't fear others causing trouble. He only feared the trouble was too little, that the chaos wasn't enough. "Gao Yi draws an imperial stipend, yet he's been slacking on the job. Perhaps we should lend him a hand."
Feng Xiao took his meaning at once. "You're afraid Xing Mao might move first?"
"That's right." Cui Buqu smiled faintly. "This is a matter of law. If there's an injustice to be redressed, Gao Yi should be the one to conduct the hearing."
He stood and crossed the hall to the innkeeper. After a brief conversation, he took out some money and asked him to send someone down the well to search for bones.
Over the years, rumors of the ghost in the well had led to a few busybodies trying to head down themselves. The innkeeper, however, was terrified they might really dig up something horrific and he would bear the blame. In any case, since there was no official present to investigate, he wanted as little trouble as possible. He'd asked someone to set a large stone over the well mouth long ago, sealing it shut to stop nosy guests from taking a peek.
Yet now Cui Buqu was here, handing him a hefty sum of money and claiming he'd been sent by Gao Yi. The innkeeper was quickly swayed and called someone to move the stone. Soon enough, the porter tied a rope around his waist and lowered himself down to search. Word spread swiftly through the inn, and a crowd gathered to watch the excitement.
With his skills, Feng Xiao could easily have completed the task without any ropes at all, and the search would have gone much faster. But the dry well had been abandoned for years. Even if no water remained, there were still spots of lichen and who knew what kinds of crawling creatures. Deputy Chief Feng refused.
He sat with his legs crossed, looking down from the inn's second-floor window with Cui Buqu. "Shall we make a bet?"
"On what? Whether they'll find bones in the well? No need to bet; you've already lost." Cui Buqu coughed twice. Cities on the border were all wind and sand, and the climate was dry. When Qiao Xian wasn't there to take care of him every step of the way, he paid little attention to his own body. After two days in the city, his cough had worsened again, and his throat was hoarse and dry.
"Why's that?" asked Feng Xiao.
Cui Buqu's face was blank. "Because after we arrived and heard those rumors from Cheng Cheng, I had someone throw a corpse down there. They'll definitely find it."
Whether the bones were old or new, the common folk wouldn't care. As long as there were bones in the well, the hauntings must be real, and this ancient case must truly conceal an enormous injustice. The victim had been unable to rest in peace and transformed into a ghost to seek vengeance and plead for their wrongs to be redressed. The story would spread further, the uproar grow and grow.
Gao Yi had been tossed a hot potato; he couldn't stay out of the matter now. Duan Qihu, once rumors of the haunting in his estate spread as well, would also end up on the rack.
If the original state of Qiemo had been a pot of warm water, Cui Buqu's arrival had tossed a bundle of firewood under the stove and lit a match. Now the water was at a violent boil.
Anyone could be a cunning fox. What was rare was the ability to see three steps ahead of the other foxes. Even Feng Xiao had to concede to Cui Buqu when it came to scheming.
Was there anything Cui Buqu couldn't predict? Feng Xiao wanted to ask but refrained. Instead he laughed.
Cui Buqu was baffled. "What are you laughing about?"
"Nothing," said Feng Xiao.
If something so unpredictable did exist—something Cui Buqu believed to be within his grasp, yet defied his predictions—wouldn't that be terribly interesting?
***
While the curious ran to the inn to watch the show, Duan Qihu was at home sneering over a letter from Cui Buqu.
Or rather, a letter that had been sent on Cui Buqu's instructions, yet was in Gao Yi's name and stamped with Gao Yi's seal.
Gao Yi refused to step forward, but Cui Buqu had at least browbeaten him into writing a letter. The contents mentioned an old case from twenty years ago and invited Duan Qihu to visit and provide an explanation. There were no files, no statements from victims laying out their grievances. It was all just unfounded speculation.
Certain local rumors were circulating. Some said that, in Duan Qihu's youth, a young woman had hung herself after he'd betrayed her hopes. Others spoke of a blood debt he owed from his bandit days and warned the debtor had come to claim his life.
Duan Qihu didn't sleep the entire night.
Last night a voice was heard wailing at the inn, and Gao Yi had seen a ghost. Duan Qihu's own haunting had left him ill at ease—though the ghost hadn't appeared again in the latter half of the night, he'd still felt as if it was speaking beside his ear.
Duan Qihu was a martial artist, a strong and healthy man. A sleepless night was nothing to him. But right now his mood was horrible, which could mean only one thing: Duan Qihu had a guilty conscience.
"Will your lordship go see Gao Yi?" asked his steward. He'd overseen the Duan residence since its construction and was one of Duan Qihu's closest confidants.
"Of course I won't!" sneered Duan Qihu. "Gao Yi is a nobody. People call him 'magistrate' because Great Sui stands behind him, not because he's worthy of the title on his own."
Steward Lin nodded. He was staunchly loyal to Duan Qihu and never asked unnecessary questions. But he still had his responsibilities, so he ventured, "Shall we reply to the letter, or ignore it completely?"
"Send someone to tell him I'm bedridden with illness," said Duan Qihu. "Tell him I'll visit another day." He paused before asking, "Did you…hear or see anything last night?"
"This lowly one saw nothing," said the steward. "But I did hear the sound of weeping. Whoever made it must have been a top-notch martial arts master because this lowly one couldn't catch them."
Duan Qihu snorted. "Where did Xing Mao manage to find such a skilled expert…"
But as he spoke, he realized something was off. Even if Xing Mao found someone to impersonate a ghost, how could they know about an event that had happened twenty years ago? He thought of the deaths of the third steward, Cheng Cheng, Li Fei, and the others, and felt the muscles in his face tense.
"I heard Gao Yi and the Yangji Inn also heard a ghost last night," said Steward Lin.
"There aren't that many ghosts in the world," Duan Qihu scoffed. "This must be one of Xing Mao's schemes!"
At Steward Lin's look of confusion, he continued, "He's wanted to move against me for a long time, but never had the chance. His plot to poison me at the banquet failed, but he's sure to come up with another. He'll take advantage of the hauntings to stir up the imagination of the city, then send an assassin after me under the guise of a vengeful ghost and pretend he had nothing to do with it."
As master and servant were talking, a report arrived: a corpse had been found in the dry well behind the Yangji Inn. The victim had been dead for a long time—skin and flesh had crumbled to dust, leaving only stark white bones. Everyone in the surrounding neighborhoods had gone to watch the hubbub. Apparently the nephew of the king of Kucha, a guest at the inn, had requested the remains be delivered to the county office so Gao Yi might preside over the case.
Steward Lin frowned. "How should we handle this, my lord? Perhaps this lowly one should go make some inquiries with Gao Yi."
He could tell Duan Qihu was shaken. Something must have really happened twenty years ago that he didn't want to talk about. It wouldn't do for the steward to question him further; he could only help his master resolve the issue before them as best he could.
"No need." Duan Qihu spoke through gritted teeth. "Gao Yi is a coward, but Xing Mao will undoubtedly seize this chance to act. I've yet to repay him for last time, so why not pay it all in one go? Since he can no longer wait, we'll land the first strike! Wait until after midnight, then take our men to the Xing residence. You must fell Xing Mao in one blow!"
Steward Lin was stunned. "Shouldn't we take more time to plan?"
Duan Qihu buzzed with anxiety. He was overcome by an unfamiliar sense of powerlessness: the feeling of knowing precisely where the enemy was yet being unable to leap over and strike them dead.
"It's too late. Xing Mao has wanted sole dominion over Qiemo for a long time, and the first step is getting rid of me. But we are not unprepared. There are the fifty elite guards I've had you train the past few years—though none are exceptional, they're still first-class fighters. If we can catch Xing Mao flat-footed, even with the help of that fake ghost of his, he won't be a match for us."
Years of soft living had gradually worn away Duan Qihu's ambition and arrogance, but as he spoke now, he regained his confidence. "Once Xing Mao is dead, who in Qiemo can oppose me?"
It was thanks to his bold decisiveness that he'd climbed to his current position. Now, once again, Duan Qihu firmly believed he'd judged the situation correctly.
Steward Lin had no further objections but was still concerned for Duan Qihu's safety. "If I take all fifty men, who will protect your lordship?"
"Leave Bing and Ding behind. The rest will go with you." Duan Qihu's smile was cold. "There's no way Xing Mao can respond that fast. If anyone comes here, whether human or ghost, I'll make sure to show them a good time. I'm truly curious as to who could emerge unscathed against my Vajra finger technique!"
***
In the Xing residence, Xing Mao's expression was like a fresh spring breeze, evidence of his good mood. "Duan Qihu is powerful, but he's grown old. A toothless tiger is nothing to fear." He looked at the man before him and his expression grew even fonder. "Besides, everyone has turned their backs on him. Even you've betrayed him. Is he still worthy of calling himself my rival?"
"It's just as Duke Xing says." The man cupped his hands respectfully.
"In the past, Lord Mengchang had an entourage of three thousand.4 He treated all of them as family and showed great respect for the wise. Now I shall show you the same treatment. Duan Qihu believes himself above everyone; no one is worth his attention. Even an old man like yourself, who's followed him so many years, must refer to yourself as 'lowly' before him. How can a man like him be my equal in the city of Qiemo?"
Xing Mao stood and walked over, personally pulling the man to his feet. "Lin-xiansheng need not be so polite in front of me."
"I'm only too grateful for Duke Xing's regard," said the man, "but the fifty elite guards under Duan Qihu are all loyal to him and don't fear death. The group includes two of his most trusted subordinates, and I fear I have no authority over them."
Xing Mao showed him a small smile. "No matter. He's sent away all his best men, and the Duan residence has become an empty fortress. This is our chance to take it all in one fell swoop."
Another voice spoke: "After tonight, Qiemo will have to change its name to 'Xing.'"
The pronouncement came from the white-clad monk sitting below Xing Mao. He was respectful as he offered his congratulations, but his attitude was neither arrogant nor sycophantic, with no hint of flattery.
Xing Mao burst into laughter. "Then I shall thank Yu-xiansheng in advance for his fortuitous words!"