Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Past of the Liu Family

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Alas."

Paper Zhang let out a silent sigh. The folds on his face twitched as he resigned himself, pursing his lips and gesturing for Zhao Fusheng to place the dossier upon the table.

After a moment, his sleeve trembled twice, and a hand slowly slipped out, dragging the dossier towards him. This scene caught Zhao Fusheng’s attention. Compared to Paper Zhang’s face—aged as though he were eighty—his hand was youthful, the bones and flesh proportionate, the skin pale and flawless, as if it belonged to a well-kept maiden of eighteen. Zhao Fusheng’s gaze lingered on his fingertips, recalling his oddly wide, black sleeve, which seemed to conceal a world within. To maintain such hands, Paper Zhang must surely have used some secret art.

It was a pity that when she had summoned her courage to peek beneath his sleeve, she’d discovered nothing unusual. As her mind wandered, she commented aloud, “You certainly take good care of your hands.”

Paper Zhang’s expression didn’t change; he deftly parried her probing remark. “My family has been artisans for generations, masters of delicate crafts. Naturally, one must treasure such hands.” Clearly, he had no intention of lingering on this topic. As he spoke, his fingers slowly unfurled the dossier before him.

Their verbal sparring ceased, both now focused on the dossier.

At the top, it read: “Great Han, June 206…”

“That’s right. Forty years ago, my grandfather did indeed join forces with the then Commander of the Demon Suppression Division, Su Long, to resolve the Liu family’s ghostly calamity.” He glanced up from the dossier to Zhao Fusheng. This newly appointed Commander was remarkably young, yet far from foolish—and Paper Zhang sensed an unusual tenacity in her.

“You’ve come about the Beggar’s Lane case, haven’t you?” The court had already abandoned Wan’an County; circumstances here were dire. Wealthy families were fleeing in droves. If this continued, in half a year at most, Wan’an would become a dead city.

“Indeed.” Zhao Fusheng noted that he hadn’t so much as looked at the dossier, instead raising the Beggar’s Lane ghost case on his own. Clearly, Paper Zhang had long anticipated her arrival; his earlier posturing with Zhang Chuan-shi was likely a test of her temperament, a measure of her character.

She wrapped the dossier again, half-truthfully saying, “You know, as Commander of the Demon Suppression Division in Wan’an, there are certain duties I cannot shirk—” Her eyes watched his face, searching his expression.

Given the close ties between the Zhang family and the Division, Paper Zhang must be well aware of its laws. He did not refute her words, and with a sigh, Zhao Fusheng realized her suspicions were likely correct.

The Division had strict protocols for handling ghost cases—none could be ignored. When Fan Bisi spoke with her, he’d deliberately concealed this fact, perhaps to coax her into accepting the case.

Suppressing her irritation, she continued, “I must go to Beggar’s Lane, but I’ve never truly confronted a ghost. I have little confidence in this line of work.”

Paper Zhang nodded. “You want to ask about the ghost in Beggar’s Lane—its identity, its rules for killing?”

“Yes.” Zhao Fusheng saw no reason to hide her intent. “My skills are still lacking, and my experience scant. If I must face a ghost for the first time, I’d prefer to drive it away. If not, I must at least ensure my survival.”

“Of course,” Paper Zhang agreed. “According to Brother Fan, there’s a Confucian Temple on that street, which was once the ancestral hall of the Liu family. Years ago, the Lius suffered a haunting, and it was Su Long and Zhang Xiongwǔ who resolved it.”

Zhao Fusheng’s candid mention of his ancestor’s name didn’t offend Paper Zhang. Those who dealt with ghosts tended to be fierce and unrestrained—using given names was hardly an affront.

He thought for a moment, then asked, “You believe this current haunting is the same as the one forty years ago?”

Zhao Fusheng did not answer directly; instead, she shifted the topic. “These old dossiers offered few clues about the haunting—but I did find something interesting.”

For the first time, a flicker of genuine interest appeared on Paper Zhang’s grim face. His eyebrows, already greying, drooped at the ends, lending further age to his features. Now, the brows arched, the drooping mouth twitched upwards. Under the ghastly light, his smile seemed almost malicious.

“What did you discover?”

“The head of the Liu family, Liu Huacheng, once held office in the capital as Right Inspector of the Court of Justice. Later, he resigned and returned home, succeeding as the Liu family’s patriarch. On his sixtieth birthday, his home was suddenly haunted.”

Paper Zhang’s expression shifted instantly—the strange smile froze, surprise flickered in his eyes, then his gaze turned wary, now watching Zhao Fusheng with a trace of guardedness.

“So my guess was right.” Seeing his reaction, Zhao Fusheng sighed. “Liu Huacheng’s resignation must have had its reasons.”

“I did not expect you to be so clever; it seems the Fan brothers underestimated you,” Paper Zhang mused. “I suppose I can’t complain about being outmaneuvered this time. It’s my own doing!”

After another sigh, he continued, “How did you deduce that the Beggar’s Lane haunting is the same as the one forty years ago?”

This was their first meeting, and Zhao Fusheng didn’t yet grasp the old man’s nature. His question unsettled her—something felt off. Cautious by nature, and trusting her own judgment, she refrained from answering and instead recalled every detail of their encounter.

After they met, Paper Zhang had immediately threatened Zhang Chuan-shi, flaunting his power—only to be intimidated in turn. He then became cooperative, even hinting at secrets of ‘ghost lantern’ crafting. When discussing the past, he seemed prepared, as though he anticipated her motives. Most telling, he had guided her toward linking the two cases as one.

Vigilance rose within her; new doubts clouded her mind about the Beggar’s Lane case.

“I suppose you made the connection because, a month ago, someone came to the Confucian Temple to seek help, invoking a promise made forty years prior and thus linking the two cases as one?” Seeing her silence, Paper Zhang answered his own question, revealing the truth.

“That’s right.” Zhao Fusheng, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded.

After Su Long resolved the old haunting, he must have realized the Liu ghost would one day return—so he and Liu Huacheng must have made an agreement. That would explain why, forty years later, a youth brought word, stirring up memories of the past. This was why, when she heard of haunting in Beggar’s Lane, she merged the two incidents, suspecting the same ghost.

She had been confident in her deduction, but Paper Zhang’s reaction now left her uneasy.

Reviewing her knowledge of the case, Zhao Fusheng found no flaws, so she stilled her nerves and listened as Paper Zhang went on:

“You are correct; forty years ago—my—grandfather and Su Long of the Demon Suppression Division did make a further agreement when handling the haunting.”

He seemed short of breath, his words drawn out. Yet his explanations did nothing to ease Zhao Fusheng’s anxiety, though she remained silent, waiting for him to finish.

“You were right to come to me. In all of Wan’an County, perhaps only I can answer your questions now.” Paper Zhang gave a raspy chuckle; beneath drooping eyelids, his eyes gleamed coldly in the pale light, their intent unfathomable.

“If we are to discuss this ghost case, we must start with the Liu family patriarch, Liu Huacheng.”

His gaze flicked to the dossier in Zhao Fusheng’s grasp, and he curled his lip. “You probably know his background already; beyond what’s in the records, Fan Bisi must have told you much.”

Zhao Fusheng nodded.

His words revealed a familiarity with the Fan brothers and their personalities, confident that it was Fan Bisi who had filled her in.

“I won’t repeat what you already know. Instead, I’ll address what you found unsettling.” He paused, then continued, “This Liu family patriarch was a notable figure, once serving as Right Inspector of the Court of Justice in the capital. Do you know the nature of that office?”

Zhao Fusheng shook her head openly. Her humble origins were no secret to Paper Zhang, who likely knew her background as well as his own; there was no point in concealing her ignorance. Besides, understanding ‘Right Inspector’ could only help her investigation.

“The Right Inspector of the Capital’s Court of Justice was in charge of prisons, trials, and judgments.” Paper Zhang noted her candor, without any trace of embarrassment, and his brow furrowed imperceptibly as he regarded her.

“This Liu family patriarch, during his tenure in the capital, presided over a case in which a criminal was executed—beheaded.”

At this, Zhao Fusheng knew she had found the crucial link. Liu Huacheng’s resignation and return home were likely tied to this case—and perhaps it was this case that led to the haunting on his birthday.

“It was, after all, an old case from decades ago. I don’t know the details, only that after the criminal was executed, a vengeful ghost immediately rose, resulting in a calamity in the capital of at least the Calamity-level or above.”

Paper Zhang’s expression was grave.

Zhao Fusheng’s heart leapt; she recalled that in the forty-year-old dossier, Su Long had left a warning: Without a Commander capable of controlling a Calamity-level ghost or higher, none should set foot in the Liu ancestral hall.

So, even decades ago, the Liu family’s haunting was likely already of Calamity-level severity.