Chapter 395
Zhao Ger had no idea what was going on, but he knew something was wrong. He was just totaling the accounts and planning to send someone to investigate when he saw a customer buying half a roast duck and walking out of the shop. The man hadn't even reached the street when a burly man rushed over and grabbed him.
"Lao Xu, you've got some nerve! You still dare come to this shop for meat?"
"What's wrong? Why wouldn't I dare?"
"You don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Ah, this shop's got something unclean attached to it."
"Huh? That can't be, right?"
"Really, Lao Cheng saw it with his own eyes."
The shop Xie Xiaoyu had chosen back then was on West Street—a bustling, lively area with many food stalls. There was even a brothel at the end of West Street, and at night, the night watchman and brothel patrons would occasionally pass by.
A few nights ago, some people saw a white-robed man with disheveled hair floating back and forth in front of the braised meat shop. The night watchman and several men who'd been drinking at the brothel and were heading home all saw it. They were scared out of their wits on the spot—howling and running for their lives.
The next day, the story spread.
The common people said, no way! They must have seen wrong.
Seen wrong? The night watchman was still lying unconscious in the medical hall!
Then the second night, someone else saw it too.
After that, word got around that the shop was haunted. Some believed it, some didn't, but in any case, there were plenty of timid, fearful people who no longer dared come to the shop.
Zhao Ger was vexed and anxious. He went home and rummaged through his boxes, looking for the peachwood sword he'd had Lin Xiaoxia carve back then.
When Fang Zichen heard him ordering someone to buy black dog blood, he asked what was going on.
Zhao Ger said: "There's a ghost haunting the shop. I'm going to catch it."
Speaking of ghosts now, Zhao Ger wasn't afraid in the least. Remembering the time he'd pinned down a "ghost" and beaten it, he even felt a faint thrill and wanted to do it again.
"You say there's a ghost?" Fang Zichen asked. "Did someone see it with their own eyes?"
Zhao Ger nodded: "Mm. Lao Huang and Lao Qian both saw it."
Lao Huang was the night watchman, and Lao Qian was a regular at the brothel—he loved going there to drink and listen to music, often not coming home until late at night.
Fang Zichen furrowed his brows: "What exactly did they say? Does the ghost only wander around in front of our shop?"
Zhao Ger answered: "Mm!"
Fang Zichen laughed immediately: "Interesting."
"How can you still laugh?" Zhao Ger was unhappy. "Lately, a lot of customers are too scared to come buy our roast duck."
Fang Zichen saw him pouting with both cheeks puffed out like he had eggs in his mouth and couldn't resist reaching out to pinch them: "There's no such thing as ghosts. I'd guess someone's jealous of our business and cooked this up on purpose."
Zhao Ger grabbed his wandering hand and asked uncertainly: "Really? How do you know there are no ghosts in the world?"
"I just know," Fang Zichen said with certainty. "So many people die every year. If ghosts were real, wouldn't they be all over the streets? With all those ghosts, have you ever seen even one?"
Zhao Ger: "..."
That was true. Back when he guarded the funeral hall, he'd only ever seen fake ghosts—never a real one. Could it be...
"It's someone in disguise," Fang Zichen said. Zhao Ger thought of all the meat that had gone bad, and his heart ached: "Husband, you catch him and give him a good beating."
Fang Zichen shook his head: "This isn't a serious crime. If I really arrested him, at most I could lock him up for two days and make him pay us a little compensation. He wouldn't get a severe punishment, and he'd probably pull some other trick next time."
Zhao Ger had no ideas and looked at Fang Zichen, seeking help: "Then what do we do?"
Fang Zichen stroked his chin, thought for a moment, then leaned close to Zhao Ger.
The warm, moist breath sprayed against his ear. The faint scent of soapberry from Fang Zichen's body drifted into his nose and lungs, seeping through his whole being. His skin was very fine; the dim yellow lamplight fell across his face, casting a faint shadow along the side of his nose, making him look somewhat gentle.
Zhao Ger couldn't stand it when Fang Zichen looked like this.
If you want to talk, just talk—why do you have to get so close?
What if I lose control in broad daylight?
Zhao Ger's body went soft, and his increasingly fair cheeks flushed a peachy pink.
Fang Zichen whispered in his ear: "Here's what we do, we'll..."
Zhao Ger's eyes lit up and he laughed. He turned his head and poked Fang Zichen in the belly, praising him: "I knew it—you've got the most tricks, a belly full of mischief!"
Fang Zichen: "..."
Guaizai came pattering in from the doorway. He'd just eaten something in the kitchen and his mouth was still greasy: "Father, Daddy, what are you two doing?"
Fang Zichen: "We're going to do something big tonight. You in?"
"Something big?" Guaizai's eyes sparkled. "Of course Guaizai's in! Guaizai loves doing big things best. Without Guaizai, Father and Daddy definitely can't do it alone."
Fang Zichen gave him a smack on the head.
---
Old Master Yu had figured out the schedule and route Lao Qian took to the brothel—it was pretty much set in stone. He'd head over in the evening and always step out right at Youshi (5-7 PM), never staying the night.
A few days ago, on his way home, Lao Qian had accidentally run into something unclean (ghost) and got so scared he was laid up in bed for days. Today, he'd barely recovered when he started craving the osmanthus wine at the brothel again.
Old Master Yu got wind that Lao Qian was heading out tonight, So he quickly changed his clothes and headed straight for Zhao Ger's shop.
These days, everyone believed in ghosts and spirits. Ordinary people barely stepped out after dusk, and with the city's night curfew, shops were closed after dark anyway—nothing worth seeing.
Old Master Yu didn't do much. He just let his hair down loose, waited until nightfall, and paced back and forth in front of the roast duck shop.
Playing ghost didn't take much skill.
Honestly, he could've just sent one of his underlings to do it. But Old Master Yu had picked up a couple of tricks back in the day—the way he moved made him look like he was floating.
Without some real skill, scaring people just wasn't possible.
---
Tonight the moon was dim, a few wisps of cloud veiling its light, leaving the sky slightly murky. Knowing Lao Qian was out again, Old Master Yu stationed himself at the roast duck shop entrance to wait.
He wasn't exactly trying to scare Old Man Qian. However, not many people had been coming down West Street lately, and some people in the city still didn't believe the rumors—they kept coming to the roast duck shop for food. Old Master Yu wanted Lao Qian to see a ghost again and really seal the deal.
The quickest way from the Qian house to the brothel was down West Street. Taking the other way wouldn't work—with the night curfew, certain streets were off-limits.
So there he was, waiting.
A cool breeze swept through the street, seeming to carry something along with it.
Old Master Yu glanced over. Looking closer, he saw they were actually sheets of spirit money.
In the dead of night—where did spirit money come from?
And nobody nearby had been holding a funeral lately!
Cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead. He'd barely swallowed hard when he heard a thump-thump-thump sound suddenly coming from the dark alley beside him.
In the quiet, pitch-black night, the sound was especially clear—like a hard wooden stick striking the ground, rhythmic, urgent, heavy, and eerie.
Old Master Yu felt as if each knock landed right on his heart—every beat made him jump.
Followed by a bout of harsh coughing, Old Master Yu saw an old man with disheveled, graying hair, leaning on a cane with a hunched back, shuffling out from a small alley.
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