IBGSW Chapter 118
Somehow Familiar
Zheng He had caught Zhao Fusheng's mutter and asked with a smile:
"What's this about ten years and five years, my lord...?"
He seemed not to have heard clearly. But when Zhao Fusheng's gaze fell on him, she saw that in the glow of the big red lanterns all around, the ghost spots on his face had spread, and the hand resting across his chest was trembling as if in a cramp.
She grinned.
"Why the act?"
"..."
The smile on Zheng He's face faded, and his expression turned serious.
"Do you mean the Red Spring Opera Troupe's leading ladies weren't poached by rivals, my lord?"
"Who said they were poached?" Zhao Fusheng asked curiously.
"Liu Chunquan did," Zheng He said.
He clenched his teeth a little.
"Liu Chunquan said that ten years ago he saw with his own eyes someone drive up in a carriage and take his daughter away."
Good grief!
Zhao Fusheng gave a start and glanced sideways at Zheng He. I thought at first it was my saying his name that got him recorded by the Ghost Carriage. But it looks like even if I hadn't said it, he's heard of the Ghost Carriage, so he's already marked and sooner or later it will take him.
"Why are you looking at me like that, my lord?"
Zheng He, a little uncomfortable, wiped a hand over his face.
"Is something wrong?"
"Are you afraid of dying?" Zhao Fusheng asked.
"Who isn't?" Zheng He frowned. Zhao Fusheng sighed:
"Then never mind."
She was afraid of scaring him to death.
"..." Zheng He, left hanging mid-sentence, was itching to know, but didn't dare lose his temper with her.
Zhao Fusheng didn't care what he was thinking. She turned her attention back to the Red Spring Opera Troupe.
What on earth was wrong with this troupe, to have trouble twice running?
She had seen the name "Liu Honghong" in the ghost register, and Zheng He's words confirmed that the Sai Bailing of those days had been taken by the Ghost Carriage.
The Ghost Carriage had taken Liu Honghong ten years ago. What had happened to Bailing five years ago?
Was this troupe losing a leading lady every five years a ghost calamity that struck on schedule, as she suspected, or a strange coincidence?
"Red Spring Opera Troupe..."
"Liu Honghong..."
She said the two names over, then suddenly asked Zheng He: "So Liuchun Society changed its name because Sai Bailing's real name was Liu Honghong, combined with the quan, "spring," in Liu Chunquan's name, right?"
For some reason, since she'd asked if he feared death, whenever Zheng He brought up anything to do with the Red Spring Opera Troupe, a chill ran down his back. It was as though something unseen was threatening him in the dark, and it made him uneasy.
"...Right."
He didn't want to answer, but Zhao Fusheng's gaze was like lightning, and against his own will his head bobbed.
"What was the name of the Bailing that Liu Chunquan found afterward to replace Liu Honghong?" Zhao Fusheng asked again.
"I don't remember her original name. But once in the troupe they usually take the master's surname and become Liu. The Bailing was called Liu Hongru."
Zheng He, truly a lover of opera, even knew the old story from five years back.
"Mm." Zhao Fusheng thought for a moment, then said:
"If the first Bailing was Liu Honghong and the second was Liu Hongru, how did the third, Little Bailing, end up called Liu Huangyu?"
Zheng He said:
"Liu Chunquan lost two leading ladies in a row, and decided the character hong, 'red,' was bad luck. So he changed it to huang, 'yellow.'"
"By that logic, wouldn't the troupe have to change its name too?" Zhao Fusheng said with a laugh.
"The Red Spring Opera Troupe? The Yellow Springs Opera Troupe?1"
The moment the words left her mouth, she froze.
At first Zheng He chuckled along, but at "Yellow Springs Opera Troupe" he went cold all over for some reason, stiffened on the spot, and didn't dare reply.
"..."
"..."
They were silent for a long while. Then Zheng He broke it:
"I'd guess the troupe's stage is already going up. Would you like to take a look, my lord?"
After tonight's conversation, he had a dim feeling that this troupe was bad luck. He had meant to keep a famous troupe like this in Baozhi to keep him company on the last stretch of his life's journey. But after what Zhao Fusheng had said, he felt that he might get dragged into trouble by the troupe before his own ghost even revived on him. He'd have to find a chance to send them away early.
"Let's go and look," Zhao Fusheng said.
The two entered the cabin, and sure enough, the troupe was in a flurry of preparation.
When they saw Zheng He come in, someone hurried to call for the troupe master.
Before long, a man of about fifty strode over.
He wore a green robe and black cloth shoes, with white socks wrapping his trouser legs, which made him look quite neat.
"Lord Zheng is here."
The moment he appeared, he put his palms together and greeted Zheng He.
Zheng He tilted his head toward Zhao Fusheng and said quietly:
"This is the master of the Red Spring Opera Troupe, Liu Chunquan." Then he added:
"He's the one who told me back then about Sai Bailing being taken away."
Bringing up Sai Bailing's disappearance again, he felt vaguely uneasy.
Zhao Fusheng nodded and looked at Liu Chunquan. Zheng He went on:
"This is Lord Zhao of Wan'an County. She'd like to meet Little Bailing. Go and call her over."
"Yes, yes, yes."
Seeing that Zheng He seemed to defer to Zhao Fusheng in everything, watching her face, and remembering the pair of distinguished guests from Wan'an County he had waited on last night, and how he'd learned that a great personage had come from Wan'an before whom even the famous Deputy Commander Zheng had to bow, Liu Chunquan guessed at once that Zhao Fusheng must be the great personage everyone talked about.
He didn't dare be remiss. He waved a hand at once:
"Hey, you there—"
With everyone busy preparing for tonight's victory banquet, scrambling for costumes and jewelry, and the troupe having rushed over at short notice, the backstage in the cabin was crowded with the Red Spring Opera Troupe's belongings, which made it rather messy.
Members of the troupe hurried about in their costumes.
You could tell that although the troupe was famous, its division of labor wasn't clear.
Zhao Fusheng knew nothing about opera roles, but she could see these people did odd jobs as well as singing.
At Liu Chunquan's wave, a passerby was caught.
The boy was around seventeen or eighteen, fair-skinned, with a small green cap on his head.
Perhaps because Liu Chunquan had pulled him back in a hurry, his cap tilted as he turned, and he reached up to straighten it.
In the yellow glow of the lantern hanging in the cabin, Zhao Fusheng felt for some reason that the scene was a little familiar, though she couldn't think where she'd seen it.
"You..."
She hadn't been reborn long, and apart from handling ghost cases she'd rarely left the Wan'an Demon-Suppression Bureau.
By rights, she'd only heard the Red Spring Opera Troupe's name for the first time from Zheng He after arriving in Baozhi, let alone met any of its people.
She was certain she had never seen this youth. But she was careful and thorough, and since the sense of familiarity was there, she simply asked:
"Have we met somewhere before?"
At her words, Zheng He whipped his head around and stared at her in shock, and after a moment wore an expression that said he hardly knew what to make of her.
"..."
The boy, caught, froze at the sight of this "great personage."
Her question bewildered him. At a loss, he looked to Liu Chunquan, who was beaming so hard his eyes had vanished. Seeing the boy standing there dumbly, he gave him a hard tug:
"Lord Zhao's asking you something. What are you standing there for?"
"My lord..."
The boy called out on instinct. Zhao Fusheng stared at him, running again and again through her memories of the people she'd met on her travels, unwilling to miss any detail.
The Beggar Ghost, Goutou Village, the Ghost Carriage, even everything she'd seen and heard since reaching Baozhi—
"I feel I know you from somewhere," she said.
"The green cap, these clothes..."
She sized up his build from head to toe.
Liu Chunquan had a good eye. The boy was slender; though he was young and his shoulders and waist were slight, his frame was open and easy, unlike the many undernourished men one saw.
He wore a short green jacket, dark blue trousers tucked into white socks, and black cloth shoes.
The getup looked like a houseboy's.
"These clothes—"
"They're for the part he'll play on stage later. This kid—" Seeing that Zhao Fusheng cared about the boy, Liu Chunquan changed his tone quickly:
"He's playing a servant who brings news."
"A servant..."
Zhao Fusheng nodded. She understood where the familiarity came from.
The boy's servant costume must have reminded her, for a moment, of a particular scene.
"To answer you, my lord, I think, I think I haven't met you."
He was nervous.
Once she worked out that the sense of familiarity probably came from the costume, she nodded and let him be, asking instead:
"What's your name?"
Zheng He gave a start, and understanding flashed in his eyes.
"My name is Liu Changsheng," the boy answered respectfully.
Zheng He quickly said:
"My lord, I'd say this kid—this Liu Changsheng—is fated to you."
"Even the name suits. You're Fusheng, and he's Changsheng.2"
"All right, enough of that."
Zhao Fusheng waved a hand. Liu Chunquan stole a glance at her and Zheng He, then turned back and instructed Liu Changsheng:
"Changsheng, go and call Huangyu. Tell her Lord Zhao wants to see her."
"Yes."
He cupped his hands and sneaked another look at Zhao Fusheng.
But Lord Zhao was frowning, deep in thought about something, and wasn't looking at him.
He steadied himself and hurried out of the cabin, lifted a corner of the curtain and went into the back room. Before long a girl with a wig pinned on and her makeup half done came out with small steps.
The Red Spring Opera Troupe did have some resources.
The girl's head was studded with pearls and jade. Even someone like Zhao Fusheng who knew nothing about stage costumes could tell her outfit was worth a fortune.
She was poised and composed. She curtsied to everyone and called out:
"Lord Zheng, Lord Zhao, Father."
Her voice was clear and sweet, with a graceful lilt as she addressed them. A fine voice.
Pride showed on Liu Chunquan's face, but he dared not be careless in front of Zheng He and quickly put it away, then said respectfully to Zhao Fusheng:
"My lord, this is my daughter, Liu Huangyu."
"Mm." Zhao Fusheng studied Liu Huangyu for a long moment.
She was an ordinary person and carried no baleful aura.
The girl wore thick powder and rouge, so there was no telling her complexion, but her eyes were clear, black and white distinct, nothing like the dazed, uneasy look of someone marked by a ghost.
Was the Red Spring Opera Troupe's five-year cycle of leading ladies disappearing mysteriously just a coincidence after all?
Zhao Fusheng's look made Liu Huangyu uneasy. She kept glancing at Liu Chunquan, but on an occasion like this she didn't dare speak up.
Zhao Fusheng could tell she was quite afraid and said:
"Very good indeed. Go on and get back to work. I have a few questions for your father."
"Yes."
The girl, called over for no reason, had shown her face and been sent back. But she'd traveled with the troupe for years, had seen strange customers of every sort, quirks of every kind, so she nodded and withdrew to the inner room.
"Questions for me?"
A trace of puzzlement crossed Liu Chunquan's face.
But he adjusted quickly and smiled:
"Ask away, my lord."
Zhao Fusheng looked around the cabin. There were plenty of other people about, everyone hurrying back and forth with things in hand, but each, passing, could not help sneaking a glance in this direction.
She wanted to ask Liu Chunquan about the Ghost Carriage, and anyone who heard or discussed the case might be dragged into it and marked by the ghost.
She beckoned:
"Too many eyes and ears here for talk. Come out with me."
Hearing that, Liu Chunquan grew uneasy and instinctively looked up at Zheng He.
Alarm bells were ringing in Zheng He's mind.
In fact, beyond being experienced with ghost cases, because of his fear of death he had an uncanny sense of danger.
Hearing that Zhao Fusheng wanted to speak with Liu Chunquan, his mind spun quickly.
He thought about Zhao Fusheng's background.
From what he'd pried out of the Fan brothers, Zhao Fusheng had been nothing but a native-born village girl from the backcountry of Wan'an County, who by happenstance entered the Wan'an Demon-Suppression Bureau, and in the end controlled a ghost and became a commanding officer.
A self-taught commanding officer like her, not even appointed by the court, shouldn't have survived a ghost case. Yet unexpectedly she'd handled one anyway and quickly taken control of the bureau.
The Fan brothers had even hinted that apart from the ghost fog still covering it, Wan'an County was now no less safe than Baozhi. At the time Zheng He thought the two little order envoys were bragging without knowing how big the sky was. But having watched Zhao Fusheng handle a ghost case with his own eyes tonight, he now believed eight-tenths of what they'd said.
And with her origins, she was bound to have a narrow outlook and limited experience.
Yet over these two days with her, Zheng He had found this Lord Zhao very different from ordinary people.
She spoke gently, knew when to advance and when to hold back, and acted with method.
Tonight's ghost case had been perilous in the extreme. Dealing with ghosts, one careless step meant death.
But Zheng He suspected she'd had her countermeasures from the start.
From the Fan brothers digging up the door planks, to the two ghosts coming, retrieving their planks and piecing themselves whole, it had all seemed to follow her calculations.
Though Zheng He hadn't worked out how she'd closed the case, the result was just as she'd predicted, which showed how unfathomable Lord Zhao was.
Most important of all, given her origins, she shouldn't have known the Red Spring Opera Troupe. Last night, when Zheng He mentioned it, she'd seemed unfamiliar with it. Yet tonight, when they were talking about the troupe and its past, she had named the leading lady who disappeared suddenly ten years ago!
