IBGSW Chapter 119
Questions About the Past
Zheng He shivered. He realized something ghostly was behind this.
He himself controlled a ghost and knew well that ghosts have no reason and no memory, running purely on instinct. But as he thought about Zhao Fusheng's past and looked at her now, an outlandish idea surfaced: could the Zhao Fusheng before him be some malignant ghost reincarnated?
The moment the thought arose, he shook his head.
The strength of ghosts was already unequal to that of humans. That ghosts lacked reason and intelligence was heaven and earth's restraint on them, and humanity's only hope. If ghosts really had thoughts and memories on top of a bloodthirsty instinct to kill, where in this world would humans have room to live?
Impossible! Impossible!
He had no idea what had changed in Zhao Fusheng, or why a village girl would call out the name of the Red Spring Opera Troupe's star of ten years ago, but he was sure that a ghost was in it somewhere!
And recalling the odd look on her face on deck when he mentioned Sai Bailing's disappearance, he grew surer still: the reason she knew of Liu Honghong might be that Liu Chunquan was tied to some ghost case.
"..."
All Zheng He wanted now was a peaceful old age and a quiet last few years. He didn't want to get dragged into more trouble.
So when he saw Zhao Fusheng call Liu Chunquan out, and Liu Chunquan turn to look at him—
Zheng He cursed inwardly while a trace of a smile appeared on his face:
"You two talk. I'll go check the kitchen and see if the river fish is ready."
With that, he turned to leave.
But just then Zhao Fusheng's voice rang out:
"Hold on."
Zheng He knew he was in trouble, but he'd been a step too slow.
Her words reached his ears like a demon's voice:
"Zheng He knows about this too. You come along."
"W-what do I know? I don't know anything, my lord, I've been wronged—"
Zheng He loudly protested his innocence. Zhao Fusheng gave him a look, and his wailing stopped on the spot.
Head hanging, he trailed dejectedly behind her. Liu Chunquan's mouth fell open in horror.
The Red Spring Opera Troupe had been in Baozhi for a good while, and Zheng He had called them to sing several big operas, so Liu Chunquan knew very well what kind of man Zheng He was in Baozhi.
The commanding officer of the Baozhi Demon-Suppression Bureau was the undisputed power in those parts, and not good-tempered.
Yet Zhao Fusheng could handle him like this. This Lord Zhao was clearly extraordinary.
Liu Chunquan was good at reading people, and at once resolved to be even more careful and ingratiating with her.
The two followed her out of the cabin onto the deck, found a stretch of rail with nobody near, and after making sure no one dared come close, Zhao Fusheng asked:
"Tell me about your daughter's disappearance ten years ago."
"Ten years ago?"
All the way out, Liu Chunquan had been uneasy, guessing why she'd summoned him.
But the sudden mention of that old business made him lift his head sharply. His face went pale, and then he began to grind his teeth:
"Honghong?"
At the mention of the missing daughter, Liu Chunquan's face twisted a little. There was resentment in it, mixed with a trace of grief.
But it had been a long time, and the grief was pressed down and became anger:
"Why would my lord suddenly bring up that wretch?" he asked, quickly smiling to please her.
"She ran off with a man long ago. As far as I'm concerned, I never had that daughter—"
"Lord Zhao asked you a question. Just answer. Why go on and on?"
Zheng He balled his fist, ready to hit him.
He had a premonition that what Zhao Fusheng was discussing was definitely a ghost case.
By now he deeply regretted keeping the troupe, and worse, letting the troupe wait on Zhao Fusheng.
"Yes, yes, yes."
Berated by him, Liu Chunquan quieted down.
He put away his thoughts, considered, and said:
"This daughter was my only child—"
Though both of the people in front of him were great figures he couldn't afford to offend, remembering the past, it was still hard for him to stay entirely calm:
"I, I was born to a poor family. The year there was a famine at home, my parents sold me to a passing opera troupe for eight copper coins."
For a family, that amount was a drop in the bucket. Mostly his parents wanted to find him a place to go, so that he would have food and clothes and a way to live.
Liu Chunquan got a few words out nervously, then, afraid Zhao Fusheng would find him long-winded, hurriedly explained:
"What I meant to say is, Honghong—"
"It's fine, take your time," Zhao Fusheng soothed him.
"Start from when you were little. The river fish still needs a while to cook anyway."
She suspected the Ghost Carriage had had some contact with Liu Chunquan earlier on. Otherwise, why would this troupe be marked?
If Liu Chunquan was willing to start at the beginning, all the better.
Facing a ghost case, Zhao Fusheng had endless patience and had no intention of scolding him.
Her attitude was unbelievably good.
Liu Chunquan was stunned for a moment, and seemed unused to not being yelled at.
Thinking of that, he turned to look at Zheng He, and saw the Baozhi commanding officer glaring at him viciously as if he wanted to eat him alive.
Ahh, that's more like it.
Liu Chunquan let out a long breath.
"I grew up in the troupe, learning to sing and do stage fighting. The master then, surnamed Liu, had an only daughter about my age—"
Over time, the two of them exchanged glances, and each took a liking to the other.
The old master was getting on in years. Having no son, he had indeed thought about finding a live-in son-in-law for his daughter.
Liu Chunquan had been sold into the troupe as a child and renamed on entering. He was known inside out, good-looking, and the troupe was his home. If the daughter married him, the troupe could be handed to him one day and carry on.
"After we married, we had just one child, Honghong."
Liu Chunquan had watched over this daughter very closely.
"We raised her like a young lady of a great house. Never let a bit of the troupe's dirt touch her."
At the mention of his daughter his eyes grew wet:
"We were afraid the troupe couldn't protect her, so we never played at great households. We just toured the villages, house to house, for small change."
"But the older she grew, the more extraordinary her gift showed."
Her voice, her bearing, were flawless. "Gradually she made a name for herself, and many great families asked for our troupe by name to sing for them."
As the daughter's fame grew, the whole troupe's reputation and income rose with it.
Liu Chunquan felt both panic and joy.
Joy, because they were earning plenty of silver and the troupe had grown prosperous, everyone had enough to eat, and they practiced harder and were more loyal to him.
Panic, because once her name rang out, the more she went in and out of rich households, the likelier she was to run into some powerful bully, and perhaps be taken by him.
"Who'd have thought that before she was ever seized, some damned scoundrel of a rake would hook her. One night, he drove up a carriage in the dark and took her away."
At this point Liu Chunquan stamped his feet twice and wiped away tears:
"My daughter!"
"She must have eloped," he said bitterly.
"After that my wife wept day and night. All these years we've traveled everywhere asking after her, at every stop, but there was never any news."
"A few years ago my wife couldn't hold on any longer and passed away."
His voice caught:
"It was just as well. She'd wept herself blind. She could hardly see anything. She used to have such lovely eyes, so bright. In our troupe, she was the star once..."
Remembering his dead wife, Liu Chunquan's voice faded.
Zhao Fusheng sensed the real grief in him and glanced at the troupe master in surprise.
At first meeting he had struck her as slippery.
To scrape by under a ghost-controller like Zheng He, he had to be capable.
But she hadn't expected such a slippery man to have such tender feelings.
"My lord..."
One moment Liu Chunquan was sorrowful; the next he wiped his face and put on an ingratiating smile:
"To tell you the truth, I was still searching up until a few years ago. I couldn't find her, and only in the last few years have I gradually given up."
"I hope she's doing well..." he said lightly.
She probably isn't, Zhao Fusheng thought, remembering the register on the carriage.
"Why did you suddenly mention the name of my wretched daughter, my lord?"
Liu Chunquan was silent for a long time, but in the end he couldn't hold back his feelings and asked.
As he spoke there was a faint trace of hope in him.
A great personage like Zhao Fusheng suddenly raising his daughter's name: perhaps she had learned where Liu Honghong was.
When his daughter "eloped," he had first been furious and panicked, later sad, then grieved.
After his wife's death that feeling had turned to resentment, and he hated his thoughtless daughter.
But without love there would be no hate.
Beneath the resentment he couldn't hide his worry for her.
Even now that the Red Spring Opera Troupe had made a name and he lived far better than back then, the more money he made, the lonelier he felt.
As he grew older especially, he missed her more than he could suppress.
To avoid being seen through, he never spoke of it. When troupe members mentioned Liu Honghong's name, he scolded them angrily. Over time, "Liu Honghong" became a taboo in the Red Spring Opera Troupe.
Zhao Fusheng didn't answer Liu Chunquan's question. Instead she asked:
"And five years ago, when Liu Hongru disappeared?"
Liu Chunquan was disappointed but answered respectfully:
"Hongru was another one who couldn't be raised to be loyal. She probably ran off too."
He shook his head, but from the corner of his eye saw Zhao Fusheng frown, apparently not quite satisfied with his answer, and hurriedly pulled himself together:
"That day we were singing in the city of Wuli Prefecture for a ministry official. We sang well that day, and the official was pleased. Afterward he sent a hundred taels of silver and asked Hongru to come sit in his courtyard—"
He ground his teeth:
"That wretched girl actually took the money and went with him."
"If she'd just gone, fine, but she never came back, and apart from that hundred, not one coin more!" Liu Chunquan felt aggrieved as he told it.
Raising a lead actress was no easy thing for a troupe. It took a lot of effort and hiring of masters. More than a hundred taels had been spent on Bailing, and then she was simply gone.
But the man was a power in Wuli Prefecture with a great household, not someone to cross, so Liu Chunquan had swallowed the loss:
"Since then, the troupe always avoids Wuli Prefecture. We wouldn't dare go back."
Zhao Fusheng pondered.
"So both of them were fetched away."
She regretted a little that she hadn't used the ghost arm to turn more pages of the register. She might have found Liu Hongru's name on it.
But the ghost arm was too weak, and one touch of the register had cracked its bones...
The ghost arm was useful to her. It seemed that once back in Wan'an County, she'd have to piece it back onto the Beggar Ghost's body soon.
She steadied herself and looked again at Liu Chunquan:
"You don't look young."
"Forty-seven this year—" Liu Chunquan answered quickly.
"Forty-seven?" Zhao Fusheng frowned again.
"The age doesn't fit."
What did that mean?
Zheng He and Liu Chunquan exchanged a puzzled look.
"Have you heard of the ghost case in the Capital fifty or sixty years ago?" Zhao Fusheng asked.
Ah! Zheng He's eyes held the despair of I knew it.
He had known Zhao Fusheng wouldn't ask about "Liu Honghong" for no reason. It had to involve a ghost case.
Zheng He truly couldn't understand: wasn't it good just to stay alive?
Why did this commanding officer from Wan'an stir up trouble every single day?
"Fifty or sixty years ago? A ghost case in the Capital?"
Liu Chunquan looked blank, and turned his head instinctively to look at Zheng He.
Zhao Fusheng looked mild and easy to talk to, but he couldn't follow what she said. Whereas the moody Deputy Commander Zheng was easier to handle. After so long together, Liu Chunquan had learned his temper, and flattering him never went wrong.
"To tell you the truth, my lord, I wasn't even born then. I'm a Changzhou man, from I don't remember which village. I was sold into the troupe at five—"
Terrified his answer would displease her, he said, trembling:
"I, I haven't heard of any ghost case in the Capital."
"What about Zheng He?"
Unexpectedly, Zhao Fusheng wasn't angry. She turned to look at Zheng He.
Under her gaze, Zheng He's scalp prickled.
His first instinct was to shake his head, but before it could move, he saw the warning in her eyes.
She wasn't as polite to him as she was to Liu Chunquan. If he talked nonsense about a ghost case, she might deal with him.
A chill went through Zheng He.
"The Capital is the safest place under heaven—"
For the powerful, the Capital was the best protected place in the world against ghost calamity. It was at the Emperor's feet, and ghost cases didn't normally occur there.
But fifty or sixty years ago...
Slowly Zheng He remembered a ghost case that was still unsolved to this day, and his face turned pale.
"Do you mean the beheading ghost case of those days?"
Zhao Fusheng looked approving:
"Deputy Commander Zheng, you truly are an experienced commanding officer. What a memory."
"..."
Zheng He had no wish to recall any of it and had been forced.
Praised by her, he wasn't the least bit pleased. If anything, he was annoyed.
He hurriedly pushed down the spark of anger.
"B-but what does that have to do with the Liu Honghong disappearance?"
"A little," Zhao Fusheng said. After all her questioning, she was finally getting to the point.
