Jiang Family’s Private Villa 2

As Tao Wangsan stepped out of the side chamber, the door was promptly closed behind him. The exterior was plastered with talisman papers, and above the side room hung an eight-sided mirror.

That night, at the Jiang family’s retreat, twelve beautiful maidens entertained themselves, singing and dancing in the bright glow of lanterns. Suddenly, all twelve sensed something amiss and ceased their merriment. The lights vanished, and the grand plaque in the hall, once proclaiming prosperity, crashed to the floor, now shrouded in cobwebs. The vibrant sign outside, bearing auspicious words, lost its luster and faded into gloom.

A young man appeared, embracing a woman and carrying a lantern. The woman’s face radiated happiness—it was Chunhua, and the young man was Young Master Zhang, son of Zhang, the wealthy squire.

“Why did we come here?” Chunhua asked, a tremor of fear in her voice.

“You always said you liked quiet places,” Young Master Zhang replied, smiling as he held Chunhua close.

“It’s so cold here,” Chunhua whispered, shivering.

“Don’t worry, with me holding you tonight, you won’t feel cold at all,” Zhang assured her with a gentle smile.

“I won’t argue with you anymore,” Chunhua said, slipping from Zhang’s embrace to scan her surroundings. “I’m still scared,” she admitted, nestling back into his arms.

“What’s there to fear? There’s no one here,” Zhang comforted her.

“I’m not afraid of people... I mean...” Chunhua’s unease lingered.

“With me here, you needn’t fear even ghosts. Let’s go inside and sit for a while,” Zhang coaxed, his words sweet and reassuring.

Chunhua nodded, and Zhang led her into the retreat’s rear courtyard. As they entered, the flames on the nearby stones abruptly extinguished.

“It’s just an old, dilapidated house. What’s to fear? No ghosts here,” Zhang declared, holding Chunhua close, unaware of a fleeting white shadow that had just flashed past.

“Qiu Rong, why are we avoiding them?” one of the beautiful maidens asked.

“Humans and ghosts walk different paths. We mustn’t get too close. If we absorb their human aura, we’ll reveal ourselves and meet disaster,” Qiu Rong warned.

“Chunhua, sit here,” Zhang said, guiding her to a seat and caressing her hand.

“Zhang, I have something to tell you,” Chunhua said shyly.

“Let me kiss you first,” Zhang said, embracing her.

“Listen to me first,” Chunhua protested, blocking his chin with her hand.

“One kiss won’t hurt,” Zhang insisted, rising and pinning Chunhua to the seat, showering her with kisses.

Qiu Rong and the other eleven ghost maidens watched from the sidelines.

“Another shameless man,” Qiu Rong muttered, witnessing the scene.

“Zhang, I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening.”

“Zhang, I carry your child now.”

Chunhua’s words instantly soured Zhang’s mood, and he stopped his advances.

“Is that true?” Zhang asked, his face conflicted.

“Aren’t you happy?” Chunhua, oblivious to the sudden change, asked.

“Of course I’m happy,” Zhang forced a smile.

“It’s all a lie. How can you trust this wicked man?” Qiu Rong said indignantly.

“When will you ransom me from Master Jiang and marry me?” Chunhua asked, embracing Zhang from behind.

“I will, I promise,” Zhang replied, his face uncertain, not meeting her gaze—for he had only intended to amuse himself.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Shameless man, intending to seduce and abandon her,” Qiu Rong said, slapping Zhang.

Zhang clutched his left cheek, startled, his eyes darting around in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Chunhua asked, unaware of what had happened.

“It’s nothing. I think we should leave,” Zhang said, his fear mounting.

“Why?”

“No reason. I just think the rear garden is better,” Zhang decided, gripping Chunhua’s hand and heading toward the garden. Qiu Rong and the other ghost maidens followed.

“Zhang, I’m still scared,” Chunhua said, seeing a well and clinging to Zhang’s arm.

“No need to fear. With me by your side, you’ll be safe,” Zhang said, his tone dark.

“When will you—” Chunhua began, but Zhang interrupted.

“Chunhua, do you really want to be my wife?”

“You know how I feel about you, don’t you?”

“Will you do something for me?”

“For you, I’ll do anything,” Chunhua replied.

“Really?” Zhang turned, cupping Chunhua’s face.

“Qiu Rong, he’s planning to kill a woman,” one of the ghost maidens whispered.

“I’ve sensed it. This shameless man,” Qiu Rong seethed.

Suddenly, Zhang’s hands gripped Chunhua’s throat.

“Ah!” Chunhua cried out in pain.

“You want to marry me? Stay in the next life, then,” Zhang snarled, strangling her.

Then, Zhang saw Qiu Rong’s beautiful face appear beside Chunhua. Terrified, he let go and staggered back, only to face a blood-soaked woman. Panicked, he tried to run, but a hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him.

In his terror, Zhang fell into the well.

Qiu Rong and the eleven ghost maidens gathered at the well’s edge, peering down.

“Zhang!” Chunhua ran to the well, calling after him.

“Ghosts! Help!” Chunhua looked around, frantic, and fled the retreat.

“Why are there so many talismans? Are there really ghosts?” Tao Wangsan, still unsettled, remarked.

Just then, a servant invited Li Xintian and his companions to the main hall.

“Master Li, Master Tao, Miss Hu, please have tea,” the servant said, placing tea on the table. Li Xintian and Hu Qiuyan thanked him.

“Uncle Jiang,” Tao Wangsan called out, raising his cup before taking a sip.

“Master, the young lady has changed into new clothes,” a maid reported.

Jiang Ziyun waved her off, indicating he understood.

“Tao,” a splendidly dressed woman appeared, addressing Tao Wangsan.

“Qianqian, you—” Tao Wangsan was stunned, setting his tea aside.

“Father, I’ve told you before. As long as I dress as a man, no one will suspect,” Jiang Qianqian replied, ignoring Tao.

“So you’ve been dressing as a man to attend the academy?” Tao Wangsan said, though he’d long suspected it; he simply hadn’t seen Jiang Qianqian in women’s attire.

“That’s right. From now on, you can’t call me your younger brother. Call me Qianqian,” Jiang Qianqian said proudly.

“Miss Qianqian, my respects,” Tao Wangsan said, bowing.

“It’s Qianqian!” Jiang Qianqian stamped her foot, a hint of coquettishness in her voice.

“Uncle, to have such a talented daughter is truly the Jiang family’s blessing,” Tao Wangsan said, sounding somewhat sycophantic.

“You’re only a guest here. There’s no need for flattery,” Jiang Ziyun replied, not even glancing at Tao, instead blowing on his tea and sipping it once cooled.

“I merely speak the truth,” Tao Wangsan said, sensing the awkwardness.

“Very well, I’ll be honest too. Our Jiang family is a prestigious clan here, and reputation is paramount.”

“That’s why I will never allow my daughter to bring strange men home as guests,” Jiang Ziyun set his tea down.

“Father, we’re not—” Jiang Qianqian began, but was cut off.

“Father’s decision is made. As for Master Tao, I’ll make my own arrangements,” Jiang Ziyun said, rising to leave.

“Thank you, Uncle. As long as I have a place to stay, that’s enough,” Tao Wangsan said, bowing.

“Minister Jiang, here’s my visiting card,” Li Xintian presented his card.

“So it’s the famous Li Jieyuan from the capital. Now I remember,” Jiang Ziyun said, inspecting the card.

“I once invited you to our home, yet you come now on your own,” Jiang Ziyun continued. “Are you also without a place to stay?”

He recalled how Li Xintian once declined his invitation to Jiang Manor.

“Of course not. That title is but a hollow name. Before Minister Jiang, how could I claim it? I merely wished to pay my respects, as Minister Jiang is the local landlord—a gesture of courtesy.”

“I didn’t know Jiang Lingjie—no, Jiang Qianqian—was your daughter. It was a misunderstanding. Since I’ve paid my respects, I should take my leave,” Li Xintian said, bowing and turning away. Hu Qiuyan made a face and followed him.

“Master, the local gentry are all waiting in the Jiang family ancestral hall for you to discuss matters,” the steward rushed in.

“Where are we going?” Hu Qiuyan asked Li Xintian as they left Jiang Manor.

“We’ll go to the Jiang family retreat first and see what’s happening,” Li Xintian replied, sensing something was amiss.

At the ancestral hall, the discussion was heated.

“How could our Jiang clan be haunted?”

“Ghosts are the least of our worries.”

“There’s been a death in the manor—what will people say about the Jiang family?”

“And it’s the son of Squire Zhang.”

“Dozens of our kin work for Squire Zhang.”

“If we handle this poorly, dozens of livelihoods are at stake.”

“We should plead with Squire Zhang privately; perhaps there’s hope.”

“But then we’d abandon Ziyun. That’s unacceptable.”

“A tragedy occurred in his home; why should the rest of us bear the blame?”

“You’re right. We must distance ourselves from Ziyun—for everyone’s benefit.”

“Is that... is that really wise?”

“I disagree. Let’s wait for Ziyun to arrive.”

“Here he comes.”

Six portly middle-aged men sat in the ancestral hall, each voicing their opinions in turn.