They said that on the night of the murder, Lady Liu was just about to sleep.
The lamps were low, sandalwood burning, her maids dismissed.
She sat there alone, probably thinking about her wedding, when—out of nowhere—her back went cold.
She turned around and—bam!—there was soone standing in the middle of the room.
“A living person?” I blurted.
“Well,” the old man said, rubbing his hands by the tea stall fire, “not exactly living. That thing was taller than any man had the right to be—ten feet easy, almost scraping the rafters. Wore a suit of dark green armor, chest carved with a single character: yu (jade). Held a long blade in one hand. Just stood there, staring at her.”
I swallowed hard. “So… ghost armor cosplay?”
“She was so scared she couldn’t move. Then that thing spoke. Loud as temple bells.”
He straightened up, voice booming to imitate it:
‘I am General Yu of the Liang Dynasty. This house is my place of sacrifice. I have dwelled here for years. Who dares profane my ground?’
I felt every hair on my arms rise. “That’s not haunting, that’s horror DLC.”
“More than that!” the old man slapped his knee. “The poor girl dropped to her knees, begging forgiveness—said she hadn’t known, swore she’d move out by dawn. The ‘General’ stared at her a mont, then said:
‘If you are still here in three days, I will spill your blood where you stand.’
And then—gone.”
The old man exhaled. “Next morning, the maid found her collapsed, pale as chalk. Told her father everything.”
“Did the father believe her?”
He snorted. “Liu the old commander? That man’s spine was carved from regulations. Never bowed to gods or ghosts in his life. Said, ‘n die by steel, not by stories,’ and told her to rest.”
“Let guess,” I said. “Night two?”
He nodded grimly. “The General ca again. Louder, angrier. The girl cried and begged again, said she’d tried to leave but her father wouldn’t allow it. The General shouted,
‘Yesterday’s rcy was ignorance. Today is defiance! Three days ans three days!’
And then the windows rattled like thunder.”
“Next morning she fainted. When she woke, she said one thing:
‘If I don’t leave, I’ll die.’”
By now my palms were sweating. “And the third night?”
“She packed her things. Her father forbade her to go—worried about gossip, bad luck before the marriage. To calm her down, he ordered lights in the hall, guards at the door. She lay down, trembling but silent.”
“And?” I whispered.
“After midnight,” he said, voice low, “a scream. They broke in.
She was lying on the bed. Head split open like a lon.
No weapon. No intruder. No footprints.
The coroner said it wasn’t a cut, nor a fall—it looked like the skull burst from the inside.”
“Burst—?!” I nearly dropped my tea.
He nodded gravely. “Pop. Like that. So now people say the old ‘General Yu’ of Liang, whose bones were never buried, still guards his old ho. A living woman walked in and broke the balance of yin and yang.”
I was shaking my head so hard my brain rattled.
System, you bastard, I thought, you dumped into a haunted murder mystery arc?!
Then the old man leaned closer. “But there’s more.”
“Oh for the love of—more?”
“They say the girl had been… strange, for months before. Sleepwalking. Mumbling old battle cries in a tongue no one knew. Phrases like, ‘Enemies mass at the frontier, flas rise at the gate.’ Sotis she’d cry out, ‘General Yu! Don’t enter the field!’”
I rubbed my temples. “So we’ve got a ghost general, a terrified bride, and a case that exploded soone’s head from inside out. Great. Perfect. Totally normal Tuesday.”
Just as I was trying to piece together this ss—sothing about it tickling a half-rembered dream or a half-written draft I’d once abandoned—
a voice ca from behind .
“Dear Gong. What are you doing here?”
My spine turned into a broom handle.
Only three people ever called Dear Gong.
I turned—and there he was.
Wooden-blue tunic, calm face, sharp eyes.
Mu.
I nearly shouted in sync with him: “What are you doing here?!”
We both froze, awkward mirror images.
He spoke first, frowning. “You’ve heard about the murder?”
“Just now,” I said, still dazed. “Sothing about a ghost general in armor. Real festive.”
“Not that.” His voice dropped. “One of our brothers—Lu—was arrested. The officials think he’s the killer.”
“What?!”
My jaw hit the cobblestones. “How—how unlucky can one guy be?!”
Mu sighed. “We were staying near the commander’s house that night. Lu got drunk, went out to piss, wandered off, and—well—he happened to be right outside when the girl scread.”
“Oh no,” I said slowly. “So they caught him running toward the sound.”
“Exactly. Wrong place, wrong ti, wrong bladder.”
He rubbed his temples. “The officials say it’s ‘ironclad evidence.’ I’ve tried every door in this city—no one will listen.”
I stared at him, my brain whirring.
A ghost general.
A dead girl.
A wrongly accused brother.
And —sohow trapped in the middle of it.
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