Chapter 1
Chapter 1
A winter night.
The cold wind whistled, and a chilly rain fell steadily.
Inside Mu Manor in Xiling County, a maid named Chuntao, who had just lost money at cards, was being forced to deliver a meal to the side courtyard. Her resentment was heavier than a ghost’s.
She trudged through the mud, her feet sinking with every step. Despite her caution, she eventually soiled her new shoes.
“What rotten luck!”
After a sharp curse, Chuntao remained unsatisfied. She brazenly kicked open the door to the main room of the side courtyard and shouted, “Dinner’s here!”
When the door swung open, there wasn’t a hint of warmth inside. The south-facing window was half-open, allowing the freezing wind to howl in. The room was practically an ice cellar.
Chuntao couldn’t help but shiver.
She looked around and saw an oil lamp on the verge of flickering out. It barely cast a sliver of light, making the entire room feel eerie and spectral.
It was as if… there wasn’t a single breath of life left in the place.
“Miss Xia, it’s time to eat…”
Sensing something was wrong, Chuntao’s arrogance vanished, and her voice softened.
But the only response she received was the sound of the wind.
Could something have happened?
At that thought, panic seized Chuntao. Forgetting her fear, she hurried to the bedside and yanked back the tattered gauze curtains.
However, what met her eyes was a corpse that had long since gone cold and stiff.
***
Three days later.
Twilight deepened as a heavy snow loomed.
At the West Street Entrance, at a wonton stall, Aunt Zhang looked at the sky and poured the last portion of wontons into the pot.
As the water bubbled, a thick mist of steam rose into the air.
Suddenly, a thin figure appeared silently in front of the stall.
Aunt Zhang was startled, but being good-natured, she smiled and said, “Oh, young lady, you walk without making a sound!”
She shook her slotted spoon and greeted her, “You’ve come at just the right time. This is the last bowl of wontons. Any later and there wouldn’t be any left.”
In the twilight, the figure stepped closer. She was a young woman of about sixteen or seventeen with delicate features.
Facing the kind stall owner, the girl remained impassive. Her eyes were sharp and clear, but the depths of her gaze seemed steeped in frost, frighteningly cold.
When she didn’t respond, Aunt Zhang grew suspicious. Looking closer, she was shocked again.
It was the dead of winter, yet the girl was wearing only a single thin layer of clothing. Her equally thin trousers and shoes were covered in mud, as if she had just been through an ordeal.
As Aunt Zhang hesitated, the girl spoke.
“I have no money. Could you give me a sip of hot broth?”
She spoke bluntly, her voice as cold as her expression, without a hint of a beggar’s supplication.
Aunt Zhang, who was accustomed to doing good deeds, didn’t mind. She smiled and said, “Never mind the money. Here, take this bowl of wontons.”
As she spoke, the steaming wontons were lifted from the pot.
However, the girl remained still in front of the stall, her gaze sweeping the surroundings as if in deep thought.
“Come in and sit down to eat. It’s warmer in here.”
Seeing this, Aunt Zhang hurried to invite her in, specifically placing the bowl and chopsticks on the table nearest the stove.
A street stall was a small business with thin margins. To save costs, she had only built a crude straw shack to block the wind from all sides.
The girl hesitated for a moment before stepping into the shack. She didn’t sit down; instead, her cold eyes fixed on a corner, as if she were examining something.
Aunt Zhang immediately followed her gaze, unable to fathom what the girl was thinking.
But at that moment, the girl spoke again.
“Has someone in your family been ill lately?”
Aunt Zhang’s heart skipped a beat. She asked in disbelief, “You… how did you know?”
The girl suddenly looked up. In the light, a faint red birthmark-a beauty mark-could be seen tucked at the outer corner of her left eye, looking like faded cinnabar.
She didn’t explain herself, remaining calm and composed. “You only need to tell me: yes or no.”
Being stared at like that, Aunt Zhang felt an unexplainable chill run down her spine.
An indescribable sense of pressure instantly enveloped her entire body.
Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Yes, I… my poor daughter has been ill for over half a month. We’ve called for physicians and she’s taken so much medicine, but she isn’t getting any better. I don’t even know if she’ll…”
Before she could finish, the girl picked up the bowl of wontons from the table and walked toward a corner of the stall.
Aunt Zhang watched in a daze, the tears that had just reached her eyes forced back by her confusion.
She watched as the girl slowly crouched down, placed the bowl and chopsticks on the ground, and coldly uttered a few words.
“Eat up, then move on.”
This eerie behavior turned Aunt Zhang’s lingering doubts into sheer terror.
The corner was completely empty. Was she… talking to a ghost?!
A silence fell over them. Aunt Zhang froze in place, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Just then, a sinister gust of wind swept through, knocking a pair of chopsticks off a nearby table. They hit the ground with a sharp clatter.
Aunt Zhang could no longer suppress her fear and let out a startled cry.
“G-Girl!”
In the corner, the young girl remained perfectly composed. Her delicate, pretty face hadn’t betrayed a hint of emotion from start to finish.
She picked up the bowl and chopsticks again, not even looking up. “He says thank you for the wontons.”
Aunt Zhang had no idea who this “he” was, her heart still racing with dread. “Girl, what on earth are you talking about?”
“A child. He died nearby about a month ago.”
Those few words made Aunt Zhang’s skin crawl instantly.
About half a year ago, a young beggar had started loitering outside her stall every evening. He looked to be about the same age as her daughter-a young boy.
Aunt Zhang was a kind-hearted woman; whenever she was about to close up for the night, she would cook a bowl of wontons and have her daughter quietly take them to him.
This continued for several months until the little beggar suddenly fell ill, and his appearances grew less frequent.
It wasn’t until recently that someone had found his body in the back alley.
Thinking of this, Aunt Zhang’s heart filled with a complex mix of emotions. She couldn’t help but ask, “Are you saying my daughter’s illness is related to this?”
The young girl sat back down at the table. She didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to eat the wontons in the bowl with slow, deliberate movements.
The hand holding her chopsticks was slender and fair, like that of a noble lady raised in luxury. One could only wonder what she had endured to end up in such a state.
There were twelve wontons in total. She chewed each one thoroughly and swallowed slowly. Finally, she even drank the hot broth until the bowl was empty.
She didn’t seem to mind at all that this bowl of wontons had just served as an offering to send off a lingering soul.
“When people die with unresolved wishes, their souls linger in the world of the living. Over time, this forms resentment.”
“Your daughter is young. She was struck by that resentment, so it was inevitable she would fall ill.”
“She will be fine now.”
The girl lightly wiped the corner of her mouth as she offered the explanation. Her expression and tone remained cold and detached.
If these words had come from anyone else, Aunt Zhang wouldn’t have believed a single syllable.
But coming from this person…
Night had quietly fallen. The bright moon began its ascent, casting a clear light across the ground.
A thin dusting of snow drifted onto the eaves, followed quickly by a heavy snowfall that fluttered through the air like tufts of cotton.
The girl glanced up at the sky and suddenly stood, walking straight out of the stall.
Seeing this, Aunt Zhang hurried to grab a nearby straw raincoat and held it out.
“Girl, it’s snowing. Put this on to ward off the chill.”
The girl paused and looked back at her briefly. “Thank you, but one bowl of wontons was payment enough.”
With that, she ignored the biting wind and snow, heading toward the end of West Street in her thin, solitary layer of clothing.
***
Deep within West Street, before the gates of Mu Manor.
The gatekeeper was startled by a series of short, sharp knocks. He approached the gate begrudgingly and called out, “Who’s out there?”
A figure stood before the gate amidst the wind and snow, staring coldly at the bronze rings on the door. After a moment, she spoke three words.
“Xia Ximo.”