Strange Tales of Ghosts and Spirits

The wine cup slipped from Fang Yue’s hand, falling onto the table with a soft thud, shattering and sending wine splashing in all directions.

The melodious sound of the zither paused. The woman playing it stopped her movements, her slender, fair fingers still resting on the instrument. Lifting her exquisitely beautiful face, she gazed at Fang Yue with eyes as clear as autumn water and spoke softly, “What’s wrong, Master Fang? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I…” A trace of confusion flickered in Fang Yue’s eyes as he glanced around.

He found himself in a spacious room, with thick candles burning brightly in the candelabras set at the corners and center, illuminating the space as if it were broad daylight. The air was heavy with the rich scent of rare incense, soothing and calming the mind.

Aside from the beautiful woman at the zither and Fang Yue himself, there were six or seven others in the room, all dressed in scholar’s attire—wide-sleeved robes with black borders, sashes at their waists from which hung jade pendants and other ornaments.

They were seated on the floor, each with a small rectangular wooden table before them, set with fine wine and several plates of delicacies—clearly enjoying both the music and their drinks.

At this moment, the interruption drew all their gazes toward Fang Yue. Their expressions varied: some annoyed, some surprised, others indifferent.

“It’s nothing, I simply can’t quite hold my liquor,” Fang Yue managed to collect himself, forcing a pale smile. “I apologize for interrupting your playing, Miss Bai. Plea