Chapter 149: When Affection Reaches Its Peak

Zhang Chuanshi sat inside the carriage with his legs pressed tightly together, not even daring to draw a full breath, exchanging anxious glances with Old Man Zhuang sitting opposite him.

Ordinarily, this old man was not only cowardly and afraid of death, but also fond of wealth and averse to labor. Whenever he was asked to do any work, he would always rack his brains for ways to shirk it. Yet now, upon hearing Zhao Fusheng ask him to drive the carriage, a look of genuine joy appeared on his face as if a windfall had fallen from the heavens. Overjoyed, he immediately sprang to his feet.

"I knew Her Honor would take good care of me."

Crouching down, he scrambled out of the carriage in one fluid motion and seated himself firmly on the driver's bench.

Zhao Fusheng followed and climbed into the carriage as well.

At that moment, everyone inside turned to look at her. The interior of the carriage was thick with a faint stench of corpses mixed with the foul, stagnant odor of dead water. The cabin was somewhat damp and stifling, carrying an eerie, unsettling atmosphere reminiscent of a stagnant pond on a midsummer night.

Ever since the Suppressor Headquarters had been put on a proper footing, the carriages within the official residence had been repeatedly modified. Now, the interior could comfortably seat at least ten people. The benches were arranged on both sides, but all those heading to Kuailiang Village this time—including Gou the Fourth—had tacitly crammed onto the right side of the carriage, while Old Man Zhuang sat all alone on the left, looking somewhat terrified and uneasy.

Although no one spoke, their exclusion of him was palpable, and their gazes carried undisguised dread.

Under such an atmosphere, Old Man Zhuang's complexion appeared increasingly wretched. The skin beneath his eyelids and his lips were gradually turning a bruised, bluish-black, and the whites of his eyes were beginning to grow cloudy, rendering his appearance all the more terrifying.

Wu Shaochun, Fan Wujiu, and Gou the Fourth instinctively huddled together in a row, shivering and not daring to draw even a single heavy breath.

...

The moment Zhao Fusheng boarded, everyone simultaneously turned their heads to stare at her.

Wu Shaochun blinked at her urgently, signaling for her to sit on their side of the carriage. Fan Wujiu remained silent, while Gou the Fourth lowered his head, keeping his eyes fixed on his nose and his nose fixed on his heart, playing dead.

Old Man Zhuang's condition was growing steadily worse. Corpse spots had already begun to surface on his face; anyone could tell at a single glance that he was no different from a dead body. His pupils were veiled by a greasy, grayish-white film, giving his eyes a spoiled, decayed appearance. Being stared at by him was enough to make one's heart skip a beat with terror.

At that moment, Old Man Zhuang was panic-stricken and fearful. Following his physical death, he had lost the sensation of pain and seemed unable to smell the stench of decomposition emanating from his own body, yet he could clearly sense the rejection and dread displayed toward him by Gou the Fourth, Fan Wujiu, and the others. This left him profoundly uneasy.

Seeing Zhao Fusheng board the carriage, he too struggled to roll his eyes, fixing his gaze upon her with an expression that mingled anticipation, nervousness, and a faint, latent viciousness.

The two sides remained in a tense standoff for a long moment.

Zhao Fusheng bent her legs and waist, glanced left and right, and ultimately chose to sit down right beside Old Man Zhuang.

"Gurgle—"

A visible wave of relief washed over Old Man Zhuang, and the viciousness on his face instantly transformed into an expression of gratitude and relief.

Acting as if nothing were amiss, Zhao Fusheng reached out and patted his arm.

"Move over a bit. Don't crowd me."

"Gurgle—Yes, yes, yes."

Though reprimanded, he felt immensely happy—especially since everyone else avoided him like the plague. The more casual Zhao Fusheng's demeanor was, the more reassured Old Man Zhuang felt in his heart.

"Your Honor, gurgle, sit here—"

Old Man Zhuang shifted aside, leaving behind a very distinct puddle of filthy water on the seat he had just vacated, which exuded a foul stench.

Acting as though she noticed nothing, Zhao Fusheng sat down. Across from her, a clear look of pity appeared in Wu Shaochun's eyes.

"Your Honor, perhaps we should switch seats—" he said, hardening his scalp.

Zhao Fusheng had saved his life, and mindful of that deep debt of gratitude, he made the righteous decision to sacrifice himself.

Upon hearing these words, Old Man Zhuang flashed a murderous glare.

"Just sit quietly where you are. I know what I'm doing," Zhao Fusheng replied.

Wu Shaochun wanted to say more, but the smile on Old Man Zhuang's face had already collapsed into a cold, unblinking stare.

The stench of the corpse inside the carriage grew even heavier.

Right at that moment, outside the carriage, Zhang Chuanshi whipped the horses, urging the vehicle forward. As they rolled out of Baoding Lane, which belonged to the Suppressor Headquarters, he suddenly slapped his forehead.

"Oh no!"

Zhao Fusheng carefully held her breath, yet the foul odor clung to her like a shadow, seeming to bore into her body through every pore. She had not died from the previous ghost-revival event, only to nearly suffocate to death from this smell.

The others inside the carriage also turned pale with fright, yet not a single one dared to make a sound.

"Your Honor!" Zhang Chuanshi called out. Receiving no response from Zhao Fusheng, he raised his voice and shouted again, "Your Honor?"

He turned his head slightly, revealing half his profile while keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Zhao Fusheng forced the words out between clenched teeth:

"What is it?"

***

The moment she finished speaking, she felt as though she were about to suffocate. The corpse odor was drawn in with her open breath, making her want to retch.

Sitting outside, Zhang Chuanshi remained completely oblivious to this, sensing only that her tone sounded somewhat peculiar. Pondering the fact that he hadn't committed any faults today, he mustered his courage and spoke up:

"Your Honor, we should have brought the man Fan arranged along with us. How on earth are we supposed to find the way to Kuailiang Village?"

He only knew the way out of the city, but once outside the city walls, he had no clue which direction Kuailiang Village lay in.

"What's so difficult about that?" Zhao Fusheng exhaled in tiny, imperceptible breaths, taking care not to arouse Old Man Zhuang's suspicion as she adopted a casual tone. "Just have Old Man Zhuang sit beside you and point the way."

...

This statement struck Zhang Chuanshi with such force that he nearly tumbled off the driver's seat. He turned pale with fright and was just about to refuse when Zhao Fusheng cut off any opportunity to do so, turning to Old Man Zhuang and saying:

"You know the road to Kuailiang Village well. Hurry up and show Old Zhang the direction."

"Huh?"

Old Man Zhuang dropped his jaw in a daze, his complexion shifting uncertainly between light and shadow.

Feigning impatience, Zhao Fusheng snapped:

"This is precisely why we brought you and Gou the Fourth along. Aside from the fact that both of you have been marked by the malevolent spirit, it's also because you're familiar with the roads to Zhuang Family Village and Kuailiang Village. Don't waste time—go on."

"Yes... yes..."

Hearing her urge him, Old Man Zhuang responded hurriedly, though his movements in standing up remained sluggish and slow.

"Your Honor, you—"

Panic seized Zhang Chuanshi the moment he heard this. Anyone with eyes could tell that Old Man Zhuang's condition was bizarre; he had bolted out of the carriage precisely to avoid sharing a confined space with him. He had thought driving the carriage on this trip to Kuailiang Village would be a cushy job, but if Zhao Fusheng was going to chase the ghost out to sit with him, wouldn't he be keeping company with a corpse for the entire journey?

Weeping bitterly, he wailed:

"Have mercy, Your Honor—"

"Stop talking nonsense. Driving a carriage won't kill you," Zhao Fusheng warned him. "Do your job properly and don't mess things up, or I won't spare you."

Hearing the underlying warning in her tone, Zhang Chuanshi swallowed his anger, too cowed to protest further.

Meanwhile, Old Man Zhuang rose and scrambled out of the carriage, seating himself right beside Zhang Chuanshi on the driver's bench. His body radiated an icy chill, devoid of the slightest trace of living warmth, and the moment he pressed close to Zhang Chuanshi, a massive wave of moisture oozed from his body, soaking their overlapping sleeves.

Zhang Chuanshi instinctively turned his head, only to be greeted by a face so pale it had turned sickly yellow, adorned with heavy bluish shadows beneath the eyes that looked utterly terrifying.

...

His body gave a violent jerk.

Wresting every ounce of strength from his body, he forced a rising scream back down his throat.

Old Man Zhuang grinned at him in a friendly manner. The gaps between his teeth were crammed with pitch-black silt and sand, and nameless black water trickled from the corners of his mouth, soaking the clothes he had just stripped off Fan Wujiu's body.

"Brother, listen to this older brother of yours—don't smile."

Terrified out of his wits, Zhang Chuanshi nonetheless freed one hand to cup Old Man Zhuang's chin, pushing it firmly upward to force his lips shut. "Your smile doesn't look good, and I don't like it."

"Yes, yes, gurgle."

Old Man Zhuang seemed to retain a degree of the cognitive function he had possessed in life, holding a certain amount of awe for a 'big shot' of the Suppressor Headquarters like Zhang Chuanshi. Hearing this, he obediently clamped his lips shut. "My father said that too."

With that, he smiled ingratiatingly at Zhang Chuanshi once more. Then, as black water began to leak out again, he suddenly realized he was 'smiling' and hurriedly covered his mouth with his hands, casting a flattering look at Zhang Chuanshi.

"Driving a carriage is delicate work and allows for no mistakes. Just point the way and don't speak to me along the journey, deal?" Zhang Chuanshi asked, forcing a calm facade.

"Deal—gurgle."

Old Man Zhuang dropped his hands to reply, but the moment he spoke, he caught the sight of Zhang Chuanshi frowning and glaring at him. He hastily covered his mouth again, nodding frantically to demonstrate his sincerity.

Breathing a massive sigh of relief, Zhang Chuanshi converted his terror into strength and urged the horses onward.

Once Old Man Zhuang left the interior of the carriage, the suffocating stench dissipated by more than half, and everyone simultaneously drew a long, collective breath of relief.

Along the way, Old Man Zhuang performed quite well, sitting quietly beside Zhang Chuanshi.

After about an hour of silence, once the carriage had rolled out of Wan'an County, Gou the Fourth finally broke down, shattering the quiet:

"Your Honor, did a ghost case really happen in Kuailiang Village? Fourth Aunt... did she really turn into a ghost?"

At the mention of the word 'ghost', Gou the Fourth grew restless. At that very moment, Old Man Zhuang was no different from a 'ghost', and the fact that this ghost was sitting quietly right atop the carriage driver's seat imposed an immense psychological burden on everyone else.

Without warning, the seamless wound on his back began to leak water. It was as if the invisible film could no longer contain the surging ripples of water within his body, and liquid began to drip down his spine, soaking his clothes into a distinct wet trail.

*Drip, drip, drop*, as the carriage rolled along, water dripped all the way down the road.

***

Watching Old Man Zhuang's back, Zhao Fusheng wore a grave expression and furrowed her brow.

While Gou the Fourth was speaking, Old Man Zhuang, who had been sitting as motionless and silent as a corpse, suddenly raised his head. He seemed to want to turn around, but the motion only caused the water inside his body to flow faster and more urgently.

"Did my eldest female cousin really turn into a ghost? Your Honor? Is she really going to kill me?"

He seemed somewhat perplexed and uncomprehending.

"My cousin is a few years older than me, and she even held me when I was little. How could she?"

"In this day and age, what is impossible?" Zhao Fusheng replied indifferently.

"But... that's not fair, Your Honor—"

Old Man Zhuang felt deeply aggrieved. As he said this, a trace of resentment even crept into his tone. Zhao Fusheng gave him a peculiar glance, feeling that whenever Old Man Zhuang spoke, he seemed somewhat aware of his own true condition and harbored a profound sense of unwillingness.

She remained silent.

Old Man Zhuang continued:

"Back when she wasn't married yet, I even spoke up in her defense on a few occasions. How could she harm me?"

He seemed to harbor a bellyful of grievances, as if afraid that if he didn't speak now, he would never have the chance again.

Without prompting from Zhao Fusheng, he babbled on continuously:

"My eldest uncle's household had four daughters and two sons in total. My cousin was the fourth child at home, with two older sisters and an older brother above her, and a younger sister and younger brother below."

As the old saying went, a father dotes on his eldest son, while a mother favors her youngest. Fourth Lady Zhuang, wedged squarely in the middle among her siblings, was a child overlooked by the rest of the household.

People in this era were plagued by poverty; having many children in a family meant heavy taxes. Old Man Zhuang's uncle and aunt worked themselves to the bone every single year, yet still lived in absolute misery. They toiled from sunrise and labored even after sunset, but despite working this hard to raise six children, Old Man Zhuang's aunt and uncle remained deeply in debt, which made the couple exceptionally hot-tempered.

"Were your uncle and aunt on good terms?" Zhao Fusheng asked.

"There was plenty of bickering and fighting, but they managed to scrape by," Old Man Zhuang replied, quite pleased that Zhao Fusheng had engaged him in conversation. "If my uncle got annoyed, he'd start hitting people, and he hit my aunt the most. Sometimes, when my aunt was in a bad mood after being beaten, she'd take it out on the kids."

Wu Shaochun and the others were accustomed to such realities, and even Gou the Fourth found it normal. Fan Wujiu, however, wore a look of astonishment upon hearing this.

"Did your cousin get beaten?" Zhao Fusheng asked again.

"My cousin got beaten the most."

Fourth Lady Zhuang was neither the eldest nor the youngest daughter; sandwiched in the middle, her childhood was marked by the most awkward position in the household. Farm children were not pampered treasures; from a very young age, she had to help out with chores from before dawn until late at night. If she was even a fraction too slow, or if her parents were in a foul mood, a beating would follow. Living in constant terror every single day, she cultivated a gentle and introverted disposition, which ultimately earned her a reputation for being virtuous.

"I remember one year—"

Old Man Zhuang was brimming with enthusiasm for the conversation and, without waiting for Zhao Fusheng to prompt him further, voluntarily brought up an old memory. However, following his physical death, his mind was no longer very sharp, and recalling certain events proved quite difficult for him. He paused for a moment before saying hesitantly:

"I remember it was when we were little. Which year was it? Why can't I seem to remember?"

With that, he began to slap himself fiercely on the head.

A sloshing sound echoed from within his skull. With every blow, it sounded like he was striking a ripe melon. Listening to the dull *thud, thud* of the slaps, Zhao Fusheng broke out in a cold sweat, terrified that a single heavy strike of his palm would shatter his skull and splatter brains and blood everywhere.

She glared at Gou the Fourth and shot him a meaningful look.

Gou the Fourth had been the one to strike up this conversational thread in the first place, so naturally, it was up to him to smooth things over now.

Sitting on pins and needles, Gou the Fourth watched Old Man Zhuang beat his own head violently, his eyelids twitching wildly with every blow. Catching Zhao Fusheng's signal, he hardened his scalp and chimed in:

"O-Old cousin, which incident are you talking about?"

Hearing him speak, Old Man Zhuang instantly brightened up:

"Old cousin—right, old cousin, you were there too!"

"It was that year, that year when our grand-aunt married off her daughter, do you remember—?"

"Oh—" Gou the Fourth's mind was much sharper; jogged by the reminder, he immediately remembered: "That was the year we were eight years old."

The two cousins were close in age. Though not closely related by blood, because they were peers with compatible personalities, they had played together wonderfully since they were little. Having grown up together as childhood playmates, they had eventually made a pact to go into the county town to find work—

He had thought this was just a brief departure to earn some money, never imagining that after an inadvertent joke, Old Man Zhuang would suddenly and unexpectedly meet his death.

"Old cousin—"

Lost in memories of the past, Gou the Fourth suddenly felt his eyes grow hot. Tears burst from his sockets as he let out an uncontrolled cry.