Chapter Three: Past Memories

Chapter Three

“Demon Suppression Bureau!”

Zhao Fusheng was struck hard by the revelation. She stumbled backward until her back hit a damp wooden pillar, finally coming to a stop.

“The Han Dynasty, the Demon Suppression Bureau, Zhao Fusheng—”

Her expression was grim as she reached out and pounded the wooden pillar behind her.

The hollow thud rang out, the force of her fist bouncing back at her, everything feeling uncomfortably real.

This street was lifeless, as if those living here instinctively tried to erase their own presence. The sound of her pounding soon attracted the attention of someone in the coffin shop.

A head pressed against the doorframe peeked out. The man’s forehead was broad, his messy hair tied up haphazardly in a topknot. His eyes were long and narrow; as he glanced over, Zhao Fusheng instinctively turned her head as well.

Their gazes met—he drew in a sharp, cold breath, eyes widened in terror, and he darted back inside.

A resounding bang echoed through the street as the shop’s door was slammed shut so violently that the sign hanging outside swayed from the force.

The man’s image surfaced in Zhao Fusheng’s mind: Old Zhang, the coffin shop owner.

As his identity came to mind, more fragments of related information emerged. She recalled that since arriving at the Demon Suppression Bureau, most of her daily company had been the Fan brothers.

After buying her, the brothers hadn’t sold her into the hands of unsavory characters; instead, they led her into the Bureau, bound her by blood oath, and made her the head of the institution.

She had felt both surprise and trepidation.

The Fan brothers never offended her. Apart from the unsettling way they looked at her, their interactions remained mostly peaceful.

At first, they kept her under strict watch, hardly allowing her to set foot outside, so she spent nearly all her time within the Bureau. Later, fortune seemed to favor her, and the brothers gradually loosened their control. She was sometimes able to stand at the yamen gates and look out, gradually learning about the life on this street.

With time, the Fan brothers became even more relaxed, rarely following her at all. Sometimes, she ventured out alone, noticing the strange, wary looks people gave her. When she tried to strike up a conversation, whether it was the coffin shop or the joss paper and incense shop, everyone avoided her as if she were a plague.

Young and timid, the constant rejection made her afraid to approach anyone further.

Strange occurrences became frequent. She began to suspect she was haunted, and when her injuries worsened beyond recovery, she could no longer leave the house—until she finally died.

Because of this, she had some impression of the street, but little connection to any of its people. Even when she saw the coffin shop owner, she couldn’t recall his name, only vaguely remembering the Fan brothers had mentioned “Old Zhang.” As for his personal affairs or family, she knew nothing.

Zhao Fusheng’s face turned ashen at the memory.

She realized the gravity of her situation. It seemed last night hadn’t been a mere dream—in all likelihood, it had come true. She’d had an accident in her rented room; after death, her soul crossed into the Han Dynasty and revived in the body of this girl who bore her name.

Returning from the dead in another’s body—such a miracle should have been a cause for celebration. Yet she vividly remembered her dream: a strange world, an orphaned girl, the bizarre Demon Suppression Bureau, and the original host plagued by a vengeful spirit, ultimately dying at its hands.

Zhao Fusheng stood dazed. In the courtyard, the Fan brothers looked at her as if they had seen a ghost, their shoulders pressed together, faces drawn and pale.

From where she stood, she could see the neglected courtyard and the dilapidated side rooms. The main hall, which should have been a place for official business, now housed two corpses. After last night’s lightning strike, it was even more battered and decayed.

Now, in broad daylight, sunlight streamed through a gaping hole in the roof, shining onto the blackened, oppressive furniture below. Perhaps because the corpses had not yet been removed, the room felt to Zhao Fusheng both eerie and bone-chilling.

She rubbed her arms and looked around uneasily.

Apart from the Fan brothers, she saw no one else. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that some unseen “eyes” were watching her from the shadows—cold, emotionless, cruel—a sensation identical to what the original Zhao Fusheng had felt before her death.

She gritted her teeth, drew a deep breath, hesitated, then stepped back into the courtyard.

“You… are you human or ghost?” Fan Wujie, terrified, shrank behind his brother, retreated two steps, and then mustered the courage to peek out and ask.

“I’m human—” Fan Bisi, bolder and more meticulous, glanced at her shadow on the ground and, seeing it move with her, forced himself to remain calm.

“When a vengeful spirit kills, it usually creates a ghost domain first…” He stopped, noting the confusion in Zhao Fusheng’s expression. He realized she, being a country girl, probably knew nothing about “ghost domains.”

Fan Bisi’s eyes flickered as he explained, “A ghost domain is what the common folk call ‘ghost walks in circles.’”

Before a vengeful spirit attacks, it creates a ghost domain, trapping its victims inside. Lesser spirits create smaller domains with limited harm, affecting fewer people. But the more ferocious the ghost, the wider the domain, and within it, the spirit is unassailable.

Anyone caught inside becomes prey to the ghost’s slaughter.

“Fusheng has a shadow and is walking about. I saw Old Zhang from the coffin shop peep out, indicating we’re not in a ghost domain. She must still be alive, just a normal person—”

“But—” Fan Wujie, relieved at first, suddenly seemed to recall something and blurted out, “But she already died—”

“Enough!” Fan Bisi cut him off sharply, glaring at his brother, forbidding him to say more.

Fan Wujie shrank back, stole a glance at his brother, and they exchanged a look. As twins, they communicated wordlessly; Fan Wujie instantly understood and quickly lowered his head.

“Fusheng, you had an accident yesterday. I checked your breathing myself—you were dead. How could you possibly—” Fan Bisi, having silenced his brother, turned to Zhao Fusheng with a forced smile, equal parts curious and uneasy.

Zhao Fusheng had been haunted by a malevolent spirit and fatally injured—there should have been no escape. In fact, she had died, after the Zhao couple, eviscerated by the ghost. The Fan brothers themselves had tended to all three corpses.

With such wounds, even if she hadn’t died on the spot, there was no way she could have survived.

And yet, here she was, alive and well, her wounds healed. Though her face was pale, her eyes shone brightly, the air of misfortune that once clung to her now swept away; she seemed altogether more spirited.

It was truly bizarre!

In all his years at the Demon Suppression Bureau, Fan Bisi had never witnessed such an occurrence. He grew more curious, noting how Zhao Fusheng now carried herself with composure, nothing like the timid, shrinking girl from before. Suspicion crept into his heart.

He quickly racked his brain for any records of such strange occurrences in the Bureau’s annals, and after a moment, he did recall a possible explanation.

Zhao Fusheng remained silent, her gaze falling on the two brothers as she desperately tried to recall the events of the previous night and scour her mind for any information that might clarify her predicament.

Piecing together the memories of the original Zhao Fusheng, she managed to outline a simple chain of events.

Zhao Fusheng was eighteen, born in Jiumen Village under the jurisdiction of Wanan County. Her parents were destitute. Three months ago, two men who claimed to be emissaries of the Demon Suppression Bureau arrived and bought her for five coppers.

At first, she thought them villains.

These were turbulent times; human life was cheap. Many thugs trafficked women and children, selling them to brothels and worse, while the authorities turned a blind eye.

She followed the men to Wanan County, trembling with fear, but they did not sell her into any den of vice. Instead, they took her into the Demon Suppression Bureau itself.

The mention of the Demon Suppression Bureau warranted some explanation.

The original Zhao Fusheng, an illiterate country girl, had never traveled farther than this journey to Wanan County with the Fan brothers.

The court’s institutions were a mystery to her, but she did know of the Demon Suppression Bureau.

Now, ghosts and malevolent spirits ran rampant, often taking lives, some so ferocious they wiped out entire villages.

To curb these killings, the court established Bureaus in every province and county, each staffed with a resident magistrate.

The magistrate handled cases of ghostly killings, maintaining peace, and was aided by emissaries. Whenever ghostly activity was reported, the local village head would report it to the town, the town to the county, and the county’s Bureau would dispatch personnel to eliminate the threat.

Thus, for the people of the Han Dynasty, the Bureau’s importance was paramount.

The Fan brothers were the Bureau’s emissaries in Wanan County—a position not even the local magistrate could overrule. To the original Zhao Fusheng, they were figures of immense authority.

When she learned that these twin brothers truly intended to bring her to the Bureau, Zhao Fusheng was consumed by dread and uncertainty.

What unsettled her even more was that the brothers did not harm her; rather, they told her that the previous magistrate had died unexpectedly while fighting a ghost, leaving the position vacant.

They had been entrusted by the dying magistrate, who foretold that the next head would come from Jiumen Village. Following this guidance, they found her and asked her to assume the post.

Frightened as a startled quail, Zhao Fusheng dared not refuse. Whatever they told her to do, she did.

In the end, she sealed her fate with a drop of blood, becoming the acting head of the Bureau.

Now, recalling all this, Zhao Fusheng felt that the original Zhao Fusheng had taken on the Bureau’s responsibilities in a daze, and her death was just as inexplicable.