Chapter Eighty-Eight: Bound by Fate, Riding Together
Chapter Eighty-Eight
“The carriage from the Demon Suppression Bureau has arrived?”
Such a thought flickered through Zhao Fusheng’s mind.
Yet she felt no joy at the carriage’s arrival. The night had fallen quickly, darkness thickening, and she noticed a mist creeping in around her.
There were no other travelers on the road. When she glanced back, the Lady Meng’s stall was barely visible; only the distant lights of the Confucius Temple shone through, easing her taut nerves for a moment.
Though ghostly mists plagued Wan’an County, leading to frequent supernatural cases, malicious spirits could not appear out of thin air.
She hadn’t heard any reports of incidents lately—surely she wasn’t so unlucky as to stumble upon a ghost?
Zhao Fusheng reassured herself. Soon, the sound of hooves drew nearer. She squinted into the bluish haze and saw a carriage approaching, shrouded in mist.
Against the light, its shape was unclear, but she could tell it wasn’t the Demon Suppression Bureau’s carriage.
The Bureau had only just resumed operations; their vehicles were modest, carrying at most two or three people. She’d ridden in one that very morning and was certain it didn’t have a bell hung at the front.
The carriage coming slowly from the distance, though hard to make out, definitely had a bell at its head, for Zhao Fusheng could already hear its clear, tinkling chime.
Clip-clop, clip-clop—the relentless beat of hooves, the wheels rumbling, the carriage drawing closer.
Beyond the sounds of wheels and hooves, Zhao Fusheng faintly heard lively voices from within the carriage.
She exhaled in relief.
As long as there were people speaking, not ghosts, she had nothing to fear in Wan’an County.
The carriage neared, and Zhao Fusheng saw the horse pulling it.
It was majestic, stronger than most, its coat pitch-black and flawless. Its mane flew wild, and in the night mist, the horse seemed to exude a sinister aura.
Yet what stunned Zhao Fusheng most was not the extraordinary black horse, but the fact that the carriage was driverless.
No one sat at the front; the horse simply drew the carriage along.
The carriage itself was large, made of unknown wood, lacquered black; up close, it seemed more a moving house than a vehicle.
A fist-sized golden bell hung from the body. As the horse came to Zhao Fusheng’s side, it slowed to a halt, the bell rang twice, then fell silent.
An amused expression crossed Zhao Fusheng’s face.
“A driverless carriage?”
Moments before, she’d heard voices inside, but now, as the carriage stopped, all sounds ceased.
An uncanny silence settled.
Zhao Fusheng approached the side. The wood exuded a strange fragrance; she sniffed twice, unfamiliar with the scent.
Her gaze fell upon the golden bell. Reaching out, she wondered:
“Is this real gold, or fake?”
A carriage traveling late at night, driverless, boldly displaying a bell seemingly made of gold—no matter how she looked at it, it was peculiar.
Just as her hand was about to touch the bell, the carriage door suddenly swung open, and someone poked their head out.
“Hey! Out so late—why aren’t you home? What are you doing wandering the streets?”
The moment someone appeared, Zhao Fusheng’s hair stood on end.
By logic, malicious ghosts cannot speak or communicate; they act on instinct alone. If someone conversed with her, it proved this carriage was not supernatural.
Yet the way the person looked at her only deepened her unease.
She was hardly a novice, newly reborn.
As Fan Bisi had said, and with the suppression of the Zhao couple, she’d already handled three supernatural cases; she was no stranger to dealing with malicious spirits.
Now, facing this carriage, her nerves were more taut than they’d been in Doghead Village.
“I’m out visiting friends. My family was supposed to pick me up at dusk, but perhaps something delayed them, so I’m still waiting.”
Zhao Fusheng replied.
Only a pair of eyes showed from the person at the door. Hearing her words, he seemed to smile.
She couldn’t see his face, but his eyes crinkled at the corners, almost as if crow’s feet formed.
“Come aboard. The carriage will take you home.”
Zhao Fusheng, hearing this, wondered: the person inside hadn’t asked her identity but offered to take her home—did he recognize her as the Bureau’s new Command Officer?
Her mind raced; the sudden appearance of this carriage in the night seemed odd.
In her line of work, dealing with spirits, Zhao Fusheng was highly superstitious.
She immediately followed her instincts, deciding to steer clear of trouble.
She shook her head, meaning to refuse:
“All right.”
The words had barely left her lips when she was startled.
She’d meant to reject the invitation, finding the carriage’s driverlessness and golden bell suspicious, wishing to avoid trouble.
But instead of refusing, her body acted against her will, accepting the invitation.
The man’s eyes crinkled again, as if smiling.
“Hurry up. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Zhao Fusheng felt resistance inside, but still nodded.
“Thank you, then.”
“No trouble at all. This carriage always travels this way.”
Without anyone visibly opening the door, the rear doors swung wide with a clang.
The lights of the Confucius Temple dimmed. Inside, the carriage was pitch-black.
Zhao Fusheng’s heart thudded wildly; her body sensed an inexplicable pull, and she stepped onto the carriage.
Inside, she brushed against someone.
Before she could settle in, the man who’d spoken earlier said:
“Sit tight—the carriage is about to move.”
No sooner had he spoken than the golden bell rang, the horse’s hooves sounded again, and the carriage lurched violently—Zhao Fusheng lost her balance and landed heavily on a seat.
As she sat, the doors slammed shut.
A gust of cold air swept in as the doors closed, and figures blocked behind.
In the midst of the blowing air, a spark flared to life.
With the light, Zhao Fusheng could see inside the carriage.
She looked first at the man holding the flame.
He’d stood behind the door, concealed by its width, making his features unclear at first.
Now, illuminated, she saw him clearly.
His face was chiseled, with thick brows and large eyes, dressed in a blue robe, a golden sash at his waist adorned with a jade buckle.
He held a firestarter, smiling at Zhao Fusheng.
“Did I scare you?”
“…No,” Zhao Fusheng hesitated, then smiled in return.
She turned to look around the carriage.
On either side, facing the door, were two benches, each about a yard long, crowded with people—men, women, old and young—at least a dozen in total.
“So many people?”
She’d heard laughter before, guessed there were people inside, but hadn’t expected so many.
“Yes, indeed.”
Her words seemed to lift the cold atmosphere.
A woman sitting diagonally across from her blinked, her expression suddenly lively.
“Better to arrive by chance than early—we were just chatting.”
“What were you discussing?”
Zhao Fusheng asked, curious.
She already suspected something was amiss with the carriage.
But the sensation was vague; she sensed no ghostly aura. Most importantly, if she were in danger, the malicious spirit she commanded should be stirring.
After all, she’d made two bargains with it—one more use and it would claim her life.
It wouldn’t let the prey slip away, let her die at another spirit’s hands.
Thinking this, Zhao Fusheng felt somewhat reassured.
“We were discussing Master Liu’s birthday.”
The person beside the woman answered.
Zhao Fusheng looked at him: about forty, wearing a blue short jacket and gray patched linen trousers rolled up to his ankles, his bare feet muddy.
She found this odd.
Her gaze swept over the dozen passengers, noting their varied attire.
The man who’d invited her aboard wore a blue robe, his clothing unmarred and his golden sash clearly valuable, especially the jade pendant.
Besides such obviously privileged people, there were barefoot men in rags, poorly dressed peasant women, and refined young girls.
Her eyes landed on one girl, young, dressed in a thick cloak trimmed with fur.
A slender hand peeked from the cloak’s edge, half hiding her face behind the fur.
Sensing Zhao Fusheng’s gaze, she shyly tucked her pearl-embellished shoes beneath her cloak.
“How strange,” Zhao Fusheng murmured.
“What’s strange?” asked the man with the firestarter, smiling.
He spoke as he turned to the person beside him.
“Move over a bit.”
The other man showed fear, hastily trying to squeeze to the other side.
The benches were packed, leaving no space. As he squeezed, others made room, each shifting, forcing someone to stand.
Zhao Fusheng watched coldly; no one complained, each moved forward a step, and soon the door swung open with a clang.
Night wind swept inside.
The firestarter’s flame flickered under the wind, the light dimming. But when the door closed again, the wind ceased.
The flame re-ignited, and Zhao Fusheng saw that the others had indeed made room for the man, who now sat comfortably.
What surprised her was that, after all the shifting, no one was left standing.
Previously, every seat was filled, just enough for all. Now, with one more seated, still everyone sat, the space precisely right.
She was increasingly certain she’d encountered something extraordinary.
Yet there were still living people inside, so it wasn’t a simple malicious spirit case—perhaps, besides Paper Man Zhang and herself, there was another spirit wielder in Wan’an County.
Zhao Fusheng’s first thought was of Deputy Commander Zheng of the County Bureau. She darkly speculated: perhaps her repeated actions in burying ghosts and digging up cursed objects had angered Zheng, prompting him to teach her a lesson.
Pity she hadn’t asked Fan Bisi and others about what kind of spirit Zheng wielded, its rules, so she could know her enemy and be prepared.
She was just regretting this, when the man with the firestarter, now seated, smiled and asked:
“By the way, you haven’t said—what’s so strange?”
Since she was here, she might as well make peace with it.
The carriage she hadn’t wanted to board was now boarded; Zhao Fusheng suppressed her doubts, curiosity rising.
“I see you all come from different backgrounds, dressed differently.”
She spoke plainly.
“You don’t look like fellow travelers—how did you all end up on the same carriage?”
Within this group, there were porters and laborers, merchant ladies, and even the imposing blue-robed man—a mix that made Zhao Fusheng wonder what kind of carriage this was, able to gather people from all walks of life.
No driver, a golden bell hanging at the front, the horse both majestic and sinister—
A night carriage gathering such diverse passengers, Zhao Fusheng drew a deep breath, sensing the depths of Wan’an County.
“Sharing a carriage is a matter of fate.”
The blue-robed man answered with a smile.
“Fate?”
Zhao Fusheng raised her brows, smiling as well.
“In that case, it seems this carriage came specially for me.”
The man nodded.
“It did indeed. We came to pick you up.”
He made no effort to conceal his intent. Zhao Fusheng’s heart sank.
“Did Deputy Commander Zheng send you?”
“Deputy Commander Zheng?” For the first time, confusion crossed the blue-robed man’s face. He turned to the old man beside him.
“Who’s that?”
The old man, about seventy, half bald, his shiny dark forehead wrapped in a sweatband, scratched his head with a puzzled look.
“I don’t know either—”
“So you weren’t sent by Deputy Commander Zheng? Who are you, then?” Zhao Fusheng, seeing their genuine confusion, grew more suspicious.
“I’m from Zhoukou Village, surname Yu—”
Zhao Fusheng’s gaze shifted to the elderly woman beside him. She grinned.
“I’m from Xinghua Town, married into the Lin family.”
The two sat together, yet came from different villages and seemed unacquainted—a strange thing.
It’s the end of the month—asking humbly for monthly votes.
This type of story, like “God-Sealing in a Strange World,” is somewhat niche, which does affect me.
Now, with the new recommendation system on Qidian, promotion depends on subscriptions, reads, reading time, and monthly votes. I hope readers can keep following, nurture this seedling, and witness my new journey together.