"It's been a long time since anyone's come to my little place. It's a rare thing."

The old man moved aside, letting Wei Yuan in. After closing the door, he sat on the wooden chair under the locust tree. His somewhat cloudy eyes looked at Wei Yuan, who sat on a stone nearby and smiled, "That shouldn't be. Has no one come to visit you before?"

The old man shook his head. "All the people I knew are dead. Their descendants have slowly stopped coming too."

"Come to think of it, a few young people did come yesterday, but they didn't come in. They turned around and left."

"Oh, that's right, I almost forgot. I need to make you a bowl of tea. Look at my memory."

The old man got up again and went back into the house, complaining about things as he brewed tea. Finally, he brought out two old-fashioned porcelain cups, steaming with hot tea. Wei Yuan held the tea in his hands, but the old man saw that he didn't drink it, assuming he looked down on his ordinary fare. He raised his hand, took a sip of tea, and laughed, "I still don't know what you're here to ask this old fellow about?"

Wei Yuan said, "I'm asking about a person."

"Who?"

"The best singing girl in the entire Jiangnan circuit."

*Clang.*

The teacup in the old man's hand fell over, hot tea dripping onto the ground.

He looked at Wei Yuan, who was sitting upright, and opened his mouth, saying, "...How do you know?"

Wei Yuan said, "I learned about some things by chance."

Seeming to be reminded of memories by these words, the old man's expression became somewhat tired. He closed his eyes, as if he had become even older in an instant. After a long time, he said softly, "Well, it's good that someone knows. I thought I'd have to take these things to my grave."

"This story... it has to start from the last few years of the Great Ming Dynasty."

……………

Jiangnan has been prosperous since ancient times. This is a fact recognized by everyone in Shenzhou.

And in the Jiangnan circuit, there were two opera houses that saw each other as rivals, fighting for who knows how many years.

These years, your family is in the limelight, and in a few years, my family will be in charge. The fighting was lively and intense.

That year, winter had a rare sunny day. There wasn't a speck of snow on the road.

The mama of the Chunxiao Pavilion brought back a little girl.

She was beautiful and had a lovely voice.

When she first took the stage at the age of sixteen, she amazed everyone. Her Kunshan jade shattered and phoenix sang, overshadowing all the famous actors in the nearby opera houses, leaving them in the shade.

The little girl was called Qi Niang, and she became famous in one fell swoop.

Many dignitaries came to listen to her sing.

Bolts of red silk, sent by patrons, were tied to the wooden building, as lively and bustling as red clouds.

Originally, according to past practice, Qi Niang would continue to sing until she was in her twenties. Then, she would either retire to teach newcomers or marry a decent man and become an innocent woman. But things are never so good. If everything were as perfect as the storytellers say, there wouldn't be so many regrets in this world.

In the year that Qi Niang found her sweetheart, the wokou (Japanese pirates) invaded the border.

The tide from the West poured into the Great Ming Dynasty, which had ruled the world for five hundred years.

This dragon, entrenched in the East, had dozed off for a moment and was stabbed by a dagger.

Afterward, Emperor Ming Lie, in his anger, personally led an expedition, having already written his will, in accordance with the Great Ming ancestral motto that the emperor guards the country's gate and the monarch dies for the state. The monarch personally led the expedition, and Shenzhou was naturally furious. With unity of purpose, after several years of stalemate and rapid development, they finally defeated many allied forces at the East Sea at any cost, letting the world hear this dragon's roar.

But such things were still to come.

That year, taking advantage of the Great Ming Dynasty's unprepared border defenses, the wokou advanced straight in. One of their branches even entered Jiangnan.

They were triumphant, feeling that they were about to defeat the former overlord. After entering the extremely prosperous Jiangnan, they indulged in pleasure, wanting the best wine, the best dishes, and the best women to accompany them, listening to the best songs. Qi Niang was young, but her integrity was strong. She would rather die.

But that day, more than thirty people from the Chunxiao Pavilion knelt before her door, and even the mama who had brought her back begged bitterly.

In the end, she went to accompany those wokou.

No one in the Chunxiao Pavilion died.

After the Great Ming tigers and wolves swept away those wokou, Jiangnan returned to peace. But then came gossip and pointing fingers. Everyone knew that forcing others to sacrifice for oneself was hard to justify, so they had to smear that person to find a moral high ground for themselves.

So, news spread from who knows where that Qi Niang had voluntarily gone to accompany the wokou.

Then, rumors filled the city.

After intense tension, there needed to be a channel for venting. Rational voices would be drowned out by this venting behavior.

People began to throw rotten eggs and rotten vegetables at Qi Niang's door.

Many people began to scold her as a prostitute without integrity.

But Qi Niang was still waiting, waiting for the man who had promised her a future, who was currently studying abroad.

She waited and waited, until no one listened to her sing anymore, until the red silk on the wooden building faded.

That man never returned.

Qi Niang, wearing the wedding dress she had sewn herself, threw herself into the well.

That autumn, there was a heavy snowfall.

The already faded red silk, as white as the white banners at a funeral, danced on the wooden building.

……………………

After telling the story, the old man poured himself another cup of tea, having already drunk most of it.

Wei Yuan hadn't touched his tea at all.

"So..."

He stroked the teacup and said, "That man failed her?"

The old man wiped away tears that had appeared in the corners of his eyes, saying:

"He did fail her, and he didn't."

"He joined the army, as a student soldier."

"He was the main force that resisted the wokou's madness that year. He wrote letters to Qi Niang, many of them."

Wei Yuan said, "Why didn't he come back?"

The old man was silent for a moment, then said, "...Because he died, in battle."

"Just three days later, the compensation report, and those letters, would have arrived in Jiangnan. Qi Niang wouldn't have had to die."

Wei Yuan was silent, put down his teacup, and said, "Can I see those letters?"

The old man nodded, staggered to his feet, and slowly walked back into the house. He took out a small box from the most conspicuous place. Inside was a gray-white photo, and a stack of letters with strong handwriting. The last few letters were stained with deep marks.

The old man handed the things to Wei Yuan. "Look, look. These stories, they can't be forgotten."

"When I die, someone needs to know."

"Ah, I still owe Qi Niang three kowtows. I want to say I'm sorry. I was afraid to die back then, and I couldn't speak up for her..."

Wei Yuan took the box, looking at the photo from that era, gray-white, a young scholar smiling brightly, and a shy girl. That was their past. This was the last knot in the heart of that vengeful spirit.

Burning it into talisman water would be enough to cause great harm to the vengeful spirit.

And if it were burned in front of the vengeful spirit, it could even cause the vengeful spirit to have a mental breakdown on the spot.

Wei Yuan heard the voice of the Qi Family Army's military soul, somewhat hesitant and pleading:

"Lord..."

Wei Yuan looked at the words on the letter, which contained fervent love, expectations for the future, and love for the land beneath his feet. He nodded slightly, ummed, and didn't intend to burn the letter. Instead, he carefully put the box away, adjusted the qin case and sword box behind him to an easy-to-draw angle, and looked at the old man who had returned to sit under the tree, saying:

"Old sir, can you still move around? I want to go see that Chunxiao Pavilion."

"This isn't the Chunxiao Pavilion, is it?"

The old man's cloudy eyes looked at his hands, and he murmured:

"This isn't it."

"I also want to go see it, to take one last look."

"But the sunlight outside is too dazzling. My body can't move anymore. I've tried many times. I can't get out of this courtyard."

Wei Yuan said, "I'll help you."

He went out for a while and found a black cloth umbrella in an old shop. He walked back, opened the umbrella, and then supported the old man with one hand. The old man also stood up with effort, once, twice, and then stood up abruptly. Wei Yuan quietly looked at the old tree behind the old man, retracted his left hand, pulled out the broken sword entrusted with the Qi Family Army's military soul from his waist, and held it backhand like a dagger, cutting off a thin branch.

The branch shook.

Wei Yuan put away the broken sword and helped the old man forward.

He pushed open the door.

The old man took a few steps with Wei Yuan's help, stood still, and said with emotion, "It's been a long time since I've been able to come out. The sunlight is still a bit harsh, but it's okay. I thought I couldn't move, but I didn't expect to be able to walk so fast. It seems that I've been in that small place for too long."

Wei Yuan supported the umbrella and looked at the sky.

Today was a cloudy day, with shallow gray clouds pressing down low, so the sun wasn't visible.

He turned his head slightly. Under the old locust tree behind him, the old man was sitting on the wooden chair with his eyes closed.

His breathing had stopped long ago, perhaps days, perhaps months, perhaps years.

Recalling what the old man had said before, that he hadn't left this courtyard for a long time, and that he still had the Crouching Tiger waist tag, Wei Yuan knew the old man's state as soon as he entered the door, so he didn't drink that cup of tea.

He looked at the old man's back.

The obsession doesn't die, the soul doesn't disperse, trapped in a small space, called a land-bound spirit (地缚).

But what binds the soul, is it the land, or the things in the heart that it refuses to let go of?

The old man walked more and more easily, faster and faster.

As if he had thrown off some burden.

Wei Yuan carried the qin case on his back with his left hand, held the umbrella with his right hand, and stepped out.

In the garden is a tree, named *kun* (困, trapped), under the tree is a ghost, which should be a locust (槐).

Under the locust tree, a blurry shadow, wearing ancient clothes, with the embroidery of "Mr. Huai (槐先生)" on the cuffs, bowed slightly to Wei Yuan.

*Squeak*—

The wooden door moved without wind, slowly closing, sealing the old man's body and story in this small courtyard.

ps: Thanks to 龍long for the myriad reward, thank you~