Chapter Seven: Ghosts by the Willow Riverbank

Zhou Bai nodded, merely keeping the matter in mind for now; solving his own immediate problems was far more crucial. Draining another cup of tea, he finally felt his anxious heartbeat steady, and he continued, “Xiao Wu, you know my illness came swiftly and left just as suddenly. I’m afraid I may have attracted something unclean. Is there any place particularly effective for warding off evil and disaster? There’s a Buddhist temple outside the city—do they have any eminent monks?”

Xiao Wu clapped his hands and smiled, “I don’t know if there are any great monks at that temple, but it’s funny you should mention it. There’s actually a Daoist priest at Clearwind Monastery.”

“Has Master Clearwind returned?” Zhou Bai’s delight was evident; after all, this was a Daoist officially recognized by the authorities, so he must have some real skills—dealing with a few minor ghosts should be no trouble.

Xiao Wu scratched his head awkwardly. “Not quite. It’s an elderly Daoist, a wandering priest who claims to be an old friend of Master Clearwind. He’s currently staying at the monastery. I heard about him from a merchant I know.”

“That works too. No point in delaying—I’ll go take a look right away.”

With that, Zhou Bai stood to leave, but after a few steps he doubled back. “Xiao Wu, help me book a room at a nearby inn. Nothing fancy.”

Seeing Xiao Wu nod in agreement, Zhou Bai tossed him a piece of silver and strode off quickly.

Clearwind Monastery was still some distance from the northwest district where Zhou Bai was staying. He had originally thought to take a small boat across the Clear River. But on second thought, both prominent families who’d met with disaster lived near the river—something about it no longer felt safe.

He glanced at the limpid water and couldn’t suppress a shiver; the weeds at the riverbed looked like the shadows of ghosts. And it wasn’t just him—he noticed that the river, once busy with boats ferrying between here and Hangdu, was now nearly deserted. The women who had once washed clothes along the banks were nowhere to be seen.

Occasionally, he’d see a woman hurry down to the river, fill a large barrel with water, and rush away without lingering—willing to carry the extra weight rather than spend another moment by the river.

Zhou Bai walked along the river for more than half an hour, passing few travelers. Soon, he reached a fork in the road. Either path would take him to Clearwind Monastery, but one involved a detour, costing nearly half an hour.

The other route crossed a small bridge from which he could see Willow Bank in the distance—the site of those two families’ ruined mansions.

He pondered for a while, but in the end decided not to take the longer path. So far, only those two wealthy families on Willow Bank had been wiped out. Ordinary townsfolk passing by had never encountered anything unusual.

As for what had truly happened there, he did not know. But if there was any threat to his life, Zhou Bai wanted to know the truth. Without further hesitation, he headed toward Willow Bank; after all, it was best to be prepared.

Besides, as someone who had lived two lives, he felt a certain curiosity toward the unknown.

Having made up his mind, Zhou Bai quickened his pace, breaking into a jog. Passersby looked at him as if he were mad—these days, everyone in Hangdu avoided Willow Bank like the plague.

Panting, he soon drew near Willow Bank. He chose a small bridge with a good view and looked around.

True to its name, Willow Bank was lined with rows of willow trees. In spring, when the leaves sprouted and the breeze blew, it was a scene of tranquil beauty. But now, after successive tragedies and with winter’s chill lingering, the place seemed bleak and barren; the willows, stripped of their leaves, looked eerie and strange.

He quickly spotted the Zhang family residence; from the bridgehead he could see the bamboo grove and pavilion in its courtyard.

He did not know which home had been wiped out the previous day, and with Willow Bank now deserted, all the grand houses stood empty.

Taking a deep breath, Zhou Bai instinctively glanced up at the sun—the glare barely dispelled his unease.

His pupils narrowed as he opened his spirit sight, holding his breath and focusing on the Zhang residence.

The courtyard was spotless, perfectly still. The buildings within showed no trace of ghosts or evil spirits. The bamboo grove, the pavilion, the pond, the woodshed—he scrutinized every corner, but found no sign of anything supernatural.

“Could it really be the work of criminals? Or perhaps the evil spirit has already left?” he muttered to himself, forgetting for a moment to keep his voice down.

Just then, a low female voice sounded beside him. “What did you see?”

Startled, Zhou Bai snapped out of his trance, retreating a step and turning around as he did.

He saw a short, black-clad woman standing at his side. Her face was youthful, her hair cropped just to her ears, and she radiated a boldness not inferior to any man.

Taking a closer look, Zhou Bai was relieved to see she was flesh and blood, not a ghost.

“N-nothing,” he stammered. “Just passing by. With all the deaths here lately, I thought I’d have a look.”

“Oh,” the woman replied coolly, not sparing him another glance as she walked off in the opposite direction.

But as they brushed past each other, she whispered so softly it was barely audible, “The river.”

“What?!” Zhou Bai turned, but she was already striding away, almost out of sight.

He glanced instinctively at the calm, unremarkable Clear River, feeling a faint sense of absurdity. Was that woman trying to warn him?

He opened his spirit sight again. Though he couldn’t hold it for long, his eyes already felt strained.

Following her cue, he looked toward the river—and nearly collapsed in fright.

Beneath the clear water, amid the smooth river stones, shadowy figures drifted with the current, tinting the whole river a pale black.

If one didn’t look closely, these shadows might pass for river weeds. Zhou Bai was too far away to make out their features, but their repeated, mechanical movements were unnerving.

The ghosts squatted at the bottom, tirelessly gathering up the river stones. They stuffed the stones into their mouths, jaws ceaselessly grinding. Even as blood trickled from their lips, they never paused, only swallowing the stones as they crumbled to powder, then reaching for the next one, endlessly.

Zhou Bai quickly shut his spirit sight, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and hurried back the way he had come.

Now that he was certain there were ghosts at Willow Bank, he knew to steer as far clear as possible.