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Chapter Text

The spirits of Chiyan rage. 

They felt that something had been wrested from them, a sense that some essential part of themselves was ripped away all at once with a clinical yank. A soft feeling, a grief, suddenly gone. Replaced with a yawning abyss in every heart. For the briefest instant, it seemed nothing would fill it, and in the next they felt as if with one soul. Hunger. It filled that chasm as if it had always lived in that space, and they had known little else for all their existence. 

The sky above was an absorbing white. The earth below, crimson.

For a moment, he pulled away from the bitter abyss of hunger around him, just in time to see a Truth disappearing upwards, feather light. A truth or was it a word, a name? Something felt — perhaps there was more missing. The world was images and words that were no longer associated. It felt more right to be one with the abyss. He melded naturally into the mass again, where he no longer was. 

Where 

they

wanted 

Wanted

WANTED —

Through the closing Gates of Ghost Pass ^[1d], the Way of the Yellow Springs ^[2d] stretched on. Someone paused on their way in the lead. Looked back. 

Defiant, impossible. Lingering.

The seething hunger subsided. For a while.

Numerous small splashes in the water sounded, as if there were fish joyfully feeding. Off to the side where the ripples were at their strongest, a hand ^[1s] reached out from beneath crimson waves, clutching at the sandy path. Even the guards at the gates who were swinging the doors shut paused to watch. 

One booted foot from that one ^[2s] at the front with the broad shoulders gave a well aimed kick.

The hand fell back into the waters where it disappeared with no splash, but with the greatest ripple yet. 

The gates continued closing. 

Just before they did so completely, a bell dropped to the floor, soundless.

A lone figure appeared silhouetted against the sunset, crouching, one hand closed around the bell. 

The bitter wind rising caressed his face. 

From Plum Blossom Ridge, the high wind blew. A scent of cold metal was carried in the air, thick and cloying, unnatural. Wherever this wind swept the land, it blew painful and whipping. This wind carried neither leaf nor bird. For a time, living things scattered before it. Yet there was humidity and moisture as it charged by storm clouds and dragged them along its arrow-straight path. And where it passed, a great shadow darkened the land.

First, in a constant trickle, more joined this shadow from below. Then, as if this was the breaching of some dam. A never ending surge.

If anyone had been around in the thick of this, there would be howling as it passed by the ear, and in that howl, they would hear — the sound of billions of wings, more. 

Wherever it passed, the world seemed to hold its breath.

That wind blew fast, but faster still on his swift dark steed, the Chiyan Army’s young marshal raced ahead. They were returning to the place he once called home, and though Chiyan no longer had the words to describe this want, it was this place that cradled something they were owed. A nebulous, yet keen desire to claim that debt drove them onward. 

The guards of the Gates had left him this bell that did not make any sound. Lin Shu could only imagine why.

But there were more pressing matters on his mind now. Like the army of Chiyan soldiers who were now forever trapped in this realm as he was, he knew something was drawing him back to Da Liang, to Jinling. Something owed. It was Xie Yu who had cut them down with borrowed armies, and such orders could only have come from the very top. Wei Zheng had not been among the number of the fallen, and it was unlikely that he was in the other group that had just passed from this realm. Now, Lin Shu had no one to consult, for only he had awoken as something More ^[3s].

He did not control the Chiyan Army, the Chiyan ghost army, for they moved as if with one will. But with them, it was barely possible to keep hold of his own thoughts, much less  communicate.

What that meant for them, Lin Shu did not know. It seemed like in the space of a few days, he had met with all the things in this world he did not know. Who could possibly be pleased? At least in this matter though, there was no need to be worried. He was connected to Chiyan now in a way no mortal body could ever have been. 

It was an autumn evening, nearing winter. At the North city gates of the capital, Jinling, there were not many people left. The hawkers who peddled their snacks and wares had packed and gone, those travelling would hardly choose this time to set off save in rare emergencies. Naturally, though it was not late yet and the gates were still open, there was no one except for the soldiers of Capital Patrol.

The city gates stood steadily in the evening quiet, deafening in the absence of all who were never coming back.

His horse had been a construct of the Yin energy he manipulated into being, energy that he now released. And then Lin Shu passed through those towering doors alone. 

He walked through the streets he had only last seen barely half a season ago, one step in place of ten, until he reached Lin Manor. The sounds of evening at home should have been travelling over its high walls, the grounds illuminated with flickering lamps. Instead, Lin Shu was met with a dead silence and 'Sealed' notices across the door. It was expected. He could not have been less prepared.

There was only one place to go after that, heading straight to the source for news. 

In the huge palace hall, where the Emperor read his memorials and attended to the country's affairs, there were no servants, no guards. Only the one man at his table, head propped on one hand, eyes closed.

There was an aura ^[3d] , most potent in this room, but that also laid thin throughout the palace. A feel-sense of energy that his instincts whispered should be warding him off, banishing even. Yet Lin Shu was unaffected. As he approached, the bell at his belt even let out the smallest tinkle. 

𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧

It was when he was habitually blinking in surprise down at it that he found himself still standing in the exact same room, under a different light. Not candlelight this time, but sunlight. 

An invisible, silent observer, he followed the Emperor about his day as the man had his perfect Crown Prince son arrested without the slightest whiff of concrete evidence, and created tens of thousands of tragedies with one edict. This ended with the report of the Chiyan Army’s execution and Da Liang’s triumphant victory over Da Yu, interrupted by the news of Grand Princess Jinyang’s suicide at Chaoyang Hall.

“Needless. No blame for their treachery laid with her. To take her life so lightly…”

A side effect of dying, Lin Shu had found, was a small degree of detachment from his memories and emotions that were not strong. Relatively speaking. 

That was why his rage was so pure and incandescent when it came. “To hell with you and your empire —”

𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧

The memory-world rippled around them like a storm tossed ocean, bitter winds above and tossing waves below. There was a rushing sensation as he was hurtled away from the Emperor and from the palace hall. That energy he had sensed before surged and then subsided, unnoticeably just a shade weaker than before.

Afterwards, he sat on the roof of Changxin Hall, awaiting the arrival of his brothers.

He thought of them as he waited. 

“‘Summer. Locusts came from the east, obscuring the sky. Arriving at Chang'an, entering Weiyang Palace they surrounded the palace and rooms.’ ^[4d] Do you know what locusts are, Xiao-Shu? They look like… THIS!”

Screams and laughter. 

A bright green grasshopper made a leap for freedom.

Bored, Lin Shu idly spins the bell about by its string. The sweet chime carrying far.

Chapter Text

We pause for a moment in this ghost story to take a little sidetrack. Here is an ordinary little character like so many of us in this world. A little patience for him as we follow him through the first of many more extraordinary days at work!

Song Cheng ^[5d] had no wife. It was only himself, an old maid and one servant boy living together. The servants had mainly served his mother while she was alive. He wanted to give her the best he could. It was only because of her that, even growing up in a little town in Huo Province ^[4s] , he had done well enough in the exams to be assigned to the Hanlin academy, and then to the Central Secretariat as a junior scribe. 

Nine years had passed since then, and Scribe Song was now Draftsman Song of the Central Secretariat ^[6d] . Proud owner of a draughty little home on the outer wards of Jinling city.

On this day, he woke up an entire shicheng later than usual, bolting upright and blinking in surprise at his room as if it were his first time seeing it again after a long journey.

But there was no journey, no drifting, no wandering. It was just a dream. He had woken up in his little house at a little corner of Jinling, which was still standing right here!

Just a dream, just a dream.

And then he registered that he was looking around his room. 

As in he could see. 

The sky outside must be beginning to brighten

“Ah-Fu,” Song Cheng called hoarsely, “Go see if Minister Gao is still here!”

The boy burst through his room doors bringing a gust of cold Autumn wind with him. He stared at Song Cheng a little strangely, but quickly turned on swift feet to go on his mission.

Song Cheng shivered in the morning chill which hit him as soon as he left his bed. Most helpful for chasing sleepiness away.

Without hitching a ride with Gao-xiong, it would take him half a shicheng to reach the Palace Gates on foot. That was not counting the time it would take him to get ready to leave the house. The sky was just beginning to brighten. So, it was late, but not too late. And since today was not a Morning Court day, a later start wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it could have been. But a storm had been brewing in Jinling in the past few days. No one wanted to be the bird that stuck out its —

Song Cheng stopped dead in the middle of reaching out for his washcloth by the water basin.

Larger than any he had seen before in real life, two grasshoppers chewed merrily away at two corners of the threadbare hemp.

They were grey-black and red-edged too. 

A wave of familiarity hit him, and he knew exactly why.

“Sir, sir? Madam Gao says he’s left.” It was Ah-Fu, back and panting lightly from the sprint.

Song Cheng nodded absently, then pointed at the two guests helping themselves to his washcloth.

"Ah? Ah! Thought I got rid of all the ones in here." Ah-Fu dodged out the door and came back with a clever makeshift net, capturing the two with practised, angled scoops. "You were sleeping dead to the world, and they were crawling everywhere, sir."

"Is it like this outside?"

"Everywhere."

...

Nightmares coming true aside, the wrath of his superior was a fearsome thing, and so Song Cheng proceeded with his morning ablutions at triple his normal speed. When he was done and dressed in official's robes and about to leave, at a sudden thought, he hastily shoved the books and papers in the adjoining study into the heavy chest in the corner of his room.

They—not grasshoppers, but locusts—were there in his courtyard too. And he would have been more afraid had he not just dreamed of such a thing and worse besides. 

They blanketed the floor and the garden. It did not take much to startle them all into flight. But he took a moment to despair for their little vegetable patch again. 

"Keep them out of the house and away from the food!" He instructed Ah-Fu.

"We've been doing that all morning!" The boy replied, exasperated. "They keep coming back."

Song Cheng had been so looking forward to the melons this season.

"Just try your best."

Locust plague. It was not a term new to him, not even one new to Da Liang. The memorials for locust plagues reporting decimated crops had crossed his hands before, as had edicts for relief efforts. But words were distant. He had never imagined he would see such a thing in the Capital. 

When Song Cheng left his house, the sun was a bright line on the horizon. Certain it was to be a late day and resigned to walking to the palace, meaning it would be due an even later start (this was not the first time and surely not the last), he found the streets were covered, walls crawling with locusts. Every so often, large numbers were startled into flight as people tried to fend them off, so the air was filled with them too. 

To his horror, they collected in greater numbers the closer he got to the Imperial Palace.

Song Cheng remembered only a handful of scenes from the dream that had woken him this morning. It started with the locusts too, much, much worse than this. The floods, and a triple blow leading on into famine. With the country so destabilised, it was only natural for their neighbours to become interested in border expansion…

On the streets he walked, there was a great deal of noise from all around. The crisp crackling of wingbeats from swarms in the air, whispers of little bodies brushing past each other on the walls and floors, all overlaid with the shrill, characteristic sound that grasshoppers liked to make. Also everywhere: the people were trying hard to catch or herd them off in one direction, but that was going about just as well as one would expect, given their targets could fly and were hungry.

In the course of one morning, stress was mounting in Jinling and this was reflected even in the tenseness of the palace guards which was apparent even from a distance as he approached.

Song Cheng caught sight of a familiar back profile as he presented his tally for entry. When the guard gestured for him to pass, he nodded his thanks and strode a little faster to catch up.

“Gao-xiong! You've only just arrived? How can this be! I was the one who walked here—oh by the way, good morning to you!”

“My apologies, Song Cheng. My apologies. I heard you could not be woken this morning and thought you had taken ill. Was thinking of entering a little earlier to take leave on your behalf—but those dratted grasshoppers. Would you know, they spooked my horse! We took a turn and went dashing through the morning market.”

At that, Song Cheng's eyes widened and he looked him up and down. All seemed in order, so he asked, "Was anyone hurt? Any property damaged? Were you seen?"

“Goodness no. Or the Censorate would be having a field day with me today. As it is, the market happened to be fairly empty given this situation…and well..." He gestured at the stragglers chirping cheerfully from the side of the walkway. "We weren’t the only ones with trouble from those monsters, let’s just say that.” 

“Your Excellencies. You might want to take shelter.” An attendant warned as they passed and made his own escape.

As the two were speaking, they had not noticed, but another dark cloud approached from above. If they did not move, they would soon be caught in the flurry of insects.

The friends looked at each other and made a dash for the nearest office, eager to take shelter behind something .

As it turned out, the nearest building belonged to the Secretariat too.

“Draftsman Song. What are you doing here? There is a meeting to be held in Xian'an Hall. Your attendance is required. And… Minister Gao? I’m not sure about what your Minister wants, but you might as well come too.” 

They entered a full room. Song Cheng went to his thankfully obscure corner at the end of the room where paper, brush and inkstone were ready. He nodded his thanks at the junior who had prepared it. The other looked immensely relieved at not having to be the one recording at such a full meeting. Song Cheng felt a frisson of amusement at this, but it was quickly suppressed as he straightened his records and took attendance for the discussion.

Officials from the Six Ministries and Three Courts were all present. 

The Emperor was not. 

Under such circumstances, no major discussion nor final decision could be made and Xian'an Hall should not even have been opened for this. 

"Will His Majesty not be in attendance?" Of course, the Minister of Rites naturally noticed.

"His Majesty is indisposed. We will prepare a report on the result of this discussion for his review when he wakes." The Director of the Secretariat replied. "The final approval will, of course, have to be his.”

"Who will be accountable if he is displeased with our handling in his absence?"

"Me." The Director emphasized shortly. "Now if we may get back to the matter at hand, there seems to be a particular concentration of locusts in the Front Palace and Inner Palace at Chaoyang Hall. As expected, they are feeding. The gardens and rooms have been stripped. I hear the outer city is flooded with them as well. Situation report on the city please, War and Works?"

The Minister for Works began immediately. "The wards to the South of the palace seem to be the worst affected with more entering residences along the way. Xie Manor in particular. It is inadvisable to travel by carriage on roads leading to the palace as there have been several reports of horses panicking and galloping out of control. To the Southwest, the last of stall owners to close at the Night Market reported seeing them descend at or after Zishi. It appeared to be an orange raincloud."

"Corroborated. It was also reported as such by the night watch at the city gates. The Palace guard noted the same passing the Southern Gates three incense sticks after Zishi. But even now, there seems to be a steady stream coming in." The Minister for War agreed.

"Thus far only property and goods damages have been reported." Said the Minister for Justice. "I'm reporting on behalf."

"Capital Magistrate?"

"Busy."

The Minister for Revenue made a note. "We will start to keep track of losses as of now."

After a quick whispered conversation with his deputy, he added, "We would also recommend disseminating measures to barricade against entry in houses and stores or warehouses before it gets worse. We have some past examples, if the Secretariat will take them."

"Yes, of course."

"The reports are all from overnight and are an initial impact assessment. I’ve had men coming in within the last hour reporting homes crawling with insects."

"Can we take stock of their coverage since then and have another report on the current status? In the meantime we can continue with the discussion." 

Works, War, Revenue and Secretariat Director had their messages passed on by attendants. 

“Is there any possibility of shifting or protecting the granaries and simply waiting for them to run out of food and move on? It shouldn't take that long.” Someone suggested.

"What if they move on to the next province?"

"There are records of fire traps working in the past. Build a big pyre and they tend to fly toward them… I suggest we get rid of as many as we can while they are here and meanwhile notify the surrounding provinces."

More ideas were suggested and either dismissed or retained for small scale trials.

“But we’re back to this question. Who will approve any of this? Is His Majesty really not going to —”

"He has taken ill and the palace physicians advise that he should not be disturbed. Perhaps the Empress or Grand Empress Dowager?"

This statement garners a sharp glance from several ministers. Song Cheng immediately moves his brush from the paper as it trembles, narrowly avoiding a blotch. 

"Both also indisposed, with the Crown Prince's issue and what happened yesterday..."

"Do you know, Da Liang still has its Crown Prince."

"He is imprisoned on —"

"Unproven charges. I’m just saying that it’s an option.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

Later, after that meeting, Song Cheng sealed away his records and submitted them to the head secretary. There was much to do. Edicts to draft and notices to write and review. And then at the end of that day, on the way home with Minister Gao (after he swore up and down that the trouble with the horses had been resolved), the carriage moved in fits and starts. 

Looking out at the streets of Jinling, locust-dark, the sky overhead a pale grey, people moving warily toward clusters, they are clearly fighting a losing war. 

"Gao-xiong,” Song Cheng said suddenly, impulsively. “This, this is going to sound insane. But I promise—did you also happen to have a dream last night? It went like this…"

Chapter Text

𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧

The curtains of the imperial bed stretch out above him. The warp and weft and embroidery glinting in the watery morning sun. There was a faint scent of incense in the air, faded as if it had lingered for a few hours, unrefreshed. The room was not stuffy yet since the air was cool. But all was also very still.

From beyond the curtains of the inner rooms, the voices of two attendants were low, yet deliberately carrying.  

“It's a wildly popular opinion amongst the people that the locust plague was sent down because of the previous Emperor’s sins.” Said the one with a deeper voice, a tad hoarse.

“A theory you say? Is it only that now.” The reedy one answered with agitation clear in his voice. “Seventy thousand of Da Liang’s sons dead. They were defending our borders. And what was the evidence that did them in?” 

These were words intended for his ears.

How curious.

Xiao Xuan listened on.

That one continued without waiting for a reply. “Even the Heavens themselves did not have the eyes to see the previous Emperor going further down his crooked path, so they sent down their punishment… We should be grateful for their mercy.”

“Mercy…you mean that dream they called a portent?”

“What else could it be? Tell me again how it went?”

“You’ve bugged so many of us about it already. It’s been three years. Haven’t you heard enough?”

“I can’t help it…just look how many of you remember it well. How I could have forgotten nearly all except for the end — those staring eyes of the old, limbs being stripped bare of meat. And still that doesn’t quite match up with the recounts?”

“Have you considered the possibility that it was an ordinary dream? Maybe the locusts scared you in your sleep.”

They dissolved into squabbling.

Xiao Xuan took the time to digest what he had heard. This ‘previous Emperor’, surely they could not be speaking of himself? 

Three years… he did not follow all that was said about the ‘dream’ or Heaven-bestowed portent. It appeared to be a shared one…

“— His Majesty refused?”

“...The Bureau of Astronomy ^[7d] only makes suggestions based on interpretations of observations. They’ve been known to be wrong. How could a change in the name of our country help? This isn’t an overtake of another government or kingdom type of situation.” 

“Still, faith in the Bureau is at an all time high.”

Perhaps it was not Jingyu’s intention. It certainly was not his style to go about a push and knock with such lack of finesse or tact.

Nevertheless, these two attendants had been planted in his palace for such a conversation. Xiao Xuan wondered idly, almost wistfully where Gao Zhan had gone. Such poor and unsubtle speakers would surely have no chance to be given inner-room serving duty had he been around. 

A defanged tiger does not make a cat.

Busy complaining about the state of servant selection these days, Xiao Xuan did not wonder at why he suddenly was simply lying in bed during the day. Why does it not occur to him to get up and have them cease talking, despite this annoyance, familiar as if it were already a habit? Xiao Xuan also did not wonder.

There was a creak and woosh as doors pushed aside displaced the air. 

“Would you care to repeat your conversation for me?”

The voice was smooth, almost pleasant. 

But it appeared from the two’s pleads for mercy as they were escorted from the rooms that they did not think so.

This was Xiao Jingyu. Emperor of Da Liang. Barely warmed the throne and already here to not leave an old man to his rest.

“You’re awake,” he said, something off in his tone. “My apologies for this lateness. The matter will be investigated.” 

There comes the shuffle of robes. More than one person. The slight ringing chink of a lifted lid, a series of rythemic sounds as a small bowl is stirred. 

“Father,” he said again, closer now and tentative. “It’s time for your medicine.”

Coming into sight, his eldest hunched above him in emperor’s black and gold. His shoulders are sharp under the rich fabric. A familiar pattern, a familiar weave, a different drape of the summer silk. Xiao Jingyu’s features are sharper than Xiao Xuan remembers. A shadow at his cheeks and below his eyes where he did not remember there being before. 

Another rustle of fabric, and Xiao Jingyu leaves his field of vision. The sound can only be of someone settling by his bedside. His son, preparing to feed him his medicine.

Xiao Xian felt himself lifted with one steady shoulder and guided into a sitting position, a soft pillow positioned behind his back. He could see the room, the occupants and his son in full view. 

The spoon is lifted to his mouth. Looking into Xiao Jingyu’s eyes as he is fed, there is no trace of impatience or any negative emotion. Only concentration and a wholeheartedness with which he has always invested into his every action. Perhaps that charming sense of responsibility contributes to him being so loved. It was heady to be looked at like this. As if only you mattered most in this moment, in this world. Xiao Xian’s mind wandered again.

He swallowed with practised difficulty, unfamiliar and everyday at once. 

Had the recipe been adjusted? It had a different sort of bitterness. A sort of spice? 

A rolling burn that spread from within.

“You would have had this served to me.” Jingyu said.

The fiery burn of the poison consumed all.

In the few moments before his last consciousness scattered, Xiao Xuan thinks, “and not even by my own hand. I did not have the courage for it.”

There was an interval, he did not know if it was long or short, when he seemed to regain the use of all his limbs. But the world seemed veiled by a haze. He walked when he was told. He walked endlessly. And then drank when he was told.

When he finally came to awareness, he was passing through an unfamiliar palace corridor into a hall vast and bright. A long desk at its head, and a mirror hanging above.

“I knew your face.” He said to the judge looking downwards from his high desk, reaching out, something twisting in his chest. 

𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧

Chapter Text

Resting on the steps and balustrades outside, the locusts twitch their feelers peacefully in the afterdraft of the Crown Prince’s arrival outside the Emperor’s private chambers. 

Throughout the palace, they had been overall victorious in their battle for territory against the guards, palace maids and attendants, and boldly showed off this fact by staking claim on all surfaces over which the hands and feet of man did not pass. It seemed to be a stalemate, but every dusty and disheveled person who had been involved in that drawn out fight knew better.

The day before last, thousands upon thousands of these black and red warriors had settled overnight within the rooms, appearing without a single living soul’s awareness. They piled and milled over every available surface, the walls, the floors, shelves, tables, even the Emperor and his bed. A moving blanket over the grass patches and trees along steps and the tiled walkways, ensured there was no longer any green in sight. Such was the complete takeover of this area of the palace.

It was this black and red mass of palm-length locusts that greeted the attendants and guards from every cun of available surface as they woke from their unnaturally deep sleep.  Where there had been grass, the earth was bare, proud trees had been decrowned and they had started on the furniture.

There was a moment of silence as the locusts regarded the palace personnel, and were sized up in return. Then a low buzzing of tens of thousands of translucent wings beating furiously abruptly increased in volume as they took to the air and dived down. Brooms were in short supply, but the attendants and guards grabbed what they could to fend off these abnormally aggressive assailants. Naturally, the attendants took positions in the chambers, whilst the guards fought their battle outdoors. 

By the time the sun was shining down upon them, both sides had exhausted themselves and the skirmish for the territory of the Emperor’s chambers had been won. 

Some locusts remained still, out of reach within the rooms upon the rafters. Perhaps some even lurked out of sight in corners of the room where light did not reach. But the triumphant attendants swept and fanned the vast majority of the last wave out the door with great relief, and turned to each other heaving sighs. The sleeping occupant of the room had not been stirred by the noise of their battle. 

It was the first sign that something was wrong. But for the briefest of moments, the attendants were very relieved by their good fortune.

Then Head Eunuch Gao Zhan arrived at the door, a trail of startled, airborne locusts in his wake. There was a cut on his cheek, strands of flyaway hairs at his temple, his hat scrupulously and firmly in place. 

“Good work on the room. Has the Emperor awakened?” 

No he had not. 

The physicians came, the Empress who was quite ill herself and also the princes. No amount of calling out could pull him from his sleep.

And so, Crown Prince Xiao Jingyu, after consultation with the elders of the imperial family, the grand empress dowager and the top ranked ministers, was released from prison.

The Chiyan Army, the heart of the matter and centre of accusations of treason had been executed on the spot to the last man. There had been no concrete evidence to implicate the Crown Prince, a search of the Eastern Palace and Lin Manor yielded nothing. Even the most impassioned of the censorate had nothing to say in protest.

And so on the second morning of the locust plague upon Jinling city, Xiao Jingyu was informed by the ministers of the situation. Of Chiyan Army’s execution, Grand Princess Jinyang’s suicide, the Emperor’s state of health, the portent of impending diaster. And that with no evidence of treason, he would now be released. Da Liang’s Crown Prince was needed to lead them in this dark hour.

The very first words out of the Crown Prince’s mouth were, “I must go to see fuhuang.” 

Xiao Jingyu wiped a trickle of medicine that escaped down the Emperor’s chin. His fuhuang was propped up on blankets carefully positioned at his back, by the bed support and by his side, so he would not list or slide over when taking his medicine. The imperial physicians were adamant that there was nothing physically wrong with the Emperor. This unconsciousness was because he had been caught in a dream.

“It is not my area of expertise, Your Highness. His Majesty cannot be forcefully woken by mortal means.”

“Then it is not human hands that have caused this unconsciousness, and not within the abilities of our imperial physicians. Who then would be appropriate to diagnose fuhuang’s condition?”

The physician remained silent for a moment, holding back with some considerations of past events. But the situation was serious and past edicts did not account for future emergencies. He offered an unwelcome, but not unexpected name, “Head of Hanging Mirror Bureau, Xia Jiang.”

Xia Jiang was no physician, Xiao Jingyu knew, but he had a rumoured identity that had now been confirmed. However, Xiao Jingyu had his misgivings on involving Xia Jiang. As he considered, the ever present shrill chirp of locusts seemed to creep louder in volume.

“A healer he is not. But we have consulted with him on such matters before.” The physician broke in.

A cultivator who had stepped back into the mortal dusts. Not the first to do so, though it was rare indeed. Exceedingly rare. The man had never confirmed this in public before, but there were whispers that the Emperor kept a cultivator by his side. One skilled in the art of divination. That the Hanging Mirror Bureau had a secret secondary calling to investigate crimes and incidents related to the cultivation world and the supernatural. 

It was something that the Master of Langya Hall, famed for that particular specialisation, had always been interested in. From what Xiao Jingyu knew, even Langya Hall did not have the connections to confirm this. 

“And Xia-shouzun would have a solution?” The Crown Prince asked.

“He may recognize what afflicts His Majesty, and from there a possible undoing of it.”

It had always been the way of the imperial physicians to hold their tongue on matters of which they were unsure. If they had half a chance of being right, they would rather claim ignorance and propose a middling treatment. Xiao Jingrui felt the briefest moment of regret for the undue pressure that caused such reticence. But there was no time. He brushed the bubble aside. There would be time to tease out thoughts on this matter later. 

“Then consult with him. Discreetly. Nothing that happens in this room must be described to anyone outside of us here.”

*

Opening his first meeting with the Inner Court ministers since his imprisonment Xiao Jingyu said without preamble as soon as all had arrived, “Such a plague has never occurred before in the capital. We may not know the reason they have come to Jinling, but locusts do not appear from nowhere. The policy of destroying their breeding grounds is still in force. There has been no word of swarms forming from nearby provinces. It may be the right season, but to my knowledge, not the right conditions. Secretariat Director Liu, no report of minor bands of locusts or floods have reached my desk that I remember. What about the Secretariat?”

Immediately, the Secretariat Director answered, “All memorials submitted to the Emperor in the past half-year have been reviewed. No relevant incidents were reported.” He looked to the other ministers.

“Nothing within the past two months.” Said the Minister of Works, “But we may have a witness for the movement of this swarm.” 

The others looked at him with some surprise.

He quickly added, “In the latest periodic update from projects in Northern provinces, there was mention of gathering storm clouds, intermittent rain and strong winds for the past seven days. The sighting of a dark cloud moving fast was reported by the messenger.”

“From past observation, they are not known to fly on the level of clouds.” Someone said dubiously, and this topic was passed over.

The Secretariat Director started off. “We had discussed transfers from more affected to less affected areas yesterday morning. But by noon, both residential areas and the markets were taken over completely. Preliminary small-scale fire traps proved completely ineffective.”

“These insects are not behaving normally.” Said the Minister for Revenue at once. “We have strategies to counter locust invasions, but not on this scale and certainly not after they’ve already settled and are consuming everything in sight.”

They continued in this fashion for a time. 

“Then gentlemen,” Xiao Jingyu said very slowly after listening to all this, “Is it time to consider evacuation of the capital?” 

When they concluded that discussion, after the ministers left, he dismissed his attendants. 

“I wish to walk alone.” 

Xiao Jingyu had already thought it through. And the reason could not be far from 'as the night stretches on, so the dreams grow in number'. So he knows what is on his Emperor-father’s mind. The reasoning behind his actions is the same as so many others who had gone down in history. The cause is the same, and the effects surface in much the same ripples. But his heart would not accept this answer. 

He remembered—a decade ago, when he had turned fifteen, cajoling Ji-huangshu into drinking together and plying stories of his uncle and father’s youthful exploits from him. 

“He was my favourite. So different from the rest of them, you know? He was immediately different. I don’t know how he could have grown up like that in this place.”

“How was he different from the rest?”

“The first time I met him, I felt like a person. An idiot, that’s true. But a person.”

“...”

“It was like being in a den of wolves back then. If you were not a wolf, then too bad, you’re a piece of meat. Meat that refuses to be eaten’d be torn to shreds by the rest. But he, he just thought I was stupid. Stupid and silly, but still, he saved me from them.”

“What about the other imperial uncles?”

“Well. We’re the only ones left living in the capital aren’t we. Be glad, little Jingyu. You and your brothers didn’t grow up like that. Huangxiong isn’t our father.”

And Xiao Jingyu had been glad. 

Crooked morals begat a crooked heart, a crooked heart led to crooked actions and suspicion easily sparked. And suspicion once sparked, grew like a wildfire, unreasonable, destructive and indiscriminate in its consumption. States and empires throughout history had collapsed from this. 

But he, surrounded by the love of his family and filled with that same love, had thought with pride and gladness, ‘ we are different .’

Hubris perhaps. Or the naivety of youth in its high tower. 

The sky above was a deep grey that threatened rain as he walked now to his mother’s Yuexin Palace. 

This place had, too, been touched by the locusts. But compared to the ongoing decimation of the other palaces, seeing the lightly nibbled plum blossom trees and osmanthus bushes, whatever was happening here could almost be called a friendly visit. 

There was a swing in the gardens, installed by Consort Chen’s brother himself in cahoots with her husband when she had first entered the palace. Through the years that passed, many small hands had swung joyfully. 

It was on this swing that she sat now, leaning on the backrest, eyes closed. 

Xiao Jingyu settled on the seat by her side.

Creak, creak, went the wood and ropes of the swing warningly.

Locusts perched on nearby branches peacefully. The soft red edges of their wings and torso gleamed against dark grey bodies in the slanting evening sunlight.

“In two days, we leave Jinling.” He said, when the crescent moon peeked through the clouds. 

The gardens were unseasonably chilly that night, the cold almost like a physical presence there with them. It was so cold that when the sun rose the next morning, the leaves of those plum blossom trees were dripping with dew.

Chapter Text

On the fourth day of the locust plague upon Jinling, decimation of their food and damage to their homes continued. 

The Ministry of Works had spent the previous day transporting food and supplies ahead of the move while the people tried to save their homes. But it was in vain. Still more locusts swarmed in from seemingly nowhere, such that even areas that had been lightly affected on the first day were now stripped bare.

It has been clear to Xie Yu for some days now that the winds were very much not blowing in their favour. 

With the emperor indisposed, allegedly unconscious and with no means of waking him, the dratted dream portent that had apparently accurately predicted the current locust invasion of the capital and promised the fall of Da Liang, the Chiyan Case was utterly dwarfed. It had been a matter of timing and luck. 

They had gambled and they were losing.

Still, not all was lost yet, for there could be no possible evidence of their plan. He was confident of his and Xia Jiang’s ability to cover up at the very least. And so there was no way of tracing any of it back to them. Yet the state of affairs now was akin to taking one big step forward in their plans and then sliding on a slope further down than they had been before.

Too much hinged on Xiao Jingyu now. 

The Crown Prince had lost the Lins who were his major backing amongst the military officials, that was true. But his supporters among the civil officials at court had not been affected at all, and some pockets on the military side remained. Jinling’s shared dream, the Emperor’s unwaking sleep, the overnight locust plague — all had stacked to cause the failure of their tightly plotted chain of collapse of the Crown Prince's faction. Now their window of opportunity has gone. 

Perhaps if the Emperor woke… But even Xia Jiang, with all his cultivation and knowledge, had no confidence of achieving that, especially with no way of seeing the Emperor for himself. Or perhaps if this evacuation did not go well... but if Xie Yu were being honest with himself, given the situation, he was already surprised at the smoothness of the organisation in the phase controlled Jinling evacuation.

Xie Yu, in his position as second-in-command of the Capital Patrol, had naturally been recruited to facilitate evacuation efforts. He had returned his borrowed garrisoned armies to the hands of their commander general as soon as he could, bringing with him the tiger tally that had given him temporary command over them. Upon returning to the capital, he had handed it back to the emperor without hesitation. 

Of course he would not dally, military power was never the goal at the present moment, and this attitude could only draw the emperor, in his insecurity, to place more trust in him. 

But before his calculated act could bring any returns, Xie Yu was returned to the ranks of the Capital Patrol, and it was this role now which had him overseeing the exit of the imperial family from the capital. 

Exceedingly strangely, he had been informed the Emperor’s palanquin would be the very last to exit.

(Of course Xie Yu could have no way of knowing this, but preparations for the Emperor’s exit had begun from the moment the decision had been made to evacuate the city. But the strangest accidents had forced the postponement of his time to set off one after another. It was only when Xiao Jingyu put his foot down and insisted they leave no matter what, that this was the final time with no further delay.)

Heads would roll at the Ministry of Rites or Imperial Household Affairs when this was all settled down, Xie Yu was sure.

It was an unremarkable carriage amongst those of the nobility that brought the Emperor of Liang out of his capital city. And so the cry that went up from those milling commoners waiting to leave as the entire carriage began to spill locusts from its windows, was not as loud or as panicked as it could have been.

Loud and panicked the reaction still was however, with some more wary ones even breaking the line to flee as the swarm that emerged swirled in a whirlwind so close, it hid the carriage completely from view. 

Xie Yu aborted a natural urge to lean away, jerking on his horse’s reins, and instead, led the charge towards the fray. But amidst gasps and screams drowned out by the sound of thousands of beating wings, the black tornado of locusts lifted from the ground and broke apart into  scattered swarms. There was no longer any carriage. 

No amount of training could have held back a curse from his lips at that moment. He trotted back and forth over the area where it had been. Knowing of that other kind that existed and who could so easily step past the borders separating their worlds and into this one… he knew of illusions, but a thing that even mortals know of could only be skimming the very surface of possibility.

Nothing.

Xie Yu sent a messenger who had witnessed the incident ahead to escalate this report, then passed down strict orders for heightened awareness for watching over the crowd and inspections at the city gates. Leaving his most trusted deputy to oversee the men, he turned around and raced too, for the palace himself.

In the evening, with the flow of commoners slowing to a trickle in fits and starts, the last of the Ministers who had stayed to oversee remaining work gathered at the gates too. There was a list of names, the best they could do to make sure none were left behind who did not wish to stay, there had been many lists, and still more unaccounted for.

Some lingering looks. Murmured discussions for a last sweep and check.

A fierce wind began to rise.

How it blew and blew. The biting howl of it by their ears was like the cry of some monster. The sleeves of these last stragglers billowed, their robes as well. And then as if propelled by this sudden wind, commoners and officials alike were dragged through the gates of Jinling.

Like they were some unfussy official’s casually installed, pinewood back doors, Jinling city’s gates slammed shut in the wind with a deafening bang behind them.

It might have seemed like the freak wind was what had blown them out.

But someone watching from the side would have noticed, it was more like they had been dragged out together with careless impatience. 

That someone watching from the side must not have been affected by this.

Someone like… Xie Yu.

He stares, stock still for half a stick of incense’s worth of time, as the unnatural chill of this Autumn pressed in on all sides. 

Then he backs away from those cursed doors — cursed, they had to be, no hope lies that way — turning to where? He did not know. Perhaps to the Hanging Mirror Bureau… 

“Xia-shouzun? He’s a clay bodhisattva crossing the river, himself. I say, you'd have been better off going home for a nap, Uncle Xie.”

The voice is jaunty and cheerful. Humorous even, its owner’s silent approaching steps accompanied by a playful tinkle from the bell at his side. But Xie Yu’s heart froze over at the sound of that familiar voice. The cold seemed to come from within, so fast and so much did he stiffen that there was not even any sensation of sinking. 

“Did you think that your ploy had been executed and cleaned up seamlessly? Humans may act, but heaven sees all. A long night is best for many dreams...” 

𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧

Xie Yu opens eyes stinging from the sweat that had rolled in. His heart is pounding fit to burst, pulse loud in his ears. He is down to his last men. The lives of the rest paved their way home.

‘Enough!’ He wants to shout. ‘Enough. Enough. I’m sorry. Can we stop?’ 

But he does not because it will not work.

The gates of Jinling tower before him. Flanked by watchtowers, their stately air and atmosphere of security assuring all who laid eyes on them. 

They remain shut in the dawn light.

An army darkens the horizon.

𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧𓆧

Chapter Text

Once upon a time there was a version of this story that had Xiao Jingyan going to Marquis Yan and requesting for a contact among the Daoist masters of their mortal realm. He sought advice or proof if entering the cultivation world could bring him even a step closer to finding out what happened to Lin Shu. Fortunately for him, everyone on this information trail was fairly competent and honest as far as knowledge went, and he soon realized that cultivating to approach Dao, with its goal of ascendance to immortality, was not going to bring him any closer to Lin Shu and the Chiyan dead. 

Xiao Jingyan further learnt upon consultation with Langya Hall that Ghost Cultivation was an avenue worth consideration. He mulled it over for a time, whereupon this line of thought was promptly and painfully (for Xiao Jingyan) corrected by someone who shall remain unnamed, and convinced with subsequent evidence that being a Corpse Herder, with all the interactions with the Earthly Residence and Prison (sometimes known as Hell) that the role entailed, may be more in alignment with his goals.

And so with all the requisite guarantor's letters, letters of recommendation and other objects from the proper channels, the seventh son of the Emperor of Da Liang, Xiao Jingyan, was off to learn the tricks of the trade of Corpse Herders atop the unnamed hidden peaks of some unnamed divine mountain for what would come to be the better part of a decade.

Emperor Xiao Jingyu who ascended the throne in the Summer of the next year did not leave his brother to work alone. With the effort of Southern Liang poured in to investigate the incident purported to have nearly caused the fall of Da Liang, and had certainly cost it an Emperor and a capital city, the truth—or a version of it anyway, for there were no survivors, no witnesses and no criminal to put on trial—came to light.

After some years of learning, Xiao Jingyan was deemed capable and tempered enough as a Corpse Herder to go out into the world to gather his own experiences. To the surprise of all paying attention, he did not head straight back to Liang nor did he circle round to Plum Blossom Ridge. Instead, he meandered through Miao, lending his skills where it was sorely needed, followed the border down to the sea and disappeared for a while.

When Xiao Jingyan was spotted again near the Eastern Sea, it was reported that he had two odd young boys with him. 

But ‘Their Return’ is not that story. 

This is the story of the Langya List if there had been a cultivation world in the background, if the Langya List had been a ghost story and a revenge story too. 

Because of this, the curtains now close on Jinling City. 

Its gates are shut, never to be opened again. The city itself disappears from mortal eyes. 

The once-capital of Da Liang is a world of its own lost in illusions and dreams; infinite variations play out all for its remaining inhabitants. And there they shall remain, be it in life or in death.

The End

Chapter Text

// Totally going to get me identified, but come on, I can’t wait a whole week to add this!

Definitions

This section will not cover common units of measure, terms and words that are mentioned in the novel because the author of this fic is so long winded, we might end up with an annotations chapter the same length as its fic. (We might anyway)

^[1d] Gates of Ghost Pass (鬼门关)
The first landmark a soul encounters at the start of their journey to the afterlife, imagined as a grand doorway.
Refer to Background Notes [2b] for details

^[2d] Way of the Yellow Springs (黄泉路)
The lonely road that souls must walk to get to Hell proper where they can begin the next phase of their existence.
Refer to Background Notes [2b] for details

^[3d] Dragon's Aura (龙气)
Belonging to the emperor, it was also sometimes known as ‘Purple Aura’ as derived from the Purple Star or Emperor Star of astrology. 

^[4d] Quote from Book of Han (汉书) - Wang Mang's Biography (王莽传)
Translated with DeepL and edited slightly. The original: 夏，蝗从东方来，蜚蔽天，至长安，入未央宫，缘殿阁.

Yes, locusts really have invaded a palace before.

^[5d] Song Cheng (宋承)
承, to undertake, to receive/accept/bear. 

^[6d] Scribe (贴写中书) & Draftsman (中书舍人)
Both belong to the Central Secretariat (中书省).
Refer to Background Notes [5b] for details.

^[7d] Bureau of Astronomy / Taishi Academy (太史院),
A little name change to make their function clear without further explanation. An added scope to their job here is interpretation of astronomical phenomena and portents since this is a background cultivation world (as opposed to wuxia). 

Story Notes

Parts of the story that didn’t get told. 

If the first chapter felt like there was more going in the background, [1s] and [2s] are why.

(Inspired by a variety of sources. If you know, you know :D)

^[1s] Ghost Cultivator (鬼修)

For details on what is a ghost cultivator, please refer to Background Notes [3b], [4b]

A ghost cultivator discovered that there would be a huge battle between the mortal countries, and excitedly decided this would be the best time to test out his newly designed array to create a ghost army. So that’s what he did. But by the time it was ready with the setup, the battle of Chiyan with Da Yu was abruptly over (to him anyway, to them it was a grueling three day three night thing). 

To his delight, the Chiyan massacre began half a day later. 

He was successful in trapping the majority of the Chiyan dead and stealing part of their souls to sustain the array. Though there was one that immediately ascended to Heaven which his array could not hold, and a small fraction that was not within its range.

(No I will not elaborate on who ascended, but his identity was hinted at. I think the poor dear deserves it!)

Using actual souls of soldiers fresh from the battlefield is especially helpful because this group of people have the strongest baleful aura (煞气) from the killing, which translates to a more powerful ghost army. Along with ensuring they are bound and can never leave or dissipate, the missing part of them means that they cannot enter hell / the netherworld. Their resentment feedbacks into the binding, strengthens their power and can be absorbed by the ghost cultivator.

However, this ghost cultivator was unable to enjoy the fruits of his labor. 

Because of their unique cultivation method of using only the nascent soul and abandoning the body, ghost cultivators are vulnerable to many of the same things as all natural ghosts, without having the full characteristics of ghosts themselves. The one in this case is the waters of the Yellow Springs. If a ghost cultivator drops in, they are trapped also and vulnerable to attacks from the ghosts in there, some of whom may be much older and more powerful than themselves. 

^[2s] Lin Xie’s quick cameo, though he wasn’t named

For hell and a brief overview of the Ten Courts where judgment is passed, refer to Background Notes [2b].

Each Court of Hell has a different purpose. The relevant one in this fic is the Fifth Court.

Though the ruler of the court is the most famous, there are a vast number of other bureaucrat-ghosts, imps and more ensuring everything runs smoothly. After all, unlike in the mortal world, judgements in Hell must not be wrong (there are much higher stakes on department KPI, I imagine). 

In the Northern and Southern Dynasties period, the one intended for the Fifth Court had not become the person he needed to be yet. Time is whimsical in the afterlife. There are some courts who already have their big bosses, despite them being ‘not born yet’. Therefore, in the meantime, they selected suitable ghosts from the souls of dead humans to fill in his place. Being human souls, even the cream of the crop would not be able to wield such power for long, hence the turnover was frequent and regulated. // Workplace safety is important everywhere!

The Fifth Court had had their sights set on Lin Xie since a long time ago, though he had no way of knowing that. And no matter what he does, the guards and officials tend to close an eye.

Lin Xie was among the small group (a few thousands) of the Chiyan Army that was not caught in the array. When the Ghostly Gates opened for them, he was also the one to lure the ghost cultivator—enticing him with the prospect of capturing said group—and throwing him into the waters of the Yellow Springs. There, the ghost cultivator was ripped apart.

And that's how he got rid of the would-be master of the Chiyan Army. 

(They probably could have gotten rid of him themselves eventually, but in the meantime, they would have suffered and been very disgusted.)

But that was the last thing he could do for them, since in doing that he had stepped on the Way. The others would follow their Marshal into hell.

There is no turning back once you step onto the Way of the Yellow Springs. But he worries for the Chiyan who would be left behind. 

The way they settle when he looks at them tells him all he needed to know, that they haven’t really been changed.

So he went in peace.

^[3s] Lin Shu coming back as a something More → Ghost General

There are no characteristics that determine whether you can or cannot be remade into this when you go through the process of change. That is, this is unpredictable. It’s purely by chance that he was born this way. Naturally inclined to lead. But not all excellent leaders can become Ghost Generals.

He feels that he does not lead the Chiyan because they do think as one. But in actual fact, he has a great deal of influence. Normal Ghost Generals achieve this through suppression by power. The weaker ghosts bow to them naturally. 

But the Chiyan follow Lin Shu because he is their Young Marshal.

^[4s] Huo Province (霍州)
Just an easter egg for my giftee who enjoys incorporation of details from the novel. Huozhou is mentioned in Chapter 4 of the unrevised novel by Mei Changsu. We learn that there is an ongoing locust plague there, and that a branch of the Alliance would be organizing food relief efforts that came from donations. These are sort of like soup kitchens except with porridge being distributed instead. Since this is happening approximately 12 years on from the Chiyan Case of course, it’s not related to the locusts in this fic at all.

Background Notes

This section is just a collection of the stuff I had in the back of my mind. Not all that relevant, but very fun to daydream about instead of writing! XD

For historical topics, I followed the style of Langya List the novel i.e. Alternate Universe all the way! Southern Liang (502 - 557 CE) of the Northern and Southern Dynasties period was usually the base, which is then embellished with interesting things from other dynasties or outright made up details. Where each aspect comes from will not be shared mostly because I didn’t keep track and now have too many tabs open across different devices, but also because this is the background to a story. Not real life!

[1b] The sky above was an absorbing white. The earth below, crimson.
Inspired by a random thought about the famous opening to the Thousand Character Classic (千字文), which coincidentally was said to be commissioned by the founding Emperor Wu of Liang for his son to learn to read. The line goes: heaven is dark, earth golden; the cosmos is vast and diffuse (天地玄黄 宇宙洪荒). Translation from the chinasage page for this text. 

[2b] Hell / Netherworld AKA Earthly Residence (地府) & Earthly Prison (地狱)

In the case of beliefs in afterlife and hell, Buddhism had just been brought to the Han people during the Yongping era (58 -75 CE), and it was not widely practiced even up to the Three Kingdoms period (220 - 280 CE). I feel like about 250 years is enough time for Buddhism to be settled enough that its afterlife beliefs could begin to mix in with local beliefs. 

So you have a hell which is one part just like a regular city with houses and government, where you probably bribe your way into (folklore), and then you have one part of it that is just for punishing sinners and a system of reincarnation too (18 Levels of Hell from Buddhism). 

With this merger of ‘two organizations’ ongoing, I imagine there would be a lot of procedures and processes to rework and iron out. Hence, I gladly took inspiration from all sorts of sources.

This is a world in which the netherworld is a very real and physical place. 

To get there, a normal person may have their names checked at the local Earth Diety’s Temple or City God’s Temple (土地庙 / 城隍庙) or at a Ghostly Gate Pass (鬼门关) and start off walking on their Way of the Yellow Springs (黄泉路). 

They would be walking on a strip of land that may be narrow or wide, with spirit filled waters on either side that is sometimes deadly still, sometimes violently churning. Once you start walking on the Way of Yellow Springs, there are no moon and no stars above and no earth below. Nothing ahead and also nothing and no one behind. Souls that fall into the waters at Yellow Springs and Wangchuan (explained later) will be attacked by the spirits trapped there who dream of finding replacements for themselves, so that they may be freed. 

(It’s difficult to pass into the afterlife, but if you chose not to, then your only option is ti stay in the mortal world to become either a wandering ghost and eventually dissipate, or turn into a wrathful one and be exterminated.)

Sidenote: In cases where a large amount of abnormal deaths are detected, or where the person died is far from home, it’s the Ghostly Gate Pass which opens. If these were wrongful deaths or if they passed with genuine grievances then there’s probably a slightly different process they go through once they reach the Courts.

Right after you finish walking the Way of the Yellow Springs, there is a river that welcomes you called Wangchuan (忘川河) which lies between the road you took here and the underworld offices xD. It is blood red. Ghosts that fall in won’t ever be reborn. The bridge that allows you to cross it is known as Naihe (奈何桥). Once you cross that bridge, you have reached Homewatch Terrace (望乡台), usually on the 3rd day of your death. When you stand on it, you can watch your family and friends in real time. And also see your dead body :)

By the Naihe bridge, there is a lady distributing soup. She is called ‘Mengpo’ (孟婆). The soup is drunk so you can gradually forget your past. Crossing the place where Mengpo gives out her soup, there is a rock known as Three Lives Stone (三生石) where images of your past life will appear. Movie time before you forget for real? 

Walk on further and you will pass Fierce Dog Ridge (恶狗岭)，Gold Chicken Mountain (金鸡山), and Homeless Ghost Village (野鬼村). → I got a bit descriptive in my notes, but these places aren’t relevant to the story, so. Leaving it out!

At Palace of Confusion (迷魂殿), you drink another soup that is like a truth potion that makes you speak all your crimes, after which you end up in the Yin Ministry of the Earthly Residence, Youdou City (阴曹地府 酆都城), where there are Ten Courts of Hell with one ruler presiding over each (十殿阎罗). This is where your actions this lifetime are weighed and judged. 

Afterwards, for your crimes you are punished in Eighteen Levels of Hell (十八层地狱). This is where the concept of hell as a prison which punishes wrongdoers comes in. For those who have no crimes or completed the punishment period, you just live in the city until your ghost lifetime is up. Then you go on to the six paths for reincarnation. 

[3b] Types of Cultivators

Cultivators of the Way 道修 / Sword 剑修 - Two branches of the same road. Cultivators of the Way aim to become one with Dao. Cultivators of the Sword aim to become one with their sword. Through these means, they may achieve ascendance.

In general Cultivators of the Way also branch out into some specializations such as divination, arrays and medicine.

The general path of cultivation follows this order: 

Foundation > Golden Core > Nascent Soul > Great Passing > Tribulation > Ascendance

Ghost Cultivators 鬼修 - These are offshoots of cultivators who for one reason or another, had to abandon their bodies. They use their nascent souls to cultivate, thus becoming no different from ghosts, yet also are neither man nor ghost and in certain ways, lesser than both. Their ‘bodies’ - in truth the nascent soul taking physical form, become cool to the touch and they have no heartbeat. Such cultivators also steal the souls of other beings and turn them into puppets. 

Demonic Cultivators 魔修 - (Not mentioned)

Cultivators of Buddha’s Teachings 佛修 - (Not mentioned)

But cultivators are not the only ones that make up this world, though they are the shiniest. 

We have Corpse Herders (赶尸人) who bridge the gaps with the supernatural. To rephrase so it sounds less mysterious: they lead the dead home. Not only dead bodies that rise, but all sorts of ghosts that fall through the gaps and are trapped in this world. This is a little harder than it sounds if you consider the myriad of ways a ghost can turn vicious or wrathful, or band together to cause trouble. Not to mention what do you do when they become corrupted and more powerful through harming or killing humans? Or encounter humans who bind and manipulate souls?

[4b] Ghost Armies, Ghost Generals, shenanigans of Ghost Cultivators

There are actually many ways to make ghost armies and ghost generals. Some who like them solid and reanimate the dead. Some take great care in selecting and re-making the bodies of their ghost generals. The soldier ghosts of ghost armies are generally much stronger than your average corrupted wrathful ghost. And a ghost general can destroy a ghost army given enough time.

Are there higher levels than soldier and general? Maybe! I didn’t think about them.

So, what sounds like the natural enemy of Ghost Cultivators? That’s right! Corpse Herders.

[5b] Central Secretariat (中书省)
This was a policy-formulating agency in the government that consulted regularly with the Emperor and participated in major governmental decisions.
A Scribe (贴写中书) was responsible for keeping records, making translations and transcriptions.
A Draftsman (中书舍人) was principally a handler of central government documents. 

[6b] Gregarious Grasshoppers i.e. Locusts

Some sharing some facts I found while reading:

1. Locusts are grasshoppers that develop gregarious characteristics.
2. All locusts are taxonomically identical to grasshoppers, but exhibit different characteristics under certain environmental conditions. These changes include but are not limited to coloration, hearing ability and behavior. The coloration of the locusts described in the fic are slightly exaggerated, but accurate to their real life transformation (though maybe not by regional species XD)
3. Gregarious grasshoppers still make their iconic chirping sound!
4. The author does not enjoy reading journal articles describing dissection of insects for science.
5. Environmental conditions that contribute to the formation of locust swarms include droughts, flooding and lush grassland afterwards.
6. This wonderful video (CW for insects): These Swarming Locusts Are Grasshoppers Gone Wrong | Deep Look

[7b] Xie Yu’s position in the Ministry of War
In LYB, Xie Yu is a First Rank Military Marquis with command over the Capital Patrol (巡防营). One of the duties of the Capital Patrol is to maintain security at the Four Gates, a duty which includes inspection of travel papers and other documentation, goods and anything else passing through. This was useful for me because of what I needed him to witness in this story. 

Going back to 12 years before canon, command over this arm of the Ministry of War was likely too important to be given to the husband of a princess, even if he is also the heir of an old family like the Xies. 

But it isn’t too wild (I hope) for him to have a relatively high position in there, with some responsibilities for gaining experience. Was a little bit torn between the lower ranked major (参将), who would be in charge of camps, and second-in command overall (副将). But with what he’d just come back from doing, I thought second-in command would make sense. A high enough rank that you wouldn’t doubt his ability to organize and lead a reinforcement army, but still mobile—there can be more than one in an organization, so lending him out isn’t so very detrimental to the running of the Capital Patrol.

Impressive and he is accomplished in his own right, but he also definitely is waaaay more than second fiddle to what Lin Xie is and can do.

𓆧𓆧 𓆧  𓆧   𓆧    𓆧     𓆧      𓆧       𓆧        𓆧         𓆧           𓆧

归邪
(guī shé)

The name of an asterism described in Shiji’s treatise section on astronomy, 《史记·天官书》.
It is described in these words: 如星非星，如云非云，命曰归邪。归邪出，必有归国者。
Roughly: Like a star but not a star, like a cloud but not a cloud, (this is) named guī shé. When guī shé emerges, for sure, there is someone returning to their country.