Cold wind sliced through the air like invisible blades, sending snowflakes swirling before they blanketed the ground. Lu Sheng slowly opened his eyes. He was seated inside a dull-yellow horse carriage that rocked gently from side to side. Beside him, a young girl’s soft, lilting voice drifted through the air.
Beyond the carriage walls, a cacophony of life unfolded—a lively hum of vendors hawking their wares, people shouting and bargaining, and the cheerful cries of children filling the wintry air.
Lu Sheng drew in a deep breath and released a weary sigh. He knew there was no going back. Once, he had been a seasoned worker in a state-owned enterprise. But after one drunken night, he had awakened to find himself in this strange new world.
It had been five days since that moment.
The crisp air carried the mingled aromas of wine, roasted nuts, and freshly baked pies.
“Sigh… The Osmanthus Winery’s white osmanthus wine smells even richer today,” murmured the young servant girl beside him. Her name was Little Qiao, her voice soft and tinged with innocence.
At twelve years old, she looked no older than ten, with her doll-like face and petite frame. A faint blush colored her round cheeks as she sat in her small green cotton skirt, gently rubbing a hair tie between her palms to warm it.
The tie, made from the bark of a rare rubber tree, gave off a subtle fragrance. In the cold, it hardened easily and needed to be softened by touch.
Lu Sheng chuckled quietly but said nothing. Moments later, the carriage came to a halt.
He lifted the veil and stepped down, his boots pressing onto the grayish-white bluestone street, each tile large enough to hold a man’s face.
All around him, carriages rolled by and horses trotted under their masters’ guidance. Street hawkers bargained with strolling ladies, and wives laughed freely beneath the pale winter sun—their carefree laughter echoing endlessly through the bustling street.
Lu Sheng lifted his gaze and spotted the building ahead. On a white rectangular signboard, three bold characters danced in elegant brushstrokes — The Osmanthus Winery.
“Young Master Lu, you’re here! Please, come in! Room A has been reserved for you!” A servant greeted him warmly, bowing with a practiced smile.
Lu Sheng gave a slight nod. From Little Qiao’s hands, he took a silver-bordered white fan and flicked it open with the ease of a nobleman. Painted upon the fan was a tranquil scene of mountains and rivers intertwined, with a delicate poem penned at the edge — the unmistakable handiwork of a refined literati.
He followed the servant through the familiar entrance of the winery.
Inside, the establishment spread across two floors. The main hall on the first floor buzzed with patrons, most gathered to watch a song performance. In the center of the open space stood a young woman clad in green, her clear voice weaving through the air like silk. Beside her, a middle-aged woman plucked the strings of a lute, each note rippling gently through the crowd.
They were performing Three Meetings — a sorrowful tale of a general’s conquest and a fox spirit’s doomed love in the mountain wilds.
Yet the audience was largely a coarse crowd. Only a few among them possessed enough culture to grasp the meaning behind the lyrics; the rest paid the singers no heed. Coins were sparse, applause even rarer.
Lu Sheng halted for a moment, observing the scene, then quietly took a seat near the front.
“Who chose Three Meetings?” he asked the servant, his tone casual.
In The Osmanthus Winery, Lu Sheng’s presence carried weight. Were this an upscale establishment back on Earth, his spending would have easily placed him among the VVIPs — patrons who spent lavishly without a second thought. Here, in this modest northern city of Nine Links, such extravagance made him a man of no small influence.
“It was Young Master Zhou. Zhou Que, sir,” the servant replied softly.
Lu Sheng waved him off, not wishing to trouble the man further. Pulling Little Qiao gently into the seat beside him, his eyes roamed over the bustling hall until they settled upon a frail-looking gentleman in white robes.
The man sat with an air of indifference, fanning himself lazily with a gaudy golden fan — one that only made his pallor seem more fragile beneath the warm glow of the lantern light.
“I bet he’s targeting that young girl who’s singing.” Lu Sheng shook his head, a faint trace of amusement in his voice.
“Young Master just warned him last time! That lad’s really a rotten egg!” Little Qiao pouted, her small face filled with indignation.
Lu Sheng smiled faintly and let the matter drop. He turned his attention back to the stage, quietly listening as the melody flowed through the hall.
Soon, the table before him was covered with steaming dishes. Lu Sheng reached for a pair of chopsticks, picked up a slice of stir-fried meat wrapped in lettuce, and began eating.
He lifted his cup and drank a mouthful of white osmanthus wine as though it were water. A faint, sweet floral fragrance lingered on his tongue, blending with a subtle fruit-like aftertaste.
Food and clothing fit for royalty… a lovely servant girl at my side… this kind of life is far too indulgent, he mused silently. In my previous life, I lived to eat, drink, and laze about anyway. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to continue like this.
He took another bite of food, then another sip of wine. Opening his mouth, he let Little Qiao place a freshly shelled salted ice prawn between his lips.
These prawns were the pride of the northern snowlands — translucent and small, caught fresh from beneath the thick ice sheets. They were half the size of ordinary prawns, yet their flesh was tender and melted instantly in the mouth, leaving behind a burst of sweetness and the taste of the cold river itself.
Naturally, they were expensive beyond measure. For ordinary folk, eating them even once a month was considered a luxury. To dine on them daily, as Lu Sheng did, was pure extravagance.
He savored the food and wine before him, the song still echoing faintly in the background, though his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
He had lived in this ancient, China-like world for several days now, and the more he observed, the more peculiar it seemed.
At first, he believed he had traveled back in time — but he soon realized how wrong that was. The customs, the climate, even the very air differed vastly from any dynasty or place he had ever known.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, the grand doors of the winery slowly creaked open once more.
A group of burly men in short traveling robes entered the winery, their boots thudding heavily against the bluestone floor. They chose a table in the corner and sat down without hesitation, the air around them carrying the scent of dust and long roads.
Their appearance alone set them apart. Their garb and bearing were nothing like the rough, fur-lined coats of the northerners. Instead, the cut of their robes and their calm poise spoke of the Central Plains.
“Ai…”563Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsVsstT0AZY
The man at their head, bald with a pair of bronze earrings glinting against his tanned skin, let out a weary sigh. Despite his fierce face, his expression was one of fatigue.
“The days are getting worse.”
“Don’t worry, big brother. If we can’t get through Lee Village, we’ll just take the second route. Skirting Zhang Village should work too,” one of the men offered, brows furrowed.
“What do you know?” The bald man’s tone was heavy. “I came here through that very route. It’s no better there—lots of dead, just like Lee Village.” His fierce expression flickered, turning somber.
“What happened? Tell us, big brother! Let us learn a thing or two,” another urged.
The bald man exhaled deeply before speaking. “I don’t know the details. But I heard that several fishing villages near Sui Yang Lake have been struck by disaster. They say… a water ghost’s been haunting those parts.”
“A water ghost!? No way!”
Their startled voices carried across the room. Lu Sheng’s table wasn’t far, and he caught every word with ease. At first, he listened idly, sipping his wine, but the mention of spirits drew his attention.
The Lu family, into which he had been reborn, was among the wealthiest in this snowy northern city — their riches rivaling billionaires back on Earth. For someone of his standing, the tales of ghosts and demons were merely tavern gossip, repeated by drunkards and the idle.
Yet over the past few days, he had heard such rumors far too often — whispers of spirits, gods, and strange occurrences spreading through the region. This, however, was the first time he had overheard someone who claimed to have seen the aftermath firsthand.
He leaned back slightly, raising his cup as if to drink, his ears quietly attuned to their conversation. The men spoke openly, their voices unguarded, recounting in vivid detail the strange happenings that had plagued the fishing villages.
“That water ghost… I saw it with my own eyes! It was over ten feet tall, with a green face and fangs, its whole body draped in seaweed. Heaven help me, if I hadn’t run fast enough that night, you wouldn’t be seeing me now!” The bald man shuddered as he spoke, his voice trembling at the memory.
“Big brother, is that water ghost real?” one of the men asked, his tone uncertain.
“Are you sure you didn’t just make that up?” another snorted in disbelief.
Listening nearby, Lu Sheng couldn’t help but smirk. He’d seen plenty of rough travelers boasting about nonsense like this before. It was the same kind of tavern talk that sprouted after too much drink and too little reason.
Having eaten his fill and finished his wine, he waved for a servant and asked for the singer’s song list. He flipped through it leisurely. Three Meetings was pleasant enough, but the mood in the hall felt too lively for something so melancholic. He decided to change it to a lighter, more cheerful tune.
“Pa!”
The sudden crack of a palm against wood broke through the chatter. The bald man had slammed his hand on the table, his face flushed red.
“You think I, Boss Hu, am just making things up!? Look—look at this! This is a bone left behind by that very water ghost! I picked it up with my own hands after it appeared!”
With trembling fingers, he pulled a small, greenish object from his chest — smooth and translucent like jade — and set it on the table with a heavy slap.
“That’s just a piece of mixed jade,” one of his companions scoffed.
“Mixed jade? Mixed jade, my ass! Go eat crap!” Boss Hu barked, his temper flaring. His voice boomed through the hall, drawing a few glances from nearby tables.
Then, a calm voice drifted in from the side.
“This brother, may I have a look at that?”
The men turned to see Lu Sheng standing beside their table, smiling faintly. His gaze flicked to the green stone lying before them.
“This thing… you dare to touch it? It was left behind by a water ghost,” Boss Hu said, startled.
He had only meant to show it off for a moment, planning to toss it away afterward. Something born from a creature not of this world was nothing to keep. If that ghost ever came looking for what was his, even a man like him would be doomed.
“It’s alright. I just want to take a look.” Lu Sheng’s tone was calm, his expression indifferent. He didn’t believe in tales of ghosts or spirits — to him, the so-called relic was simply a peculiar-looking piece of jade that might fetch a good price.
Ordinary mixed jade could be found in any market stall, polished from leftover jadeite fragments and sold cheaply. Yet, for some reason, the moment Lu Sheng laid eyes on this one, he sensed something unusual about it — a faint allure that set it apart from the rest.
Boss Hu glanced at him and hesitated. The man before him was clearly no commoner. Lu Sheng’s bearing exuded quiet confidence, and his attire spoke of wealth and refinement.
He wore a flowing green robe beneath a white fox-fur coat, the fabric glimmering faintly under the lantern light. A jade officer’s hat rested neatly on his head, and his shoes — black with silver-threaded cloud patterns — completed the ensemble.
The cost of such an outfit could easily cover several months’ worth of expenses at The Osmanthus Winery, perhaps even an ordinary family’s entire year of living.
“Well then, Young Master… if you truly want it, er… a talent of silver will do,” Boss Hu said at last, his tone cautious but hopeful.
“Deal.”
At Lu Sheng’s gesture, Little Qiao stepped forward and placed a gleaming silver ingot on the table.
“It’s yours now,” the bald man said quickly, handing over the jade. Without another word, he and his companions exchanged uneasy glances, rose from their seats, and made a hasty exit.
Lu Sheng watched them leave before turning his attention to the jade in his hand. It gleamed faintly under the warm glow of the lanterns — a green so deep it seemed almost alive.
One talent of silver, he mused. If this were Earth, that would be around a thousand yuan’s worth of spending power. Only in this life could I afford to be so wasteful.
He shook his head with a faint smile. To him, such a sum was nothing. According to the memories of his current body, his monthly expenses exceeded a hundred talents of silver — and on certain indulgent days, he had spent over a thousand. That would amount to millions in his past life.
The thought drew a quiet sigh. What a prodigal fool this body’s former owner must have been.
Ignoring the curious stares around him, Lu Sheng tucked the jade into his sleeve, motioned for Little Qiao, and left the winery. The cold air greeted them as they stepped outside, where their horse carriage awaited by the roadside, its wheels dusted lightly with snow.
Yet the moment Lu Sheng stepped out of the winery—before he had even reached halfway to the carriage—he suddenly froze. His gaze dropped to the jade resting in his palm.
Right before his eyes, the jade began to melt.
In mere seconds, the once-solid stone liquefied into a pool of dark green ooze. From within it came a faint, dreadful wail, like the dying echo of a soul being torn apart.
“Poof!”
The goo burst apart in a flash of eerie green smoke that coiled through the air before fading into nothingness.
Lu Sheng stood motionless, his breath caught in his throat. When his vision cleared, the jade was still there—but the luminous green glow within it had vanished completely.
Just now… what was that?
He stared blankly at his palm, his mind replaying the impossible scene over and over.
“Young Master? Young Master???” Little Qiao’s anxious voice broke through his trance.
Lu Sheng blinked and looked down once more. The object in his hand was now nothing more than a dull, gray cobblestone—stripped of all its former brilliance.
A chill crept up his spine. Somewhere deep inside, an unsettling realization began to stir.
“Let’s go. Back to the manor.”
Little Qiao hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay…”
They climbed into the carriage. The driver cracked his whip, and the two black-haired horses started forward, their hooves striking rhythmically against the cobbled street.
Inside, Lu Sheng sat in silence, his eyes fixed on the stone in his palm. The air between them was heavy and still.
Little Qiao glanced at him, then at the stone. Her heart sank as she pieced it together.563Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrdNwQZA2JP
We’ve been swindled again… she sighed inwardly. At least this time it’s only a talent of silver. Better than that “ancient wine flask” that cost over a thousand and nearly sent Old Master to his grave. A single talent’s nothing—Young Master’s meal could cost more than that.
The carriage rolled toward the manor. As it neared the city gates, the murmur of voices drifted in from outside.
“…I heard the water ghost was exorcized! A traveling priest saved the fishing villages!”563Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz0aJKvGvDL
“Has the court sent anyone?”
“Yeah, quite some time ago already. I heard even Chief Constable Ouyang from the prefectural yamen nearly lost his life. Luckily, a traveling priest happened to pass by. They say when the priest struck, there was a blinding golden flash—the water ghost screamed miserably, turned into green goo, and then exploded into thick smoke before vanishing.”
“So it wasn’t handled by the court’s experts?”
“Of course not!”
From within the carriage, Lu Sheng recognized the voices—it was the gate officers idly chatting as usual.
He often passed through this side of the city, and the guards were known for their love of gossip. They always had the freshest tales from across the region, told with great enthusiasm and even greater exaggeration.
What a coincidence… Lu Sheng’s expression remained calm, but a shadow flickered through his eyes.
The image of that melting jade resurfaced in his mind, tightening the pit of his stomach.
Outside, the horses’ hooves clopped rhythmically on the cobblestone road as the carriage rolled steadily toward Ku Rong Street—the city’s most prosperous district.
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