Chapter Two: Truly Inhuman

A furious shout rang out, sending a jolt through everyone’s hearts. Even Ox Two stopped in his tracks. He turned his head and saw Han Qing push open the door from the inner courtyard. At first, Ox Two thought he was seeing things. He rubbed his eyes and took another careful look.

When he finally saw clearly that it was Han Qing, he was so startled he nearly jumped out of his skin.

In the Qing Dynasty, people were still deeply superstitious about ghosts and spirits.

Ox Two swallowed nervously, pointing at Han Qing with a trembling finger. “Are you man or ghost?! Weren’t you… weren’t you already dead?!”

Han Qing smiled faintly, helping up the elderly woman who was still sitting on the ground in astonishment. Then, dragging his weak body, he walked toward Ox Two.

“Weren’t you looking for me, Han Qing? Well, here I am. Why are you all so frightened?” Han Qing’s smile was gentle, but his face was pale from weakness.

At this moment, in Ox Two’s eyes, Han Qing looked no different from a vengeful spirit.

Unconsciously, Ox Two released Jiang Xiuxiu and took two steps backward in fear, tripping on a stone and landing hard on the ground.

The villagers around them wore expressions of terror.

The sun was blazing overhead, yet this Han family boy had truly come back from the dead?

Even Young Master Bai, having caught sight of Han Qing, fled in terror.

“You want your money, don’t you? A debt repaid is only right. But Brother Ox Two, why not come with me? I returned in such a rush I forgot to bring it with me. If you come with me, you can get your money yourself.”

Hearing this, Ox Two thought Han Qing was taking him to the underworld. With a terrified shout, he scrambled to his feet and ran, vanishing in an instant.

The rest of the villagers stared at Han Qing in horror before quickly dispersing, afraid that some ill omen might cling to them.

Han Qing turned to Jiang Xiuxiu and his mother.

“Mother, are you alright?”

Han’s mother appeared to be around fifty, but her hair was streaked with white, and she looked far older—a little like a crone, not a middle-aged woman.

Jiang Xiuxiu, on the other hand, wore a violet gauze dress, patched in several places at the hem, but nothing could hide her radiant and lovely face.

Her delicate features and graceful figure stirred joy in anyone who laid eyes on her.

Han’s mother, however, paid no heed to Han Qing’s concern. Seeing her son return from death, she did not react with the joy Han Qing had expected. Instead, she tottered to his side, lifted her hand, and slapped him with all her strength.

Already weak, Han Qing’s vision went black, and he nearly collapsed.

“You unfilial son! How could you come back to life? With you alive, how are we supposed to go on living?”

Han Qing was left dazed by her scolding.

Still, considering all he’d done in the past, her anger was understandable.

As a child, Han Qing had shown great talent for study. In an age that revered officialdom and scorned commerce, the imperial examinations were the only path to honor for a family. His father placed all his hopes in him.

Nearly all of the family’s silver had been spent on his private schooling. Yet Han Qing, after achieving only the lowest degree, lost all interest in study and drowned himself in idle pleasures.

He wasn’t stupid, but with a bit of learning in his belly, he fancied himself a scholar.

In spring, he claimed scholars must appreciate the scenery, or they’d shame the name of scholarship. In autumn, he insisted scholars must lament the season, or they’d never remember the classics.

At first, his parents weren’t alarmed. But soon Han Qing fell in with dissolute friends and learned to frequent brothels.

He spent his days and nights lost in drunken revelry at the Crimson Pavilion, neglecting his studies even further.

In hopes of settling him down, his father arranged a marriage for him. Yet after marrying, Han Qing not only failed to improve, he grew worse, even raising a hand to others.

At the Han household, if Jiang Xiuxiu ever spoke out of turn, she’d be beaten harshly. Her own family had severed ties with her, leaving her no one to turn to.

As memories of the past surged, Han Qing felt ashamed—he wanted nothing more than to slap himself.

Just then, a burly man with a beard strode into the courtyard. Seeing Han Qing, his face lit up with excitement.

“Brother Han! When I came over just now, everyone was whispering that you’d come back from the dead. I didn’t believe it at first—but it’s true!”

Han Qing knew this man well—Liu Zhi, one of his old drinking companions.

The old Han Qing would have greeted Liu Zhi warmly, but now, his feelings toward the man were anything but friendly.

Sure enough, Liu Zhi leaned in to whisper in Han Qing’s ear.

“I heard the Crimson Pavilion’s new courtesan, Narcissus, is making her debut tonight. She’s said to be stunning. Want to come have a look?”

Liu Zhi winked, his meaning all too clear.

Han Qing ignored him and looked instead at his mother.

“Mother, let me help you inside. I’ll fetch a physician to look at you in a bit.”

At the sight of Liu Zhi, Han’s mother’s anger flared anew, and she went inside alone.

Liu Zhi had grown thick-skinned over the years; no matter how she cursed him, he always smiled back.

He then turned to Jiang Xiuxiu, slowly approaching with an outstretched hand, but she instinctively shrank away.

Han Qing’s hand hesitated, but at last, he took her hand and led her into the house.

Seeing Han Qing ignore him, Liu Zhi knew he was being dismissed. But he didn’t have enough money to visit the new courtesan. Among all his friends, Han Qing was the best choice to join him.

So, gritting his teeth, Liu Zhi followed them inside, bowing to Han’s mother, who responded only with cold indifference.

“Why are you following us in here?” Han Qing asked, making his intentions clear.

Liu Zhi was unfazed. Han Qing would come looking for him to drink at the brothel soon enough—then he’d regain his face.

Knowing this man’s skin was as thick as a city wall, Han Qing paid him no further mind and turned to examine Jiang Xiuxiu’s injuries. He saw that the brute had only left red marks on her wrist, but her arms were covered in old bruises.

Han Qing cursed himself silently, his heart aching for Jiang Xiuxiu.

She grew shy under his gaze.

At that moment, Han Qing’s stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the silence. Embarrassed, he coughed and lowered his head.

“Wife, I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat?”

At these words, Jiang Xiuxiu immediately knelt before him, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

“Husband!”

“Please don’t be angry. It’s all my fault. I’ll go dig wild vegetables right away. There’s no grain left at home.”

Han Qing was at a loss.

He’d known the family was poor, but not that it was this dire. Yet the old Han Qing still had the heart to squander money at the brothel? He was truly beyond shame.

Suddenly, Han Qing remembered something and turned to Liu Zhi.

“I recall you owe me a tael of silver from that cricket match a while back. Did you come today to return it?”

Liu Zhi hadn’t expected Han Qing to bring this up. He looked awkward.

He barely had enough for a night at the Crimson Pavilion—how could he pay Han Qing back?

“If you don’t have silver, you can always earn a little at the docks carrying sacks.”

With that, Han Qing helped Jiang Xiuxiu to her feet. There was no rice at home, but that was his own failing. Now that he was here, he’d make sure his wife and mother went hungry no longer.

“If you mean to insult me, there’s no need for all this talk. It’s just a tael of silver! I, Liu Zhi, am not so desperate. Here, take it!”

Feeling his pride wounded, Liu Zhi hurled a piece of silver down in a huff and stormed out.

Han Qing picked up the silver, brushed the dirt off, and looked up—only to see his mother and Jiang Xiuxiu staring at him in astonishment.