Southern Wan in the twenty-eighth year of Taiming, late spring.

In the imperial capital Jinping, the blossoms were withering, but the fog lingered.

Since the coming of the Gold Imitation Technique, created by the preeminent toolmaking master—the Golden Hand, the immortal Lin Chi—this worldly fog had grown year by year thicker, year by year more choking.

But this was nothing to complain of.

The Gold Imitation Technique produced Moon Plated Gold, a miraculous gift from heaven. Steam engines made from Moon Plated Gold had inexhaustible force. They could move ships of a hundred lengths over the Beiming Sea and back without difficulty, power sharp-horned heavy equipment to cut through mountains and level seas. Outside the walls of the south city, in innumerable factories big and small, machines thundered all day without rest, turning out top quality cotton yarn like running water. Via the grand canal the cotton was sold to Northern Li in the north, transported to Western Chu in the west; in the mountains of Southern Shu with its endless scorching summers, neither gauze nor silk lacked for a market.

The livelihoods of countless families relied on Moon Plated Gold. Thirty li west of the city, Maze Station had been completed only the year before last, and already people and goods moved through it constantly, filling it with bustle. The trains that spouted white steam were popularly called Cloud Soaring Flood Dragons. Every day they rushed over the iron rails, one each morning and night. The morning train hauled goods, the night train transported people.

Who was to say this was not a gracious gift from the immortals to the people?

The fog above Jinping couldn’t be called fog. It had to be called auspicious clouds.

Following the New Year, large numbers of able-bodied laborers rushed towards the capital like the tide. Maze Station overflowed daily. Finding lodgings in the city was too expensive; even the dog kennels on the eastern bank of the Lingyang River couldn’t be rented for less than half a string of copper coins per month, the same as the cost of a month’s food.

The workers from outside the capital had no choice but to pour into the shacks in the factory district south of the city. Outside the city they had clustered into what was nearly a proper town.

Jinping City was especially busy this year, because the Grand Selection Year had come around again, as it did once every ten years.

The immortal sect was going to pick disciples.

Great Wan had one and only one place worthy of being called an “immortal sect,” which was the state sect, Xuanyin, one of the four great sects of the day.

Each Grand Selection Year, Xuanyin would choose an auspicious date and send an immortal envoy to Jinping to choose outstanding talents from the mortal world and lead them onto the immortal path. Jinping City had been bustling since the New Year. All manner of heroes and worthies were stirring up trouble—potential disciples had to burn incense and pray, and cultivate their bodies and minds; successful candidates from the provincial exams had to come to the capital for the metropolitan examination; trainee bodyguards competed with fists and feet; even the houses of ill-repute weren’t content to be still but had to add to the fun by voting for a Queen of Flowers.

Many people created much business, and naturally there were also many places in the city hiring workers; everyone with drive and strength was willing to try their luck, and they could always find a bowl of food to eat. So while the state sect only chose among the scions of ministers and nobles, leaving no part in the business for the common people, everyone still looked forward to the Grand Selection Year.

The immortal envoy was coming down from the mountains. The year would be full of favorable weather and plentiful harvests.

And if the harvests weren’t plentiful, that was still all right. To be able to come to the capital to look at the pleasure boats on the Lingyang River was also an experience. If in addition to that you heard from afar a couple of strains of singing with musical accompaniment, you could go home and say you had heard the voice of the Queen of Flowers and spend half your life bragging about it.

On the first day of the fourth month, the flowers were nearly over.

At the House of Overflowing Splendor, Jinping City’s most highly-reputed pleasure house, the Flower Viewing Festival had also reached its finale.

This truly was a splendid spectacle to mark the passing of spring. Rouge dusted the whole city. A private room Flower Viewing Invitation could hardly be had for any riches.

That evening, the Marquis of Yongning was hounded to breaking point by a group of “poetic celebrities” and dragged to Overflowing Splendor to bear witness as the newly-chosen Queen of Flowers took her crown.

This year’s Queen of Flowers was the famed courtesan Jiangli. The Marquis munched on melon seeds, taking a glance from time to time, feeling that this “famous flower” was nothing to write home about, with eyes and brows turned down in an unfestive look.

But the crowd of rogues at Overflowing Splendor had partied half the night, and everyone’s faces were plastered with three layers of white paste, so you couldn’t tell one from another. The Marquis’s eyes hurt from the sight of their revelry. When he saw Jiangli take to the stage with only one musician, her clothes colorless and her face unpainted, whatever she sang, as long as it wasn’t jarring, would win a bit of his goodwill.

Apparently she was singing a new song. No one knew where the musician had come from; she was quite skilled, able to command the scene while playing the qin on her own. Both the accompaniment and the singing were good. All the guests found the performance refreshing. When the song ended, gold and silver and ornaments fell like snowflakes, and the stage puffed out steam madly as it rose and fell to receive them, making the small building seem for a time like the inside of a bamboo steamer.

In this way, the camellia crown of the Queen of Flowers fell on Miss Jiangli’s head.

Jiangli left the stage with the camellia crown on her head to thank the audience. When important clients called her to drink a toast or sing an encore, she had to agree. Fortunately, there were many people present, and quite a few audience members were of high rank. The scene wouldn’t get too out of hand. After she had made a round of the audience, she just had time to breathe a sigh of relief and prepare to bow and make her exit before some idler called out: “Queen of Flowers, half your victory today was won by that musician. I think she must be new. She’s better than all the other musicians here. Why don’t you ask her to step out so we can have a look? We’ll all be sure to take good care of her.”

Jiangli’s musician had been veiled the whole time, hiding behind a cotton screen. She had only shown an edge of her skirt when leaving the stage. The mystery made people’s hearts itch.

Jiangli stilled. Then, with an apologetic smile, she said that her own musician had unluckily injured her hand, and the one playing today had been temporarily brought in from outside. It wasn’t suitable for her to show her face in the House of Overflowing Splendor. She asked the gentlemen to excuse her.

The gentlemen made a fuss. They weren’t having it: what was all this about “outside” and “inside”? There were so many nobles in the audience that even the top scorer in the palace examination would have to dismount his horse and bow; what was she, top courtesan for half a night, doing putting on airs?

Jiangli was “elegant and refined”—too refined; she had no long sleeves to wave and, inevitably, wasn’t up to dealing with this situation. While she stood there, stiff and not knowing what to do, someone said, “Here I am! Look all you like—if you dare.”

This voice was deep and low but forced up to a high pitch, until it could go no higher, making listeners break out in gooseflesh.

Everyone looked up. They saw that the musician Jiangli had tried to conceal was a frank and straightforward person, openly shouldering… carrying her qin as she walked downstairs.

Her face was heavily made up in the fashionable style for ladies. Over a face full of white paste, she wore a half-sheer veil.

Reasonably speaking, if you could still tell anything about a person’s features under all this makeup, her appearance must be nothing to be ashamed of… but for some reason, everything about her was strange.

She was too tall and broad. Most of the girls only came up to her shoulder. That big white face standing over the crowd of beauties was a little shocking. She was tall, and her build was large. The collarbones sitting openly on her “shapely shoulders” flared out so much that the sleeves on her upper arms were about to burst. Her big feet had pushed her embroidered shoes out into a pair of boats and shook the earth when they moved… and her gait was unnatural, the arm and leg on each side swinging forward together.

This lady walked out and made a circle of the room, paying her respects, opening her mouth wide to exhibit her brilliant white teeth in all directions. The rouge on her lips had been hastily applied and had accidentally rubbed onto her teeth. When this bloody maw opened, it looked like she had just finished gnawing on a dead child and hadn’t rinsed her mouth. Looking too long could curse you. It scared all the noble guests in the audience sober!

The Marquis of Yongning meanwhile had unobtrusively left his seat.

As a young man the Marquis had been appreciated and pursued by women, called the handsomest man in Jinping. He felt that these “famous flowers” were average-looking, and their so-called “arts” were sloppy and inferior. There was really nothing worth looking at. He would be better off going home and looking at himself in the mirror. He had come to Overflowing Splendor out of social obligation. He had said what he needed to say and didn’t feel like watching these people disgrace themselves. Therefore he straightened his clothes and went downstairs, ready to go home. When he came downstairs, he had a direct encounter with the big-footed musician as she made her exit.

The Marquis normally wouldn’t look a prostitute in the face, but since this lady’s height was so abundant, if he didn’t want to look her in the face, he would have to roll his eyes up into his head.

He was startled by the heavily made up face that met his eyes and was just wondering where this demon had come from… but why did she seem a little familiar? Then the musician, who had been more than a match for the hooligans, abruptly looked alarmed. The half jin of white paste on her face nearly cracked. Without a word, she turned and ran.

“Her” qin was left behind, and “her” shoes flew into the air. The dash made a big stir. It was like a wild horse equipped with a steam engine. The only thing missing was steam puffing out of the tailbone!

The Marquis hadn’t expected to find this sort of mythical beast in the dainty House of Overflowing Splendor. After a moment’s confusion, he had a realization. He clutched his chest, his face turning ashen.

His servants were perplexed, thinking that their master was having another bout of chest pain. They quickly came up to support him. “Master?”

Then the Marquis, quivering like a willow in the breeze, groaned in a trembling voice: “Get… get me that…”

The guards and servants were bewildered. “Get who?”

The Marquis took a deep breath and roared from the diaphragm: “Get me that fiend!”

All of Overflowing Splendor fell silent at the Marquis’s yell. Soon, everyone had heard—Gentlemen, guess what? The “lady musician” who just scared us to death without paying her dues? None other than the Viscount of Yongning in disguise!

A man dressed as a woman in a brothel, and he had run headfirst into his own father—how exciting!

Now, what sort of person was the Viscount of Yongning?

His full name was Xi Ping. It was said that in all of Jinping City, among the myriad wastrels, none could surpass him.

This ridiculous stunt of the Viscount’s was a new trick. While all the dandies were scrambling for a Flower Viewing Invitation to one of Overflowing Splendor’s private rooms, the Viscount had taken the stage as one of the flowers himself. Anyone who heard of this would have to concede that he knew how to have fun.

Presently, all the wealthy people gathered in Overflowing Splendor had sobered up and craned their necks to snapping point. They regretted that they were incapable of sending their heads flying to observe the Viscount of Yongning fleeing by night in female garb.

The Viscount’s flowing sleeves fluttered; his father’s people had crushed him into a big moth. He tore his skirt, which was too narrow to spread his legs in, up to the knee. With his big feet bare, he flew out of Overflowing Splendor, headed northwest.

When he had just run past the pleasure boat ferry crossing, he ran directly into Wang Baochang, son of the Vice-Minister of War. Xi Ping silently cursed his bad luck. It was true that enemies were fated to meet.

It happened that this Young Master Wang was a poor student, and he thought he was something special, a true talent. This “talent” had failed the military examination, leaving his parents to pay to find him a spot in the imperial guard. He often went to the brothels to show off. When he had shown off to his satisfaction, he would get drunk. After two cups of wine had gone into his belly, he could no longer find his way around and would try to display his “conquering heroic spirit” in front of everyone. Generally he would shout and snarl at the girls looking after him; when the wine went to his head, it wasn’t unusual for him to get physical. So as soon as he appeared, the girls became apprehensive. He was given the title of “Big Dog Wang.”

The Viscount and the talented Wang couldn’t stand each other. They were always at odds.

Now, Wang Baochang was standing at the mouth of an alley about four chi wide. This fellow’s figure was unusually valorous; he took up about half the mouth of the alley. Perhaps he was drunk. He held a ghastly pale storm lantern in his hand. His blank eyes were fixed on Xi Ping. It didn't occur to him to make way.

Just then, by coincidence, an evil wind swept by. For no apparent reason, a gas streetlamp at the mouth of the alley went out. It popped and released a thin stream of smoke. A wooden carving of a kingfisher hanging under the lamp, half-blackened by soot, waved weirdly in the wind.

Xi Ping thought that he had already been put to the test. His own father had barely recognized him. Why should Big Dog Wang?

But to avoid trouble, he was still planning to hide his face. Therefore, he waved his sedge green long sleeve and swept it in a surge of fragrance over Wang Baochang’s face. In a high-pitched voice, he gave an eerie wail: “Faithless rat, give me back my life—”

Brother Big Dog might have been scared silly by the female ghost demanding his life in the middle of the night. He actually didn’t react at first. Xi Ping took the opportunity to shoulder him aside. He ran past without a look back, heading straight for Prince Zhuang Manor.

Prince Zhuang was the present third prince, issue of the emperor and the Imperial Consort Lady Xi.

The Imperial Consort was the Marquis of Yongning’s younger sister, Xi Ping’s aunt.

Xi Ping had been Prince Zhuang’s study companion for some years as a child. He didn’t stand on any ceremony with his cousin. Whenever he suffered a setback, he would come running to take refuge. Anyway, the Marquis couldn’t break down Prince Zhuang’s gate in the middle of night to get him back.

After squeezing through the alley in one breath, Xi Ping found that the footsteps of his pursuers had vanished. He looked back for a moment and saw that his father’s henchmen were no longer chasing him. It seemed that they knew where he was heading and that they couldn’t follow, so they had simply called it a day.

So Xi Ping, pleased with himself, swept his hair, which had fallen loose down as he ran, back over his shoulder. Humming a tune, he went happily towards Prince Zhuang Manor, trampling on the hem of his ruined skirt.

There was no moon on the night of the first of the month. Dust and steam mingled and clung together, inseparable.

The grey fumes crept over Xi Ping’s gold dusted footprints, spread outward from the Lingyang River and mixed with the steam spurting out from the engines. It made a tight-fitting lid over all of Jinping.

Meantime, the servants from the Yongning Marquis Manor heard that eerie wail from afar. They rushed towards it, and saw Wang Baochang up ahead.

Wang Baochang's face was ghastly pale in the light of the storm lantern he held. The lead servant from the Marquis Manor had plenty of experience. One look at that face, and he knew that his young master had been up to no good. He quickly stepped forward and said, “I’m sorry, Young Master Wang. That was our young master just now… He’s drunk. If he has given any offense, the Marquis will order to him to pay you a visit and apologize tomorrow.”

Wang Baochang was blank. He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t really have scared him out of his wits? The servant was nervous. He took another step forward. “Young Master…”

Just then, Wang Baochang stiffly turned his body, which had been knocked askew by Xi Ping. He was like a rusted piece of machinery. His staring eyes turned in a half circle and rolled up into his head.

The servants from the Yongning Marquis Manor looked at each other in dismay, not knowing what this gentleman meant by pulling faces… Could it be that because their young master’s female ghost act had scared him, he was planning to get revenge by scaring them?

Before they could decide whether to cooperate and take fright, they saw Wang Baochang open his mouth and begin to wail a funeral lamentation: “Raise the casket, hang two mats, shelter it fully seven days—”

This description isn’t meant to disparage the quality of Wang Baochang’s singing. The words he was wailing were in fact part of the “Soul Calling Melody” used during funerals by country folk in Ning’an, which neighbored Jinping.

His voice was hoarse and shrill, like a crow cawing in the night. It chilled its hearers to the bone.

As he sang, he walked forward stiffly.

“…the Great Way leads to Heaven…and sends you back…home…uh…hrrk!”

He took a step forward with each word he sang. At “home,” his voice and footsteps both came to a sudden halt. He was “stuck” for a moment, standing bolt upright. Then, like a door missing its frame, he fell flat on the ground.

A green jade token fell from him and rolled two chi away along the stone-paved street, making a string of crisp striking sounds.

He didn’t move again.

After a long moment, a brave servant went over to investigate. He reached out to push Wang Baochang by the shoulder and raised the lantern in his hand.

“Young Master Wang? What’s the matter, Young…ah!”

The servant gave a brief scream, then plopped down on the ground. The glazed storm lantern fell and shattered.

He had no attention to spare for the broken object. As if his buttocks had grown feet, he skittered away in a panic—

He had touched an ice cold dead man. He was stone dead, even rigid. On the back of his neck, which was facing upward, there was even a big patch of lividity!