Chapter 407: Encountering a Ghost at the Government Office

After carefully pondering the best way to organize the books, Zhu Ping’an had asked Old Li and Old Ma—the two responsible for cleaning the Library of the Imperial Academy—if they could help with sorting the collection. To his disappointment, he discovered that neither of them could read a single word. With a resigned sigh, he gave up on recruiting help.

It seemed he would have no choice but to embark on this endeavor alone, a solitary yet handsome scholar surrounded by rows of ancient tomes.

Just as Zhu Ping’an rolled up his sleeves and prepared to start his solitary mission, a commotion rose from the Hanlin Academy. Curious, he turned and saw Zhang Siwei—who was usually composed and meticulous in the record room—storming in, his face twisted in a rare expression of urgency.

“Zihou, come with me quickly! Something strange has happened,” Zhang Siwei said, grabbing Zhu Ping’an by the arm and pulling him toward the exit, traces of astonishment still lingering on his features.

“What is it? Could it be serious enough to make our ever-knowledgeable Brother Ziwei change his expression?” Zhu Ping’an asked, curiosity piqued, as he followed Zhang.

“You’ll see once we get out there,” Zhang said, quickening their pace.

Soon, they reached the main hall of the Hanlin Academy. The room was already crowded. Among those present were Li Chunfang, Yuan Wei, Zhang Juzheng, and others. In addition to the Hanlin officials, there were two government officers: one wearing the formal attire of a fourth-rank cloud-and-goose official, seemingly in his fifties—Zhu Ping’an recognized him as the Prefect of Shuntian Prefecture, Zhou Houjie, the very official who had once draped a ceremonial crimson silk over him during an imperial inspection. Below Zhou Houjie sat a seventh-rank county magistrate.

Upon entering, Zhu Ping’an and Zhang Siwei greeted the assembled officials with a bow. Li Chunfang merely nodded, signaling them to take their seats.

“The Hanlin Academy has handled countless historical and governmental documents, reviewing records from many administrations. Have you ever encountered reports of ghosts in official records or anecdotes of the supernatural?”

Prefect Zhou Houjie, seated in the high seat, looked pale, as if he had just witnessed something impossible. He took a deep sip of tea to steady himself before addressing the Hanlin scholars.

“There are plenty of rumors, but in official records, such accounts are virtually nonexistent,” Li Chunfang replied, shaking his head.

“I saw a ghost two nights ago,” Prefect Zhou declared, his words deliberate and solemn, each one ringing with authority.

“Excuse me?” Li Chunfang froze for a moment. The others, too, were struck with surprise.

In the capital, everyone knew that Prefect Zhou Houjie was a man of integrity and seriousness, a diligent and capable official who never spoke without reason. He was known for his meticulous attention to justice and public welfare. It was precisely because of his reputation and character that Li Chunfang and the others were so astonished.

“Here’s what happened,” Zhou Houjie said, taking another sip of his hot tea, before slowly recounting the events.

The story revolved around the seventh-rank county magistrate seated below him. Zhou Houjie, a man known for his diligence and insistence on accuracy, had been reviewing legal case files submitted by his subordinate counties. Among them, a homicide case from Wanping County caught his attention. The documents contained discrepancies; the case facts seemed inconsistent.

The magistrate of Wanping County—now sitting beneath him—was a nondescript man in his forties, composed and upright, betraying no hint of emotion.

Upon discovering the inconsistencies, Zhou Houjie summoned the case for review. Wanping County promptly brought the detained suspect, along with witnesses and evidence, to the Shuntian Prefecture office.

Zhou Houjie personally interrogated the suspect and witnesses, gaining a clearer understanding of the case. As was his habit with difficult cases, he stayed at the office that night, studying the case files and documents into the wee hours.

That night, oil lamps flickered across the room as Zhou Houjie pored over the files by the window. Outside, a light rain fell—the very drizzle that had preceded Zhu Ping’an’s vegetable-offering ritual. The night was dark and cloudy, moonlight swallowed by thick clouds, darkness so complete that one could not see a hand before their eyes.

As Zhou Houjie focused on the documents, a faint, sorrowful crying drifted in from outside the window, growing steadily closer.

“Tang San, go see who is crying out there,” Zhou Houjie ordered his attendant, a wiry man named Tang San, instructing him to investigate any injustice that might be unfolding.

In those times, it was not unusual for someone to call out for justice outside the office, but crying within the precinct was unheard of.

“Yes, sir,” Tang San replied and quickly stepped outside.

Barely a second passed before a sharp scream pierced the night, followed by the sound of a body collapsing.

“What has happened?” Zhou Houjie exclaimed, clutching his oil lamp as he rushed outside.

Tang San lay unconscious on the ground, having fainted immediately after the scream. Zhou Houjie was stunned. Tang San was known for his agility and strength—Zhou had placed him by his side precisely for this reason. Yet even he had collapsed after only a single cry.

Zhou Houjie’s heart pounded as he looked beyond the doorway and saw a horrifying sight: just a few steps from the hall, on the rain-slicked stone stairs, knelt a figure with hair matted and face smeared with blood, clothing slashed and stained.

The scene was macabre and chilling. The night rain made the dim lamplight flicker, casting ghostly shadows over the figure.

“Who are you?” Zhou Houjie asked, gripping the lamp tightly, steeling himself.

The figure knelt deeper, head low, voice faint but tinged with grievance.

“Your Excellency, I am the spirit of the victim in the murder case you reviewed today. I have come to report the injustice. The officials of Wanping County, in their partiality, wrongfully detained an innocent man, allowing the true culprit, Zhang Dalin, to escape. Zhang Dalin killed me—not Lin Dafu in custody. I beg Your Excellency to bring the true criminal to justice, so I may rest in peace.”

“I understand,” Zhou Houjie said, nodding, his hand trembling slightly as he held the lamp.

With a final bow, the spirit faded into the night.

Even after the apparition vanished, Zhou Houjie remained uneasy. At dawn, he conducted a detailed re-examination of the suspect and witnesses, carefully confirming the victim’s physique, height, and the clothes and shoes he had worn the day of his death.

The descriptions matched the spirit exactly: tall, slender, clad in a dark blue robe, black shoes, and white socks.

Convinced of the spirit’s truth, Zhou Houjie overturned the case, releasing the wrongly detained suspect and ordering the arrest of the real culprit, Zhang Dalin, who he interrogated personally and rigorously.

The Wanping County magistrate objected repeatedly, but Zhou Houjie’s response was unwavering: “Mountains may be moved, seas may be filled, but this case shall not be overturned.”

Even when Zhang Dalin refused to confess under strict questioning, Zhou Houjie persisted. It was for this reason that he had come to the Hanlin Academy, seeking historical records to corroborate the case.