Three days later, under the falling night at Tongming Ward.

  The Governor’s Office had been turned into a temporary tribunal.

  Officials from the Criminal Division and the Censorate sat in solemn ranks, guards standing stiff outside the hall.

  Master Liu, knowing he could no longer evade judgment, came to the hearing himself—bringing Li Qing and Chun-niang along.

  Inside, the lamps burned with a chilling glow, incense coils twisting upward like ghosts.

  Gu presided in full court uniform, flanked by the two officials.

  Mu stood by with the case scroll in hand; Hua lazily waved his folding fan; Lian, dressed all in white, sat behind the screen, face expressionless.

  Behind the curtain, I crouched beside the makeup master, adjusting the final piece of gauze.

  This was our trap—three nights of planning, one gamble for truth.

  “If the general won’t confess by words,” Lian had said coldly, “then let him confess to his own ghost.”

  So we arranged the scene carefully:

  The hearing would take place at night.

  Under the pretext of “questioning the unjustly dead,” the coffin was moved behind the hall.

  Chun-niang laid out the deceased’s belongings as before; Lian helped arrange the illusion.

  The air smelled faintly of the same flowers and candles as that fateful night—every detail copied from Miss Liu’s funeral.

  When the water clock marked down, the tribunal entered.

  Gu struck the wood block and began:

  “Liu, you claimed your daughter died of evil spirits.

  Yet the wounds on her body were unnatural, and the traces of abortifacient herbs are proven.

  Today’s hearing seeks only truth—will you testify again?”

  Liu’s face was grim.

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Your daughter died behind locked doors.

  The wounds are beyond reason.

  The coroner found no answer—yet you were the first to enter the room.

  Did you strike her?”

  “I told you—it was evil! She was possessed!” Liu suddenly roared, his face flushed.

  “Chun-niang can testify! My daughter had been raving for days—speaking nonsense, saying she saw some ‘general jade’ who wanted to take her away!”

  Chun-niang sobbed softly.

  “It’s true… Miss often said so before her death…”

  At this, Lian trembled but said nothing, his eyes fixed on the coffin.

  Gu tapped the block three times.

  “Very well,” he said quietly.

  “Then let the ghost question you herself.”

  “You—what nonsense—”

  Before he could finish, the flames in the hall flickered low.

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  A cold wind swept through.

  Behind the coffin, the veil stirred.

  And from the shadows—

  A figure stepped forward in white, hair disheveled, her gown stained with dried blood.

  It was “Miss Liu”.

  Each step echoed like drops of ice.

  A bell somewhere chimed, eerie and distant.

  “Father…” she whispered.

  “You—who are you!” Liu’s pupils shrank; he dared not stand.

  “I am the daughter you said was born unlucky,” the figure murmured.

  “The one you first saw that night.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “You said I was possessed. But you knew my heart already belonged to another—why did you force me to wed the magistrate’s son?”

  “I—it was for your own good! That was your rightful path!”

  “But did you know whose child I carried?”

  Her words struck like thunder.

  “Silence!!” Liu shouted, leaping to his feet.

  “You claim she was mad; you claim she saw ghosts.

  But she merely wanted to leave—didn’t she have a letter? A secret? Something that could shame you?”

  The ghost advanced a step.

  “You were afraid—afraid of scandal, afraid of disgrace.

  So you silenced her.”

  “Enough!!” Liu drew his sword, voice breaking.

  “I loved her! I would never— I only… pushed her!”

  He gasped for breath, fury and grief tangled in his throat.

  “She said she was going out—to visit the tombs—but it was a lie! She meant to elope with that man!

  I tried to stop her, that’s all!

  She fought me, I… pushed her…

  She hit the corner of the table… I thought it was nothing… then—then she bled—she fell—”

  His voice cracked.

  “She was with child!” I cried, bursting from behind the curtain, sweeping it aside.

  “She was already pregnant!”

  The hall flared bright again, the illusion shattered—revealing us all.

  Liu staggered backward, sword slipping from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

  He stared blankly at the coffin, lips trembling, no sound coming out.

  Lian’s voice cut cold through the air:

  “You thought it was a small wound.

  But she’d been taking ‘Qingxin Herbs’—cold medicine that weakens the bones and constricts the skull.

  When you struck her, the inner pressure burst—her skull split from within.”

  Hua closed his fan, his tone glacial:

  “No demon claimed her life, sir. Only you.”

  Mu’s voice was sharp as frost:

  “You knew she was with child. That’s why you couldn’t bear her disobedience.

  You feared the shame more than her death.”

  I stepped closer, my voice low.

  “She only wanted to leave peacefully—to live with the one she loved.

  She’d even written a farewell letter, hidden beneath her rouge box.

  She never meant to return.”

  The sword hit the tiles with a final clang.

  Liu slumped to the floor, hollow-eyed, defeated.

  The presiding officials rose solemnly.

  “Master Liu, in concealing your crime, wrongfully imprisoning another, and fabricating ghostly tales to mislead the court,

  you have committed grave deceit and dereliction of duty.

  The matter shall be submitted to the Imperial Tribunal for sentencing.”

  Gu followed:

  “Effective immediately, the Liu estate is placed under seal.

  Evidence preserved, the body re-examined, witnesses detained.

  None may leave the city within seven days.”

  Liu knelt, voice barely a whisper.

  “I only wanted to protect her… her purity…”

  I looked at him coldly.

  “And in doing so—you destroyed her life.”

  Chun-niang collapsed, sobbing.

  Li Qing stood beside her, face pale as ash, lips trembling as if to speak—yet no sound came. His gaze lingered on the empty space where the “ghost” had stood, hollow and lost.

  Lian remained silent, eyes dim beneath the flickering lamplight. The white of her sleeve still carried a faint trace of crimson powder—the same used to stain the veil of “Miss Liu.”

  Outside, the wind howled past the eaves.

  The coffin gleamed pale beneath the moon.

  And thus, the truth behind the haunting—was finally laid bare.