The mist over Qingce Village always carried an unshakable dampness. As Hu Tao stepped along the blue stone slabs toward the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, tiny dewdrops settled thinly on the hem of her dress. She twirled the well‑worn, gleaming Staff of Homa between her fingers, her mind replaying again and again the blood‑soaked battle three years prior—the instant Hua Xiong's longsword split her breastplate, warm blood splattering across her face. She could even make out the ferocious beast‑head emblem set in his armor, rising and falling faintly with his breath.
"Today's Wangsheng Funeral Parlor performance… tsk, still zero." Hu Tao kicked a small stone at her feet. It struck the weathered wooden door of the parlor with a dull thud. From inside came the rustle of He Chizhe turning pages. The old man was always going on about "life and death are predestined," yet the light in his eyes when he'd clutched talismans and chanted incantations back then had clearly burned brighter than anyone's.
"Little Director Hu, muttering about performance again?" He Chizhe pushed the door open, half a finished almond tofu still in his hand. "That commission fee from the Adventurers' Guild the other day could buy you ten top‑quality coffins."
Hu Tao pouted. "That's not the same." She nodded toward the distant mountains. "Hua Xiong's grave is on the northern slope of Mt. Qingfeng. When Guan Yu beheaded him, his head was sent to Yuan Shao's camp, but his body was secretly buried by Lü Bu's remaining troops. I have to settle this score with him personally."
He Chizhe's hand trembled, and he nearly dropped his almond tofu. "You're going to… dig up Hua Xiong's grave?"
"What else?" Hu Tao raised an eyebrow, spinning the Staff of Homa faster in her palm. "He killed me once; I dig up his grave once. Fair's fair. Besides, how many outsiders don't die here in Qingce Village every year? If I 'invite' him and all those ruffians who followed Lü Bu here back, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's performance this month will triple."
Three days later, on the northern slope of Mt. Qingfeng.
Hu Tao swung the Staff of Homa, slicing through waist‑high weeds. When the tip struck a blue stone slab, it let out a clear tap. She crouched down and brushed away the soil; the faint carvings on the slab could just be made out—"General Hua Xiong of Han."
"Found it." She whistled, and several hilichurls behind her immediately stepped forward with hoes. These little creatures were labor she'd "traded" using Wangsheng Funeral Parlor discount coupons; clumsy as they were, they had plenty of strength.
After just a few strikes of the hoe came a sharp clang. Hu Tao jumped into the pit and brushed loose dirt off the coffin. Its vermilion lacquer was peeling badly, yet traces of its former elegance remained. She pulled out a talisman from her pocket and slapped it onto the coffin. "Hua Xiong, Hua Xiong, I still remember that slash you gave me back then."
The moment the coffin lid was pried open, a stench of mildew and rust rushed out. Hua Xiong's skeleton lay inside, his armor long rotten, only the rusted longsword still clutched tightly in his bony hand. Hu Tao stared at the broken bone at his neck—sure enough, the mark of a single decapitating strike.
"Tsk, Lord Guan really didn't mess around." She kicked the edge of the coffin. "Too bad you can't even rest in peace."
For the next half‑month, Hu Tao seemed possessed. Using the map He Chizhe had given her, she wandered around Mt. Qingfeng, digging wherever she spotted traces of rammed earth. First she unearthed over a dozen soldier skeletons in standard Lü Bu army armor; later she even found a horse skeleton, with a broken spear tip hanging from its saddle.
"Little Director Hu, we're almost out of space." An apprentice of the parlor stared at the rows of temporary sheds in the yard, packed with skeletons wrapped in straw mats, his face pale. "The villagers are saying… the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is practicing witchcraft."
Hu Tao was applying clear lacquer to Hua Xiong's skull and didn't look up. "So what? Once I turn all these into 'Wangsheng Packages,' we'll be swamped with orders." She picked up a brush, dipped it in cinnabar, and drew a lopsided talisman on the skull's forehead. "Hua Xiong, Hua Xiong, look how round your skull is. It'll make a lovely ornament, I'm sure."
When He Chizhe hobbled in on his cane, he saw Hu Tao blowing on a soldier's leg bone as if it were a flute. The tune was horribly out of tune, yet the skeletons in the yard faintly clicked in response.
"Nonsense!" He Chizhe trembled with anger. "These are heroic souls who died in battle—how dare you profane them like this?"
Hu Tao set down the bone and clapped her hands. "Profanation? When they burned, killed, and looted, did they ever think this day would come?" She pointed at the pile of horse bones in the corner. "That horse trampled three children to death in Qingce Village back then. Have you forgotten?"
He Chizhe opened his mouth, but no words came out. He did remember—during that battle three years ago, the streams of Qingce Village ran red, and many of the bodies piled on the banks were unarmed villagers.
"I'm going to carry them back to Qingce Village," Hu Tao said suddenly, her eyes shining brightly. "We'll set up a stage at the village entrance, so everyone can see what became of those who bullied us."
Early the next morning, Hu Tao hired over a dozen strong men. They carried Hua Xiong's coffin on carrying poles, followed by a long line of men each shouldering two wooden chests filled with bones. The procession set off from Mt. Qingfeng toward Qingce Village. Hu Tao walked at the front, holding a flag that read "WANGSHENG FUNERAL PARLOR PERFORMANCE EXHIBITION," the Staff of Homa slung over her shoulder, humming a little funeral parlor tune under her breath.
As they neared the village entrance, they met many villagers who had survived the battle. Some recognized the beast‑head pattern on Hua Xiong's coffin, their eyes reddening instantly. They picked up stones from the ground, ready to hurl them at the coffin.
"Don't smash it, don't smash it!" Hu Tao quickly stopped them. "This is my precious 'shop treasure' I dug up with so much trouble. Who'll pay if it breaks?" She pulled out a ledger from her robes and showed it to the villagers. "Look, I set Hua Xiong's 'Wangsheng Package' at the highest price—full service for salvation, encoffining, and burial. Half the profits go to you."
The villagers stared in silence for a long while, watching the young girl who had nearly been killed by Hua Xiong on the battlefield now haggling with them as if nothing had happened. Suddenly someone snickered, then more joined in. Amid the laughter, some wiped away tears.
When the procession reached the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's gate, Hu Tao directed the men to unload the coffin and chests. She climbed onto Hua Xiong's coffin, hands on her hips, and shouted: "Fellow villagers! The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor proudly presents the Exclusive Vengeance Package! All who suffered in the Qingce Village battle receive twenty percent off with proof!"
He Chizhe stood at the gate, watching the bouncing figure, and shook his head helplessly. Quietly, he pulled a talisman from his sleeve and flicked it toward Hua Xiong's coffin. The talisman burst into flame without wind, turning into wispy smoke that drifted toward the sky.
As the smoke dispersed, the skeletons in the yard suddenly clicked violently, as if bowing. Busy handing out flyers to the onlookers, Hu Tao did not notice. She only felt the sunlight grow suddenly warm on her skin, like the body‑heated coat He Chizhe had draped over her when he pulled her from the pile of corpses three years prior.
"Today's performance will definitely break records." Hu Tao looked down at the orders in her hand, smiling and revealing her two small fangs. The red glow on the Staff of Homa flickered, as if answering her words. The mist over the distant mountains lifted, revealing their green outlines. The streams of Qingce Village gurgled, as if singing a song of rebirth.