08. The Constable

The sun hung high overhead.

"I need to find a way to get a human head," mused the black cat, Lu Xun, as he crouched by the city gate.

This three-legged old cat was no small creature—he was nearly a spirit, perhaps already one. Yet, unlike the powerful beings described in folktales, this spirit had no such remarkable abilities. Much like the raccoon dogs, who needed their own urine and a bit of illusion to take on human form, his transformation was built more on people’s imagination than his own magic.

Spirit or not, life was hardly convenient.

“Caw, caw, caw…”

A departing crow seemed to mock its fellow animal waiting so patiently for a chance.

“Get lost!” the black cat meowed at the old crow flying away, flexing his paws.

Life will always find a way.

Lu Xun didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. Instead, he let go of his stubborn waiting, rose to his feet, and with a swish of his bushy tail to brush off the dust, began to ponder where he might find a “human head.”

Beauty or ugliness didn’t matter; if need be, even gender was irrelevant. He simply needed to become something that resembled a person.

---

Meilan County Office.

The Prison.

Clink, clatter.

Dice rattled swiftly in a cup before the polished cup slammed down on the heavy wooden table. The scrawny officer perched on a bench glanced around at the three others and declared, “No more bets!”

“Big, big, big!” the burly fellow shouted, his face flushed, fists clenched.

“Small, small, small!” cried the middle-aged officer, slapping the table.

The winner leapt up, gleefully raking in the copper coins.

No one noticed the large cat sneaking in along the shadows by the wall; even if someone had, they wouldn’t care. The prison was a haven for rats, and the county office had its own feline enforcer—a house cat kept by the inspector, a fierce beast none of the officers dared provoke.

The cacophony of the prison guards faded behind him as Lu Xun, shrouded in shadow, melted into the gloom of the decrepit cell.

Bats crashed against the rafters with loud smacks.

His golden, slit-pupiled eyes searched for a dying prisoner.

The deeper he ventured, the more he was enveloped by a stench—urine, feces, rotten food—a reek so thick it seemed to pour across the floor like mercury, making his eyes water and his stomach twist with nausea.

The unkempt graveyard outside had no real odor; but here, inside the ancient cells, he was truly reminded of what it felt like to be in the distant past.

Behind rough wooden bars, in a cramped space barely large enough for a pile of straw, lay a prisoner sprawled out.

There were no prison uniforms, merely a pair of tattered trousers for modesty.

The man was as motionless as a frozen snake.

Lu Xun slipped through the gap, padded over, and squatted in front of the prisoner’s head.

He extended both front paws—two black hands reaching out from the darkness.

Lu Xun didn’t know if death gods existed, but if they did, surely they wouldn’t look like him.

“He’s almost gone,” the black cat thought. Just as crows can always sense the scent of rot, so too could he see the aura on living things—colors swirling and fading.

The one before him was faint, like a candle about to gutter out in the wind. It wouldn’t be long before the last breath escaped.

He knew, too, that if he simply bit the man’s throat and let his spirit out, his waiting would end.

His paws hovered in the air, then slowly lowered.

As someone from the modern world, Lu Xun had the courage to pull a trigger—but he couldn’t bring himself to snuff out the life of a stranger, someone who’d done him no wrong.

“If I take your head, I’ll have to finish your business for you,” he murmured. “Otherwise, even if I could live with myself, I might never find my way back.”

With a silent flick, the black cat slipped out of the cell once more.

The guards’ voices grew louder.

“Hurry, hurry, pack it up—the chief is back!”

“Wait, wasn’t he taking his wife to Clear Spring Temple to pray for a child? Why is he back so soon?”

“Look at the time!”

“Oh, the sun’s almost down.” The outer prison walls were thick stone; inside, it was easy to lose track of time while gambling. Now, the officers scrambled to clean up, grumbling, “Our chief never joins in our games, so none of us get to have any fun either.”

“Hah, the chief is a real master. If the county magistrate’s brother-in-law hadn’t taken the constable’s spot, he’d be on the Six Gates registry by now.”

They cleaned the cells.

It was time to serve dinner to the prisoners.

A lean man in an indigo constable’s tunic, a long saber hanging from his waist, strode in. His hawk-like eyes gleamed dangerously in the gloom. The chief set his saber on the uneven table, pulled over a stool, and sat in silence.

He ladled out the prisoners’ only meal of the day from a wooden bucket.

Clatter, clank.

No longer stiff, lifeless snakes, the prisoners now writhed like sluggish adders stirring in spring, painfully shifting their cramped limbs.

Slurp!

A bowl of thick porridge down, the prisoners curled back into their corners.

Their bowls were so clean they reflected their own faces. Even scraps dropped to the floor were quickly scooped up and eaten. The prisoners cherished every morsel, but the guards had no such qualms—scooping ladlefuls of gruel, spilling plenty. The leftovers fed the rats, insects, and snakes that called the prison home.

Finally, with the chief present, the prisoners were properly fed.

The lean man seized his saber.

“Head Constable Zhao, this was your first time at Clear Spring Temple, wasn’t it?”

Zhao Jia paused, turning to glance at the scrawny, sly-faced officer lounging lazily on a pile of straw, picking his teeth.

The man, with his shifty eyes and thin mustache, grinned and said, “I respect you as a real man. But that Clear Spring Temple isn’t clean. I advise you not to leave your wife there.”

“What do you mean?” asked Zhao.

“I’m a notorious thief in Meilan County. Clear Spring Temple is one of the grandest monasteries in the area—countless nobles and officials come to pray, so who knows how much money piles up in those merit boxes? I’ve pilfered there myself.

“Tch, the treasures are stacked so high the storerooms can’t hold them all. I could barely carry them away even with a winnowing basket—if only I’d had a horse cart! But alone, I could only take choice items. I stomped the gold and silver flat, stuffed them in a sack, and snatched a few rare trinkets.

“I should’ve left early, but then I remembered a rumor: the temple’s goddess is said to be especially responsive, but there’s a strange requirement—the faithful must spend a night on the mountain, and at midnight, the women must go alone to the main hall to receive the goddess’s blessing for a child.

“Curious, I stayed to watch.

“Well. Guess what? I never saw any goddess, but I did see two big monks drag a woman down into the cellar.

“There’s another hidden cellar beneath the first, locked up tight—but locks can’t stop me. Not even a prison like this could hold me, let alone an ordinary monastery.”

The little thief turned away, stretching out on the straw. “If you, Zhao, are willing to play the cuckold, then just treat my words as nonsense.”

He flipped over and lay back down.

Zhao gripped his saber tight, his hawk-like eyes growing round and fierce as he glared at the guards. “Is this true?”

They exchanged uneasy glances.

They’d heard plenty of rumors in their idle hours. They didn’t know what really went on at Clear Spring Temple, but one thing was certain: those praying for children always had their wishes granted.

Whether gods and spirits were real, they’d never seen for themselves—but with such uncanny results, there had to be something fishy.

With a clang, Zhao rested his hand on his saber and said, “I’m going out for a while. Those on night duty—stay sharp.”

The little thief waved him off with a grin and glanced at the sky. “Hurry, you might still make it.”

“Chief, should we send someone with you?” the scrawny officer asked.

Zhao shook his head. “If we’re really going to raid Clear Spring Temple, we’d need to report to the magistrate first.”

With that, the chief strode out.

In the darkness, a shadow slipped after him.

“To Clear Spring Temple!”

“Hurry!”

Out on the street, Zhao hailed a donkey cart.

The shadow leapt aboard behind him.