Ghost Pot

On a cold winter night, the moonlight is pale, the boundless plains are covered in snow, and the wind chills to the bone. This is Fenglingdu on the Yellow River in Hedong, Shanxi. The Yellow River, after passing through Longmen, is blocked by the Qinling Mountains and turns eastward. Legend has it that this is where Feng Hou, the wise minister of the Yellow Emperor, invented the compass and defeated Chiyou. After Feng Hou's death, he was buried here, and the site was called Fengling. The old site is located about a mile east of the present town, and the area is called Fenglingdui. Hence, the ferry crossing was named Fenglingdu, and it was formerly known as Fenglingguan.

For thousands of years, Fenglingdu has been a vital passage for the Yellow River to flow westward into Qin and Jin. Zhao Zizhen, a Jin dynasty poet, wrote in his poem "On Fenglingdu": "A river divides the land north and south, and the spirit of the Central Plains remains intact. Clouds and mountains connect the land of Jin, and misty trees enter the Qin plain."

The moonlight was dim and hazy, making the ancient ferry crossing appear particularly desolate.

Under an old locust tree in the east of the town, a person stood in the shadows, wearing a cashmere hat and a sheepskin coat, his beard covered with white frost, holding a sleeping baby close to his chest, silently watching an old house not far away.

The courtyard house had high walls, blue bricks and tiles, a black porch, and a tightly closed gate. All around was silent, and people had long since fallen asleep.

The man quietly walked to the front of the house, took off his sheepskin coat, tightly wrapped the baby in his arms, and gently placed it on the porch.

"Woof woof..." At that moment, a series of urgent barks came from inside the door, echoing in the silent night sky.

The man quietly retreated into the shadow of the old locust tree.

Soon after, with a loud bang, the dark door opened, and a large, short-haired black dog rushed out. Then, an old man wearing a cotton cloak emerged from behind the door.

"Woof woof..." The black dog spotted the bulging sheepskin coat on the ground, whimpering and nudging it with its mouth.

The baby pulled open the sheepskin coat with one of its tiny hands, and peeked out its little head, looking around in confusion.

"Huh, what's that little baby?" The old man exclaimed in surprise as he picked up the infant wrapped in the sheepskin coat and looked around.

The town was quiet, and there was no one around.

Under the moonlight, the baby's skin was delicate, and her eyes were bright black. She was about one year old. The old man reached inside and muttered to himself, "It's a girl."

The man remained standing under the ancient locust tree, silently observing everything.

"Looks like someone didn't want this baby anymore. Knowing that Old Guo lives alone, they brought it over." The old man muttered to himself as he turned and went inside.

Just as they were about to close the gate, the baby girl turned her head, glanced in the direction of the old locust tree, and spat out a small amount of phlegm.

The black gate closed, and snowflakes began to fall from the night sky. Before long, everything around was covered in white.

Under the old locust tree, the man nodded and murmured, "Master Menglacha Weng Bing, I have finally found the descendants of the Guo family of Hedong and fulfilled your important mission. Please rest assured, Master, all traces will be erased." After saying this, he turned and left, came to the Yellow River, and walked across the newly frozen surface to the middle of the river.

Under the moonlight, the man sat cross-legged on the ice, his hands forming a mudra as he practiced Siamese Kung Fu. Before long, wisps of white mist began to rise from the top of his head, and the ice beneath his buttocks gradually melted. Finally, with a "plop," he sank into the ice hole and was swept away by the Yellow River flowing beneath the ice.

The north wind howled, sweeping snowflakes across the ice surface, and by dawn, all traces had vanished.

Chapter 1

In March, the Jiangnan region is shrouded in a light drizzle, and the countryside of Wuyuan in northern Jiangxi is enveloped in a vast mist. In the misty Nanshan Village, golden rapeseed flowers and pink peach blossoms conceal a simple and rustic Hui-style Ming and Qing dynasty house. White walls and black tiles, small bridges and flowing water, old trees and ancient vines create a tranquil scene, like a pastoral landscape painting.

A taxi drove up along a country lane and came directly to the front of a grand mansion with high walls. A plaque hung on the carved beams and painted rafters of the porch, which read "Nanshan Rural Hospital" in vigorous calligraphy.

Two middle-aged men in suits jumped out of the car. The taller one, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a protruding nose, was a foreigner, while the shorter one, with darker skin, was from Hong Kong.

The two men straightened their clothes and then walked straight up the steps.

“We are employees of the Hong Kong office of Pinkerton Private Detective Agency. My name is Fang Guoping, and this is Detective Charlie,” the Hong Kong man introduced himself, his accent broken.

Nanshan Rural Hospital was the first private hospital in China. Its director, Zhu Hansheng, was a highly skilled and renowned doctor who had cured countless patients with difficult and complicated diseases free of charge over the years, including high-ranking officials from the provincial capital and Beijing. That's why the local government turned a blind eye to it and did not shut it down; otherwise, it would have been closed long ago.

"I am Zhu Hansheng." Hansheng invited the visitor to sit down and personally brewed tea. Five or six years had passed in the blink of an eye, and he seemed much more mature.

“Mr. Zhu, six years ago, we accepted a commission from Mr. Lu Taiguan in Hong Kong to search for the whereabouts of Zu Mo, a missing Chinese girl. The Pinkerton Private Detective Agency headquarters in the United States mobilized all its manpower, and after six years, we still couldn’t find her. Therefore, we regret to say that we have to end the investigation,” Fang Guoping shrugged, handed a thick file to Han Sheng, and continued, “This is a copy of the investigation report. The original has been given to Mr. Lu Taiguan, the client in Hong Kong.”

Han Sheng silently flipped through the Chinese and English translations of the investigation report, pondered for a moment, and asked, "Six years have passed, and there isn't even a single valuable clue?"

“We found the former Grand Master of Thailand, Mong La Chawon Khunpa, who was hiding in the Mandalay mountains in northern Myanmar. He is still alive and was the last person to see the baby girl Zu Mo,” Fang Guoping explained.

"Yes, I recognize this person. What did he say?" Han Sheng nodded.

“We tried every possible method of coercion and bribery, even breaking both of his legs, but to no avail. The specific details have been included in the report,” Fang Guoping replied.

"Where exactly is Zu Mo?" Han Sheng asked, feeling lost and disappointed.

"Mr. Zhu, our investigation report concludes that the baby girl, Zu Mo, is no longer alive; she may have died six years ago," Fang Guoping said with certainty.

Han Sheng fell into deep thought. Mo Mo's mother, the ancestor, had died tragically in the tropical rainforest of Myanmar. This child was her only unresolved issue, and she would be unable to rest easy if anything happened to him.

Seeing that Han Sheng remained silent, Fang Guoping spoke up: "Mr. Zhu, the Pinkerton Private Detective Agency was founded in 1850 and is the world's first private detective agency. It has a history of more than 100 years. Basically, any case that Pinkerton takes on is solved. If the baby girl Zu Mo is still alive, there is no way we wouldn't be able to find out about her."

"Do you have any evidence to confirm that Zu Mo is dead?" Han Sheng asked.

"Not yet." Fang Guoping looked slightly embarrassed, finished the tea on the table, and then got up to take his leave.

Han Sheng watched the two detectives get into the taxi and leave, then turned and walked towards the foot of Nanshan Mountain.

The lush bamboo forest was shrouded in mist, and crows peeked out from their nests. Ever since Chen Cai brought back the blue-and-white macaw, they no longer dared t

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