Luoyang City, the heart of the divine capital of the Tang Dynasty, was grand and busy. The glazed tiles in the city reflect the sunlight, outlining the stacked houses on the sky streets; deep in the lanes, the cries of porters are mixed with the sound of horse hooves at the far inn. Pedestrians on Chang'an Road are bustling with people, and everything seems to be running in prosperity. However, a strange gust of wind quietly stirred up, as if foreshadowing some unknown wave.
It was mid-spring, and in a teahouse by the lake on the outskirts of Luoyang, tea-goers were chatting about yesterday's court discussions and strange happenings in the community. One of them whispered:
"Did you hear about it? Something strange happened to a family in Zhuqiao Village yesterday. It was said that the house was haunted. The mistress of that family hanged herself in broad daylight and died in a very strange way."
Another person curled his lips and said: "There are no ghosts in this world. Most of them are just pretending to be gods."
While he was talking, the sound of horse hooves came quickly, and a policeman came on horseback, covered in dust. He reined in his horse and asked the guests in the teahouse loudly: "Who has seen Mr. Di?"
The tea guests all looked sideways, but no one responded. Just when the policeman was getting anxious, a faint response came from the corner of the teahouse: "Why are you looking for me?"
