My Husband, Who Was Long Dead, Returned in the Middle of the Night

On Qingming Festival, I went to burn paper offerings for my general husband, who had died on the battlefield. But I found a plate of osmanthus cakes, the food he had hated most in life, in front of his grave. I thought some careless servant had left the wrong offering there, until I returned to the main residence late that night, exhausted. When I pushed open the carved wooden door of the bedroom, I smelled a strong mix of dragon's-blood incense and a man's sweat. Behind the red sandalwood screen stood a familiar figure with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He sat lazily on the edge of the bed, his dark inner robe hanging open. As he toyed with my red undergarment between his rough fingers, he complained to me as if nothing were amiss. "Madam, this