Masks of the Ghost People

Fearing that the Empress might send more assassins after us, we took a quiet, hidden trail eastward.
Day and night we rode without rest, until our weary horses refused to move another step.

At the foot of a small, misty mountain lay a humble village — so small it barely deserved the name.
We found a single inn, its wooden sign creaking in the wind.

By the time we stepped inside, the place was already packed.
Gu Yi and I managed to secure one tiny room, while General Lan led the rest of the men to camp outside beneath makeshift tents.

These two days, I did my best to avoid Gu Yi.

Ever since I had saved his life, his attitude toward me had… changed.
He no longer treated me as a pet — which should have been a good thing —
but somehow, that only made everything worse.

Take today, for example.

General Lan had hunted a wild boar and proudly brought the best cut of meat to Gu Yi.
Gu Yi, with that infuriating calm smile, came over to where I sat by the window.
He held out a bowl of steaming meat, lifted a slice with his chopsticks, and said:

“Come, open your mouth.”

I twitched. Then, with the resignation of a prisoner facing execution, I obeyed.

General Lan’s face crumpled in horror. He bit his knuckles, stomped his feet, and ran off into the night like a wronged maiden.

That’s when I realized — Gu Yi was using me as his shield against unwanted admirers.

He knew Lan harbored unspoken feelings for him, but being a noble, Gu Yi couldn’t reject him outright.
So instead, he clung to me in front of everyone, acting like a devoted lover —
crushing poor Lan’s heart with ruthless precision.

Now, every time General Lan looked at me, his eyes burned with the intensity of a man betrayed.
I feared I’d be assassinated by him long before I ever got my hands on the key to the black iron chain.

Meanwhile, Gu Yi kept shooting me those heated glances — sharp, searing, impossible to ignore.

He thought he was being discreet. He wasn’t.

That gaze prickled against my back like thorns, and I itched to gouge his eyes out.
But with General Lan hovering nearby like a jealous guardian spirit, I didn’t dare cause a scene.

So I could only hiss under my breath:

“Can you not stare at me?”

He tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.

“Stare at you? What do you mean? If you didn’t look at me, how would you even know I was looking at you?”

He smiled — bright as the sun and twice as annoying.

“Ah, I see! You must be secretly admiring this prince’s dazzling charm. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

I nearly exploded.

From that day on, Gu Yi stopped pretending to be subtle.
He stared openly, even appraisingly — eyes narrowed, fingers on his chin.

“Hm. The figure’s not bad… but I do wonder what the face looks like under all that mud.”

If I ever got that key, I swore I’d run so far he’d never find me again.

That evening, I’d just stretched out on the hard bed when a knock came at the door.

Before I could answer, the latch clicked — ka-cha! — and in walked Gu Yi as if it were his own room.

“Awake yet?” he asked, far too cheerfully. “Come, I’ll show you something fun.”

“Go with General Lan,” I mumbled, yawning. “I’m sleeping.”

His brow arched.

“Eh?”

“Hey! Hey, hey, what are you— Don’t pull the chain! I’m up! I’m up!”

Outside, the village street was buzzing.

For such a tiny place, the crowd was immense — shoulder to shoulder, faces hidden beneath the flicker of red lanterns.

I blinked.
Every single person — man, woman, child — wore a strange mask.

The masks were grotesque, painted in ghostly colors.
Huge eyes with pinhole pupils, and three triangular horns — two on the sides, one centered on the forehead.

Only Gu Yi and I went barefaced, which immediately made us the strangest sights in town.

Gu Yi dragged me to a mask vendor.
He picked one for himself, then turned to choose mine.

The old peddler squinted at me through the dim candlelight, then suddenly exclaimed:

“Aha! No wonder your face looked odd — young lady, you’ve got black mud smeared all over! Hard to wash off, that one. But don’t worry! Add some cinnabar to water and it’ll come right off.”

Gu Yi’s eyes lit up.

My stomach dropped.

That “mud” came from the Moss Swamp of Mei Mountain — once it stuck to skin, it clung like a curse.
I’d worn it for months to disguise myself.

Without another word, I grabbed Gu Yi and bolted before the peddler could offer to scrub me clean.

Only when the crowd’s chatter faded behind us did I slow down.

I turned, ready to scold him — but something cool touched my face.

A mask.

Before I could react, Gu Yi leaned close, his breath warm through the wooden slits.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Huh?”

He slid his own mask on, sat cross-legged beside me, and gripped my hand tightly.

“No matter what you really look like,” he murmured, “I won’t dislike you.”

“What?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I tugged my hand free — failed — and snapped,

“What does my face have to do with you? Let go!”

His fingers tightened. His voice trembled slightly:

“I… I like—”

“Your Highness!”

A round head popped between us, clutching a skewer of candied hawthorns.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

It was General Lan.

Gu Yi’s face went thunder-dark.

Mine, mercifully, cooled down again.

From then on, our little party of two became an awkward party of three.

Ever since Gu Yi’s disappearance, Lan had been a nervous wreck.
Now he refused to leave Gu Yi’s side, muttering anxiously:

“Your Highness, I told you to notify me before wandering off! I may be useless, but at least I can act as a meat shield! What if you’d been hurt again—oh heavens, your skin is far too delicate…”

Gu Yi’s expression was unreadable, but his jaw twitched.

We passed a pavilion, filled to bursting with villagers.

A loud, theatrical voice drifted out:

“And lo! The ghost men burst from the earth, blotting out the sky—!”

Storytelling.

At last — a break.

I grabbed Gu Yi’s hand and ducked inside.

An old man with snow-white hair sat on a chair, gesturing grandly as he spoke.
The crowd was enthralled — slapping their masked faces in rhythm with his tale, thump thump thump!

“Don’t that hurt?” I whispered.

Gu Yi’s tone was mild.

“They call it beating the ghost people. It’s a custom here — you’ll see.”

He removed his mask, studying it thoughtfully.

“Both the Eastern and Western borders share this tradition.”

I still couldn’t wrap my head around why anyone would voluntarily smack themselves in the face.

The storyteller took a break, replaced by another elder who began the story anew from the start.
Piece by piece, I pieced together the tale.

Five hundred years ago, at the border between the Eastern Empire and Western Frost Kingdom, a new species appeared —
monstrous beings with twisted faces, three horns, and fanged mouths that could tear through stone and steel alike.

No one knew what they were, so people simply called them Ghost People.

Their skin was bronze and unbreakable.
A handful of them could annihilate entire battalions; a hundred could swallow the world.

For the first time in history, the four great nations united to fight a common enemy.

All Ghost People came from the Abyss of Mei Forest —
once a tranquil plain, until one day it split open and birthed endless horrors.

Humankind was powerless.

Just as the world teetered on despair, the sea roared, the sky darkened —
and from the black waves rose a God clad in darkness.

He wielded a black sword, his hair and robes billowing like stormclouds.

He descended upon the Ghost Army,
and in moments, their unstoppable ranks were reduced to shreds of flesh.

Only one — the Golden-Horned Ghost — stood his ground.
The two fought for three days and nights,
until the god’s final strike severed the golden horn and split the creature in two.

The god’s sword broke at the tip.
And then he vanished, as suddenly as he’d appeared.

The story ended there.

I sat back, unimpressed.

“That’s it? Bit dull, honestly.”

Gu Yi nodded thoughtfully.

“Naturally. Tales passed by mouth lose their truth. Still — the core of it should be accurate enough.”

“Wait,” I blinked. “You mean… it’s real?”

“Of course,” Gu Yi replied, giving me a look as though I’d just confessed ignorance of breathing.
“You’ve lived in Mei Forest this long and never heard it?”

“Uh… maybe once or twice,” I muttered, scratching my head.

Before I could change the subject, General Lan leaned forward, pointing at the chain around my wrist.

“That chain of yours — the Black Iron Link — do you know what it truly is?”

I shook my head.

“It’s the broken tip of that god’s sword,” Lan said solemnly. “A national treasure of the Eastern Empire. It’s passed from king to heir — and now…” He sighed dramatically. “Now His Highness has used it… to chain you.”

Gu Yi shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Lan promptly shut up.

I looked down at the iron chain —
half resentful, half bewildered.

Somehow, instead of feeling imprisoned…
I almost felt like I’d stumbled into a strange kind of fortune.