Cursed Emerald

The cold wind cut like a knife, and snowflakes swirled in the air.

When Lu Sheng opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in a yellowish-gray carriage. The carriage jolted slightly, and beside him, a little girl's soft, delicate voice chattered away.

Outside the carriage, a cacophony of voices filled the air—vendors hawking their wares, shouts, cheers, and the laughter of children.

Lu Sheng let out a deep sigh.

He knew he couldn't go back. From a lazy, coasting employee at a state-owned enterprise, he'd gotten drunk one night and woken up in this world. Five days had passed since then.

He sniffed the air, catching the scents of wine, pancakes, and fried pastries.

"Oh, the white osmanthus wine from Osmanthus House is getting more fragrant!" chirped Xiaoqiao, his personal maid in the carriage, her voice sweet and childish.

Xiaoqiao was only twelve this year. With her natural baby face and petite frame, she looked no different from a ten-year-old. Her chubby cheeks glowed with a rosy hue, and she wore a green cotton skirt. In her small hands, she was rubbing a hair tie for Lu Sheng, preparing it for when they stepped out.

The hair tie was made from the expensive bark of a jiao tree, which naturally emitted a faint, pleasant fragrance. Its only downside was that it stiffened in the cold, requiring warm hands to soften it.

Lu Sheng smiled but said nothing.

The carriage soon came to a stop.

He lifted the curtain and stepped out. The grayish-white street was paved with large, basin-sized stone tiles.

The street bustled with carriages and pedestrians, some leading horses to and fro.

Vendors, young girls, and women strolled about unabashedly, their laughter ringing out.

Lu Sheng tilted his head to look at the wine shop in front of him.

A rectangular white signboard hung above, adorned with three bold, flamboyant characters: Osmanthus House.

"Young Master Lu has arrived! Please, come in! We've reserved the first-class room for you!" A servant approached with a wide, eager smile.

Lu Sheng nodded, exuding the air of a wealthy young lord. He took a silver-edged white paper fan from Xiaoqiao's hands, flicked it open with a flourish, and revealed a painting of misty mountains and rivers, the brushstrokes rising and falling in a masterful blend of light and shadow. Accompanying it was an inscription that screamed refined elegance.

He followed the servant into the wine shop with practiced ease.

The shop had two floors. The ground floor was alive with people gathered to listen to a performance.

A girl in green stood in an open space, her voice clear and melodious, accompanied by a middle-aged woman playing the pipa.

She sang "The Tale of Three Meetings," a poignant love story between a general on campaign and a wild fox spirit.

Sadly, most of the patrons were rough folk. Only a handful of scholarly young men appreciated the song; the rest paid little attention to the duo, and tips were scarce.

Lu Sheng paused. Seeing how lively the first floor was, he decided to take an empty seat there instead.

"Who requested 'The Tale of Three Meetings'?" he asked the servant casually.

His status at Osmanthus House was no small matter. If this place were akin to a high-end entertainment club on Earth, he'd be the ultimate VIP—a patron who spent at least tens of thousands a year.

Such extravagance made him a top-tier client in a small northern city like Jiulian.

"It was Young Master Zhou. Zhou Que," the servant replied softly.

Lu Sheng didn't press him further and waved him off.

He sat down with Xiaoqiao, his eyes scanning the crowd. Soon, he spotted a pale, frail young man dressed in white, fanning himself with a gaudy gold-trimmed lotus-leaf fan.

"Probably smitten with the singing girl again," Lu Sheng remarked, shaking his head.

"Young Master warned him last time, and he's still such a scoundrel!" Xiaoqiao pouted indignantly.

Lu Sheng chuckled and said no more, settling in to listen to the song.

A dark red wooden table was soon laden with dishes and wine. Lu Sheng picked up a piece of stir-fried bamboo shoots with pork, popped it into his mouth, and took a sip of the white osmanthus wine—sweet and floral, not unlike a fruity drink.

"Fine clothes, delicious food, no worries, and a pretty little maid to warm my bed—this life is downright decadent," Lu Sheng mused to himself. Sometimes he wondered if he should just live like this forever. After all, this idle, luxurious existence was what he'd chased in his past life.

He ate a bite, sipped some wine, then opened his mouth as Xiaoqiao fed him a peeled saltwater ice shrimp.

In this snowy northern city, ice shrimp were a local delicacy. A scoop through the thick ice of a frozen lake would yield heaps of these translucent little creatures.

That's what ice shrimp were.

Half the size of regular shrimp, their flavor was unmatched—melting in the mouth, an unrivaled delight.

Of course, they came at a steep price. For ordinary folk, eating them once a month was a luxury. Who else but him could have them at every meal?

Savoring the food, sipping the wine, and listening to the tune, Lu Sheng's mind drifted elsewhere.

It had been days since he'd arrived in this world, one that resembled ancient China. But from what he'd observed, it was full of peculiarities.

At first, he thought he'd traveled back in time, but he soon realized that wasn't the case. The customs, festivals, and climate here were far removed from any historical era or region he knew.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the wine shop's doors swing open again.

A group of burly men in short, rugged attire strode in and plopped down at a table near the corner.

At a glance, they weren't locals. Their clothing and demeanor suggested they hailed from the central plains, lacking the rugged flair of the north.

"Ugh," the leader, a bald man with a copper earring and a face full of rough flesh, sighed heavily. "These days are unbearable."

"What's there to worry about, boss? If we can't pass through Li Family Village, we'll take the second route through Zhang Village," another man said, frowning.

"What do you know? I came through Zhang Village to meet up here, and it's the same mess—plenty of people dead," the bald man replied, his jowls quivering as his expression darkened.

"What's going on, boss? Tell us so we can learn something," one of the men pressed.

The bald man sighed again. "I don't know the details, but several fishing villages by Suiyang Lake are in trouble. Seems like a water ghost is at work."

"A water ghost!?" 

"No way, right?"

Lu Sheng's table wasn't far off, and he could hear their unabashed chatter. He'd been listening idly at first, but now they were talking about supernatural nonsense.

In this life, his Lu family was one of the wealthiest households in this northern snow city—far richer than "ten thousand in wealth" could describe. Back on Earth, they'd be billionaires at least.

Over the past few days of drinking here, he'd heard plenty of tales about demons and ghosts, but most were just legends. This was the first time he'd encountered what seemed like a firsthand account.

So, he perked up his ears to eavesdrop. Luckily, the men didn't bother lowering their voices and kept talking loudly about the strange events at the fishing villages.

"That water ghost—I saw it with my own eyes. Over ten feet tall, green face, fangs, covered in water weeds. Man, if your big brother hadn't run fast, you wouldn't be seeing me now," the bald man said, still shaken.

"Boss, there's really such a thing as a water ghost?" one man asked skeptically.

"Aren't you just making up stories, boss?" another chuckled.

Lu Sheng found it amusing too—probably just another braggart spinning tales. He'd seen plenty of those lately.

After finishing his meal and wine, he asked the servant to bring the songstress's list of tunes, flipping through it casually.

"The Tale of Three Meetings" was fine, but it didn't fit the mood. He wanted something livelier.

*Slap!*

But just then, the bald man's face flushed red, and he slammed the table.

"You really think I, Old Hu, am just blowing hot air?! Look at this! Look! This is a bone from that water ghost! I secretly picked it up afterward!" He carefully pulled a jade-like green stone from his chest and slapped it on the table.

"Isn't that just some cheap jade?" one man laughed.

"Cheap jade? This is cheap jade?! To hell with that!"

The bald man's face reddened further.

"Brother, could I take a look at that thing?" a gentle voice suddenly interjected.

Lu Sheng stood by their table with a smile, his gaze sweeping over the green stone.

"You want this? This came from a water ghost," the bald man said, surprised. He'd only taken it out to show off and planned to ditch it soon. After all, it wasn't human-made. If it attracted the water ghost's wrath, it'd be more trouble than it was worth.

"No problem. I just want a look," Lu Sheng replied, unfazed. He didn't believe in water ghosts; the stone just looked intriguing—not like ordinary cheap jade.

Common jade was everywhere—scraps polished from leftovers, sold dirt cheap at stalls. But something about this piece felt off to him.

The bald man, Old Hu, sized Lu Sheng up. He oozed wealth and refinement—cyan robes with white fox fur, a cyan jade cap, and black boots with silver-threaded cloud patterns. His outfit alone could cover months at Osmanthus House or a year's living for an average family.

"If you want it, young master, it's not impossible… uh, one tael of silver will do!" Old Hu hesitated, then ventured.

"Deal." Lu Sheng had Xiaoqiao fish out a tael of broken silver and place it on the table.

"It's yours." Old Hu promptly shoved the stone into Lu Sheng's hand. The group exchanged glances, stood, and left.

Lu Sheng said nothing, watching them go. He held the stone, inspecting it closely.

"One tael of silver—back in Earth's China, that's about a thousand yuan in purchasing power. Only in this life could I throw money around like this," he mused, shaking his head. One tael was pocket change to him. According to this body's memories, his monthly spending started at a hundred taels, sometimes spiking to a thousand—millions in modern terms!

"Such a spendthrift," he thought to himself. Ignoring the curious onlookers, he took the stone and left the wine shop with Xiaoqiao, heading for the waiting carriage.

But halfway there, he froze, raising the stone to his palm.

In his hand—right in the center of his right palm—the stone began to melt.

In mere seconds, the solid rock turned into a dark green liquid. A faint scream emanated from it.

*Pop!*

The liquid exploded into a cloud of green smoke, drifting slowly before Lu Sheng's eyes.

Stunned, he blinked. The stone was still in his hand, but the green hue had vanished without a trace.

"What was that…?" He stood there, dazed, replaying the moment in his mind.

"Young Master? Young Master??" Xiaoqiao called out beside him.

Snapping back, Lu Sheng looked at the stone again. It was just an ordinary pebble now—not even jade.

A chill crept up his spine, but a vague realization dawned on him.

"Let's go—back to the mansion!"

Xiaoqiao blinked, a bit slow to catch up. "Oh…"

They boarded the carriage. The driver cracked his whip in the air, and the two shaggy black horses began to trot.

Inside, Lu Sheng sat silently, staring at the pebble.

Xiaoqiao noticed the change too.

"Tricked again, huh?" she muttered to herself, keeping quiet. This wasn't bad compared to the time he'd spent a thousand taels on a so-called antique wine jug, nearly giving the old master a heart attack. One tael was less than what he'd spend on a meal sometimes.

The carriage rolled toward the mansion. Passing the city gate, Lu Sheng overheard someone shouting outside.

"…I'd heard the water ghost was dealt with! A wandering Taoist took care of the fishing village crisis!"

"Did the court send someone?"

"They did earlier. Even Ouyang, the head constable from the magistrate's office, nearly got caught up in it. Lucky a wandering Taoist stepped in—word is, with a flash of golden light, the ghost screamed, turned into green slime, and burst into smoke!"

"So it wasn't some court expert?"

"Of course not!"

Lu Sheng recognized the voices of the gate guards chatting.

He often passed by here on purpose—the guards and soldiers were well-informed, always gossiping about oddities.

"What a coincidence…" Lu Sheng's expression remained calm, but his heart sank as he recalled the stone.

The carriage continued toward Kurong Street, the city's bustling heart.