Chapter 21 – The Resentful Ghost’s Lament

One misstep leads to a cascade of missteps.

Using the “Old Manor” as her base, she had devised multiple plans. The first was what she had previously called “Creating a God” — using the name of divine mandate to push Yi Shang toward the throne.

Why push Yi Shang toward the throne? Because unlike the rulers of the past several thousand years, what she wanted to see was an awakening of personhood — this was her contribution to the progress of humanity.

If that awakening could expand to the national system, it would be Great Harmony.

Great Harmony was an extremely distant goal, one that perhaps dozens of generations would not be able to achieve.

Yet history progresses through accumulated and varied reforms. If the first step is never taken, the land of Shenzhou would remain like the mud at the bottom of a river — heavy, foul, and unchanging.

And to reach this goal, one would have to confront equality in the most fundamental sense of life.

This equality manifested in every aspect: gender, status, law, and thought. For the common people of today, gender equality was the first battle in the turbulent process toward Great Harmony, and also the most arduous struggle.

The most telling reflection of thousands of years of mental shackles was the rule of male superiority and female inferiority.

Why choose Yi Shang?

Because she was an Imperial Princess of the Yin Dynasty’s royal family, a celebrated General Who Conquered the South, and a woman distinct from this traditional era — someone who had, to a certain degree, already broken through the ideological barriers that women should not hold power and women should not go to war.

Moreover, she had earned a high reputation among the common people.

But that was not enough.

Zhan Changfeng hoped to take advantage of the chaos of a turbulent era — when the old system was at its weakest — to mold this variable of the traditional age into a new weathervane, and from there to ignite systemic reform and enlighten the people’s thinking.

However, Zhan Changfeng later discovered a problem. What she wanted to see was not merely the emergence of a new order.

Rather, it was whether the common people of this land — men and women alike — had the potential to change of their own accord.

Take Yi Shang, for instance. Zhan Changfeng could disregard her wishes and use external force to push her toward the throne, packaging her as the spokesperson of a new order.

But what Zhan Changfeng truly wanted to see was Yi Shang recognizing the limitations of humanity’s current ideology and leading the reform of her own free will.

It wasn’t only Yi Shang.

Zhan Changfeng wanted to see, within the next hundred years, a life fighting for its own rights and dignity.

She also hoped that more talented and far-sighted individuals would open their eyes and look upon the world, rather than being trapped by the snares of old conventions.

At certain moments, she also felt that she herself was being too “brazen” — as though she were being led along by the contents of those “five thousand years,” unable to suppress her desire to see a brand new world, to see another form of existence.

And truly brazen she was. Since the chessboard of the Yin Dynasty had already been overturned, why not follow her own heart and try to bring about the vision she wished to see?

What was that phrase again?

Zhan Changfeng thought for a moment. It was “experiment” — to experiment with the potential of “people” and “humanity,” to test the plasticity of how a species might exist. Just thinking about it was fascinating.

There were two other reasons for coming to the Old Manor. First, she wanted to use her title of “Heavenly Master” to make connections with reclusive extraordinary individuals, seeking clues about the so-called world of cultivation.

Second, she had her eye on the Pure Yin energy from the Hundred Ghosts of the Old Manor. Although the Long-bearded Daoist had once hinted that he could teach her true Daoist arts, Zhan Changfeng still believed that the Nine Cycles Rebirth Art was the one suited for her. This intuition had always lingered in her heart.

Yet from the very first moment, a single mistake had pushed her to the edge of a precipice — half her body reduced to bone, the other half still flesh, her life potentially forfeit at any moment.

This situation left her no time to leisurely seek out hermits, search for the Dragon Scale Divine Scripture, or plot any kind of reform.

Zhan Changfeng tapped her index finger on the surface of the desk. Shouldn’t the ones planning reform be the common people themselves?

“If I give you all a walking staff, will you be able to stand up on your own?” she pondered at length, and finally spread open a stack of blank paper.

Zhan Changfeng threw herself entirely into her writing. Meals that were brought to her were eaten in a few hasty bites, and sometimes she forgot to eat them entirely.

But this did not prevent her from noticing that another “ghost” had entered the room.

The Female Ghost sat quietly by the window in a daze, melancholy yet never losing the grace of a noble lady.

Zhan Changfeng had no interest in the grudge between her and the Male Ghost. Considering her current state — her Pure Yin Bones unusable and her physical body prone to collapse — she simply paid the ghost no mind.

Sit wherever you like and daydream to your heart’s content.

One person and one ghost maintained a tacit state of mutual non-interference. One exhausted herself in ceaseless thought, forgetting sleep and food; the other sat as though she intended to remain there until the end of time.

Three days and three nights passed before a sheet of paper drifted over to the Female Ghost.

Zhan Changfeng had no time to tidy up. The sheets covered in writing piled up on the desk and fell to the floor, and with a light breeze, they scattered about when their owner wasn’t paying attention.

The Female Ghost was well-bred and had never looked at what was written on those papers. However, this particular sheet had drifted right to her feet. She lowered her head and could clearly see what was written on it.

“You can give me some feedback,” said Zhan Changfeng, her back turned, sitting cross-legged at the desk without looking up — as if merely making casual conversation.

The Female Ghost obligingly picked up the paper from the floor and skimmed through it in no time. “Is this a storybook?”

If so, it was truly dreadful. The Female Ghost thought absentmindedly.

Zhan Changfeng had no idea her writing was being looked down upon. “Look through all of them in order by page number, then tell me what you understood.”

The Female Ghost leaned against the armrest and said lazily, “And why should I bother?”

Zhan Changfeng’s brush paused. She turned around and said seriously, “I don’t fully understand the way ordinary people think, nor can I gauge the limits of their comprehension, and I also harbor deep doubts about their capacity for understanding.”

When discussing matters with court ministers, Zhan Changfeng often felt as though they spoke a different language, and she could barely restrain the impulse to draw her sword and tell those useless fools to go to hell.

If even the ministers were like this, then the more than eighty percent of the populace who had never learned to read was an even more worrying matter.

Right now, Zhan Changfeng had no impulse to draw her sword — but the Female Ghost certainly did.

Somehow, she had been inexplicably lumped in with the category of “dim-witted,” “foolish mortals,” and “heads full of mush.”

The Female Ghost smiled sweetly, with a subtle edge. “Fine, I’ll read it.”

She was no longer in the mood to wallow in sorrow. Wallowing in sorrow was far less interesting than poking holes in someone’s arguments.

Hmph. Once I’ve finished reading, I’ll make sure to find plenty of faults with this insufferably self-important little creature.

The Female Ghost noticed the page numbers at the bottom of the sheets. She arranged the scattered papers one by one in order, then settled by the window and began to read.

“Hmm, why is the deity a goddess?”

“Probably to help women build confidence.”

And more so because it was necessary.

Under the shackles of prevailing thought, most people believed that a woman’s greatest purpose for existence was childbearing. Even women themselves believed that bearing children — especially sons — was the greatest pride of their lives.

To be honest, Zhan Changfeng had rarely encountered remarkable women. In fact, the majority of women did not even meet her definition of a full “person.”

And in the eyes of the world, a remarkable woman was one who bore many children, preserved her chastity, devoted herself entirely to serving husband, children, and in-laws, and was expected to remain a widow if her husband died. If she could give her life for love, she could stand alongside soldiers who died in battle and be recorded together in the annals of history for eternity.

Whether among the common folk at the bottom or the upper nobility, this view was remarkably consistent.

Were there clever women among them?

Naturally there were. But their cleverness was all channeled into maintaining the small family unit. It had never manifested in military or political affairs, and few had made a name for themselves in industry, commerce, or academia.

After searching far and wide, the one thing that could truly give today’s women confidence and help them stand up was, in truth, precisely childbearing.

Very well then — create a goddess. A creator goddess. The founder of humanity.

Transform childbearing into women’s power, women’s freedom, women’s greatness and sanctity.

This story began with a goddess creating the world and giving birth to humanity, and used the most fundamental and relatable subject of romance between men and women to progressively tell five stories: “Primitive,” “Slave,” “Feudal,” “Democratic,” and “Great Harmony.”

Within a narrative thread centered on emotion, it was woven through with the shifting of eras and the rise and fall of humanity.

And within the story of the primitive age, there was not only the passionate and open expression of love between men and women, but also the most powerful embodiment of matriarchal supremacy.

The Female Ghost marveled at the love and hate that the characters in the story spoke aloud so directly — truly primitive and crude, yet honest enough to be endearing. The setting in which women held a higher status than men felt somehow heretical, making one want to cast it aside, yet also filling one with a secret and hidden joy.

This story was probably best kept hidden away and read in secret. The Female Ghost thought to herself.

But if men were to read it, it would likely invite a torrent of condemnation, and the author might well be dragged off to be drowned in a pig cage.

(End of Chapter)