Where Exactly Did Zhong Shengguang Live?

Hell, what was he thinking? He Lingchuan rubbed his face. Perhaps spurred by anxiety and fear, a sudden flash of inspiration struck his mind. Maybe he had to return to the question Nian Songyu and Sun Fuping had wrestled with from the very beginning: Where on earth was the Zhong residence? Why did the illusion containing the Dafang Pot happen to be set in this particular slice of history? Panlong City had countless glorious eras to choose from. The only lead they could pursue—or rather, the only lead the Baling expedition could have pursued—was Zhong Shengguang. The remains of the Baling men had been discarded in the cellar of the Chen residence, proving that the expedition's original plan had mirrored their own: they had sought clues at the Zhong residence. Yet they had found nothing there... Really? In other words, as long as they found where Zhong Shengguang actually lived, they would find the remaining members of the Baling expedition. He Lingchuan racked his memory, searching through every legend, storyteller's tale, and historical anecdote he had ever heard about Panlong City, the Gale Army, and the Zhong clan. Nearly every historical fragment was tied to Zhong Shengguang. What clue could be hidden within them? In this era of Panlong City, that handsome gray-brick mansion still belonged to the Chen clan, not Zhong Shengguang. Assuming Zhong Shengguang only purchased the mansion from the Chens later on, where would he be living during this present period? Right now, he was still a Vice Commander, having rushed from central Xiluo Kingdom on the king's orders to take up his post in Panlong City. As a newcomer from afar, he had no property in Panlong City and had to find somewhere to stay. Could he be at a posthouse? He Lingchuan shook his head, rejecting the thought at once. Only bachelors stayed at posthouses. He had read in several plays that Vice Commander Zhong was newly married and took up his post only the following month. The man had spent the entire second half of his life here and went on to have sons and daughters; he certainly couldn't have fathered them alone. Thus, he had brought his family with him. Staying at a posthouse was out of the question. Such places were filthy, noisy, and foul-smelling, with walls as thin as paper. If a husband and wife got intimate at night, the guests next door could hear every sound. Where would Zhong Shengguang settle his family? He Lingchuan vaulted down from the roof ridge. "National Preceptor, didn't we pass the government office earlier?" "We did. What of it?" Sun Fuping asked. "Before you entered the city, I already inspected it." But there had been no useful clues there. "The Chen residence—the future Zhong residence, that is—is a good distance from the government office. But at this time, Zhong Shengguang would have had to report to the office every single day. He likely settled down nearby. And he brought family with him." Sun Fuping was a shrewd man; a single hint was all he needed. "You're right! I only searched the office itself, without paying close attention to the surrounding area!" Without delay, the two reversed course and dashed back the way they had come. No matter the city, the local seat of government always occupied prime feng shui land, and Panlong City was no exception. Before long, they spotted a cluster of plain gray buildings by the river. In terms of grandeur and facade, it was far inferior to the tavern thirty zhang away. "This is it." Officials were notorious for never remodeling their yamens, only hiring workers for minor patches and repairs when something broke. As a result, government compounds were rarely lavish, at best appearing orderly and dignified. Yet its location was truly exceptional. In a few deft leaps, He Lingchuan scrambled atop the highest tavern nearby and surveyed the surroundings. Sun Fuping heard him call down from above: "The north is marshland—uninhabitable!" "To the west is a marketplace with shops." Commercial buildings usually had the storefront in front and living quarters in the back; small merchants were rarely fastidious. "I doubt Zhong Shengguang lived there either." The western market offered a poor environment. Zhong Shengguang was newly married and an official to boot; he would almost certainly have found a better place for his wife. Looking south, He Lingchuan noticed several rows of houses facing the yamen across the water. Each unit was similar in size, mostly small one- or two-courtyard compounds, clearly built as a unified development. Though far from noble estates, they sat right beside the water, offering a tranquil, leisurely setting. "South!" He pointed south. "Those are the official quarters!" Official quarters were residences for government functionaries, typically attached to the yamen in sprawling clusters. When He Lingchuan first saw official quarters in Blackwater City, he had instantly recognized them as the equivalent of a government compound or staff dormitory. Panlong City, however, had a unique layout: surrounded by water front and back, the land was too constrained, so the official quarters had been built on the opposite bank. Officials serving away from home always needed lodging, and different nations held varying policies on the matter. A country like the Great Yuan Kingdom strictly required officials posted elsewhere to reside in official quarters, forbidding private home purchases. But Qiansong Commandery was far too remote, and the current Yuan Kingdom was beset by internal strife and foreign woes, leaving it no time to enforce administrative statutes. Countless officials, great and small, had purchased fine fields and luxurious homes just like He Chunhua. As for Zhong Shengguang, there was even less need to mention rules. Once the Panlong Wasteland became an enclave, he became its supreme ruler. The Xiluo Kingdom had not even known the wasteland was still its own territory, and no one dared question anything Zhong Shengguang did here. Yet during this peaceful, uneventful era in the Panlong Wasteland, he was not yet the high and mighty Commander. He would have lived in the official quarters! Sun Fuping also grasped this logic, his eyes brightening. "Let's go!" There were over forty sets of official quarters, but knowing what they were looking for made the search straightforward. Soon enough, Sun Fuping fired an arrow signal from the second-to-last row of residences, summoning the others to hurry over. When the rest arrived, they found Sun Fuping and He Lingchuan standing in the small courtyard of one of the quarters. In the yard stood a burial mound, marked by a wooden plank upright at its head. The writing on it was incomprehensible even to Nian Songyu. Sun Fuping read it aloud for the group: "'Tomb of Loyal Friend Yu Qingyuan.' This is written in Baling script." Maotao was overjoyed. "We found it, we found it! Uh, we found... another Baling man?" "He wasn't the last to die, though. Otherwise, who would have buried him?" He Lingchuan pinched a bit of soil between his fingers. "What made this man so special that he deserved a proper burial?" When pushed to extremes, this expedition had stooped to devouring its own comrades. The other consumed members had simply been tossed into a cellar. Why had this deceased man been granted an earth burial? One had to remember this was an illusory realm; nothing here was real. Not the courtyard, and not the dirt. By the end, the Baling expedition had resorted to cannibalism to survive and must have been utterly exhausted. Why would they spend precious strength digging earth and piling a mound—performing an act that was meaningless beyond measure? Nian Songyu, meanwhile, was inspecting the wooden grave marker. He even reached out to rub it, then held his fingers beneath his nose to sniff. "The ink was mixed with blood. They had run out of water." Without water to grind inksticks, they could only use blood. "Dig it up!" They had to get to the bottom of this. With a mere word from Sun Fuping, He Lingchuan and Maotao were left to huff and sweat over digging the grave. Fortunately, there were a few farming tools in the yard, though whether they had been used by the Baling expedition back then remained unknown. While the two toiled away vigorously, Nian Songyu supervised from the side, and Sun Fuping stared up at the sky, lost in thought. Before long, the grave's occupant saw the light of day once more. Maotao wiped the flecks of mud from his face. "Found him! Whew, still just bare bones." "He's been buried for decades. It'd be strange if he weren't bare bones." He Lingchuan cleared the dirt away with his shovel, uncovering most of the skeleton.