Professor Eliot Mengshen did not believe in ghosts.

  He believed in bronze inscriptions, flawed translations, and the importance of historical nuance.

  What he did not believe in was supernatural interference—

  Until the Tuesday he took the scenic bike route.

  His phone, in a moment of cursed spontaneity, rerouted him through an unfamiliar forest just outside the city.

  It was dusk.

  It was silent.

  It was also, unbeknownst to Eliot, the night of a rare lunar eclipse, visible only once every 1,444 years.

  The trees rustled unnaturally.

  His GPS said:

  “Turn right at the ancestral shrine.”

  Eliot squinted.

  There was no road.

  Only mist.

  Then his bike hit a rock, and he was very suddenly on the ground, covered in leaves and ancient indignation.

  ***

  When he came to, he wasn’t alone.

  A man stood over him.

  Armored. Tall. Very judgmental.

  – That was not a proper dismount.

  – I… what?

  – You are trespassing on sacred ground. Or you were, until I woke up.

  The man looked oddly solid for a hallucination.

  His hair was tied with a jade clasp.

  His blade shimmered.

  His brows were… majestic.

  – Who are you? – Eliot asked, still half on the forest floor.

  – General Shen of the Eastern Gate. Or what's left of me.

  The general blinked slowly.

  – Are you a scholar?

  – Professor of early Chinese military culture.

  – Good. Then stop lying in your papers.

  ***

  That night marked the beginning of an extremely unwanted academic partnership.

  General Shen began “haunting” Professor Mengshen.

  Not with spooky noises.

  Not with rattling chains.

  But with constant commentary.

  He floated beside Eliot during lectures, frowning whenever he got a date wrong.

  – The Battle of Red Cliffs was not on a Tuesday.

  I checked. We held council for days.

  – You were not there – Eliot muttered once, mid-sentence.

  – Actually, I was.

  Students began to whisper about the professor’s strange pauses.

  His sudden glares at empty space.

  His habit of muttering “shut up” during otherwise perfect PowerPoints.

  – You said we used bronze spears. We had iron by then. Just saying.

  – Do you want to teach the class?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  – I’m dead.

  – Then shush.

  ***

  Outside the classroom, it got no better.

  Eliot would be mid-toothbrushing when Shen appeared in the mirror, asking what happened to his favorite dynasty.

  He hovered over Eliot’s shoulder during grading.

  – That one answered better than your midterm.

  – You don’t know what a midterm is.

  – I know what failure looks like.

  They had debates over breakfast.

  Over footnotes.

  Over whether Shen’s sword could ethically be called “decorative.”

  At one point, Eliot tried calling a spiritual medium.

  – I don’t want to banish him, just… mute him.

  But the medium fainted halfway through, muttering:

  – That ghost is loud.

  ***

  And then, one day, it changed.

  Professor Mengshen was preparing a new lecture.

  The topic: forgotten generals of the Eastern campaigns.

  He hesitated before including Shen’s name.

  – Did you ever win?

  Shen didn’t answer.

  – You’re always criticizing. But were you remembered?

  – …No – the ghost said finally.

  I died before my last report was sent.

  Eliot added his name to the slide.

  In the next lecture, as he spoke Shen’s full title and recounted his final campaign, the room felt… stiller. Lighter.

  And when he glanced toward the window, Shen was gone.

  For the first time in months, the lecture ran uninterrupted.

  No ghostly comments.

  No unsolicited corrections.

  Just Eliot, and the quiet sense that he had gotten something very right.

  ***

  Later that week, Eliot found a sealed scroll on his desk.

  Ancient silk. Familiar handwriting.

  Inside, one line:

  ?Thank you for remembering me.

  And stop using Comic Sans.”

  He smiled.

  Then changed the font.

  Somewhere in the breeze, a sword hummed its approval.

  EXTRA I. — Course Feedback

  ?? Course Feedback Highlights – HIST 327

  Course title: Ghosts of Empire: Fact-Checking Ancient China

  Instructor: Professor Eliot Mengshen (co-taught by… someone??)

  ?????

  Very passionate professor.

  Occasionally argues with the air, but the lectures are never boring.

  Learned more about siege tactics and font choices than I expected.

  — Yuki, 2nd year Anthropology

  ????

  Loved the guest speaker!

  Super immersive.

  Voice had a weird echo, though.

  Might’ve been a mic thing…? Or spiritual resonance?"

  — Tomás, History minor

  ?????

  Felt compelled to rewrite my entire thesis after this class.

  10/10, would be haunted again.

  — Arjun, graduate student (barely alive)

  ??

  During midterms, the professor stared past me and whispered,

  ‘He disapproves.’

  I have not known peace since.

  — Anonymous (but still trembling)

  EXTRA II. — Department Newsletter Snippet

  ?? Department of History – Monthly Newsletter Snippet

  Excerpt from: Faculty News & Notable Incidents

  Issue #42 | Subject: Please Stop Summoning in Lecture Halls

  Faculty Spotlight: Professor Eliot Mengshen

  Professor Mengshen continues to offer his unique, immersive take on early Chinese military history through his course “Ghosts of Empire: Fact-Checking Ancient China.”

  Students describe the course as "hauntingly accurate" and "emotionally charged, especially when unseen forces disagree with the slides."

  Several reports suggest a mysterious co-lecturer is providing unsolicited corrections mid-class.

  IT has confirmed that the classroom mic system is not, in fact, connected to the spirit realm.

  We appreciate Professor Mengshen’s commitment to historical accuracy and his efforts to keep the paranormal dimension scholarly and citation-based.

  ?? Reminder from Facilities:

  Please refrain from conducting spiritual consultations or impromptu offerings in Room B214. The incense has set off the fire alarm three times this semester.

  ?? Upcoming Event:

  "Living History: When the Past Refuses to Stay Dead" – A Q&A panel hosted by Professor Li, featuring... hopefully no disruptions. Again.

  ?? Extra-Extra: Hidden Note in the Department Brochure

  At the very back of the History Department’s glossy fall term brochure, beneath a list of recommended citation styles and an outdated map of Room B214, someone had scribbled in the margins:

  “Wait... Mengshen? Like 梦 Shen?

  What if he’s just Shen... dreaming himself into tenure?”

  Below it, in neater handwriting —

  “Or maybe Shen’s dream was to be remembered.”

  No one claimed either note.

  The ink shimmered faintly, as if stirred by moonlight.

  Somewhere in the archives, a sword vibrated once, softly.

  ?? Mini-Theatre: Author’s Note Edition

  ?? Scene:

  A university break room.

  A teacup floats midair. Professor Mengshen is grading papers.

  General Shen is reading the syllabus upside down.

  GENERAL SHEN:

  – Why do these students write "vibes-based analysis"?

  Where are the footnotes?

  PROFESSOR MENGSHEN:

  – Welcome to academia.

  GENERAL SHEN:

  – In my day, we carved our arguments into stone.

  PROFESSOR MENGSHEN:

  – In your day, "peer review" involved beheadings.

  GENERAL SHEN:

  – Which improved clarity.

  [They sip simultaneously.]

  AUTHOR (O.S.):

  Thanks for reading.

  Remember: cite your sources, respect your ghosts, and never trust a forest with GPS signal.

  See you next moon cycle! ??????