The bones were white as snow; the heart, crimson as blood. The contrast was so stark, so mesmerizing that Gao Xiaoyun was frozen in place. It was too extreme, too beautiful—like a flower, offering its most dazzling and bloodstained bloom in the moment before death.

The heart, still beating, slowly morphed into a blood-red bud. It bloomed rapidly, bore fruit, and finally condensed into a small, jet-black pill.

Xue Jiang was speechless. One thought flashed through her mind: This actor—Shang Jingyan is really going to make them a star.

Shang Jingyan took note of the occasional sniffles echoing through the theater—seemed like interstellar audiences had an exceptionally low tolerance for tears.

“The lifespan of a bone demon is contained entirely within its heart. Ah-Yun, if you eat this, you’ll gain immortality.”

Gu Lang took Gao Xiaoyun’s hand and placed the heart into her palm. But she trembled as if it burned her.

“I don’t want it!” she gasped. “I—I won’t ask you about Soft Tresses Entwined anymore, I won’t ask for your heart! We can just go back to the way things were…”

Tears filled her eyes as she stammered, only to be interrupted by Gu Lang’s soft voice.

“Hush, Ah Yun. Don’t be afraid. Just listen.”

He spoke gently. “Once you take my heart, I’ll go seal Soft Tresses Entwined. When the time comes, you must retrieve my bones and Rogue Comb. Place the comb somewhere dry. Bury me underground.”

“Don’t be afraid—this isn’t a true farewell. Once you have my heart, you’ll be immortal. A hundred years from now, come to my grave. Let a single drop of your blood fall onto my bones, return half of my demon power to me, and I will awaken.”

Gu Lang’s expression was calm. For a demon, sleep and separation were not the same as death. Besides, he had already died once before—when he was still human.

Tears rolled down Gao Xiaoyun’s face. The flames consuming Gu Lang had reached his ankles, and his body threatened to collapse. Panicked, she caught him in her arms, carefully lowering herself into a crouch.

【Thank god, it’s not a complete tragedy!】

【But I’m still crying… Someone send Shang Jingyan a knife!】

【This is peak filmmaking—terrifying and romantic at the same time. Only she can pull off this style!】

After a long moment, Gao Xiaoyun took the black pill and gripped Gu Lang’s skeletal hand. “Alright.”

Gu Lang rested in her embrace. The single intact eye he had left curved into a smile, as if suddenly in the mood for idle chatter.

“You once asked why I helped you,” he murmured. “Ah-Yun, the truth is, you were the one who helped me.”

“I was never really a scholar. This outfit is nothing more than a costume.”

He lifted his sleeve, and the fabric—once the deep blue of a scholar’s robes—crumbled into fluttering blue butterflies.

“Bone demons were all beautiful in life, but their fates were cruel… I was sold to an opera troupe as a child, played both male leads and female roles, traveled across the land… But no matter how dazzling one’s appearance, in the end, it all turns to bones.”

A trace of cold amusement flickered in Gu Lang’s eyes. Clearly, there were memories he had no desire to revisit.

“And after becoming a demon, a bone demon still cannot kill. To truly attain immortality, we must pass one final trial—someone must fall in love with our true form.”

“I never thought that was possible,” he admitted, gazing at Gao Xiaoyun. “So really, Ah-Yun, this lifespan was yours to give.”

Gao Xiaoyun stilled.

【Oh! I get it now! No wonder Shang Jingyan cast a female actor for this role. In a way, Gu Lang’s life mirrored the status of women in that era. That’s why he and Gao Xiaoyun understood each other so well.】

【This is peak mutual salvation. If anyone says otherwise, they’re blind!】

【Shang Jingyan really crafted a love story here… And honestly, it’s even more gut-wrenching than Eldritch God.】

“Soft Tresses Entwined helped me once,” Gu Lang continued. “So I had to help it in return. From the very beginning, we set our sights on the Gao family—a once-mighty noble house now in decline. The perfect target.”

Their first meeting had been nothing romantic. Just a demon selecting its prey—and a girl from the prey’s household who happened to get in the way.

Gu Lang had spoken too much. His form had nearly vanished. With the last of his voice, he said:

“Ah-Yun, see you in a hundred years.”

Gao Xiaoyun’s fingers curled into a fist. “And if… I don’t go?”

Any rational person would weigh the choice. If she never returned to wake Gu Lang, she would keep all of his power, all of his lifespan. Why share it?

Gu Lang chuckled lazily. “That, too, is your decision.”

He left everything in her hands.

With those final words, his body disintegrated into ash, leaving only a pristine white skull in Gao Xiaoyun’s arms. A translucent figure rose in the void, nodded at her, and strode out of the ruined temple.

The illusion Gu Lang had cast faded.

The pursuers stormed in—only to find no great demon, just Gao Xiaoyun, sitting on the ground, cradling a skull.

–

The scene shifted. The wail of a suona filled the air.

In the wilds, within the ruined temple, Gao Xiaoyun stood in a brilliant red wedding robe, steadying a coffin as it was lowered into the earth.

With Gu Lang’s power, the pursuers were no longer a problem. Neither the Gao family nor the empire’s ruling court could restrain her anymore. She was free.

A children’s rhyme drifted on the wind:

“Marry a rooster, follow the rooster’s flight… Marry a dog, follow the dog’s path… Marry a corpse, guard the grave…”

【Holy shit, I just realized—she really did marry a corpse.】

【Now that you put it that way… My feelings are complicated. But this was Gao Xiaoyun’s choice.】

【It sounded eerie before, but now it just feels tragic…】

The screen darkened once more, transitioning to an outsider’s perspective.

In a bustling Taoist temple, two priests gossiped during the night watch.

“Did you see it? I swear I saw a ghost last night!”

“I saw it too! A woman in red—creepy as hell!”

“Things have been weird lately. The entire Gao family is dead. Only a woman and a child survived… and now she’s missing.”

“Yeah… what a mess.”

They relaxed as they spoke, dismissing their fears as mere illusions.

But as the camera panned upward, it settled on a beam near the ceiling—where a comb lay, quietly resting.

Under the temple’s chanting, faint golden chains shimmered across its surface, flickering between sleep and struggle.

The End.

The audience erupted. Some had still been crying—until the final shot made them blurt out an involuntary:

【Wait—WHAT?!】

And within the hour, Rouge Comb was trending across the exiled star systems.

By Episode Four, Wu Rui’s performance had truly shone. Gu Lang’s self-sacrificial scene had gone viral overnight, leaving countless viewers reeling.

[I get it now—who says Director Shang doesn’t make romance films? This is the real deal, love laid bare, hearts literally ripped open!]

[I was crying at first, but then I saw this comment and burst out laughing.]

[Please, someone write a fanfic sequel! I need them to reunite a hundred years later and get their happy ending!]

Inspired by this, countless fan editors got to work, piecing together the entire journey of Gu Lang and Ah Yun—from their first meeting to their tragic parting. Some even dug up old costume dramas starring Wu Rui and masterfully edited clips to create a backstory for their fated romance.

Fans took it a step further, creating a trending hashtag: #BeggingDirectorShangToMakeRougeComb2#.

X71 watched in awe. [Host, you’re incredible!]

The film’s unique blend of horror and romance struck a chord, perfectly aligning with market trends while also setting a bold new precedent.

But for Shang Jingyan, it wasn’t just about marketability. She chose to portray such an achingly beautiful, almost surreal love story to counterbalance the film’s overwhelmingly dark and oppressive tone.

X71 hesitated before asking, [Yan Yan, are you thinking about making a sequel?]

Shang Jingyan didn’t shut the door completely but said, [Probably not.]

X71 sent a crying emoji. [QAQ]

The final shot of Rouge Comb—that comb itself—hung like a sword of Damocles over the supposedly happy ending, leaving a lingering sense of dread.

—After all, in horror movies, cursed objects rarely just disappear, even when the credits roll.

This kind of ending left audiences with a lingering chill while also planting the perfect seed for a potential sequel.

But Shang Jingyan had no such plans. She just wanted to scare people.

She edited her social media post, preparing to release a previously cut portion of an interview that had been trimmed for spoilers. Now that the film was out, it was time.

Moments later, Xue Jiang, who had been up all night obsessing over Rouge Comb like the rest of the audience, refreshed her feed and saw the video.

“…In my original draft, Gu Lang wasn’t a supernatural entity—just a lowly conman. Gao Xiaoyun wasn’t as strong-willed as she is now; she was more passive, someone who simply drifted with the tide.”

“The heroine, deceived by the man she loved, ended up stranded alone in a dilapidated temple for the night. There, she unknowingly caught the attention of Rouge Comb. She returned home completely unaware, only for tragedy to unfold—one by one, everyone around her died horrifically. Only she was left standing. But by then, she no longer knew what she had become. And so, the legend of the ghost bride in red began. That was the original story of Rouge Comb.”

“No lover willing to carve out his own heart. No heroine finding the courage to make her own choices. In that version, she was completely consumed by Rouge Comb. She seemed free, but in reality, she had never escaped her prison.”

Xue Jiang: “…”

Her collaborator was a storytelling sadist.

In the video, Shang Jingyan’s voice continued.

“But when I actually started writing the script, they broke free and came to life.”

“Gu Lang… he’s a hopeless romantic. And so is Gao Xiaoyun (laughs). But their bond isn’t purely romantic. Gao Xiaoyun yearned for freedom, so she pinned her hopes on Gu Lang, an untouchable, phantom-like figure. Gu Lang, on the other hand, had no faith in humanity. But when he survived because of her, he was shaken. In her, he saw himself—so he chose to give his heart in return.”

[Oh my god, Director Shang, thank you for not sticking to the original version—that would’ve been way too painful! QAQ]

[The original is definitely darker and more realistic, but I still prefer the current version with its touch of fantasy.]

[This is fascinating. I feel like Gu Lang and Ah-Yun’s relationship can be interpreted in so many ways. Even if it’s not romantic, it’s still incredibly moving. I’ve never felt this way about a story before…]

[Honestly, the original version sounds intriguing too. Now that we have the comforting ending, I think I could handle the darker one. How about making both, Director Shang? (doge emoji)]

[The creative process is amazing. I love hearing storytellers talk about their inspirations—please, Director Shang, share more! (doge emoji)]

[Can we get an if storyline?]

A few minutes later, moved by her fans’ enthusiasm, Shang Jingyan actually uploaded a rough concept ending she had once considered. The video, using digital models, played out a short but chilling alternate finale.

Night. Silence.

A young scholar, dressed in plain blue robes, was on his way to the capital for the imperial exams. He sought shelter at a rundown inn in the wilderness.

By candlelight, he read deep into the night until exhaustion overtook him. As sleep claimed him, he half-dreamt, half-awoke—to find himself in a luxurious bridal chamber, dressed in wedding attire, inexplicably married to a mysterious bride.

But when the wedding night came, when he lifted her veil after drinking the nuptial wine—he found himself staring into the empty sockets of a skeleton’s skull.

He jolted awake, still in the run-down inn. Realizing it had only been a dream, he sighed in relief.

Only to turn his head—and come face to face with a woman in blood-red bridal robes, standing inches from him.

She lifted her own veil, revealing deathly pale skin, abyss-dark eyes, and lips stained bright red.

Her mouth opened, her voice eerily soft: “Are you my Gu Lang?”

[WHO ASKED FOR THIS?! WHO DEMANDED THE ORIGINAL ENDING?! I’M TRAUMATIZED!!!]

[Short, sharp, and absolutely terrifying—this feels like an actual urban legend. (hugging myself)]

[That bride… she’s modeled after Tang Chuntao. So she really is the version of Gao Xiaoyun who never escaped. Just as Director Shang said, in this timeline, she remained trapped in the past forever.]

As Rouge Comb continued to gain traction, a forum post suddenly went viral the next day.

The title? “Think About It: What Exactly Is Rouge Comb?”

[Hey everyone, OP here. I stayed up all night researching this. A lot of people are saying that Rouge Comb is vague for the sake of being mysterious, that the movie’s biggest villain is left unexplained because Director Shang ran out of ideas.]

[But is that really the case? Haha. Naive. If you really think about it, the truth is horrifying. Let me lay it out for you.]

[Let’s start with what we already know: The first person to mention Rouge Comb is the shaman. She claims it’s the vengeful spirit of a drowned woman. I believe that’s true—but it’s only half the story. How did these women die? And why emphasize “women”? After all, ancient men also had long hair.]

[Look at this scene—when Master Gao is killed, the way the hair binds him doesn’t resemble a cocoon so much as a cage. More precisely, a pig cage. Here, let me attach some historical images. [Image][Image]]

[And we all know what punishment involved a pig cage, right? It was a brutal, archaic sentence—one that disproportionately targeted women. But I’ve never seen it depicted this viscerally before.]

[So now, the truth becomes clear: Rouge Comb is born from the spirits of women who were executed this way.]

【Damn, after hearing OP’s breakdown, I feel like the real horror in Rouge Comb isn’t the ghosts—it’s the people. The ghosts just give me a jump scare, but human nature? Who knows how twisted that can get.】

【I’m never sleeping again. OP, you owe me damages for emotional distress!】

【The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Every little detail lines up perfectly. OP, you’re a genius.】

【I already thought the surface-level horror was intense, but this just took it to a whole new level!】

【OP, can you analyze White Bone and Lianyun next? I need to know if my ship is real, lol.】

【Do you think a hundred years later, Gao Xiaoyun will wake up Gu Lang? QAQ】

【(doge emoji) Now that I think about it, Director Shang’s original concept could have had a happy ending: Soft Tresses Entwined falls for Gao Xiaolan over time, decides to become human, and they live happily ever after.】

【So basically Married to an Eldritch God 2.0: Living with Monsters, right?】

【LMAO I’m dying!】

【So it’s a marriage-before-love story now? Unbelievable. Y’all need to stop making everything about romance!】

With that last comment, the thread took a sharp turn, spiraling into playful bickering about romance-obsessed fans.

It was actually kind of surreal. In the interstellar age, romance was the default. If anyone dared to say “no romance, please,” they’d get torn apart. There was no place quite like Shang Jingyan’s comment section, where people could speak so freely.

The deep-dive posts only fueled the fire. More internet sleuths joined in, dedicated to uncovering every eerie, hidden detail in Rouge Comb.

–

Five days later.

“So this is what it feels like to raise a rising star?” Jiang Yuran was still glued to her feed even after stepping off the interstellar train. “Our Director Shang has seriously taken off. The fan group’s been flooded with new people these past few days.”

She had spent the last five days completely absorbed in analysis threads, even creating a fan group and adding the OP of one particularly in-depth post. For the first time in her life, she had found joy in fandom beyond just shipping characters.

Jiang Yubai was no different. The siblings even shared an account, and before they knew it, they’d both become moderators in the fan server.

Neither of them had expected this. They’d always just gone along with whatever was trending—who would’ve thought they’d one day be this invested in a Dreamweaver?

“Rose Heart looks totally different now,” Jiang Yubai said, shading his eyes with a hand as he surveyed the landscape.

They had arrived at Rose Heart, waiting for the grand opening of the new haunted house. As a freshly minted fan who had rewatched Eldritch God multiple times, Jiang Yubai could immediately tell that the small buildings scattered throughout the rose fields had changed. The entrance even had a weathered-looking statue of the Virgin Mary—obviously a set piece added after they secured the the license from Azure Snow.

Many of their fellow travelers had come specifically for the haunted house. They might not have heard of Shang Jingyan, but they were definitely intrigued by the hype surrounding Xue Tourism’s latest attraction.

Jiang Yuran, a natural social butterfly, had already struck up a conversation with a nearby group and was passionately recommending Rouge Comb. She was mid-sentence when a voice from nearby caught her attention—

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the largest…”

–

“…the largest tourist planet in the Exile System! Finally made it. I’m exhausted.”

A young man was holding up a holographic camera, drawing a few odd glances.

People from Alpha System had long accepted that their home was called the Exile System, but Exiled System? That was straight-up an insult. Only people from the Central Star System still used that term.

This guy? Lai Yuanjia—a travel vlogger from the Central Star System.

The interstellar tourism industry was cutthroat, and travel vloggers had to do more than just visit new places. These days, if you couldn’t survive in the wild, you weren’t even in the game.

But Lai Yuanjia’s fame had nothing to do with survival skills. His success came from exploiting a certain audience’s mindset—the Central Star System viewers who were both fascinated by and prejudiced against the outer worlds.

To them, anywhere beyond the Central Star was just some backwater wilderness filled with primitive locals. Sure, they could easily look up real footage from local creators, but they’d rather believe it was all fake.

Lai Yuanjia catered exactly to that audience. His whole gimmick was visiting remote planets under the pretense of “authentic, unfiltered” travel, cherry-picking the worst parts, and exaggerating them for dramatic effect. His reputation in the industry? Infamous. But the more people hated him, the more his fans dug in, convinced they were the only ones who “saw the truth.”

And the guy was slick—never outright saying anything offensive, always playing dumb if called out. Combine that with the difficulty of enforcing interstellar laws, and he was still thriving.

“…Seriously, this ticketing website is ancient. Took me forever to figure it out. If you’re planning a trip here, do not forget to book in advance…”

Before even setting foot in the Exile System, Lai Yuanjia had hyped it up as some terrifying, lawless frontier, turning a simple spaceflight into an epic survival saga.

His chat was eating it up:

【Ugh, so outdated. Rose Heart? We stopped doing rose gardens centuries ago.】

【Lol, I recognize those roses! The genetic sequence is a whole version behind ours. We don’t even buy these anymore, and the Exiles are growing them by the field? Hilarious.】

【Wait, do they actually have criminals here? Can’t believe Exiles are into roses.】

Whenever Lai Yuanjia visited a developing tourist site, his audience always dismissed it as “boring” or “outdated.”

And honestly? Most of the time, they weren’t wrong. Central Star was the heart of innovation—by the time trends reached the outer systems, they were already old news.

Lai Yuanjia strolled up to a sunlit greenhouse—the ticket booth. A service robot and a human clerk were stationed behind the counter.

Out of the camera’s view, he casually flicked a crumpled piece of paper onto the counter, earning a sharp glare from the clerk.

Perfect.

He zoomed in on the clerk’s expression. Right on cue, the comments rolled in:

【Wow, so rude. Is that how they treat paying customers?】

【I heard there are pirates and criminals in the Exile System. If we visit, are we gonna get mugged? I’m scared.】

【Right? In their eyes, we’re all rich walking targets. Be careful, streamer!】

A robot server brought over drinks, and Lai Yuanjia picked up a glass of rose-infused sparkling wine. He took a big sip.

Not bad. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he smacked his lips. “Ugh, kinda bitter. Honestly, the corner store near my place sells better stuff.”

By “home,” of course, he meant the Central Star System.

Taking his drink, Lai Yuanjia hopped onto a tour cart, making snide comments about the scenery. So far, nothing had really impressed him. This trip might be a bust. No juicy material.

“Sir, please keep your voice down. You’re disturbing the other guests.”

The tour guide, still maintaining a professional smile, turned back to the rest of the group. “On today’s Route A, we’ll be visiting Rose Heart’s newest attraction: The Castle of the Eldritch God…”

【A castle? And it’s brand new? What is this, a budget medieval fantasy theme park?】

【Did I hear that right? Gothic style? Wow, that is so outdated.】

【Shang Jingyan? Never heard of her. If she’s supposedly famous, why isn’t she on any major databases? Must be a local thing.】

Lai Yuanjia perked up. Finally, some content. “Guys, I bet you anything that castle is total garbage. Just wait till I—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

The tour cart rounded a bend.

And suddenly, there it was.

A black fortress loomed over a cliff, its jagged spires stabbing at the sky.