Hua Zhuo looked at her as if she were a lunatic.

Hearing the +10 Yin Merit notification in her mind, she fell into brief silence.

She hadn’t actually insulted Liang Shanyuan—she was simply wondering if there was something genuinely wrong with her head.

What was she suddenly saying to her? Hua Zhuo didn’t understand and felt a little scared.

“Calm down first.”

In reality, Hua Zhuo had planned to apply for an early childhood education program and become a teacher. After the initial panic, she quickly regained her composure, taking a few steps back. Just as she was about to continue soothing her, a character OOC alert blared in her mind.

Hua Zhuo closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and gave up. With a sharp scoff, she snapped,

“I don’t want to be friends with you at all! What’s the meaning of all this nonsense? Have you even looked in a mirror? Do you really think you’re worthy of being friends with me?!”

Maybe that was too harsh.

+20 Yin Merit.

Hua Zhuo was on the verge of tears.

Under the shade of the trees, Liang Shanyuan stood motionless, the white lantern in his hand swaying gently in the breeze.

He had failed.

Bathed in pale moonlight, the petite girl stood still, lips pressed tightly together. The hands she exposed were trembling ever so slightly.

If he were to chop off her hands, he wondered if the effect would still remain.

Liang Shanyuan frowned slightly—he had never felt so hesitant before.

Just as he was about to attempt Mind Bewitchment again, the girl before him suddenly trembled and, with the very hands he had just considered severing, tore a small embroidered pouch from her waist.

Every inch of her was a testament to the love and care she had received.

A golden Longevity Lock hung around her neck, a jade bracelet wrapped in a strip of red silk adorned her wrist, and even the tiny pouch she carried was embroidered with symbols of fortune and longevity.

Spoiled and willful.

Liang Shanyuan already harbored a deep disdain for humans, and his contempt for this pampered noble girl was even stronger.

Perhaps locking her away in a place where she would never see the light of day… Wouldn’t it be such a bad idea after all?

Just as he was deep in thought, he lowered his gaze and found himself staring directly into the plump, cheerful face of a Fortune and Longevity Doll.

Hua Zhuo held the embroidered doll in both hands, presenting it to him with great respect.

“What is the young lady doing?”

“Take it. There’s money inside.”

She pushed the Fortune and Longevity Doll closer to Liang Shanyuan, her almond-shaped eyes glistening with unshed tears, though her tone remained stubborn.

“Use it to buy yourself some clothes and accessories… so that you can barely be worthy of this young lady.”

Afraid that the murderous ghost would get angry and rip her heart out to eat it, Hua Zhuo struggled to raise her hands higher, practically shoving the doll into Liang Shanyuan’s face.

Liang Shanyuan: …

He swatted the doll away before it could press against his face.

The doll tumbled back into Hua Zhuo’s trembling hands, the soft jingle of gold and silver pieces inside echoing in the quiet night.

Her voice shook as she spoke again—

“You… Why don’t you want it? I’m giving it to you! Didn’t you want to be friends with me? Don’t—don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit instead!”

Liang Shanyuan tilted his head slightly.

This was his subconscious reaction whenever he didn’t understand something.

Just then, a chilling wind blew through the forest, rustling the branches eerily. The girl holding the Fortune and Longevity Doll shuddered in fright, her face turning deathly pale.

“Hua Zhuo, Miss Hua Zhuo.”

Hua Zhuo had just turned around to scan her surroundings when she suddenly heard a gentle voice behind her. She turned her head, and her breath caught—at some point, Liang Shanyuan had silently moved to stand very close behind her.

“W-what do you want?!”

“Are you afraid?” Liang Shanyuan extended a hand. “Shall we leave together?”

In the moonlight, Liang Shanyuan’s palm was as pale as paper.

Hua Zhuo didn’t dare move. She only hoped Liang Shanyuan would leave on her own.

“Miss Hua Zhuo, your spirit is unstable.”

Hua Zhuo froze. Standing behind her, Liang Shanyuan looked like a jade statue of Guanyin.

“We are still within the ghost realm. If you wish to stay and explore, then I shall take my leave first.”

Who would want to explore the ghost realm?!

“W-wait!”

Seeing that Liang Shanyuan was about to leave, Hua Zhuo hurriedly grabbed her hand. “Are you really going back? Can you take me with you?”

“Of course.” Liang Shanyuan glanced at their joined hands, the corners of her lips slowly curling up.

Since Liang Shanyuan was a ghost herself, her words carried great credibility in Hua Zhuo’s eyes.

How could Liang Shanyuan be this nice?! So helpful! She must have read some pirated novel for reference!

Hua Zhuo almost wanted to shake her hand a hundred times and shower her with thanks, but instead, she maintained a proud demeanor. “Much appreciated!”

But Liang Shanyuan’s hand… it was freezing.

Not like ice—rather, it felt like touching an ancient relic that had been sealed away for centuries, sending a chilling sensation straight to her heart.

Hua Zhuo was just about to pull her hand away, but Liang Shanyuan held on tightly.

Hua Zhuo: ?

“It’s best not to let go, Miss Hua Zhuo,” Liang Shanyuan said slowly. “We might get separated.”

That single sentence—we might get separated—sent a chill straight to Hua Zhuo’s heart. Not only did she stop trying to pull away, but she even used her other hand to cling to Liang Shanyuan’s arm, walking closely beside her.

In the darkness, she completely failed to notice the amusement flickering in Liang Shanyuan’s pitch-black eyes.

They walked together until they emerged from the forest, but the eerie stillness in the air remained unchanged.

Above them, the moon was still the same moon, and the manor’s layout was exactly as it had been—yet everything felt subtly wrong.

It was as if she was now walking inside a painting of the past.

“We haven’t really left… have we?”

“No,” Liang Shanyuan replied. “There’s a performance ahead. We can’t leave until the play is over.”

“C-can’t you take me out early?”

Liang Shanyuan merely smiled and let her cling to his arm, leading her forward.

“Miss Hua Zhuo.”

“What?”

“I’m really curious,” she said, turning her head slightly. A faint, bitter medicinal fragrance lingered around her as her pitch-black eyes stared unblinkingly at Hua Zhuo. “Why haven’t you asked me yet—why I can come and go from the ghost realm so freely?”

Hua Zhuo subtly held her breath, quickly collecting herself. She made sure to reply in a strong, confident voice, “I have plenty of extraordinary people by my side! What are you implying? Trying to mock me for being inexperienced?!”

As a seasoned horror movie veteran, she knew she couldn’t let Liang Shanyuan have the upper hand.

Ghosts in horror films always preyed on the weak!

Liang Shanyuan was standing too close. Her sudden outburst made Liang Shanyuan furrow her brows slightly, but she quickly regained her usual gentle demeanor. “So that’s how it is. I meant no offense, Miss Hua Zhuo.”

“Before I was adopted by the Liang family, I traveled far and wide. I once aspired to become a ghost tamer, but because my birth chart is purely Yin, I was frequently pulled into the ghost realm and ended up entangled in countless troubles. So, I let go of that ambition. Now, I only wish to live peacefully in the Liang manor.”

She lowered her gaze. The white lanterns above swayed gently, casting flickering shadows over her face. For a moment, her serene expression even carried a trace of melancholy. “It’s the seventh month of the lunar calendar, and my soul has been unstable, drawing me into the ghost realm again. I never expected to meet someone with a similar experience here, Miss Hua Zhuo.”

If she hadn’t read the original novel, she might have actually believed her.

Even knowing the truth, Hua Zhuo found herself wavering.

Could the original novel have been wrong all along?

But as she looked at Liang Shanyuan’s eerily ghostly face, she felt a chilling certainty—Liang Shanyuan was terrifying.

A ghost overflowing with lies, filled with traps from head to toe.

For a heart-eating, vengeful spirit, one who harbored boundless hatred for humans, to disguise herself with such a gentle and compassionate mask—that was the truly terrifying part.

“Oh, is that so…”

“And what about you, Miss Hua Zhuo?”

“What?”

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Do you have any past secrets you’ve been keeping? I’d love to hear them.”

Why was it that touching her didn’t cause pain?

A demon? A ghost? Or some divine trick?

“Why would you want to hear anything?!”

Hua Zhuo snapped at her, but her hands still clung tightly to Liang Shanyuan’s arm. “Hurry up and take me out of here! I don’t have time to waste talking to someone like you!”

As soon as she finished speaking, she shoved her small fortune pouch—the one tied to her Fortune and Longevity Doll—into Liang Shanyuan’s hands.

“Someone as obviously poor as you doesn’t deserve to know my past! Here, take this money and go buy yourself some proper clothes and accessories!”

The Fortune and Longevity Doll swayed, its face nearly pressing against his. Liang Shanyuan expressionlessly tilted his head to the side, avoiding it.

“Miss Hua Zhuo, you should keep it for yourself.”

Liang Shanyuan really didn’t want that Fortune and Longevity Doll’s pouch touching his face again. Taking it from Hua Zhuo’s hands, he held onto her with one hand while discreetly using ghostly energy to tie a dead knot around her waist with the pouch.

No more taking it off.

As they walked forward, Hua Zhuo couldn’t shake a sense of déjà vu. “Liang Shanyuan, where exactly are you taking me?”

“To watch a play.”

“A play?”

“Yes.” Liang Shanyuan’s smile was gentle. “Miss Hua Zhuo… You and I are outsiders here. If we don’t go, we might offend them. And if they decide to follow you back to the real world… well, that wouldn’t be good, would it?”

Them?

Hua Zhuo’s brows furrowed tightly. “They… will they hurt me?”

Liang Shanyuan made a soft humming sound, neither confirming nor denying it.

“Monkey brains—Miss Hua Zhuo, you haven’t eaten that before, have you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then as long as you keep holding my hand and don’t let go, they won’t harm you.”

Got it.

Since Liang Shanyuan was a heart-eating vengeful spirit—an extremely powerful ghost—she must have considerable influence here. Upon realizing this, Hua Zhuo clung even tighter, like a baby sloth latching onto its mother.

“Liang Shanyuan,” Hua Zhuo’s voice trembled despite her efforts to sound composed. “Can you carry me—oh wait, no, I mean, can you hold me while we walk?”

“What?” Liang Shanyuan was momentarily stunned.

“Carry me! If you hold me the entire time, there’s no way we’ll get separated!”

Hua Zhuo tugged on Liang Shanyuan’s arm insistently.

Liang Shanyuan, though a woman, was still a ghost—surely she had supernatural strength. Carrying Hua Zhuo would probably feel like carrying air to her.

“Come on, just hold me!”

Hua Zhuo refused to let go, clinging to her like a stubborn cat. Without waiting for permission, she wrapped her arms around Liang Shanyuan’s neck.

“I’m already giving you permission to carry me! We’re both women—don’t tell me you’re shy?”

From the moment they had met, there had been a faint citrus-like fragrance lingering in the air.

The girl’s hands were warm and soft, clinging around his neck without any intention of letting go.

Liang Shanyuan had never had physical contact with a human before.

He despised humans—their hearts were filthy, their gazes disgusting. Though he had no past memories and had existed only as a ghost with no recollection of her former life, he knew one thing for certain:

Humans were dirty.

Liang Shanyuan’s fingertips paused for a brief moment before he wrapped an arm around Hua Zhuo’s soft, slender waist.

It felt… strange. Almost like touching freshly kneaded dough.

The odd sensation made him dazed for half a second. But the moment passed quickly—without further hesitation, he slipped his arm under Hua Zhuo’s knees and lifted her into his embrace.

… Was this the right way to carry her?

He wasn’t sure. Just as he was about to adjust his grip, Hua Zhuo’s pale, delicate arms wrapped securely around his neck, strands of ink-black hair brushing against the back of his hand.

“You—you, um, can you help me fix my skirt?” Hua Zhuo stammered. “My shoe is sticking out…”

She hadn’t noticed it earlier—her hem had gotten caught on her embroidered shoe, leaving it exposed.

And that scared her.

What if a ghost grabbed her foot? Hua Zhuo always made sure to keep her feet covered when she slept, just in case.

But after she spoke, there was only silence.

Hua Zhuo lifted her head—Liang Shanyuan was staring at her.

She had no idea how long she had been looking.

Those pitch-black eyes, filled with ghostly energy, held a peculiar expression. As if she were observing something rare, something she couldn’t quite understand.

“What are you staring at?! Hurry up and fix my skirt!”

Liang Shanyuan blinked and tugged with his fingertip; in an instant, the girl’s bright yellow skirt was adjusted to cover a pair of embroidered shoes.

Hua Zhuo let out a quiet sigh of relief.

At that moment, as they rounded a moon gate, the ethereal strains of an opera, echoing through the stagnant darkness of the world, grew steadily nearer.

Hua Zhuo clutched Liang Shanyuan’s neck even tighter, while Liang Shanyuan continued undeterred, carrying her all the way forward.

In the distance, a scene of dazzling lights appeared. In front of a hanging gate, an opera stage had been set up, upon which several people in costume were performing; they were too far away to clearly discern the song. As they drew nearer, Hua Zhuo noticed that the area beneath the stage was filled with countless empty benches.

So many empty benches that they were beyond count—Hua Zhuo glanced at them, and though they were obviously unoccupied, a chill ran up her spine. Liang Shanyuan led her to the very end and sat down.

Hua Zhuo shrank completely into Liang Shanyuan’s arms, sitting squarely on her, clinging to her neck without letting go.

On the stage, people in costumes were performing an opera in a language she couldn’t understand.

Then, suddenly, Hua Zhuo heard other sounds.

She lifted her head blankly from Liang Shanyuan’s embrace and gasped, her eyes widening in fright.

The perfectly aligned empty benches had, somehow, become filled with “people.” Even by the sides of both Liang Shanyuan and Hua Zhuo, there were “people.”

The group of “people” whispered among themselves, and when she looked back at the stage, it was completely empty.

The figures in costumes had vanished without a trace, replaced step by step by a “person” with a hairy face, dressed in a coarse red cloth garment.

“The Liang Manor has suffered a great calamity!”

The hairy-faced “person” pounded on a drum in their hand.

Hua Zhuo squinted, and then gradually her eyes grew wider and wider.

What drum was that?

It was clearly a human head.

The head, tortured into a grotesque shape, had a thin iron wire threaded from one ear to the other, hanging from the hairy “person.” That figure held two stark white bones—resembling slender human arm bones, almost like those of a child—and repeatedly beat the dangling head with them.

With each strike on the head, the horror deepened.

The first blow—its eyes rolled back and its pupils turned a ghastly white, then fresh red blood spilled from its mouth.

The second blow—teeth shattered, scattering like broken pearls, as muffled whimpers gurgled from its throat.

The third blow—the skull cracked open, splintering apart to reveal a pale, grotesque brain.

“The Liang Manor has suffered a great calamity!”

The eerie chant erupted in unison from every “person” seated on the benches. Their bodies were covered in long, thick fur.

Each of them looked human—but also, not quite.

“The Liang Manor has suffered a great calamity! The gods and Buddhas have descended to bring justice! Good and evil shall meet their due! Heaven’s cycle never fails! If you don’t believe it, look up! The heavens spare no one!”

“If you don’t believe it, look up! The heavens spare no one! No one!”

The skull shattered completely under the relentless strikes of the eerie, bone-white arms.

Brain matter spilled across the stage.

In a synchronized motion, the entire audience rose to their feet and lunged forward—climbing onto the platform to feast on the scattered remains.

If you don’t believe it, look up.

The heavens spare no one.

Goosebumps prickled over Hua Zhuo’s entire body.

As if caught in the pull of an unseen force, she instinctively started to lift her head—

Only for a cold hand to press firmly over her eyes.

“Don’t look up,” Liang Shanyuan whispered.

---

TN:

i love the ml and I love the fl and I love the plot (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)