Ning Qiqi was jolted awake by a searing pain in her lower back, a sharp agony that forced her to gasp involuntarily.

As she opened her eyes, the chaotic swirl of laser lights overhead came into focus, accompanied by the lingering echoes of Beyoncé’s “Listen” reverberating through the dimly lit room.

Right—she had come to the karaoke bar lounge with friends tonight. But why was she sprawled on the cold floor, and why did her waist ache so terribly?

Tch. The stench of the place was suffocating. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke mixed with something more pungent, something metallic and unsettling—an unmistakable tinge of blood.

She tried to push herself up, only to realize—there was someone else lying beside her. Turning her head instinctively, her breath caught in her throat.

Lying face-to-face with her on the ground was… herself!

Her own lifeless form stared back at her with vacant, wide-open eyes, pupils dilated and devoid of any reflection. Her pallid complexion carried a sickly bluish hue, and her long hair cascaded in disarray, framing the haunting stillness of death.

How strange… Was there a mirrored wall in the private room? Also, why did she appear so dreadful in the reflection?

Had she rushed out in such a hurry today that she hadn’t taken the time to properly compose herself?

A wry chuckle escaped her lips at the thought, but just as it did, a chilling sensation crawled up her spine.

She smiled.

But the “reflection” had not!

This was no mirror!

Ning Qiqi bolted upright, her breath hitching as her gaze fell upon the horrifying sight before her—her body.

A fruit knife was lodged deep in the center of the chest, its handle rising grotesquely from the soft white ruffles of her favorite blouse. The frilled fabric, once pristine, now only served to accentuate the horror of the wound. Blood, thick and sluggish, continued to ooze from the gash, soaking into the already dark crimson carpet beneath her. The swirling laser lights in the room cast an eerie glow over the corpse, portraying a grotesquely beautiful twisted painting lit by irony.

“Listen to the sound from deep within. It’s only beginning to find release…” Beyoncé’s voice flowed softly through the room, a haunting contrast to the grim tableau.

Ning Qiqi wanted to scream, but no sound came. 

Was she dead?

Had she become a ghost?

Yet, how could she still feel the pain radiating from her lower back?

Summoning her courage, she reached out toward the lifeless figure beside her. But just as her hand neared the face of her own corpse, she froze. 

The hand she extended wasn’t hers.

It was a man’s hand, long and slender, with distinct knuckles.

Ning Qiqi gazed dazedly at the hand before her. She willed her fingers to move and found that the hand’s fingers also twitched. A tremor ran through Ning Qiqi, and the hand mirrored her shaking.

Ning Qiqi turned her head stiffly and saw the reflection in a section of the soundproof wall’s glass, the terrified face of an unfamiliar man—no, not entirely unfamiliar; she had seen this man somewhere before!

Suspended from the man’s chest was a pendant bearing the figure of a crucified Christ, His emaciated form sculpted from nephrite jade. The expression of anguish upon His face had been rendered with haunting precision, so lifelike in its torment that even the rivulets of blood trailing from His wounds seemed to pulse with dreadful vitality…

Blood? 

Wait, what?

Ning Qiqi stared in horror at the slender, pale hand before her, now smeared with fresh, warm crimson.

“There is someone here inside, someone I thought had died so long ago. Oh, I’m screamin’ out…” The song Listen continued to play on an endless loop, its haunting melody filling the room. Ning Qiqi, trembling, finally reached out a hand and placed it beneath the nose of her lifeless body, clinging to a desperate hope. 

In hopeless resignation, she was undeniably dead.

She couldn’t remember what had happened before. All she recalled was coming to the karaoke bar with friends, going to the restroom in the middle of the night, and when she returned, she had somehow walked into the wrong room—she thought she had seen something… and then… then she had woken up in pain.

How had she died? 

How had she ended up in a man’s body?

She had no answers.

As the initial shock subsided, a chilling realization dawned upon her. The room contained only her body and the one she now inhabited, and the body she now wore was still bleeding from a stab wound at the waist. She was certain she hadn’t been the one to commit the murder, so the only possible suspect was the man whose body she had taken. 

In other words, was she both the victim and the murderer?

Ning Qiqi sat motionless for a while, her mind blank. Mechanically, she reached into the pocket of her lifeless body, retrieved a tissue, and meticulously wiped the fingerprints from the fruit knife and the blood from her hands. Rising unsteadily, she grabbed the long coat hanging on the wall. 

She couldn’t even muster the courage to glance at her own corpse one last time. Draping the coat over her shoulders to conceal the wound, she lowered her head and shuffled toward the door.

She remembered there was a back exit at this karaoke bar, which led directly to a secluded alley… Her heart raced as she moved, each step slow and labored due to the pain in her waist.

“Excuse me, sir, have you seen a girl? She’s wearing a white blouse, not very tall, really cute?” A voice suddenly stopped her in her tracks.

Ning Qiqi looked up in a panic and saw that the person in front of her was none other than her good friend, Luo Jia! It seemed her prolonged absence had prompted Luo Jia to come searching for her.

“Sir?” Luo Jia’s voice carried a note of suspicion as she scrutinized the man before her. Though undeniably handsome, his complexion had a faint bluish tint, and his gaze exuded an unsettling unease. There was something oddly familiar about him…

Ning Qiqi lowered her head and parted her lips as if to tell her everything that had happened, but reason held her back. In the end, she shook her head and said with difficulty, “Sorry, I haven’t seen her.” The voice that came out was hoarse, yet deep and pleasant.

Luo Jia furrowed her brows, eyeing the man who now wore Ning Qiqi’s body with growing suspicion. Clearly, she had become wary of the stranger before her, who looked increasingly dubious.

Ning Qiqi knew that Luo Jia loved detective novels, especially her obsession with Detective Conan. There was no guarantee Luo Jia wouldn’t pick up on something amiss. Not daring to linger, Ning Qiqi pushed past her friend and hurried toward the back exit. She descended the dimly lit staircase, and by the time she reached the quiet alley, she could no longer hold on and collapsed onto the ground.

Pulling open her coat, she examined the wound under the faint light. Blood had soaked through her clothes, staining her pants with dark crimson. Ning Qiqi realized her life was hanging by a thread. If she didn’t get treatment soon, she would die a second time. Yet, in her current situation, going to a hospital was out of the question.

Just then, the phone in her coat pocket rang.

“Listen, I am alone at a crossroads. I’m not at home in my own home…” The ringtone was none other than Beyoncé’s “Listen,” blaring loudly enough to echo through the alley.

Damn it! She didn’t want to be discovered!

Ning Qiqi fumbled, trying to turn off the phone. It was then that she felt someone squat down in front of her. Due to blood loss, her mind was foggy. With trembling hands, she reached out helplessly, whispering, “Don’t take me to the hospital… save me…”

The figure seemed to say something, but Ning Qiqi couldn’t make out the words.

Before she slipped into unconsciousness, she thought she heard Luo Jia’s terrified scream, followed immediately by the piercing wail of police sirens rushing in her direction.

“You’ve brought back something strange again,” the shop owner remarked indifferently, glancing up from behind the counter.

“It’s not something, it’s someone! Looks like they were stabbed by a thug in the alley, but his wallet and phone were untouched.” The doctor, without ceremony, placed the unconscious man on the counter and began to examine the stab wound at his waist.

The owner furrowed his brow, clearly not because of the grotesque wound but because he was worried about the Ming Dynasty rosewood counter with coiling-dragon motifs and gold inlay possibly getting dirty and irreparably damaged. “Why didn’t you send him to the hospital?”

“He was unconscious and said not to take him to the hospital. Luckily, I just returned from an outside consultation and had my first aid kit with me.” The doctor began to strip the man of his shirt. “Boss, can’t you make the lights a bit brighter? It’s too dim for me to treat him properly.”

“If you’re not satisfied, feel free to leave,” the owner replied lazily, casting a casual glance at the man. But in the next instant, his gaze froze.

The doctor sighed, resigning himself to the poor lighting. But as he worked, he noticed the owner standing rigidly before him, staring intently at the pendant hanging from the man’s neck.

The doctor glanced curiously at the pendant. “A crucifix? Made of jade? That’s strange… Though I carry a Longevity Lock myself,” he remarked absentmindedly, his hands moving with practiced precision, unfazed by his own musings.

“This isn’t ordinary jade—it’s Shuicang nephrite.” The owner suddenly produced a nocturnal luminous pearl the size of a clenched fist, and at once, the dimly lit room was bathed in an eerie glow.

“Shuicang nephrite? What kind of jade is that?” The doctor’s eyes lit up, and he tugged at the owner’s fingers with his tweezers, pulling them toward the source of the light.

“‘Its hue is as deep as the mountain’s shadows, streaked with intricate patterns; its color as blue as flowing water, veined with markings.’” The owner narrowed his eyes, lowering his head to examine the bloodstained Christ figure carefully. “This phrase refers to both Mountain Mystery Jade and Shuicang Nephrite. In ancient times, the mountain mystery jade adorned the girdles of feudal lords and princes, while the shuicang nephrite graced the officials of the court.”

The doctor observed the unsettling green reflection of the nocturnal luminous pearl flickering in the owner’s eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the man wanted to claim the pendant for himself. But no—this patient was still alive. How could he possibly steal from the dying? Clearing his throat, the doctor quickened his pace, stitching the wound with skilled efficiency. “You’re talking about ancient China, aren’t you? But this is a crucifix. Did some official have a penchant for Western artifacts?”

“The Book of Daniel, Chapter 10, Verse 6—‘The body of our God Christ is made of Shuicang nephrite.’” The owner chuckled softly. “What a fascinating relic. Shuicang nephrite is said to have the strongest affinity for wandering souls—it often serves as a vessel for the unclaimed dead… Hmm? This jade looks strangely familiar…” he murmured as if speaking to himself, but the doctor was no longer listening—his full attention was on closing the wound.

The moment Ning Qiqi opened her eyes, she felt as though she had just awoken from some blurry nightmare.

She had dreamed that she was dead and had somehow inhabited the body of a murderer.

“You’re awake?” A cold, detached male voice suddenly spoke, causing Ning Qiqi to freeze in place. It took her a moment to gather her senses and assess where she was.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering light casting shadows over an array of ancient artifacts that left Ning Qiqi utterly speechless. If not for the man behind the counter casually flipping through a newly published bestseller, she might have believed she had traveled back in time.

Ning Qiqi attempted to sit up, only to notice another figure reclining on a nearby chair. He was fast asleep, his face etched with exhaustion. It seemed to be the same man she had encountered before losing consciousness. Glancing at the IV drip attached to her hand, she realized he must have been the one to save her.

“Thank you…” Ning Qiqi began, but the sound of her own voice startled her. Though she had already come to terms with the fact that she was no longer herself, hearing a man’s voice emerge from her lips was still jarring.

“Welcome to Ya She. I’m the owner,” the man behind the counter said, rising to his feet. He was dressed in a black Zhongshan suit, with an intricately embroidered red dragon coiled over his right shoulder. The dragon’s eyes seemed to gleam with life, mirroring the sharp intensity of the man’s gaze. A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, and only then did Ning Qiqi realize she was bare-chested. Letting out a startled cry, she hastily wrapped herself in the blanket draped over her.

The sight of a grown man making such a bashful, almost girlish gesture was undeniably awkward—borderline absurd. Yet, despite her current male form, Ning Qiqi couldn’t shake the discomfort of being shirtless. Just as she was grappling with her embarrassment, the owner’s next words left her stunned.

“Young lady, care to explain what happened?”

Ning Qiqi quickly pulled the blanket away to check herself—no, she hadn’t reverted to her original body. How on earth had he figured out she was actually a woman?

“Pfft—Boss, are you blind or something? Calling a full-grown man ‘young lady’?” The doctor had not been sleeping deeply; he had woken up the moment Ning Qiqi stirred. He put on his glasses, checked the patient’s condition, and frowned. “I stitched you up, but just to be safe, you’d better get checked at a hospital.”

Ning Qiqi ignored his advice, stammering as she turned to the owner. “You… how did you know I’m a woman?”

The doctor, in the middle of changing the bandages, froze as he glanced at the flat chest before him. He was struck as if by lightning. “You… you’re a woman?” No matter how he looked, the person before him was a textbook male specimen!

“I believe it’s all because of the Shuicang nephrite crucifix you’re wearing,” the owner said calmly. “You can share your story. Perhaps I can help.”

Ning Qiqi hesitated for a long moment before recounting everything she had experienced to the two men. As she recalled the moment she opened her eyes to see her own corpse, the sheer terror overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears.

The doctor watched in disbelief as the tall, broad-shouldered man sobbed like a delicate flower, fists clenched, rubbing his eyes in a childlike manner. Goosebumps prickled his skin. Still, when she finished her story, he handed her a tissue. “So, you’re saying you’re technically a murderer now?”

“I’m the victim here! Wait—you actually believe me?” Ning Qiqi stopped crying, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yes, I believe you.” The doctor glanced at the owner standing beside him. It wasn’t Ning Qiqi he trusted—it was the owner. As bizarre as soul transference sounded, he had witnessed much stranger occurrences in the owner’s presence.

Suddenly, the doctor frowned. 

Had the embroidered red dragon on the owner’s clothing just moved? 

Its tail—it seemed to flicker! 

That’s impossible. 

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, convinced it was just his fatigue playing tricks on him.

“Excuse me, is there a mirror here?” Ning Qiqi exhaled softly. Though she couldn’t be certain whether the two men truly believed her story, just being able to share her ordeal brought a sense of relief.

The owner nodded, retrieving an antique bronze mirror from a nearby curio shelf.

Ning Qiqi drew in a deep breath and turned the mirror over. Within its hazy surface emerged the reflection of a strikingly handsome face—refined and elegant, appearing to be in his early 20s. Yet, there was something unsettlingly familiar about those features.

Suddenly, a face flashed across Ning Qiqi’s mind. Startled, she set the bronze mirror down at once.

The doctor picked up the book the owner had been reading earlier and handed it to Ning Qiqi. “That’s right. If I’m not mistaken, this bestselling detective novel ‘Listen’ was written by you.”

On the book’s back cover was a strikingly handsome face, full of youthful exuberance—an exact mirror image of the one she had just glimpsed in the bronze mirror.

Ning Qiqi stared into the mirror before her. Reflected in the floor-length glass was a man with a strikingly handsome face, though pale as paper. The clarity was almost unnerving that even each individual eyelash stood out in sharp relief, leaving her with no room to look away.

They said the man in the mirror was named Xiao Ji—none other than the renowned mystery novelist.

Now, Ning Qiqi found herself in the doctor’s home, where the kind-hearted man had taken her in. Her waist wound had begun to heal, and during the day, the doctor would head out to work, leaving her alone in the modest-sized apartment.

Yet Ning Qiqi couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t truly alone. The sensation grew stronger whenever she looked into the mirror. She stared at the unfamiliar face that was hers now—a stranger’s face that shifted in perfect sync with her every expression.

Unable to resist, Ning Qiqi touched the Shuicang nephrite crucifix hanging from her chest. The owner had said her soul had possessed Xiao Ji’s body because of this pendant, yet no matter how she looked at it, it appeared utterly ordinary.

“I must be dreaming…” Ning Qiqi muttered under her breath, frowning as she sighed deeply.

“I’d rather this was all just a dream.” A sudden voice broke the silence in the room. Ning Qiqi felt the Shuicang nephrite crucifix in her hand grow hot. When she looked up, she was startled to see another figure in the mirror!

“Ah!” She screamed, collapsing onto the floor. Looking ahead, there was nothing but emptiness. Yet, when her gaze fell back to the mirror, a man identical to her current body, stood gracefully, a slight inclination of his head as he observed her disheveled state on the ground.

“Come on now, I’m so handsome. Don’t waste my body like this!” The man sighed dramatically.

Now, the mirror showed two Xiao Jis—one corporeal, one ethereal. The man in the mirror bore the same smile, the same features, even the same clothes as her current self. Though he appeared translucent, like a phantom caught in the glass.

“You… You’re Xiao Ji?” Ning Qiqi felt as though she had grown immune to shock. No matter how bizarre things became, she had learned to handle them calmly. Even the sight of a ghost in broad daylight didn’t faze her much. She glanced around briefly and confirmed that this ghost could only be seen in the mirror and not in the open air.

“Yes, I’m Xiao Ji, the rightful owner of the body you’re currently occupying. Hey, young lady, do you have any idea what’s going on?” The translucent Xiao Ji frowned, looking as puzzled as she was.

Ning Qiqi sighed and recounted the entire story, in hopes that Xiao Ji might offer some answers.

“Murderer!” Ning Qiqi gritted her teeth.

Xiao Ji froze for a moment, then burst into laughter as he clutched his stomach. “You think I’m the murderer? Although I can’t remember what happened either, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t bored enough to go sing alone at a karaoke bar.”

Ning Qiqi was stunned. “You’re saying… the murderer is someone else? But I… I wiped the fingerprints off the weapon…”

“All I remember is that it was my first day in this city. Everything after that is a blur.” Xiao Ji stroked his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, he snapped his fingers and smiled nonchalantly. “It’s okay if I can’t remember, we’ll just visit the crime scene!”

“The crime scene?” Ning Qiqi furrowed her brows. First, she was scared to revisit the place where she died. Second… “Aren’t you afraid the police will arrest you?”

“Come on, I write detective novels. I can spot a clue or two. Let’s go!” The Xiao Ji in the mirror crouched down to meet her gaze, his expression bright and cheerful. He reached out and patted Ning Qiqi’s head playfully.

It shouldn’t have been possible for her to feel anything, but at that moment, as she looked at Xiao Ji’s grin in the mirror, she truly felt the warmth and strength of a broad hand resting on her head. A surge of courage seemed to flow through her.

“Oh, and before we go—shave that stubble, and put on some nice clothes. Make me look sharp!” he added with a grin.

Ning Qiqi stared at the smiling Xiao Ji in the mirror, unsure of how to respond.

The two figures in the mirror bore identical faces. One was cloaked in gloom, while the other brimmed with cheer.

On the way to the crime scene, the chilling memory of opening her eyes to see her own lifeless body haunted Ning Qiqi. The little courage she had gathered began to slip away, leaving her shivering with cold dread.

The Shuicang nephrite crucifix on her chest was the only thing that retained a lingering warmth.

She knew Xiao Ji was with her, though she couldn’t see him. Occasionally, when they passed a glass surface or a mirror, she caught fleeting glimpses of his furrowed brow and profile.

She realized that she wasn’t the only one confused. He wasn’t as indifferent as he appeared.

Did he have parents?

Did he have friends?

Was there someone he liked?

What about his readers?

Now that he’s dead, would these people mourn for him?”

At least she still had a physical body. She could speak, move, and communicate with others. He, however, was nothing but a soul—a lingering presence that no one could see, hear, or even prove existed.

The thought of her parents and her group of close friends made Ning Qiqi’s nose sting with the threat of tears. Death was irreversible; she could never truly live again. But at the very least, she would find the murderer who had taken her life and ruined everything she held dear.

Through the reflection of the glass door, she caught a glimpse of his solitary figure. He seemed lost, his gaze heavy with melancholy. Not knowing how to comfort him, Ning Qiqi steeled herself and walked to the karaoke bar to book a private room.

Just as she was paying at the front desk, a familiar figure hurried past her, heading straight toward the crime scene’s private room. She couldn’t be mistaken—it was her best friend, Luo Jia.

Why was Luo Jia here? 

What was her purpose in returning? 

Could she… have something to do with Ning Qiqi’s death? 

A sudden thought flashed through Ning Qiqi’s mind. Something had felt off that night when she saw Luo Jia… Now, it made sense!

Luo Jia was an avid fan of mysteries, while Xiao Ji was a renowned mystery novelist. The reason she recognized Xiao Ji was because Luo Jia had bought his books! 

So why hadn’t Luo Jia recognized Xiao Ji that night?

The deeper she thought, the colder her heart grew. 

Was she truly suspecting her best friend? 

She broke out in a cold sweat in the karaoke bar. Shaking her head, she decided that if she had doubts, she’d resolve to investigate and uncover the truth.

Following Xiao Ji’s advice, she cranked the music up to its maximum volume. Waiting for an opportune moment when no one was around, she casually bypassed a waiter, and headed for the private room where the murder had occurred.

The door was ajar, as though someone had already been there. Pushing it open, a chill washed over her. The carpet had been replaced, and the room was dimly lit by a single ceiling lamp that cast its beam on the black marble table, where a vase filled with white chrysanthemums stood.

Ning Qiqi couldn’t help but recall the scene she had seen when she first opened her eyes. Her gaze lingered on the chrysanthemums, glowing faintly under the light, and she shivered uncontrollably.

“Seems like the police have already combed through this place,” Xiao Ji’s voice drifted faintly from the shadows, a chilling whisper that sent a prickle of coldness up her spine, amplifying the already unsettling atmosphere.

Rolling her eyes, Ning Qiqi retorted, “Do you seriously think the police are as clueless as the ones in your novels?”

“Sigh, I came here hoping to jog my memory,” Xiao Ji’s voice floated through the room, as if he were inspecting the place.

Ning Qiqi stared blankly at the white chrysanthemums on the table. After a moment, she suddenly spoke. “If we’re stuck like this… what are we supposed to do?”

She wasn’t sure why the question came to her. Perhaps it was an unconscious acceptance that Xiao Ji wasn’t her murderer, which naturally led her to think about what came next.

Could she continue living in someone else’s body? 

Even if she wanted to, Xiao Ji—rightful owner of this body—would never allow it. But she couldn’t bear the thought of dying without answers…

In the darkness, Xiao Ji chuckled. “Silly girl, don’t waste your time on pointless worries. Look at the upper-right corner of the room.”

Ning Qiqi followed his words, her gaze landing on a small red dot in the corner. She exclaimed, “That… is that a CCTV camera?”

“Yes, I think the CCTV camera must have recorded what happened that night. Let’s head to the monitoring room and ask.”

Easier said than done. Ning Qiqi cursed under her breath, then added, “Even though I wiped my fingerprints off the weapon, surely the murderer’s prints are still somewhere in the private room, right?”

Xiao Ji sighed. “Do you know how many people come and go from a karaoke bar’s private rooms each day? The sheer number of overlapping fingerprints makes it nearly impossible to find anything conclusive.”

Pulling up the hood of her jacket, Ning Qiqi turned, only for the door to suddenly swing open. Standing in the doorway was Luo Jia, holding a bouquet of slightly wilted white chrysanthemums.

“You’ve finally arrived, Mr. Xiao,” Luo Jia said calmly. Glancing at the flowers in her hands, she continued, “I’m… Ning Qiqi’s friend—the girl who died here. I’ve been coming here every day, waiting for you and replacing the flowers. Although Qiqi didn’t like white chrysanthemums… I… I…”

Her voice faltered, and tears welled up as she broke down crying. Ning Qiqi felt a sting at the tip of her nose. So Luo Jia had been mourning her all along, while she had been foolishly suspecting her best friend.

“You must be wondering why I’ve been waiting for you,” Luo Jia said, her sobs easing as she steadied herself. “I don’t know if you remember, but on the night Qiqi died, you and I brushed past each other.”

Ning Qiqi felt her heart skip. 

Of course, she remembered! 

She had been utterly terrified at the time.

“I’m one of your biggest fans, but I didn’t recognize you then. You looked so unwell, like a completely different person.”

“Hah… She’s been waiting for me—could it really be just to get an autograph?” Ning Qiqi was so nervous she forced a joke to mask her tension.

“After you left, I… I found Qiqi’s body,” Luo Jia took a deep breath. Her pale complexion made it clear she was reliving the horror of discovering her best friend’s lifeless form. Even so, she pushed on. “I screamed and ran to the front desk for help. That’s when someone rushed out of the monitoring room in a panic and bumped into me. I caught a glimpse of them—and that’s when I realized it was you, Xiao Ji…”

“You saw the murderer?” Ning Qiqi stepped forward, her excitement barely contained.

At that moment, a young man emerged from the adjacent private room. He took out an ID card and said, “My surname is Xiao. Mr. Xiao Ji, please come with me to the police station to assist with an investigation.”

Ning Qiqi clenched her fists tightly, her gaze flickering to the reflection in a nearby glass surface. She could see Xiao Ji’s obvious smug face staring back at her, and she loathed him more than ever for not having a physical form.

If he had a body, she would have beaten him to a pulp by now.

It was Ning Qiqi’s first time at a police station. She was led straight into an interrogation room.

The room was just as she’d seen on TV dramas—one table, two chairs, no windows. The darkness pressed in, broken only by the brutal illumination of the solitary lamp on the table, which cast a harsh glare on her features and stretched her already frayed nerves.

“Relax your face. You’re not the criminal here, why are you so nervous?” Xiao Ji’s voice sounded beside her, laced with exasperation.

She was nervous, of course! 

Ning Qiqi wanted nothing more than to argue with him, but given the circumstances, she dared not speak. All she could do was widen her eyes and endure his constant nagging.

Just then, the interrogation room door creaked open. The young officer from the karaoke bar entered with a stern expression and sat across from her.

Ning Qiqi’s nerves tightened even further. Xiao Ji’s constant pestering finally pushed her to speak. Pressing her lips together, she summoned her courage and said, “There’s a CCTV camera in the karaoke bar’s private room, right? It must have recorded what happened. May I see the footage?”

The mere thought of revisiting that night sent a chill through her entire body. Although she had experienced death once already, she had no memory of the specifics—she had no memory of the pain or the moment it happened. If she had to watch herself die… she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

The officer hesitated before nodding. Soon, a laptop was promptly brought into the room. Officer Xiao opened a file, and the screen immediately filled with white static.

Ning Qiqi watched in confusion as he fast-forwarded the footage at four times the speed. He paused at a specific point and resumed normal playback.

The static crackled briefly before the footage emerged. On the screen, Xiao Ji struggled to his feet. He reached into the jacket of the corpse across from him, pulled out a tissue, and methodically wiped the fingerprints off the weapon. He then walked to the door, donned a coat, and left quickly. The karaoke bar door swayed slightly, the laser lights continued to dance across the room, and Ning Qiqi’s body lay motionless on the floor.

“Damn it, someone’s tampered with the tape. They erased most of it and deliberately left this incriminating section,” Xiao Ji’s voice came through, urgent and faraway, sounding both distant and as though coming from another world.

Well, it was coming from another world, wasn’t it?

“What… What should I do now?” Ning Qiqi murmured softly.

“Don’t panic. Just tell the police what your friend said—she saw someone leaving the monitoring room. That person’s more likely the real murderer!” Xiao Ji’s voice was close, as if speaking directly into her ear.

“I didn’t kill anyone. That girl—Lo… I mean, the victim’s friend—she said she saw someone come out of the monitoring room. That person must’ve wiped the footage to frame me.”

“We’ve already spoken with Miss Luo about that,” the officer replied.

Ning Qiqi and Xiao Ji exhaled in relief, but the officer continued, “However, we can’t rule out the possibility that you’re accomplices.”

Both Ning Qiqi and Xiao Ji froze.

The officer’s expression remained serious as he said, “Mr. Xiao, how much do you actually remember about that night?”

She remembered absolutely nothing!

Ning Qiqi steadied herself, pressing her hands against the table, and said coolly, “I have the right to remain silent. I will only answer questions in the presence of my lawyer.”

Xiao Ji drifted aimlessly around the interrogation room. “This girl has definitely been watching too many American dramas… Where on earth is she going to find a lawyer?”

Meanwhile, Ning Qiqi sat dazed by the roadside, staring at the crematorium across the street. Wisps of gray smoke rose steadily into the sky, signifying the final farewell to the deceased. An indescribable bitterness filled her heart.

Her body had been cremated today.

Under normal circumstances, a murder case would prevent the victim’s body from being cremated so quickly. But it seemed her parents had pulled some strings to ensure she could rest in peace sooner.

But she wasn’t gone—she was still alive, just in a different body.

Ning Qiqi adjusted the sunglasses perched on her nose. Her chin was still shadowed with stubble she had not yet managed to clean off. No one would ever guess that this unkempt man was the renowned mystery novelist, Xiao Ji.

Though now, perhaps he would become known as the murderer Xiao Ji.

She let out a bitter laugh. While the police hadn’t publicly announced a suspect, she had been questioned as part of their investigation. People near the karaoke bar had even recognized Xiao Ji’s face. Not to mention his blood found in the private room, the sensationalist reporters had already woven elaborate tales in their coverage.

Even so, Ning Qiqi couldn’t resist attending her own funeral, watching from a distance as her parents stepped out of the memorial hall. In just a few short days, their hair had turned noticeably grayer. Her chest tightened with the overwhelming urge to rush over and tell them she wasn’t truly gone.

Hidden beneath her black coat, Ning Qiqi’s hands clenched tightly into fists. She bit her lip and bowed her head low, suppressing her emotions to avoid being recognized.

Lost in thought as she stared blankly at the patterns in the pavement, her vision was suddenly filled with a pair of bright red high heels. Startled, she looked up to see a doll-like face with impeccable makeup.

The woman stomped her foot in mock anger and whined, “Xiao Ji? Where have you been these past few days? Disappearing like this without a word! Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve made to your phone? And don’t even get me started on how you skipped out on your book signing at the bookstore two days ago!”

Behind her sunglasses, Ning Qiqi blinked in confusion. Naturally, she hadn’t dared to use Xiao Ji’s original SIM card and had replaced it with a new one, making her untraceable. Faced with the woman’s expectant gaze, she resorted to a well-worn cliché—feigning amnesia.

“Who… who are you?”

The woman’s expression turned strange before she introduced herself as Sasha, Xiao Ji’s gorgeous editor. She explained that they had come to H City for his book signing but had lost track of him several days ago. Sasha’s chatter was nonstop as she tugged Ning Qiqi away from the crematorium and drove them back to the city center.

Sasha surely knew something; otherwise,she wouldn’t have known to come to the crematorium where “Ning Qiqi” was being cremated, especially since the police hadn’t released the victim’s real name. Yet asking too many questions might arouse suspicion, so Ning Qiqi sat obediently in the passenger seat, dutifully playing her role as the amnesiac.

Sasha brought her to a five-star hotel in the city. Ning Qiqi quietly seated herself on the sofa, taking a sip from a bottle of mineral water.

Sasha stared at her for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Xiao Ji, I didn’t believe you had amnesia at first, but now that I see you acting like this little housewife, I believe it a little bit.”

Ning Qiqi offered a timid smile. She had done her homework on Xiao Ji’s personality while staying at the kind-hearted doctor’s house. Online searches painted a vivid picture—Xiao Ji, a prodigy who rose to fame at a young age, was arrogant and sharp-tongued, known for offending many in the industry despite his massive fanbase. 

As she sat there, the Shuicang nephrite crucifix on her chest grew warm again. She knew Xiao Ji’s spirit must be surfacing once more, but with no mirror nearby, she couldn’t see him.

Ning Qiqi touched the crucifix through her clothing, removed her sunglasses, and looked at Sasha. “Sasha, do you know what happened that night?”

Sasha’s meticulously groomed eyebrows furrowed slightly. “No, I just got lucky and went to the crematorium today. I didn’t expect to find you there.”

Ning Qiqi studied Sasha’s expression closely and said in a calm tone, “That night, I wasn’t singing at the karaoke bar all by myself, was I?”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Sasha’s eyes. “You said you were meeting up with fans that night, so I went to see some friends. Who could’ve known something like that would happen later?”

“Oh?” Ning Qiqi’s voice stretched with suspicion. Suddenly losing patience for the charade, she pulled her phone from her coat pocket, pressed a button, and said evenly, “Officer Xiao, you can come in now. The murderer is sitting right in front of me.”

Sasha’s face paled instantly. At the same time, the door to the suite burst open, and several police officers stormed in, restraining Sasha before she could flee. Her meticulously made-up face contorted with rage as she shrieked, “You’ve got the wrong person! I have an alibi!”

From behind Officer Xiao, Luo Jia poked her head out and cast a resolute glance at Sasha. “That’s her! I saw her leaving the monitoring room that night. She’s the stalker who’s been obsessed with Xiao Ji—every fan in our support group knows about her!”

Ning Qiqi took a deep breath and let out a weak smile. “Officer Xiao, I’d like to rest for a bit. Can we delay the statement for later?”

With a sympathetic nod, the officer patted Xiao Ji on the shoulder and left, dragging the still-protesting Sasha out of the room. Luo Jia bowed deeply to Xiao Ji before following them out.

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Ning Qiqi walked to the full-length mirror, gazing at the unfamiliar man staring back at her. She clutched the Shuicang nephrite crucifix on her chest and sighed, “The murderer has been caught.”

As her words echoed in the stillness, a hazy shape materialized next to Xiao Ji’s reflection in the mirror. Gradually, it took on the translucent form of a man—identical to Xiao Ji in every detail.

Still unaccustomed to the sight, Ning Qiqi glanced over her shoulder. As with every other time, the space behind her was empty. Xiao Ji’s ghostly form could only be seen in the mirror.

“Hey! We agreed to tease the truth out of her bit by bit! This was supposed to be the climax of a detective novel—you can’t just skip over it like that!” Mirror Xiao Ji growled indignantly, pretending to strangle Ning Qiqi. Of course, as a ghostly apparition, his efforts amounted to little more than theatrics.

“Climax? Sasha orchestrated a flawless murder plot. But tell me, how exactly did you plan to crack the case?” Ning Qiqi’s temples throbbed. 

These damn mystery fans.

She felt like collateral damage in their obsessive antics.

Xiao Ji immediately ran out of patience.

In truth, the entire situation was absurd. It had all started with Xiao Ji’s controversial statement online, boasting that his latest book, “Listen”, depicted the perfect crime—one that could never be surpassed. The claim had sparked a storm of heated debates, with fans and critics clashing across the internet.

Sasha had once been Xiao Ji’s manager. But beneath her professional facade, she was a fan obsessed to the point of illness. Using her position as a cover, Sasha spent every waking moment stalking Xiao Ji, severely disrupting his personal life. Finally, unable to endure it any longer, both Xiao Ji and his company fired her. 

Out of concern for her mental state, they kept the matter private, refraining from any public accusations. This gave Sasha the chance to continue posing as Xiao Ji’s “manager” and secretly orchestrate a fake fan gathering to lure him to the karaoke bar.

Sasha’s twisted plan was inspired by Xiao Ji’s latest novel—a so-called “perfect crime.” She intended to murder Xiao Ji and then commit suicide, ensuring they would be “together forever.” 

However, Ning Qiqi’s accidental entrance into the wrong room disrupted her carefully laid plans. In her panic, the knife she meant for Xiao Ji missed its fatal mark, striking his waist instead. Xiao Ji survived by sheer luck, but Ning Qiqi—who had witnessed the entire scene—was murdered by the frantic Sasha.

Although Sasha managed to erase portions of the karaoke bar’s CCTV footage, Luo Jia’s testimony dismantled her fabricated alibi. Furthermore, police discovered a third person’s bloodstains on the carpet. 

DNA analysis revealed the blood matched Sasha’s. 

Later, the police also discovered bloody clothes and the murder weapon in the apartment where Sasha had been staying, ultimately confirming her as the killer.

However, since Sasha’s whereabouts were still unconfirmed, Officer Xiao proposed a plan to cooperate with Xiao Ji and use Ning Qiqi’s funeral to draw Sasha out.

So much for “perfect crimes.” 

Reality was riddled with uncertainties—Ning Qiqi’s accidental entry, the hidden CCTV camera in the room, Luo Jia’s eyewitness account. Theoretical perfection couldn’t withstand the randomness of real life. Though flawless in description, the plan fell apart in execution.

As for Xiao Ji’s suspicious act of wiping the weapon’s fingerprints, Ning Qiqi explained it was the result of panic upon waking. Knowing she was being framed and that Xiao Ji’s fingerprints were on the weapon, she acted instinctively. Officer Xiao, though skeptical, reluctantly accepted her explanation.

It seemed like the case was over.

Yet, the matter of Xiao Ji’s soul inhabiting a different body remained known only to the antique shop’s owner, the kind-hearted doctor, and Xiao Ji himself.

“Ugh! So anticlimactic! Sasha even went so far as to pose as my editor—it’s obvious she wanted to attempt another so-called perfect crime! I wanted to see how she would plan it! Why did you end it so suddenly?” Xiao Ji’s reflection grumbled in disappointment, still rambling on in the mirror.

“What now?” Ning Qiqi glared at the reflection. The murderer had been caught, her body reduced to ashes. 

What’s next? 

She clutched the Shuicang nephrite crucifix, unsure of what to say.

The antique shop’s owner had mentioned that if Xiao Ji wanted to return to his body, it could be arranged.

So, Xiao Ji could return to normal, and in the end, would she disappear?

“We… we should go to Ya She,” Ning Qiqi hesitated for a long time before deciding to return the body to him. Although her death was indirectly tied to him, it didn’t justify her taking over his life indefinitely.

It was all a twist of fate.

Despite the brilliant sunshine outside, Ya She remained shrouded in dimness, as though the sunlight had forsaken it.

“You’ve decided? You’re ready to return the body to Xiao Ji?” The owner raised his head from behind the counter, his phoenix eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her.

Ning Qiqi nervously twisted her fingers and nodded, her voice tinged with self-mockery. “Last time, I couldn’t decide how I would die. At the very least… let me make this decision myself.”

“Oh? What’s your opinion on the matter?” The owner raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting past her to something—or someone—behind her.

A chill crept over Ning Qiqi. Aside from her and the owner, she knew Xiao Ji must be present. But the owner didn’t seem to need a mirror to see him. Suddenly desperate to confirm his presence, Ning Qiqi pulled a small mirror from her pocket and held it up behind her.

Xiao Ji’s pale visage appeared in the mirror, though his spirit seemed more transparent than usual, nearly indistinct. She even saw his lips moving, but couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Instinctively, she turned around in a panic, only to find empty air. When she turned back, she realized the mirror reflected only herself, no matter how much she called for Xiao Ji, he never appeared again.

“What happened to him?” Ning Qiqi felt as though she were drowning, pleading with the owner for answers.

“The soul of one who has left its body can only remain in this world for seven days,” the owner explained sympathetically. “At noon on the seventh day, where the Yang energy is at its peak, the soul is scattered into nothingness. And today… is the seventh day.”

The words struck Ning Qiqi like lightning. For a long time, she was silent. Finally, she found her voice. “What… What were his last words?”

“He said… to take good care of his body.”

From that day forward, Ning Qiqi became Xiao Ji.

Xiao Ji’s soul never returned. The days she had spent with him felt so surreal that Ning Qiqi began to wonder if Xiao Ji had truly been dead all along—his spirit merely a figment of her imagination.

The Shuicang nephrite crucifix no longer grew warm.

Day after day, Ning Qiqi stared into mirrors, filling her house with them in hopes of catching a glimpse of that familiar figure. Yet no matter how many mirrors she set, he never appeared again.

She returned to Ya She countless times, seeking answers from the owner. He only glanced at her indifferently, advising her to forget the past and move on.

Forget—was it truly the best choice?

Lingering in the shadows of the antique shop, Ning Qiqi finally decided to return the Shuicang nephrite crucifix to the owner.

Perhaps this was the right thing to do… The time had come to leave the past behind and start anew.

Yes, Ning Qiqi had died, but Xiao Ji had to continue living.

She had decided to live as Xiao Ji—for Xiao Ji.

Becoming Xiao Ji, she couldn’t possibly write detective novels. But by using his name, she took a position as an editor at the publishing house he had collaborated with. 

As a Chinese literature student with a passion for books, Ning Qiqi faced many challenges at first. However, through perseverance and constant learning, she slowly found her footing.

Occasionally, when she looked in the mirror, her gaze would linger on that handsome face. She would occasionally miss seeing the proud and confident smile that used to grace it.

But she couldn’t replicate that smile. No matter how hard she tried, it just wasn’t the same.

She still remembered how he had taught her to use a razor. Though she initially made mistakes, nicking her skin, she eventually mastered it. She recalled how he had taught her to tie a necktie. She’d known only the simple red-scarf knot before, but now she could effortlessly tie even a complex Windsor knot. She remembered that he had told her to take good care of his body.

She never forgot.

Until one day, her editor-in-chief handed her a manuscript, saying the author had specifically requested her.

Before entering the meeting room, Ning Qiqi only had time to glance at the title on the document’s cover—Listen II. 

Shocked, she pushed the door open and saw a delicate-featured young woman who rose gracefully from her seat.

“Hi, I’m Ning Qiqi,” the woman said, her smile brimming with pride. The radiant confidence in her expression felt strikingly familiar despite her unfamiliar face.

What? 

Ning Qiqi froze in place. Mechanically, she lowered her gaze to the author’s name printed beneath the title. It read, “Ning Qiqi.” Lifting her head, she stared at the woman in disbelief. 

Surely this was all just a coincidence… wasn’t it?

That’s when she noticed the Shuicang nephrite crucifix hanging from the woman’s chest—a painfully familiar sight.

The young woman flashed her a wide grin, playfully winked, and leaned in to whisper with a teasing tone, “Looks like you’ve taken good care of my body.”

“I’m more than what you made of me. I followed the voice you think you gave to me. But now I’ve got to find my own, my own……”

The familiar strains of “Listen” seemed to echo faintly, as if carried on the wind. Smiling softly, Ning Qiqi extended her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Xiao Ji. Pleased to meet you.”

The other woman grasped her hand with a firm shake, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding. At that moment, the shared smiles conveyed more than words ever could.