Content Warning: The following chapter contains graphic and disturbing scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

[“You’re so light—why is that?”]

Han Zhu brought a bowl of black fish soup to Liu Da’s bedside.
“Junior brother, would you like another bowl?”

After the bowl of soup at noon, much of Liu Da’s pain had eased, and he had even managed a nap in the afternoon. He accepted the soup and said,
“Thank you, Senior Sister, for taking such care of me.”

Han Zhu gazed at him with tender affection.
“You’re back now. Naturally, I’ll treat you well.”

Liu Da didn’t dare meet her gaze—there always seemed to be a cold, chilling glint behind her tenderness. He lowered his head and took a sip of the soup. Not long after, his lips and tongue began to tingle slightly. Just as he frowned, Han Zhu said,
“Drink slowly—the soup is still hot.”

So it was just the heat making his mouth numb. Liu Da blew on the soup, then drank the whole bowl. Before long, he was drowsy and drifted off to sleep.

Only a single candle lit the room. Han Zhu sat at the edge of the bed, the flickering flame casting shadows on her face and Liu Da’s.

She reached out and gently brushed her fingertips over his brow and the bridge of his nose, the corners of her lips holding a trace of a smile.

Liu Er had just approached the room. When he reached the door, he saw the scene inside. His steps halted, a sour ache in his chest. Then he saw Senior Sister lean in close, whispering softly into his brother’s ear.

Liu Er turned and left, not staying to hear what she said.

In a low voice, Han Zhu murmured,
“You and that woman really are a match made in heaven.”

“So cold-blooded. So heartless.” Her voice grew softer and gentler, as if murmuring the most tender words between lovers.

The sneer at the corners of her lips deepened. It wasn’t clear whether she was mocking Liu Da—or herself.
“Just like that, completely blind.”

Han Zhu abruptly reined in her smile. Her face, originally rather plain, had brightened with that smile, and now that it was gone, it faded back to its usual blandness.

She pulled out the envelope Liu Da had hidden beneath his pillow, took out its contents, replaced them with a wad of yellow joss paper, then stuffed the envelope back under the pillow.

With a soft “whoosh,” she blew out the candle and walked out of the room.

In the main hall, Liu Er was preparing offerings for their master’s hundredth-day ceremony. The paper flowers and boats would be made by Bai Zhun, as promised, but the silver ingot offerings had to be folded by them.

These past days, Liu Er had been busy running around for Liu Da. Han Zhu, on the other hand, sat in the hall day and night, folding paper ingots for her father.

She added an extra oil lamp to the table and smiled at Liu Er.
“It’s too dark—it’s bad for your eyes.”

Then she sat down and started folding again. Her hands were fast; she folded one in just a few moves and tossed it into the basket.

When the hundred-day ritual came, they’d bring all these to her father’s grave and burn them—so he wouldn’t lack for money in the afterlife.

“Little Liu,” Han Zhu said softly, “when we hold the hundred-day ritual, I want to call off the engagement at Father’s grave.”

Liu Er was stunned. The silver ingot in his hand slipped to the floor. He stammered,
“Senior Sister… you don’t want to marry my brother anymore?”

Han Zhu smiled.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that your brother doesn’t want to marry me.”

Liu Er hurried to defend Liu Da.
“No, no, my brother—he’s just muddle-headed right now! He—how could he not want to marry you?”

Jin Dangui was already dead!

Liu Er simply couldn’t understand. In his eyes, Senior Sister was the best woman in the world. Back when they had just been taken in by their master, both of them were so hungry they could hardly see straight. She had cooked a pot of soft noodles for them. He ate three bowls and nearly burst.

It was the best thing he’d ever eaten in his life.

To marry her—he wouldn’t even dare dream of it. And his brother doesn’t want her?

“Even if there’s no Jin Dangui, there will still be a Yin Dangui.” Han Zhu’s expression was calm, unreadable under the soft light. The lamp stretched her shadow long and thin on the wall.

Liu Er didn’t dare look at her directly—he only stared at her shadow. Does this mean they wouldn’t be family anymore?

Seeing his blank, bewildered expression, Han Zhu smiled faintly. She raised her hand, as if to give him a playful tap on the forehead like she used to when they were little. But when she saw her hand was covered in gold powder, she instead used the back of it to gently pat his cheek.

“We’ll always be family.”

Liu Er’s face flushed red.

—-

Meanwhile, Liu Da was drifting in and out of sleep when he heard a soft rattling noise beside his ear—like something small rolling on the floor, rolling closer and closer.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on a Western-style spring bed, and music was playing in the background.

“You’re awake?” Jin Dangui beamed as she handed him a crystal wine glass.

The familiar scent of her French perfume reached him again. He felt a flicker of confusion—like he had forgotten something—but his hand had already accepted the glass.

“What is this place?”

Jin Dangui lightly tapped his chin.
“This is the Liu residence. We left Shanghai with the money and bought this garden villa.”

The Liu residence—right, they had finally left Shanghai. They had bought a house, hired a chauffeur and servants. He was now Master Liu, Boss Liu.

Jin Dangui nestled close to him, her makeup flawless, her charm as captivating as ever.

Liu Da, in a daze, really felt as though he’d cast off all his troubles and finally obtained the life he had always wanted.

Filled with high spirits, he wrapped his arms around Jin Dangui’s waist. As they clung tightly together, Jin Dangui encircled his neck and whispered,
“Even in life or death, we’ll always be together—don’t you think that’s wonderful?”

Liu Da felt as if he were in a dream or an illusion. He agreed verbally, but deep down, he had an unsettling feeling.

Someone had died—who was it?

The beauty in his arms was warm and alive. Right, that man named Huo had once said her face was surgically cut and sewn—how could such a beautiful face be fake?

Thinking of Huo Zhenye led him to think of Bai Zhun.

A faint suspicion bloomed in his heart. This French perfume… there is something wrong with it. It is too strong—so much so that it turns rotten and putrid.

“You’re dead!” Liu Da blurted out.

The Western spring bed vanished. The room went dark—no lights, no music. Jin Dangui’s hand, still wrapped around his neck, was cold and clammy.

That bewitching face he had once adored was now right in front of him.

The two bloody holes in her face had been plugged with replacement eyeballs, but they weren’t her originals. Jammed into her sockets, they wobbled and slipped, falling out from time to time.

And each time they fell, Jin Dangui would calmly shove them back in with her fingers.

Liu Da snapped fully awake, letting out a horrified scream. Jin Dangui’s expression darkened.
“What’s wrong? I went through a lot to find this pair of eyes—for you. I traded my earrings for them.”

Su Manli had taken her earrings, so she exchanged them for eyes instead. Luckily, when she went to collect them, the eyeballs were still fresh.

Liu Da tried to flee, but his limbs felt like they were filled with lead—he couldn’t move. In his terror, he finally remembered the talisman Bai Zhun had given him, tucked beneath his pillow.

He pulled it out and hurled it at Jin Dangui. But she didn’t even flinch. She caught it midair and unfolded it with a flick.

Because her new eyes couldn’t move freely in their sockets, she had to use her fingers to manually twist them into position. Only then did she read the inscription:

[Chenghuang’s Pass — Permit to the Netherworld.

Liu Da, age 19. No burial offerings.]

Jin Dangui began to laugh. Rubbing her fingertips together, she summoned a ghostly blue flame and burned the pass as an offering to the Chenghuang.

Liu Da shrank back.
“I won’t go with you! I can’t! I still need to carry on the legacy of the Branch of Colors! My master… my master…”

Jin Dangui propped her ten sharp fingers against her eye sockets, lifting her gaze toward him. Her lips curled into a grin—and one eyeball rolled out again, slipping down her face and resting against her nose.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

She shoved the eye back in, then lunged forward, clawed fingers closing around Liu Da’s throat.
“I was so lonely… You were the only one who treated me well. Didn’t we say we’d be husband and wife?”

Liu Da flailed in desperation, kicking wildly. Through the window, he could see his younger brother and Han Zhu in the house across the courtyard, folding silver foil ingots together. But no matter how he struggled, no matter how he screamed—

They couldn’t hear a thing.

Thick clouds shrouded the moon, and not a sliver of light pierced the night outside.

Jin Dangui’s grip on Liu Da’s neck was so tight his eyes nearly burst from their sockets; his chest held barely a thread of breath when, out of the suffocating darkness, came the clinking sound of iron chains.

Jin Dangui’s hands abruptly let go. She turned toward the window in panic—one of her eyeballs dislodged again and rolled onto Liu Da’s body, but she was too frantic to retrieve it.

She spun around and tried to flee, but her ankles were still shackled with Bai Zhun’s iron fetters, so she could only twist her body inch by inch, crawling across the floor with her palms flat to the ground. In her haste, the other eyeball popped out too.

She groped her way under the bed, curling herself up completely to hide inside.

An iron chain flew in through the window, looped around Jin Dangui’s neck, and dragged her out of the room.

All Liu Da could see was a dark silhouette at the window—wearing a pointed black hat. Frosty white moonlight illuminated the characters on the hat:
“Peace Under Heaven.”

“I… Impermanence…”

Only when the shadow at the window vanished did Liu Da come fully to his senses. His body felt like lead, and no sound could escape his throat. He gritted his teeth and mustered all his strength, finally toppling the stool beside the bed.

The noise reached the front hall. Liu Er rushed over.
“Brother! What happened?”

Lighting an oil lamp, he was shocked to see two ghastly claw marks wrapped around Liu Da’s neck—every finger joint sharply defined, with scratch marks crisscrossing his throat. Just looking at them made one’s scalp tingle.

Han Zhu came in shortly after. Her eyes locked on the claw marks, and she froze for a second. Regaining her composure, she asked,
“Junior Brother… how did this happen?”

Liu Da clutched his throat with both hands, letting out hoarse, muffled sounds—not because he didn’t want to speak, but because he couldn’t.

Those hands had been like snakes—soft, boneless, icy—coiled around his neck. It felt as though they were still there, strangling him.

He reached out and gestured a seven to his younger brother. Liu Er was puzzled.
“Seven? What does that mean?”

“You want to see the Seventh Master?” Han Zhu guessed his meaning. “It’s so late—let’s go find the Seventh Master during the day.”

As she spoke, she reached out and gently patted Liu Da’s back. But that soft palm on his skin reminded him of what had just happened. His entire body shuddered.

He instinctively recoiled.

Han Zhu wasn’t angry at all. “Don’t be afraid, Junior Brother. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go find the Seventh Master.”

Liu Da lay in bed, tugging on his younger brother’s arm. Only now, at this point, did he begin to regret everything. His throat choked with hoarse whimpers, but no one could understand what he was trying to say.

The paper Impermanence returned to Bai Zhun’s altar after taking Jin Dangui away. The chains on its hands had vanished—Jin Dangui had gone to the place she was supposed to go.

Huo Zhenye looked up. From the courtyard, he could just see the curved eaves of the Chenghuang Temple’s main hall.

Bai Zhun lit another stick of incense and respectfully sent the divine officer away.

As the incense burned, the spirit in Impermanence dispersed, and it reverted to its paper form. Bai Zhun took out a piece of black cloth and covered the paper Impermanence’s eyes.

“What happens if you don’t cover them?” Huo Zhenye asked.

Bai Zhun didn’t answer. He just looked worn out again—this whole ritual had taken a serious toll.

Huo Zhenye stood watching. When Bai Zhun finished everything, he asked,
“So that’s it? It’s all over?”

“What else?”

“What about the person who killed Jin Dangui?”

“I already said—that’s not my business.” Summoning Impermanence had consumed a great deal of Bai Zhun’s energy. Now that it had returned, his strength had ebbed. His voice was languid, and his eyelids drooped as if he were about to fall asleep.

Huo Zhenye noticed Bai Zhun’s face had gone even paler. He stepped forward.

Bai Zhun thought he was going to say something—but instead, Huo Zhenye bent down and picked him up, wrapping his arms around him securely.

Bai Zhun hadn’t expected such boldness. Just as his anger flared, the paper figures in the room began to rustle ominously.

Huo Zhenye heard the rustling and said softly by Bai Zhun’s ear,
“I’m just taking you to bed.”

With that, he carried him into the inner room and laid him on the bed.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Huo Zhenye’s arms were naturally more comfortable than stiff paper servants.

Bai Zhun’s anger began to subside—he suddenly remembered something. A long time ago, this man had carried him like this too, though back then he himself had only been as tall as the edge of a table, yet insisted on playing the hero.

From the front hall to the back room was only a few steps, but Huo Zhenye walked steadily. From his angle, he could see Bai Zhun’s face lowered, only a glimpse of the tip of his nose and a pale pair of lips.

How can a person be so light?

Huo Zhenye pulled the blanket over Bai Zhun, then sat casually at the edge of the bed and asked,
“Why are you so light?”

That was the second time Young Master Huo got thrown out of the Bai family house.