Chapter 25

Zheng Linlin felt as if she had been dreaming a very long dream.

Half a year ago, she accompanied her mother to the temple to burn incense. This had been a ritual her mother followed for years since the divorce. Every year, her mother lit an eternal lamp for the unborn sister, praying that she might be reincarnated into a happier family.

“I’m sorry for your sister,” her mother would always say. “I wanted the divorce, so I had to give her up.”

Zheng Linlin knew her mother only said this to shoulder all the blame. The reasons her mother gave up the baby were many, and the broken marriage was the least significant among them.

At the time, Zheng Linlin was still in school, a teenager caught in the storm of a family collapse. After the divorce, her mother raised her alone, struggling to make ends meet. Protecting Linlin’s physical and emotional well-being took all of her mother’s resources, and so, she had no choice but to let go of the second daughter still in her womb.

Zheng Linlin believed that if anyone were to be held responsible for her sister’s fate, it should be herself.

That day, after they had lit the eternal lamp for her sister, her mother suddenly said in the car on the way home, “Actually, I kept a small piece of your sister’s umbilical cord. Mothers aren’t allowed to keep anything from an induced labor, but I begged the doctor until he secretly gave me a piece.”

Zheng Linlin was taken aback.

Her mother averted her gaze, looking out the window, her voice choking. “I’ve offered it at the lamp for years, but the master said there’s no point in clinging to it. He said I should let her rest in peace.”

At that moment, the car entered a traffic jam near a primary school as parents crowded the street to pick up their children.

A mother stood eagerly at the gate, holding a candied hawthorn stick. When her daughter appeared, she waved the treat enthusiastically and called out her name with a smile. The little girl darted into her mother’s arms, chirping about her day at school while trying to nibble the candy—too busy to decide whether to talk or eat.

Her mother bent down, gently wiping the sugar from her daughter’s mouth, her face full of joy as she took her hand and walked away.

From the car, Zheng Linlin’s mother watched them fade into the distance and murmured, “If your sister were still here, she’d be in primary school by now.”

Thinking of the sister she never got to meet, of how they had shared a home that could have been full of warmth, Zheng Linlin’s heart ached.

Her mother took out a small glass bottle from her bag. Inside was a dry, gray-black piece—her sister’s umbilical cord.

“I… I can’t bear to let her go again,” her mother said, holding back tears. “Linlin, I’m giving her to you. Find a peaceful place with clear mountains and flowing water, and let her go.”

Zheng Linlin tightened her grip on the bottle. Though it felt cold, it seemed to burn her palm.

At first, she intended to follow her mother’s wishes and lay her sister to rest. But some complicated emotion made her keep “her” close instead.

She wanted her sister to stay with her a little longer. She often imagined how life would be if her sister were alive—buying her beautiful dresses, braiding her hair. If her sister had lived, maybe she would boast to others about having a celebrity sister. They would share secrets under the covers…

Zheng Linlin even sewed a little sandbag, the kind children loved. It wasn’t finely made, but she thought her sister wouldn’t mind. She chose fabric from baby clothes and school uniforms to piece it together, hiding the bottle inside the sandbag.

She carried it everywhere, as if her sister were truly by her side.

She often confided her troubles to “her sister”—things she could never tell anyone else in the entertainment industry, where friendship didn’t exist. Since her sister couldn’t speak, her secrets were safe.

She vented about scriptwriters cutting roles, about businesspeople treating actors differently, about fears her career would never take off…

“If I could be even a tenth as famous as He Jinchao…” she had said many times, “I once acted in the same production as him. I only had a few lines, but I saw how a real star is treated! His schedule is perfect; people line up just to greet him. Even the grumpy director smiles when talking to him. Investors fight to take him to dinner… When will I ever be that famous so no one can look down on me?”

Complaining felt liberating. Strangely, after talking to her sister, her luck seemed to turn—she got a lead role, was invited to a hit variety show, and even signed with He Jinchao’s manager.

All of it, she believed, was thanks to her sister’s blessing.

In her dreams, she sometimes saw her sister—sometimes a toddler, sometimes a schoolgirl, with round cheeks and bright eyes, a mirror of her own childhood. But they could never talk or touch. Whenever she reached out, her sister would dissolve into smoke.

She always woke up worried, never afraid.

Would her sister blame her? Would she be angry for not being laid to rest?

These were thoughts she kept to herself. She would never tell her mother.

Recently, she filmed a variety show in a remote mountain funeral home. Her mother warned her about bad luck in such places, but Linlin felt calm. Death was just another job.

The only strange thing was her partner, Xiao Ling—the funeral director. He kept watching her with wary eyes, as if she might explode at any moment.

To be fair, he was handsome and good at his job, but cold as ice. If not for the show, she doubted he would speak to her at all.

Yesterday, she volunteered to help dress Yunmei for her funeral. Ling Chen declined coldly, leaving her even more puzzled about his hostility.

It wasn’t just fatigue—something had been gnawing at her mind. While setting up the altar, she kept hearing a distant, indistinct voice that made her restless. When Mr. Guan and his wife delivered Yunmei’s coffin, the grieving widow’s cries grated on her nerves so much that she wanted to silence her.

Something was wrong—she just didn’t know what.

Zheng Linlin felt as if she had been dreaming a very long dream.

Half a year ago, she accompanied her mother to the temple to burn incense. This had been a ritual her mother followed for years since the divorce. Every year, her mother lit an eternal lamp for the unborn sister, praying that she might be reincarnated into a happier family.

“I’m sorry for your sister,” her mother would always say. “I wanted the divorce, so I had to give her up.”

Zheng Linlin knew her mother only said this to shoulder all the blame. The reasons her mother gave up the baby were many, and the broken marriage was the least significant among them.

At the time, Zheng Linlin was still in school, a teenager caught in the storm of a family collapse. After the divorce, her mother raised her alone, struggling to make ends meet. Protecting Linlin’s physical and emotional well-being took all of her mother’s resources, and so, she had no choice but to let go of the second daughter still in her womb.

Zheng Linlin believed that if anyone were to be held responsible for her sister’s fate, it should be herself.

That day, after they had lit the eternal lamp for her sister, her mother suddenly said in the car on the way home, “Actually, I kept a small piece of your sister’s umbilical cord. Mothers aren’t allowed to keep anything from an induced labor, but I begged the doctor until he secretly gave me a piece.”

Zheng Linlin was taken aback.

Her mother averted her gaze, looking out the window, her voice choking. “I’ve offered it at the lamp for years, but the master said there’s no point in clinging to it. He said I should let her rest in peace.”

At that moment, the car entered a traffic jam near a primary school as parents crowded the street to pick up their children.

A mother stood eagerly at the gate, holding a candied hawthorn stick. When her daughter appeared, she waved the treat enthusiastically and called out her name with a smile. The little girl darted into her mother’s arms, chirping about her day at school while trying to nibble the candy—too busy to decide whether to talk or eat.

Her mother bent down, gently wiping the sugar from her daughter’s mouth, her face full of joy as she took her hand and walked away.

From the car, Zheng Linlin’s mother watched them fade into the distance and murmured, “If your sister were still here, she’d be in primary school by now.”

Thinking of the sister she never got to meet, of how they had shared a home that could have been full of warmth, Zheng Linlin’s heart ached.

Her mother took out a small glass bottle from her bag. Inside was a dry, gray-black piece—her sister’s umbilical cord.

“I… I can’t bear to let her go again,” her mother said, holding back tears. “Linlin, I’m giving her to you. Find a peaceful place with clear mountains and flowing water, and let her go.”

Zheng Linlin tightened her grip on the bottle. Though it felt cold, it seemed to burn her palm.

At first, she intended to follow her mother’s wishes and lay her sister to rest. But some complicated emotion made her keep “her” close instead.

She wanted her sister to stay with her a little longer. She often imagined how life would be if her sister were alive—buying her beautiful dresses, braiding her hair. If her sister had lived, maybe she would boast to others about having a celebrity sister. They would share secrets under the covers…

Zheng Linlin even sewed a little sandbag, the kind children loved. It wasn’t finely made, but she thought her sister wouldn’t mind. She chose fabric from baby clothes and school uniforms to piece it together, hiding the bottle inside the sandbag.

She carried it everywhere, as if her sister were truly by her side.

She often confided her troubles to “her sister”—things she could never tell anyone else in the entertainment industry, where friendship didn’t exist. Since her sister couldn’t speak, her secrets were safe.

She vented about scriptwriters cutting roles, about businesspeople treating actors differently, about fears her career would never take off…

“If I could be even a tenth as famous as He Jinchao…” she had said many times, “I once acted in the same production as him. I only had a few lines, but I saw how a real star is treated! His schedule is perfect; people line up just to greet him. Even the grumpy director smiles when talking to him. Investors fight to take him to dinner… When will I ever be that famous so no one can look down on me?”

Complaining felt liberating. Strangely, after talking to her sister, her luck seemed to turn—she got a lead role, was invited to a hit variety show, and even signed with He Jinchao’s manager.

All of it, she believed, was thanks to her sister’s blessing.

In her dreams, she sometimes saw her sister—sometimes a toddler, sometimes a schoolgirl, with round cheeks and bright eyes, a mirror of her own childhood. But they could never talk or touch. Whenever she reached out, her sister would dissolve into smoke.

She always woke up worried, never afraid.

Would her sister blame her? Would she be angry for not being laid to rest?

These were thoughts she kept to herself. She would never tell her mother.

Recently, she filmed a variety show in a remote mountain funeral home. Her mother warned her about bad luck in such places, but Linlin felt calm. Death was just another job.

The only strange thing was her partner, Xiao Ling—the funeral director. He kept watching her with wary eyes, as if she might explode at any moment.

To be fair, he was handsome and good at his job, but cold as ice. If not for the show, she doubted he would speak to her at all.

Yesterday, she volunteered to help dress Yunmei for her funeral. Lingchen declined coldly, leaving her even more puzzled about his hostility.

It wasn’t just fatigue—something had been gnawing at her mind. While setting up the altar, she kept hearing a distant, indistinct voice that made her restless. When Mr. Guan and his wife delivered Yunmei’s coffin, the grieving widow’s cries grated on her nerves so much that she wanted to silence her.

Something was wrong—she just didn’t know what.

Ling Chen: “……”

Zheng Linlin: “Is there… another ‘person’ here that I can’t see?”

Ling Chen and He Jinchao exchanged glances, and only then did they realize that Zheng Linlin couldn’t see ghosts! If it weren’t for the little ghost entering Yun Mei’er’s body, she wouldn’t have been able to see her, let alone He Jinchao.

So, earlier, during their conversation, Zheng Linlin couldn’t hear what He Jinchao said, only seeing Ling Chen talking to something in thin air.

In her impression, Ling Chen, who was usually quiet and gloomy, suddenly sounded much livelier when facing the invisible “person.”

Zheng Linlin was trembling with nervousness. Ling Chen even suspected that if he told her that there was another “ghost” in the room besides her sister, she might faint on the spot.

The most important thing was, how could Ling Chen tell Zheng Linlin that the “ghost” in front of her wasn’t just any ordinary one, but the big-name ghost, He Jinchao? He Jinchao’s death had not been publicly announced. Both his fans and the artists he had worked with all thought that he was simply resting in seclusion.

Just as Ling Chen was at a loss for words, the smart speaker in the corner of the mourning hall suddenly spoke.

“Hello, esteemed lady. I am Mr. Ling’s intelligent life assistant, Xiao Chao.”

“It’s not a ghost, it’s the latest artificial intelligence technology!”

The voice directly activated the built-in voice system of the speaker, making it sound convincingly real.

Ling Chen: “……”

No need to say, this was definitely He Jinchao’s doing. He could control all electronic devices, and he simply made the smart speaker speak for him, putting on a show.

But could such a clumsy lie really fool Zheng Linlin?

“So it’s artificial intelligence!” Zheng Linlin breathed a sigh of relief. “I was thinking, how could there be so many ghosts in the world.”

Ling Chen: “……”

He Jinchao winked at him: “Xiao Ling, I’m smart, right?”

Ling Chen twitched his lips, thinking it wasn’t that He Jinchao was particularly smart, but that Zheng Linlin was just too naive.

The little ghost was dissatisfied with He Jinchao and Ling Chen for deceiving her sister like this. She bared her teeth and growled. Ling Chen immediately raised the rope in his hand and warned her, “Behave, you don’t want to get tied up, do you?”

Zheng Linlin immediately felt heartache and wanted to stop him: “Ling Ge, is there some misunderstanding here?”

“There’s no misunderstanding.” He Jinchao made the smart speaker answer for him. “Your sister is a troublemaker. I have surveillance footage of what she did tonight. Do you want to see it?”

A little ghost actually had this much power to cause chaos in the entire mourning hall. He Jinchao naturally didn’t speak kindly.

He activated the surveillance cameras in the yard and played the recorded footage for Zheng Linlin. When Zheng Linlin saw the “her” in the video performing flips, climbing trees, and crashing into doors while riding a small electric scooter, she was stunned and couldn’t close her mouth for a long time.

“Did… Did I really do that? No, wait, was that really Lulu doing that?” Zheng Linlin couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “But why did she do that?”

After asking this, Zheng Linlin suddenly felt her face burn. At that moment, she felt like she was no different from the parents of unruly children in the news.

When facing the trouble caused by their children, the first reaction is, “No way, my baby is always so well-behaved,” and the second reaction is, “Did someone bully her, that’s why she rebelled?” Only when the first two reactions don’t work, do they reluctantly admit the child’s mistake.

“That’s something you’ll have to ask her,” Ling Chen turned to the little ghost hiding in Yun Mei’er’s body. “Did you know Yun Mei’er before? Why did you ruin her funeral?”

“……” The little ghost lowered her head and stubbornly remained silent.

As she lowered her head, her golden wig slipped off, revealing a scalp that was bare from chemotherapy; her thin neck, with the prominent bones showing through the fragile skin, made one feel a pang of sadness.

In this moment, these two girls with tragic backgrounds seemed to merge into one.

Zheng Linlin was in a hurry, unable to believe that the sister she had been thinking about for so long would do such a ridiculous thing!

Suddenly, a thought flashed in her mind. Zheng Linlin’s voice trembled, suppressing the bitterness in her heart, and asked, “Lulu, do you hate me?”

“……”

“If it weren’t for me dragging down mom, you would have had a chance to be born.” Zheng Linlin murmured, “So, you blame me and want to ruin my work, right?”

“……”

“I’m sorry, I know this apology is too light and can’t make up for the life you never had. But I really don’t know how else to compensate you.” She bitterly smiled and reached out to touch her sister’s cheek, but fearing she might frighten her, she withdrew her hand awkwardly. “You can blame me, you can hate me, but this funeral belongs to Yun Mei’er. It’s her and her parents’ last farewell. Could you please leave her body? Afterward, whatever revenge you want to take on me, I won’t complain.”

As Zheng Linlin spoke, she couldn’t help but choke up. She remembered her mother’s tears and the eternal lamps in the temple, her thoughts turning over and over again.

Finally, the little ghost in the coffin reacted. Her dark eyes turned towards Zheng Linlin, and she urgently raised her arms, stretching them towards her sister. She tried to open her mouth to make sounds like “ah… ah…”, but Yun Mei’er’s body was so stiff that every movement she made felt disjointed, unnatural, like something foreign to the living.

Seeing such a horrifying scene, Zheng Linlin didn’t shrink back. Instead, she took a step forward.

“Do you want to say something to your sister?” Zheng Linlin tried to discern, but Yun Mei’er’s vocal cords were no longer functional, and no matter how hard she listened, she couldn’t hear clearly.

Seeing this, He Jinchao couldn’t help but speak up: “You misunderstood. Your sister wants to tell you that she doesn’t blame you.”

Zheng Linlin froze and looked at He Jinchao… and the smart speaker behind him: “Can you understand what she’s saying?”

“Yes.” He Jinchao answered calmly. “My system has hundreds of languages, including ghostly languages, so I can understand them all.”

Ling Chen: “Ahem.”

He Jinchao: “Your sister just said that she didn’t ruin Yun Mei’er’s funeral because she blames you, but because of jealousy.”

Zheng Linlin’s attention immediately focused on those two words: “Jealous? Jealous of who?”

“Of course, she’s jealous of Yun Mei’er.” By now, Ling Chen also understood. Having seen too many partings and farewells, as an adult, when he looked down at the little girl, he could see the unspoken words in her heart clearly. “She’s jealous of Yun Mei’er—‘being alive.’”

Though Yun Mei’er had already passed away, she had once truly existed in this world. Even though she died from a terminal illness, her family, friends, classmates, and teachers would always remember her and keep her alive in their hearts.

But in contrast, Lulu was different. No one in this world knew she had ever existed. She ended her life in her mother’s womb and could only linger in the world as a ghost. If she hadn’t been sustained by the eternal lamps for years, she would have disappeared long ago.

So, Lulu was jealous of Yun Mei’er, jealous of the attention and love everyone gave her, jealous that even her own sister was arranging Yun Mei’er’s funeral.

After Ling Chen revealed the little ghost’s thoughts, her face went through several changes. She glared at Ling Chen angrily, pain seeming to wrap around her like a physical weight.

—-

At first, she was angry and unwilling, as if her shameful cover had been torn off in public. Then, she was in pain and frantic, wanting to use her crying to elicit guilt from everyone, even though she knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Seeing that the little ghost had one foot on the edge of losing control, He Jinchao immediately raised his hand. Ling Chen felt as if something had grabbed the back of his clothes, causing him to involuntarily step back.

“Xiao Ling, be careful!”

He Jinchao shielded him, her expression serious. Ling Chen instinctively clenched the little remaining “divine water” in his pocket. If the little ghost made any more movements, he would throw the divine water on her without hesitation.

Just as the two of them were on guard, a figure brushed past them—Zheng Linlin resolutely walked towards the coffin, unexpectedly reaching out her hands and hugging the little girl inside.

“…..”

It felt as if everything had been paused. The little ghost’s shrill crying immediately stopped, and she turned her head in a daze. Ignoring the creaking sound of her joints, she blankly looked at the young woman holding her.

The little ghost knew that she was terrifying now. Even though she had Yun Mei’er’s body, put on beautiful makeup, and wore a lovely princess dress, she was still a ghost. Her dark eyes were sunken and lifeless, like a pool of black mud, with no reflection.

But Zheng Linlin, who was holding her, had her arms wrapped tightly around her.

At first, Lulu subconsciously wanted to struggle when Zheng Linlin hugged her, but after just one movement, Zheng Linlin pulled her tightly into her embrace.

Zheng Linlin didn’t care about her sister’s current appearance, nor did she care about her own injuries or Lulu’s cold body. What she cared about was only the loneliness in Lulu’s heart.

“It’s okay. Cry, quarrel, feel jealous, hate, it’s all fine. Children have privileges. You can complain as much as you want, act spoiled as much as you want. It’s all okay.” Zheng Linlin’s voice was gentle but full of determination. “Lulu, your sister is here, and I will stay with you.”

Zheng Linlin tightly held her sister in her arms, feeling her cold skin pressed against her own. The body in her arms trembled slightly. At first, she thought it was Lulu trembling, but later she realized it was her own body, which she couldn’t control due to her excitement.

Lulu couldn’t speak, so Zheng Linlin would express it for her; Lulu couldn’t cry, so Zheng Linlin would cry for her; Lulu couldn’t be seen, so Zheng Linlin would remember everything she did in this world.

“…Sis…” In her arms, the little girl opened her mouth, her dry and stiff vocal cords struggling to utter a few broken words. “Sis… I… I’m sorry…”

Zheng Linlin’s eyes widened in surprise, looking down at the face of the girl in her arms.

The young, pale face lifted a mixed smile of regret, and the dark pupils gradually began to show signs of humanity.

At the same time, the small sandbag in Zheng Linlin’s hand began to emit a faint light.

On the side, Ling Chen looked at the scene in front of him and quietly asked He Jinchao, “Did you see that too?”

He Jinchao answered with a hum, “That little ghost… Lulu’s black aura seems to have faded a lot.”

Unlike before, when the air around the little girl was filled with a strong, dark aura, it now seemed to fade inch by inch, no longer dissipating but changing from black to a lighter gray. In contrast, He Jinchao’s body was continuously emitting a faint white light.

He Jinchao jokingly said, “Are we witnessing the whole process of a villain turning evil and then being healed, like in a TV show?”

Ling Chen glanced at him, “Who’s the villain? If two adults beat up a little kid, maybe in the viewers’ eyes, we are the villains.”

“It’s clearly the righteous bystanders teaching the naughty child a lesson.” He Jinchao corrected him. “If we hadn’t acted in time, would Lulu have turned the funeral hall upside down?”

Ling Chen sighed and pointed to the mess around them. “…Do you think there’s any difference between this and being overturned?”

—-

“So, Ling Chen, what you’re saying is that there was a small earthquake last night in our park, and the epicenter was near the mortuary?”

The sun had yet to climb above the mountains, and only a faint glow could be seen on the horizon.

For today’s filming task, Director Song hadn’t slept well all night. The thought that after this episode aired, their funeral center would secure its place as an “Outstanding Demonstration Unit” excited him, so he arrived early at the office, only to be greeted by the mess outside the mortuary.

Director Song stood there in confusion, watching Ling Chen laboriously use a shovel to fill up the messy flower bed.

Director Song: “And what a coincidence, your little electric bike also started moving by itself because of the earthquake and crashed into the mortuary’s door?”

Ling Chen didn’t even blink: “Yes. But don’t worry, the guests weren’t affected. I’ve already fixed up Yun Mei’er’s makeup (actually, just retouched it). The young lady looks beautiful, and she won’t have any regrets for the last journey.”

In fact, it was He Jinchao who was handling the shovel to fix the flower bed, but when Director Song entered, Ling Chen immediately snatched it from him to prevent He Jinchao’s presence from being discovered.

Director Song, becoming more suspicious, said, “I’ll go check the surveillance footage.”

He Jinchao immediately snapped his fingers, and suddenly, a bird dropping fell from the sky, perfectly covering the camera lens.

Ling Chen: “How unfortunate, the camera got dirty. Nothing was recorded yesterday.”

Director Song: “…Hmm…”

Director Song rubbed his smooth bald head and scrutinized his capable subordinate in front of him. Ling Chen, with his sleep-deprived face, remained calm as Director Song looked him over.

Ling Chen had great mental resilience. Even after all that happened last night, he didn’t show a single crack in front of his leader.

So what if there was an earthquake?

So what if the little electric bike crashed into the mortuary?

While Director Song was lost in thought, he failed to notice that the door of the mortuary quietly cracked open behind him.

Zheng Linlin sneaked out from the mortuary, and from her right pocket, a faint glow was emitted. A child of about three or four years old, made of light, closely followed her, mimicking her movements with a sense of stealth.

Zheng Linlin carefully circled behind Director Song without alerting him.

However, the child beside her stopped and waved at the air: “Uncle He, I’m sorry. I’ve caused trouble for you and Uncle Ling during this time.”

He Jinchao, arms crossed, looked down at the little one, sighing, “Little friend, you should reincarnate soon. The entertainment industry is complex. You can help your sister once or twice, but over time, it will shorten her life. The resources you’re getting for her are depleting her future.”

The little girl showed a look of fear, as if she had understood He Jinchao’s words.

“Uncle He, why don’t you reincarnate?” the little girl asked curiously. “Why do you stay by Uncle Ling’s side?”

“…” Hearing this, He Jinchao was momentarily stunned and turned to look behind him.

Not far behind, Ling Chen was still playing the game of “lying with eyes wide open” with Director Song.

Director Song raised his hands dramatically, waving them around. “Ling Chen, listen to yourself. You’re saying there was an earthquake, but it’s too much of a coincidence! I need to check…”

As he spoke, he began to turn around.

Ling Chen decisively grabbed his shoulder: “Director, do you not trust me? I’ve been working diligently at the company for so many years, clocking in on time every day, working unpaid overtime, and doing night shifts. Am I really that unworthy of your trust? Last night, I stayed up all night to do makeup for Yun Mei’er, and this morning, I worked hard to finish the tasks. I didn’t expect that not only did I not receive your praise, but now I’m being doubted.”

Director Song: “I wasn’t…”

“Director! You really disappoint me, an old employee!” Ling Chen pretended to be upset.

Ling Chen’s acting wasn’t great, but in order to buy time for Zheng Linlin’s retreat, he kept holding onto Director Song, not allowing him to turn around or look back.

Seeing Ling Chen’s “efforts,” He Jinchao shook his head with amusement.

The man turned around and bent down to look at the little girl in front of him. After thinking for a moment, he simply squatted down to her level, meeting her gaze for the first time.

“Uncle He is staying here for something more important,” He Jinchao said, reaching out to gently touch the girl’s raven-black hair. “Once I’ve finished what I need to do, I’ll have to leave. Your Uncle Ling will be gone too.”

—There were only seventy-five days left before their separation.