Hua Zhuo let out a breath, wiped the cold sweat on the back of her neck, and walked up the stairs.

The night was dark.

The room was filled with mosquito repellent incense, and Ting Lan was sleeping on the floor, snoring softly.

On the soft couch, the gauzy bed curtains softened the moonlight, casting a gentle glow on the young girl’s serene, delicate face as she lay with her eyes closed.

Hua Zhuo was conversing with the system. 

[Zhuozhuo, to unlock the plot of Hua Zhuo’s death requires 150 points of yin merit. Unlocking key terms to watch for in this storyline requires 10 points of yin merit per keyword.]

In her mind, Hua Zhuo gazed at the firefly-like specks of light before her. “May I ask how much yin merit I currently have?” 

“Zhuozhuo, you currently have a total of 70 points of yin merit.” 

Hua Zhuo touched her lips, pondering for a moment. Unlocking the death storyline would require her to scold Liang Shanyuan more—repeatedly and creatively, according to the system.

It looked like she’d have to exhaust everything she had ever learned…

“Unlock a keyword.” 

“Monkey brain.” 

“Monkey brain?” 

“Spending 10 points of yin merit will unlock the interpretation of this keyword. Zhuozhuo, would you like to proceed with unlocking?”

Hua Zhuo hesitated for a moment, staring at the five stars beneath the “monkey brain” keyword. Thanks to her newcomer perks, she had drawn a high-star key clue on her first try. After some thought, she reluctantly nodded, feeling the pain of the expenditure.

With the sound of a coin dropping, the system spoke in its usual flat, mechanical tone: 

[Monkey brain—whoever eats it will gain an intelligent mind. But will consuming it anger the gods and buddhas? The greedy mortals do not know. ]

“…That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

The transaction ended, and Hua Zhuo fell into a deep sleep.

*

The dawn light was faint and hazy.

A young apothecary’s assistant, carrying a medicine chest on his back, walked under the dim morning sun. Noticing a beggar singing Lotus Drop while holding a filthy bowl and getting closer, he hastily flicked his sleeve.

“Shoo, shoo! Filthy beggar, don’t bring bad luck so early in the morning!”

After speaking, he hurriedly sidestepped like he was avoiding a plague. Ahead, the half-open wooden door of the Liang Family’s Miraculous Hands clinic came into view. The apothecary’s assistant cleared his throat, smoothed his slightly disheveled hair from the walk, and quickened his pace to pull the door fully open.

Tiny specks of dust swirled in the pale morning light, casting a dim glow into the shadowy clinic. The air was thick with the bitter scent of medicine. A woman in plain robes, wearing white jade earrings, was gently holding a dirty child’s arm, taking their pulse.

Since she was mourning a loss in her family, she had her dark hair loosely tied back, adorned with a white mourning flower. The creaking door didn’t distract her, nor did it break the hopeful gaze of the child, who was sitting on a wooden stool and looking up at her expectantly.

The apothecary’s assistant tiptoed inside, carefully placing the medicine chest down while occasionally stealing glances toward the counter.

After a while, Liang Shanyuan released the child’s arm, picked up a wolf-hair brush, and wrote out a prescription, placing it on the counter.

“Please take the trouble to decoct the medicine. This child has no guardian at home—make sure to portion it properly for them to take on schedule.”

Her voice was gentle. After speaking, she tidied up the items on the table and prepared to leave.

“Fifth Miss, you came so early—are you leaving already?” 

“Mm. I didn’t rest last night, so I went out for a walk. I saw this child being turned away from another clinic for not having consultation fees, so I brought them here.”

She spoke softly, pulling open a drawer and placing a few pieces of broken silver inside. “If Third Uncle comes by later, please help me keep this from him.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

The Liang family had three masters. Liang Shanyuan was adopted by the first wife of the main household. The eldest master held an official title, the second master was a businessman, while the third master was rather unremarkable—he inherited the family’s clinic but lacked any real medical skills. 

Aside from the two elderly physicians they had hired, the ones who helped out were the self-taught Fifth Miss, Liang Shanyuan, and Eighth Miss, Liang Nanyin.

The two young women were like Guanyin herself, descending to save the suffering.

Especially Liang Shanyuan— 

Her beauty was striking, almost too much. If not for the kindness she carried in her heart, she might have been mistaken for something otherworldly. In the first few years after she was adopted into the Liang family, rumors had even painted her as some kind of ghost or phantom. 

“You’ve been up all night—be sure to get some rest when you go back. Maybe drink a cup of cassia seed tea.” 

The apothecary’s assistant picked up the prescription from the counter, his fingers lingering over the elegant handwriting. His eyes followed her with concern, and his words were hesitant, as if each one he spoke might be his last.

“Don’t overwork yourself, Fifth Miss.” 

“I doubt I’ll get any rest even if I go back.”

The woman’s face was pale, her long hair cascading down her back. Her plain robes were nearly the same shade as her skin, making her seem like melting snow, on the verge of vanishing.

Hearing her words, the apothecary’s assistant suddenly remembered. “Ah, that’s right—I forgot. The Ghost Tamers are here, aren’t they?” 

“Mm.” 

A Ghost Tamer—the very mention of it was intriguing. Though there were always stories of ghosts causing trouble, common folk rarely believed in ghosts. The assistant clearly didn’t either.

“If you ask me, they’re just frauds playing tricks, disturbing your peace for no reason. They’re bound to get bad karma for it…” 

“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

The apothecary’s assistant met Liang Shanyuan’s gaze—her pupils were deep black, framed by delicately upturned eyes. 

When beauty reached an extreme, it could sometimes feel eerie and unsettling.

And from time to time, that was exactly the feeling Liang Shanyuan gave him.

“I don’t believe in that stuff. Does Fifth Miss?” 

He spoke lightly, half-joking.

“Mm, I do.”

Liang Shanyuan gave him a small smile, her expression unreadable, then she turned and stepped outside.

The sun had risen higher. For a fleeting moment, its light cast her excessively beautiful face in a ghostly, almost unnatural shade of blue.

The beggar singing Lotus Drop caught sight of her, and his tune faltered mid-verse.

The woman approached with a gentle, compassionate expression, shielding her eyes from the sun with her arm. She bent down and, without a word, placed a few pieces of broken silver into his battered bowl before walking away.

By the time she returned to the Liang residence, daylight had fully come out. A thin sheen of cold sweat formed on her forehead, and she looked drained. Lifting her head, she immediately noticed that the vase in the main hall had been moved—her phoenix-shaped eyes narrowed slightly.

Not only that, but the calligraphy and paintings that originally hung on the walls had also been taken down. Servants bustled about, their feet barely touching the ground as they rearranged the furniture.

Among them, Liang Nanyin—who was helping move things around—approached her and called out, “Fifth Sister.” 

“Mm.” Liang Shanyuan smiled faintly. “What’s going on? Why the sudden change in layout? Didn’t the feng shui master previously say that everything should stay exactly as it was?” 

“That’s right.”

Liang Nanyin nodded. Her face radiated genuine kindness—more so than anyone else. Her black hair was neatly pinned up with a jade hairpin, and a Buddha pendant rested against her collarbone. Her voice was soft and soothing.

When the two stood together, the busy servants couldn’t help but steal glances.

The Eighth Miss had always been gentle and compassionate. But when the Fifth Miss was first adopted a few years ago, she had been different. No one knew exactly when she changed, but at some point, it was as if she had suddenly achieved some kind of enlightenment. Her temperament had grown more and more like the Eighth Miss ever since. 

“Then why the sudden change?”

“The Ghost Tamer said the household’s feng shui is bad. Something about… ‘Reversed Bow Sha’? So, they’re adjusting the layout.”

“I see.”

Seeing that Liang Shanyuan was about to return to her room, Liang Nanyin spoke up, 

“Fifth Sister, one of the Ghost Tamers, has requested you to come to Huaiguang Pavilion.”

She looked a bit concerned. “Nothing bad happened, right?”

“No.” Liang Shanyuan’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “A noble young lady arrived last night and said she wanted to gift me some clothes and jewelry. I suppose it’s about that.”

The servant who had been moving vases last night overheard their conversation and hurriedly spoke up on Liang Shanyuan’s behalf.

“Eighth Miss, you don’t know! That noble lady is probably from Chang’an—she’s arrogant and impossible to get along with. The moment she arrived, she was already jealous of Fifth Miss’s beauty! She looked down on us, calling this place a backwater, lowly household unworthy of refined company. Fifth Miss was insulted for no reason! Now she’s calling her over again, probably just to humiliate her!”

Liang Nanyin’s gentle eyes widened with surprise. “How can this be…? That’s not right at all! Fifth Sister, let me go with you.”

“No need.” Liang Shanyuan shook her head. “It’s nothing serious. You have your own things to take care of.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she took a step up and walked to a dark place with no one around. Her face was covered in an endless shade of darkness, and the smoke emanating from the Ninth Brother Memorial Hall lingered around her even though it was far away. After calming down, she continued to move forward.

*

When Liang Shanyuan arrived, Hua Zhuo was in the middle of eating. 

Ting Lan had secured a small private kitchen just for her meals. Hearing someone approach, Hua Zhuo lifted her chin arrogantly and signaled for Ting Lan to call the visitor in. 

“You—go to the inner room.”

She instructed Ting Lan, who, though reluctant, still obeyed and stepped away.

At that moment, Liang Shanyuan entered. 

Just like the night before, she wore plain white robes with no adornments in her hair. But this time… 

“Are you feeling unwell?” 

Hua Zhuo stared at her, slightly stunned.

Was everyone in this story an idiot?

Liang Shanyuan was hauntingly beautiful—so pale she looked almost translucent, her skin tinged with an eerie shade of blue. And yet, no one seemed to notice something was wrong with her?

“Unwell?”

Liang Shanyuan asked in return, “Why do you say that, Miss?”

“Your complexion looks terrible.”

Hua Zhuo had originally planned to curse at her today to earn some Yin merit points, but looking at her now… How could she bring herself to do it?  

“If you’re unwell… why even come?” She muttered, completely unaware of the sudden shift in Liang Shanyuan’s gaze as she stared at her—something about it wasn’t quite right. 

Outside, the sunlight gradually dimmed, casting flickering tree shadows into the room.

Hua Zhuo took a bite of her meat bun. 

Then—

A sharp alarm blared in her mind.

Her fingers stiffened. A chill crawled up her scalp.

“Terrible?”

At that moment, Liang Shanyuan’s soft, gentle voice floated over.

“How terrible, exactly?”

She had been careless.

But how could this be? Was she really the only one who could see the eerie pallor on Liang Shanyuan’s face?

Hua Zhuo lowered her head slightly, only to feel a shadow creeping closer.

A faint, bitter, medicinal scent surrounded her.

The shadow enveloped her. 

Then, Liang Shanyuan crouched down in front of her.

Her pitch-black eyes—as deep and empty as a dried-up well—locked onto her.

“Miss?”

Her voice was soft. Too soft. 

“What exactly looks terrible? Tell me.”

It was like a ghost, right?

Her lips curled ever so slightly, just as she was about to say more—

But the petite girl in bright yellow robes lifted her almond-shaped eyes and glared at her.

“Why are you getting so close to me?”

Suppressing the chill creeping up her spine, Hua Zhuo leaned in.  

And stared right back.

Liang Shanyuan looked like she wasn’t even breathing.

There wasn’t a single visible pore on her face.

In Hua Zhuo’s eyes, she looked like one of those eerie paper effigies burned for the dead—her skin as white as thin paper, tinged faintly blue, her phoenix eyes pitch black, and her lips blood red. 

Last night, under the cover of darkness, it hadn’t been so obvious.

But in the morning light, everything felt terribly wrong.

The tree shadows swayed.

Her fingers subconsciously tightened around the bun in her hand.

Trying to mask her unease, Hua Zhuo lifted her chin, and arrogantly spoke, 

“It’s all your Liang family’s fault. The bed you prepared was too hard, so I didn’t sleep well.”

She exhaled and forced herself to casually look at Liang Shanyuan before adding, 

“But looking at you now… you actually seem fine. Quite energetic, even.”

“Fine and energetic again?” 

Liang Shanyuan looked at her, suddenly finding it somewhat amusing. 

This petite little girl, clutching a half-eaten meat bun—had let the savory broth drip onto her hands without even noticing.

Since last night, he had sensed that something about this spoiled young lady wasn’t quite right.

Due to the lingering ghostly aura around him—and his own unnatural beauty—everyone who laid eyes on him either admired him or felt drawn to him.

Everyone… except her. 

On the surface, she acted arrogant and willful. 

But deep down… 

She seemed afraid of him.

Why?

Aside from noticing something was wrong with him—what other reason could there be?

“Stop crowding me! You’re so annoying! I hate tall people like you—you make me feel suffocated!”

Hua Zhuo snapped, gripping her half-eaten meat bun. 

A sharp chime rang in her mind—+5 merit points.

She barely had time to feel relieved when she finally noticed the meat broth dripping all over her hand. Hastily, she reached for a handkerchief— 

But before she could grab it, something cold touched the back of her hand.

Ice cold.

For a brief moment, both of them froze.

Hua Zhuo flinched.

That chill was indescribable—like reaching out in a graveyard at night and brushing against a tombstone. 

Her hand jerked away in reflex.

The sudden movement sent the broth spilling all over her clothes.

Hua Zhuo: …

But this time, Liang Shanyuan didn’t linger.

She simply placed the handkerchief on the table and said, “I’ll be going then. Don’t forget to wipe your hands, young miss.”

Hua Zhuo watched her leave. Only then did her tense body finally relax, letting out a long breath.

But she didn’t dare use the handkerchief she gave her.

Instead, she called Ting Lan over to help her clean up. 

She had no idea. —

The moment Liang Shanyuan stepped out, he walked straight through the covered corridor, heading toward the darkest corner of the walkway.  

There, he finally sat down.

His pitch-black eyes stared blankly at his own pale fingers.

Strange.

His gaze shifted.  

Beside him, an ant struggled to carry a tiny crumb along the ground.

Slowly, Liang Shanyuan reached out, pressing his fingertip against it and crushing it with ease.

And just as he expected— 

Pain.

A dull, creeping pain spread from his fingertip, crawling through his limbs and into his very bones.

He was nothing more than a wandering soul, a lonely ghost lingering in the mortal world.

Even before, he had always avoided sunlight, barely surviving in the depths of the night.

Now, even with a borrowed body, he lived in constant pain—a pain that never faded, though the darkness of night made it slightly more bearable.

After all, the human world was never meant to keep him, yet he couldn’t move on.

Through the years, he had discovered something— 

Acts of kindness, helping others—they seemed to ease the pain ever so slightly.

That was why he stayed.

At the Liang estate, he followed in the footsteps of the elegant and compassionate Eighth Young Miss, learning the art of medicine, imitating a kindness he didn’t truly understand.

Yet despite the years of effort, the relief was minimal.

But just now— 

Liang Shanyuan touched his fingertips.

After that brief contact with the spoiled young lady’s hand—

For the first time, the pain vanished.

He sat there in the shadows, unmoving.

His face, as pale as a paper effigy, remained expressionless for a long while.

Then, slowly, his blood-red lips curved into a smile.

Interesting.

---

TN:

who doesn’t love a crazy ml? ⁠(⁠^⁠O⁠^⁠)