“I don’t feel sorry for that Seventh Concubine,”  

Before Ting Lan became a maid, she had a rough background—she was bought from a pawnbroker. So she was clearly disgusted by such things. “She must have a problem for her to torture a child like that.”  

Xu Ruyi listened without commenting. He only warned Hua Zhuo and the others not to go near any water in the Liang household. Then, the four of them parted ways.  

 

That night, Hua Zhuo didn’t sleep well.  

 

In her courtyard, there was a towering willow tree in the front yard. Its shadow stretched over the courtyard wall, casting flickering shapes into her room. Hua Zhuo had to repeatedly sing “The Most Dazzling Folk Style” by Phoenix Legend in her mind—over and over again—until she sang herself to sleep.  

She was sleeping in a daze when—  

Shadows from the trees swayed and flickered on the hazy bed canopy. Suddenly, Hua Zhuo felt something was off. She struggled to open her eyes and saw that, outside the canopy, someone was standing there.  

A pitch-black figure was, inch by inch, approaching her.  

“…Ting Lan?”  

 

Hua Zhuo mumbled sleepily, “Why are you walking around…?”  

 

“Miss.”  

 

For some reason, though the voice was the same as before, when it entered her ears, it sent a chill through her heart. The unease made her pause, but she was too drowsy to resist—the heaviness in her eyelids was overwhelming.  

 

“Can I come in?”  

 

“…What?”  

 

“When I was asleep, I felt like my pulse was beating too fast. Miss, can I feel your pulse?”  

 

The voice outside the bed canopy carried a cool, jade-like quality.  

 

“You’re talking nonsense… go ahead and check?”  

 

“Can I come in?”  

 

Even in her drowsy state, Hua Zhuo sensed something was off.  

 

It was the seventh month of the lunar calendar.  

 

Autumn had just begun, yet an inexplicable chill crept over her body. She suppressed the goosebumps rising on her skin and stared at the dark figure beyond the canopy.  

 

The figure stood beneath the shadow of the tree. It could have easily lifted the canopy at any moment.  

 

Hua Zhuo glanced at the wooden talisman hanging from her bed canopy.  

 

It was a warding charm that Xu Ruyi had made for her, using a drop of her own fingertip blood.

She bit her lip tightly. “If you want to check my pulse, just do it?”  

 

“Can I come in?”  

 

“I already said, if you want to check my pulse, then do it.”  

 

“Then… can I come in?”  

 

“If you’re going to check my pulse, just do it. Stop asking anything else.”  

 

This time, the shadow outside remained silent for a long time.

 

Hua Zhuo endured the cold sweat covering her entire body. She didn’t know how long it had been before she finally saw the figure outside suddenly disappear, leaving only the eerie shadows of the trees.  

 

It took her a long time to lie back down again. Even though she was drenched in cold sweat and wanted to use the restroom, she didn’t dare get out of bed.  

 

As a result, the next day, Hua Zhuo was exhausted. After washing up and eating in her room, she went straight back to bed.  

 

“Third Miss, you’re going to sleep now?”  

 

The sun was shining brightly. Hua Zhuo didn’t dare to close the bed canopy and looked outside, where Ting Lan was standing with slightly disappointed expression. Knowing that Ting Lan loved excitement, Hua Zhuo waved her hand. “If you want to go watch the opera this afternoon, just go. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m tired, I need to sleep. Don’t disturb me.”

 

“Oh…”  

 

Ting Lan pouted, but then she heard the weak voice of the young lady from inside the canopy.  

 

The Third Princess was truly a beauty.  

 

At this noon hour, the sunlight was bright, filtering through the bed canopy and softly illuminating the cinnabar mole between her brows. Her ink-black hair cascaded over the bed like flowing water. With one hand propped against her temple, her strikingly gorgeous face carried an indescribable air of nobility and arrogance.  

 

“Ting Lan, did you wake up last night?”  

 

“Huh?” Ting Lan was stunned. “No, I didn’t. Miss, you know I always sleep soundly and never wake up in the middle of the night.”

The girl inside the canopy, dressed in a thin autumn-colored robe, didn’t respond.  

 

After a long pause, she finally lowered her long lashes and softly responded, “Got it.”

 

Ting Lan didn’t think much of it. She cleaned up the dishes, but just then, a commotion came from outside the courtyard. Guessing that the opera troupe had arrived, she eagerly craned her neck, debating whether to go take a look—when she suddenly noticed someone standing outside Huaiguang Pavilion.  

 

That person had appeared silently.  

 

Dressed in white, with ink-black hair adorned with white flowers, she stood under the blazing sun. Her skin was as pale as paper, startling Ting Lan.  

 

“F-Fifth Lady?”  

 

For some reason, Ting Lan felt an inexplicable fondness for the Fifth Lady. But out of consideration for the Third Princess, she had avoided speaking to her these past few days.  

 

Now that the Fifth Lady had come, a bright, unrestrained smile spread across Ting Lan’s face.

“Mm.” Liang Shanyuan smiled at her, eyes curving gently.  

 

For some reason, the moment Ting Lan met her gaze, her heartbeat quickened. Those pitch-black eyes held a kind of eerie, ghostly beauty that made her uneasy.  

 

“Ting Lan, do you want to go outside and take a look? It’s quite lively.”  

 

Ting Lan hadn’t expected her to remember her name and couldn’t help but smile. But she didn’t lose her sense of reason either.  

 

“I won’t go out, Fifth Lady. I need to watch over my lady—she’s sleeping right now.”  

 

“I’ll watch over her for you.”  

 

“…What?”  

 

“I’ll watch over her for you.”  

 

She repeated herself, tilting her head slightly at Ting Lan.  

 

“Alright?”  

 

—

 

As dusk settled, the light grew dim and faint.

 

The shadows of the trees loomed eerily. A woman in white sat at the edge of the bed, where the canopy had been left open. The room was empty, save for a gilt-inlaid Boshan incense burner on the table, releasing the soft fragrance of citrus.  

 

Wisps of smoke curled in the air, casting a ghostly pallor over the woman’s already pale face.  

 

Her long, ink-black hair draped over her shoulders as she turned her face slightly, gazing at the girl lying on the bed.  

 

Perhaps she was too warm in her sleep—she had kicked off the blanket, exposing a large expanse of fair-skinned neck. The thin robe barely covered what it should, while two delicate, jade-white legs peeked out from beneath the golden brocade quilt. Her feet, soft and unblemished as if they had never touched the ground, rested carelessly, her arms also slipped free of the covers.  

 

The contrast between gold and white only made her skin appear even more luminous, like polished jade.  

 

Liang Shanyuan sat in the wooden chair, his expression unreadable.  

 

To his eyes, Hua Zhuo was sleeping within a barrier of raging flames.

 

If an evil spirit so much as extended a single finger into this barrier, it would experience an indescribable, searing pain.  

 

Liang Shanyuan glanced at the wooden talisman hanging above Hua Zhuo’s bed. Just then, the girl inside the bed let out a soft hum and turned over.  

 

Like a piece of white jade, her arm draped over the edge of the bed.  

 

It was an exceptionally beautiful arm—especially her fingertips, which carried a faint cherry-pink hue.  

 

No one knew how much time passed.  

 

Liang Shanyuan slowly extended his ghostly pale fingertips. But the moment they passed the edge of the bed, he bit his lip tightly, feeling a scorching pain as if his fingers were burning. His fingertips trembled, yet he still reached forward and gently wrapped his hand around Hua Zhuo’s wrist.

 

His trembling breath gradually steadied.  

 

No matter how painful the burning sensation was, it was still far better than the relentless torment of his soul being scorched day and night.  

 

Far, far better.  

 

So much so that, for a fleeting moment, he almost felt dazed.  

 

Liang Shanyuan’s expression remained calm as his fingertips traced along the girl’s arm—from her wrist, up her slightly fuller forearm, then back down again. Slowly, deliberately, he brushed against her slender fingertips, over and over, inch by inch.  

 

How could such a thing exist in this world?  

 

As a vengeful ghost, he had endured the agony of his soul burning endlessly. Only when he killed and devoured a human heart could he taste a fleeting moment of relief.  

 

And now, had the heavens truly placed a cure before him?

 

If he were to open his ghostly eyes now, he would see his hand nearly burned beyond recognition. Yet, Liang Shanyuan still held tightly onto Hua Zhuo’s arm.  

 

He refused to believe that the heavens would be so kind to him.  

He had to keep this noble young lady firmly in his grasp.  

 

He wasn’t sure if cutting off her hands and feet would still make her effective as a remedy. If there was any other way, he would rather not harm this cure—after all, as someone skilled in medicine, he understood better than anyone that even the slightest mistake could lead to complete failure.  

 

If he severed her limbs and rendered the only cure in this world useless, then what would he do?  

 

Yet, he disliked this noble young lady’s temperament. Not because of her arrogance or pride.  

 

But because she was wary of him.  

 

Liang Shanyuan had never met anyone so cautious around him before. Animals with spiritual sensitivity, like cats and dogs, would instinctively fear him when they sensed his ghostly presence.  

 

But why was Hua Zhuo afraid of him?  

 

He couldn’t understand.

 

Was it because Hua Zhuo, like cats and dogs, could sense something unusual?  

 

How did one get close to a cat?  

 

Show friendliness. Don’t startle her. Feed her. Let her see that he meant no harm…  

 

Sooner or later, this cat would become his, subconsciously exposing her belly to him in trust.  

 

Liang Shanyuan’s gaze deepened in thought. The more he looked at the girl lying in bed, the more she resembled an orange cat.  

 

After a long moment, he reluctantly withdrew his fingertips.

 

*

As dusk settled, the distant sounds of a lively crowd and the flickering glow of lanterns drifted in from outside.  

Hua Zhuo sat before her dressing mirror, gazing at her right wrist under the candlelight.  

 

Something felt strange.  

 

For some reason, she kept feeling a lingering chill on that patch of skin.  

 

Her system was always busy, only appearing when necessary. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly but didn’t dwell on it for long.  

 

She needed to go find Xu Ruyi and the others.

 

She had only meant to take a short nap in the morning but ended up sleeping until late in the evening. To her surprise, Ting Lan had actually abandoned her to go watch the opera.  

 

Being alone in the room unsettled her. She felt safer sticking close to the main group and finding someone reliable to rely on.  

 

With Ting Lan gone, Hua Zhuo fumbled clumsily with a jade hairpin, struggling to put up her hair. After finally managing a simple bun, she changed into a fresh set of clothes and stepped outside.  

 

As she crossed the threshold, the red glow from the hanging lanterns cast a warm hue over her face. She descended the steps, but just as she reached the last one, a sudden chill swept over her, making her skin prickle with goosebumps.  

She turned back abruptly.  

 

Huaiguang Pavilion was still Huaiguang Pavilion.  

But as she peered inside through the courtyard gate, the darkness swallowed everything. Though she couldn’t make out the details, she felt as if all her belongings had vanished, leaving the place both unfamiliar and eerily familiar.  

 

The red lanterns swayed in the wind at the corners of the eaves, trembling slightly. Against the night’s darkness, they looked like two drops of bloodied tears.

 

A chilling sensation crawled up Hua Zhuo’s spine.  

Red lanterns.  

 

Red lanterns?!  

 

Her heart pounded wildly. Just then, from some unknown distance, the sharp crackle of firecrackers rang out. She hastily stepped forward, moving toward the sound—only to suddenly realize that the entire Liang Manor was completely empty.  

The trees no longer swayed. The blood-red lanterns hanging at every doorway seemed frozen in place, as if fixed in time. Everything had fallen into a deathly stillness, even the air she breathed in carried a damp, icy weight.  

 

Cold sweat dripped down her back. Hua Zhuo clenched her fingers tightly, just about to call for the system—when she heard a strange, unsettling sound.

 

It sounded like an animal crying out.  

 

The wails were miserable, chilling her to the bone.  

 

She had just turned her head when she noticed something strange—inside the side ancestral hall, where a plaque bearing the words Houde Zaiwu (“Great Virtue Carries All Things”) hung, a brilliant candlelight had suddenly ignited.  

 

Two sandalwood chairs sat empty, unoccupied.  

 

Instead, three men stood around a massive iron cage crammed full of monkeys.  

 

The man on the right wore an expensive winter coat with a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. He bent slightly, observing the caged monkeys with satisfaction, nodding approvingly. His deeply wrinkled face stretched into a smile.  

 

It was none other than Master Liang, Liang Changjun.  

 

“Big brother, are you pleased?”

 

The man standing to the left of the cage wore a blue cotton robe and a matching winter hat. He looked much younger than Liang Changjun, slightly plump, and his smile made him appear particularly kind as he spoke.  

Beside him stood another man, dressed in a white cotton robe. He was lean and wiry, also watching the monkeys in the cage with an amused grin.  

 

Inside the iron cage, the monkeys huddled together, their cries sharp and sorrowful. They screeched and slammed against the bars with all their might, making the heavy cage tremble with their frantic struggle.  

Hua Zhuo stood at the doorway, her face deathly pale as she realized with horror—these men couldn’t see her.  

[System, hello? Are you there? What is happening?!] 

 

[Hello, Zhuozhuo.]

 

The system’s steady, mechanical voice echoed, making Hua Zhuo let out a long breath of relief.

[Hmm, detecting instability in your soul; combined with the chaotic magnetic field within Liang Manor and the presence of vengeful ghosts, your soul has been affected by lingering resentments. As a result, you may randomly witness scenes that certain ghosts saw before their deaths.]

[Huh?]

[Can you tell which ghost’s memories I’m seeing?]

[Sorry, Zhuozhuo, that is not possible.]

Hua Zhuo frowned slightly, exhaling again.

[I won’t get hurt here, right?]

 

[Probably not.]

 

‘Probably not,’ huh…

 

Hua Zhuo closed her eyes for a moment. Even as mild-tempered as she was, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of irritation.  

 

This was way too dangerous.  

 

[But Zhuozhuo, this is also a good thing. The biggest flaw of ‘Encountering Ghosts’ is that the author abandoned it, leaving every storyline incomplete. The author never knew that the world she created was real. If you can use your spiritual connection to piece together the missing parts, it would be an immense act of merit.]

 

Hua Zhuo didn’t have time to respond because, inside the small ancestral hall, Liang Changjun had moved.  

 

He strolled around the iron cage filled with monkeys, laughing nonstop. The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as he called out, “Wonderful, Third Brother! I’ve been wondering—where do you even find these? Each one looks so full of life…”  

 

The monkeys screeched piercingly from within the cage, but the three men inside the hall only smiled in response.  

“Big Brother,” Third Master Liang, Liang quietly responded, his every move carrying a hint of flattery, “I searched all over for these. I won’t lie, it took a lot of effort. But I got them just for those young masters in your manor.”

---

TN:

ML is still as crazy ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

next update will be multiple chapters, thanks for reading 😁