“You’re so thoughtful, Third Brother.” 

“It’s nothing, Big Brother! As long as the three of us always work together and make the Liang family bigger and stronger, I’d be willing to do anything!” 

“That’s right, Big Brother,” 

Second Master Liang, Liang Cigong, spoke up. He was too thin, with dark circles under his eyes, and when he smiled, he revealed a set of yellowed teeth.

“I’m not smart, and neither are the sons I’ve had. None of them are clever. All we can do is business. Unlike you, Big Brother—even the daughters you’ve raised are better than my useless blockhead sons. Our Liang family truly depends on you to prosper.” 

Liang Changjun, clearly accustomed to such flattery, didn’t deny it. Instead, he bent down to look at the monkey screaming inside the iron cage.  

“That’s true, especially Shiqi and Shanyuan—they’re really smart. Big Brother, you don’t even know! The other day, Shanyuan followed Nanyin to my medical clinic to help out. At first, I thought they were just two little girls playing around, but in just a few days, Shanyuan had memorized an entire medical book backwards and could even help the physicians prepare prescriptions!” 

Liang Molian couldn’t hide the amazement in his voice. 

“Third Brother, you must have forgotten. Don’t you remember when Shanyuan was five years old and took over the bookkeeper’s job at my shop? She’s too intelligent! If only she were born a boy, our Liang family could’ve raised a top scholar! What a pity! Truly a pity!” Liang Cigong sighed and shook his head.

“Big Brother,” Liang Molian asked, “has Shanyuan ever eaten monkey brains?”

Liang Changjun’s smile had faded. Upon hearing this, he sighed. “She hasn’t eaten it. How many years have you been sending it? Besides, such an expensive delicacy—giving it to a girl—would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” 

“That’s true…” 

Liang Molian nodded, but he seemed to have something on his mind.

“Third Brother, what’s wrong?” Liang Cigong asked. 

Liang Changjun also turned to look at him. 

“I’m afraid if I say it, Big Brother will get angry. Maybe I shouldn’t.” 

“Go on,” Liang Changjun chuckled. “Since when do I have such a bad temper? We’re family—no need to keep things hidden.” 

Liang Molian licked his lips, his words hesitant. Hua Zhuo watched the flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows over his gentle face, yet an uneasy feeling crept into his heart.

Like a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Big Brother, Shanyuan, and Shanren—they’re twins, aren’t they?” 

“Third Brother, why are you asking? Everyone knows that,” Liang Cigong said, puzzled. 

Liang Molian licked his dry lips again.

That kind and gentle face—whether it was the flickering candlelight or something else—seemed split into halves, one illuminated, the other shrouded in darkness.

“Yes, born of the same mother, from the same womb. Shanren is ordinary, but Shanyuan is almost too intelligent. Doesn’t that seem strange? Big Brother, I’ve traveled far and wide, and I once heard a rumor…”

“What rumor?” 

Liang Changjun stopped looking at the monkey. Annoyed by its sharp cries, he kicked the cage, making the monkey wail even more miserably. Just as he was about to kick it again, Liang Molian spoke up. 

“Daughters—they’re just burdens, money drains, debts a family can never shake off. Big Brother, you’ve seen it yourself. Ever since Jingjing died, Shiqi has gotten noticeably smarter. And with Shanyuan and Shanren being twins, it’s even more unusual. A daughter being smarter than her brother—that goes against the natural order. It means she stole his intelligence in the womb. We can’t just stand by and watch. We have to return that intelligence to its rightful owner.” 

Liang Changjun was silent for a long time.

Liang Cigong let out an awkward laugh. “Third Brother, where did you even hear that? Concubine Yang is intelligent—Shiqi takes after his mother. He was born smart, that’s all—” 

“How do you return it?” 

Liang Changjun suddenly asked. 

Hua Zhuo’s heart sank. The sound of the monkey’s pitiful wails filled her ears, and an overwhelming sense of absurd terror washed over her. She took a step forward— 

And in an instant, the scene before her shifted.

She had… entered someone else’s memories again? 

Hua Zhuo stood in stunned silence, surrounded by the warmth of spring. Tender leaves sprouted from willow branches, lush green grass spread across the ground, and golden sunlight cascaded in broad waves over the earth.

She was standing in front of a moon gate, looking ahead at two young girls.

One of them stood beside a carved flower vase—a girl dressed in pink, wearing a Buddhist pendant. 

Liang Nanyin. 

Hua Zhuo knew of her, not just from seeing her at a funeral, but because she had read about her before. The book had described Liang Nanyin as a kind and gentle person. 

But now, Hua Zhuo found herself instinctively wary of these so-called kind faces.

The Liang Nanyin before her looked younger than when Hua Zhuo had last seen her. Yet even in her youth, her delicate brows and soft gaze exuded a natural warmth and gentleness.

She was speaking with a girl whose face was obscured by a hazy mist.

“Fifth Sister, I’m really worried,” Liang Nanyin frowned. “I’m afraid Jingjing won’t make it this time. Concubine Yang isn’t taking care of her, and we can’t even get a doctor to come. What should we do?” 

“Don’t be afraid,” 

The girl with the mist-covered face spoke, her voice unclear.

“I… method… will… fine…” 

Hua Zhuo clenched her fists slightly.

Fifth Sister. 

So, this was the real Liang Shanyuan.

Was it because Liang Shanyuan had already died in reality that Hua Zhuo couldn’t hear her words clearly or see her face?

Liang Nanyin still looked troubled. “Fifth Sister, if I’m not around, please watch over Concubine Yang. I don’t know what’s been going on lately, but she keeps feeding Jingjing monkey brains. Jingjing is terrified of them. She’s already weak, and now she’s constantly scared…” 

Liang Nanyin’s voice grew fainter and fainter as the scene blurred.

Hua Zhuo’s vision swayed, dizziness washing over her. She blinked again. —

And suddenly, she was standing just outside Huai Guang Pavilion. 

Turning back, all she saw was darkness.

At the entrance, a white lantern swayed gently in the night.

The autumn wind remained the same, rustling through the dense shadows of the trees. Hua Zhuo had just let out a breath of relief when she saw a figure in white walking toward her from the moon gate opposite. She instinctively took a step back, but as the person drew closer, her heart settled.

“Brother!” 

Hua Zhuo had no real affection for Xu Ruyi. In the book, he was always depicted as a straightforward, ghost-exorcising elder brother with little depth. She had only maintained her closeness to him due to the memories of her original self.

But now—

Seeing Xu Ruyi felt like seeing her own brother. 

“Brother!” 

She called out again, this time with a surge of emotion, clutching his arm in gratitude.

The fabric under her touch was chillingly cold, slightly damp.

Hua Zhuo hesitated for a moment and looked up. Xu Ruyi’s face was impassive.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“N-Nothing.” 

Hua Zhuo thought maybe his robes had caught the autumn chill as he walked through the courtyard. She shook off the odd feeling and asked, “Brother, did you go to the opera?”

“Mm.” 

“Was it good?” 

“Mm.” 

Xu Ruyi had always been a man of few words, so Hua Zhuo didn’t think much of it. But as they walked, the path became more and more remote, the light gradually fading, even the pale lanterns barely visible.

“Brother, why are we heading into the woods?” Hua Zhuo asked, confused.

Xu Ruyi turned to look at her, the corners of his lips curling slightly. In the darkness, his refined and handsome face was ghastly pale, as if it had been soaked in water.  

“There’s something I need to do. Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll protect you.” 

Hua Zhuo felt something was wrong—especially when she heard the sound of trickling water from within the woods. Just as she was about to step back, Xu Ruyi’s cold, damp hand grasped hers, his grip tightening around her fingers as he led her forward.  

And then—

From the opposite direction, footsteps echoed through the silence, steady and measured, as if each step had been carefully measured with a ruler.

“Hua Zhuo, Miss Hua Zhuo.” 

The voice rang through the dimly lit grove—clear as the clash of gold and jade, yet impossible to decipher.

The newcomer was clad in plain hemp robes, holding a white lantern in hand. Her long black hair was unbound, and she stood beneath the night-shrouded trees like a ghostly specter.  

The lantern’s soft glow reflected off the two white jade earrings dangling from her earlobes.

If one ignored her ink-black eyes, crimson lips, and deathly pale skin, she might have resembled a delicate little Guanyin statue, standing there in serene beauty.

“Are you really going in with him?” 

Hua Zhuo was already drenched in cold sweat, about to speak—when the pale-skinned Xu Ruyi actually nodded. “Yes.” 

Liang Shanyuan’s pitch-black eyes, deep as a bottomless pool, landed on Hua Zhuo.

“You want to go in with him?” Liang Shanyuan’s voice was naturally gentle, as casual as asking what dinner they’d have. “He’s a ghost, you know.”  

—Aren’t you one too?!

Poor Hua Zhuo, naturally gentle and soft-hearted, had only one hobby that didn’t quite match her personality—watching horror movies. 

—And even that was only because she’d put on weight from eating too many sweets in middle school and heard that horror movies could help with weight loss.

Now, looking at the girl before her—delicate like a little Guanyin—Hua Zhuo felt utterly hopeless. She let out a cold snort.

“Then what are you waiting for? Save this lady already!”

Hua Zhuo tried her best to control herself, but she never expected her voice to tremble so much.

It sounded like a full-blown autotune effect.

Hua Zhuo: …

Caught between fear and embarrassment, she saw the woman in front of her lift a slender wrist adorned with a white jade bangle, covering her face as her shoulders shook with laughter.

“… What are you laughing at?!” 

Even her attempt at acting tough came out sounding unserious, making Hua Zhuo feel even more humiliated. Hearing her own shaky voice, she hurriedly tugged at her arm and shouted concisely, 

“Save me!” 

The grip on her wrist tightened.

‘Xu Ruyi’ was pulling her forward with increasing force, her toes scraping deep marks into the dirt as she was dragged toward the forest. The lake ahead stretched out in eerie silence, its surface smooth and unbroken.

The swollen, pale-faced ‘Xu Ruyi’ kept repeating, 

“Don’t worry, big brother is here. Big brother will protect you.” 

As her feet were dragged closer and closer to the water, Hua Zhuo panicked. In desperation, she yanked out the peachwood sword and a pouch of cinnabar hidden inside her robe and hurled them at ‘Xu Ruyi’s’ face.

But instead of weakening, his grip only grew stronger.

And at the same time, his entire body became drenched with moisture.

Hua Zhuo gasped as the icy air around her grew heavier. The lake loomed closer with every step, its dark surface eerily still. Desperate, she thrashed against the grip pulling her forward and used the loudest voice she could muster to shout, 

“Capture the demon! And subdue —Stop! Help! Help Me!”

Weren’t ghosts supposed to fear peachwood and cinnabar? Weren’t they supposed to be terrified of people with strong voices?! 

She was nearly at the water’s edge.

“Help! Help me! Liang Shanyuan, help!”

Just then—an ice-cold hand grasped her from behind. 

The force dragging her forward vanished instantly.

‘Xu Ruyi’ crumpled into a thin paper effigy, fluttering silently into the lake.

Hua Zhuo was drenched in cold sweat. Her knees buckled as she stumbled back, her mind still reeling. She recalled how Xu Ruyi had once warned them—never go near the lake, because something was wrong with it. 

Her body gave out. She tumbled backward. —

Straight into the arms of the person behind her. 

A bitter, medicinal scent filled her nose, tinged with an eerie chill. The presence behind her had no breath. No heartbeat. 

“AHHH!”

Hua Zhuo instinctively tried to yank her hand away, but Liang Shanyuan applied a slight pressure, interlocking their fingers with an eerie gentleness.

“Lady Hua Zhuo,” Liang Shanyuan’s voice was impossibly soft. 

Hua Zhuo stared up at her in stunned silence.

Her pitch-black eyes seemed to merge with the night itself, and her pallid skin—white as paper—reminded Hua Zhuo of something freshly pulled from a river, swollen and bleached by water.  

Liang Shanyuan studied the girl before him. 

Her wide apricot eyes stared at him, round and dazed.

People often stared at him.

But their gazes were always filled with admiration and envy—never fear.

Yet this girl… looked at him as if she were a small, frightened bird, frozen in terror.

Afraid of him?

Why?

It was strange.

But he wasn’t curious.

The living had never interested him much.

“You and I are very good friends, aren’t we?” 

Silence. Darkness. 

The shadows of the trees swayed eerily, obscuring Liang Shanyuan’s slightly turbulent phoenix eyes.

His pupils were pitch black, carrying an unmistakable ghostly aura.

“You and I are very good friends, aren’t we?” 

Every time he used Mind Bewitchment, the pain inside him grew even more unbearable.

A divine punishment—for a wandering ghost like him.

Liang Shanyuan clenched Hua Zhuo’s hand tightly, feeling the agony within him slowly subside.

An antidote. 

She was his antidote. 

…He had to make her his.

“You and I are inseparable friends, aren’t we?” 

Suppressing the pain in his body, Liang Shanyuan tightened his grip on Hua Zhuo’s hand, locking eyes with her dazed, bewildered gaze.

It worked— 

A cold, sinister smile curled at Liang Shanyuan’s lips.  

It worked. As long as he had this antidote, no matter what he did from now on, he would never again be bound by heaven’s punishment. Just as he was about to reinforce the spell with another sentence, Hua Zhuo suddenly yanked her hand away.

“You—you actually have a serious problem with your head, don’t you?!”