That afternoon, sitting on the back seat of Song Guanshu’s bicycle, she passed a crossroads and saw people burning spirit money.

She sensed that Song Guanshu seemed to glance a couple more times at the person burning paper offerings. Two streets had already passed before Jiang Ling asked him, “Today’s Qingming Festival. Aren’t you going to burn some paper for your parents or relatives?”

Song Guanshu clearly hadn’t expected her to say that. His voice came distorted by the wind, “After people die, they return to dust and vanish from this world. Visiting graves and making offerings—it’s all feudal superstition.”

Jiang Ling sighed inwardly. But to the living, these rituals were a kind of emotional comfort.

She patted Song Guanshu on the back. “Don’t rush home. Let’s stop by the nearby supply and marketing cooperative and buy some paper.”

Although Song Guanshu didn’t approve of what she was doing, he still steered the bicycle toward the closest supply and marketing cooperative.

Ancestor worship on Qingming was mostly done in the morning. Almost everyone bought incense, candles, and paper offerings either that morning or the day before. No customer would normally choose to buy spirit money at night.

The store clerk had already packed away the unsold paper offerings into the storeroom, planning to bring them out again on the fifteenth of the seventh lunar month.

When Jiang Ling said she wanted to buy spirit money, the store clerk couldn’t help but glance at the two of them a few extra times. Qingming was nearly over, and only now were these two thinking of buying paper offerings—such filial piety indeed.

No matter what the clerk thought, they still managed to buy incense, candles, and spirit money in the end.

Song Guanshu was very quiet. After Jiang Ling got back onto the rear seat, she continued issuing orders. “Your family’s from the south, so let’s go to a crossroads a bit further south to burn the paper.”

Song Guanshu, pedaling the bicycle, was very obedient and rode all the way south—almost out of the city.

Eventually, he stopped at a deserted crossroads with no foot traffic. Jiang Ling picked up a tree branch and drew a circle, then tossed the spirit money into the center and struck a match to light the yellow paper.

Jiang Ling pulled Song Guanshu down to crouch with her. “Burn more paper for your parents. Let them live like rich people in the other world too—no need to suffer working hard for money. Let them have endless cash to spend every day, live freely and happily, and best of all, in their spare time, bless us with everything going smoothly and all our wishes coming true.” Bless your son too, so he doesn’t end up going down the same path as in the original novel.

Hearing Jiang Ling muttering on and on, Song Guanshu couldn’t help but laugh.

Jiang Ling glared at him. What was wrong with this guy? “This is a very solemn moment. How can you laugh?”

Song Guanshu’s voice was clear and gentle, as a soft spring breeze brushed past him.

“My mother isn’t dead. I’m afraid she won’t be able to receive the money you’re burning, nor can she bless you into becoming a rich woman.”

Jiang Ling: ???

“Weren’t you the one always going around saying you’re an orphan?” In the original novel, he’d said that too.

Jiang Ling was absolutely certain—there was no way she’d imagined it.

“Did I really say that? You must be remembering it wrong.”

Jiang Ling had many questions in her heart, but in the end, she only asked one, “What about your father?”

“He’s… truly gone.”

Jiang Ling shoved the stack of yellow paper into Song Guanshu’s hands. “Then burn some for your dad.”

Song Guanshu had never believed in any of this. In the past, he would sneer at others when he saw them performing such rites. But now, with the spirit money in his hands, he didn’t resist. He calmly tossed the paper into the fire, the flames flickering in and out.

Each time he was about to run out of paper, Jiang Ling would stuff another handful into his hands.

Song Guanshu numbly continued feeding paper into the flames, until his hands were completely empty. He looked at Jiang Ling in a daze.

She shrugged, indicating there was no more. The flames finally died down, leaving behind only faintly smoking ashes on the ground. Only then did Song Guanshu fully come back to his senses.

Jiang Ling patted his shoulder. “We’ll come again during the Ghost Festival. Tell your dad to prepare a big basket to hold all the money.”

Song Guanshu gave a small smile. “He probably heard you. Next time, he’ll remember to bring his own basket.”

Dusk was settling in, and there weren’t many pedestrians left on the road.

Sitting on the back seat, Jiang Ling was deep in thought, wondering what the deal was with Song Guanshu’s mother—how had she come back from the dead for no apparent reason?

Her gaze casually swept across the street, and she spotted a familiar figure. She tugged on Song Guanshu’s coat. “Hey, isn’t that Director Ding?”

Jiang Ling’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked in the direction she pointed.

They saw Director Ding walking arm-in-arm with a young, fashionable woman into the guesthouse.

Jiang Ling asked, “Is that woman Director Ding’s wife?”

Song Guanshu had only caught a glimpse of the woman’s profile and replied, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”

Jiang Ling clicked her tongue twice. “I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of anyone bringing their wife to a guesthouse. It’s not like they don’t have a house—what, are they doing it for the thrill?”

At Jiang Ling’s insistence, Song Guanshu turned the bike around and rode back to the guesthouse entrance.

She craned her neck like a sneaky thief, peering inside the guesthouse, only to see the two figures heading upstairs side by side, finally disappearing into the stairwell.

“Heading back?” Song Guanshu knew she loved meddling. “Or are we staying to wait?”

Jiang Ling glanced up at the sky, a little regretful. “Let’s go back.”

Just then, a young man running a bike repair stall nearby asked, “You two know those people just now?”

He was a good-looking young guy, lounging casually on a self-made reclining chair, looking completely at ease.

Jiang Ling swept a suspicious glance along the street. The roadside vendors had all gone home by now—he was the only one still out.

She asked bluntly, “At this hour, do people still need bike repairs?”

The young man chuckled cheerfully. “You never know when someone’s bike might break down. I’m the only one still working on these few streets. If something happens, they’ve got no choice but to come to me.”

Jiang Ling turned around and squeezed the front and rear tires of their bicycle. Hmm, no leaks.

Seeing her action, the young man couldn’t help but scowl. “What do you take me for? I’m not the kind of scumbag who throws nails on the road.”

He repeated his earlier question, “You still haven’t answered me. Do you know the two people who just went in?”

“We know one of them.”

The man nodded. “That explains it. I’ve been doing bike repairs here, and I see them almost every Wednesday afternoon—like clockwork.”

“Are those two a married couple, or are they sneaking around behind someone’s back?”

The young man was clearly a gossip at heart—his eyes were full of eager curiosity.

Jiang Ling could understand how he felt. “I’ve never seen that man’s wife before, so I can’t say for sure if they’re married.”

“No way. What kind of middle-aged married couple goes out to get a room together every week?” he said, then shifted gears. “Since you know one of them, could you help look into it? If you find out anything, just drop by and let me know.”

Since arriving in this world, this was Jiang Ling’s first time meeting someone even more gossip-hungry than herself.

He rubbed his hands together. “But hey, if they are a married couple and we’ve misunderstood them, that’d be kind of bad, wouldn’t it?”

There was a small scar at the corner of his eye, and when he smiled, it crinkled into a shallow dimple.

“You have to come tell me,” the young man said eagerly. “If I’m not around, just pass the message to any of the other vendors on this street—that’s fine too. My name’s Chen Xiangyang. If you ever need your bike fixed, come to me. I’ll fix it for free.”

“You’re Chen Xiangyang?!” Jiang Ling gave him a once-over from head to toe.

“Yeah, is there a problem?” he asked sharply. “Do you know me?”

Of course she did—but only from the original novel.

Xie Lang had two white moonlights in his life: one was his former beloved, “Jiang Ling,” who had become a distorted shadow of her past self, and the other was his tragically dead good buddy, Chen Xiangyang.

In the novel, Chen Xiangyang was a street punk who had offended someone influential in his hometown and was forced to flee to Beicheng to lay low. While drifting around on the streets, he met Xie Lang.

Xie Lang saw that he was sharp and clever, so he turned Chen Xiangyang into his informant, someone who helped him gather intel and keep watch on people. In return, Xie Lang paid him a modest fee.

Although they had a relationship between a public security officer and an informant, Xie Lang and Chen Xiangyang were like-minded and got along extremely well.

Chen Xiangyang actually had the makings of a good officer, but he had a criminal record and was still wanted, which meant he had no chance of getting into a public security school. So he relied on helping Xie Lang gather intel to indirectly fulfill his dream of being in law enforcement.

In the end, while helping with a surveillance job, due to a misjudgment on Xie Lang’s part, Chen Xiangyang was discovered and killed by the suspect during a robbery case.

He had no parents or relatives in Beicheng—only a few troublemaker friends and the occasional contact with Xie Lang.

No one realized he had gone missing at first. When Xie Lang couldn’t reach him, he assumed he had gone back to his hometown. It wasn’t until the suspect was captured and confessed that Xie Lang learned Chen Xiangyang had already been killed half a month earlier, his body dumped straight into the river.

Xie Lang blamed himself deeply for Chen Xiangyang’s death, and it was from that moment on that he matured quickly.

But as of now, Xie Lang had not yet officially started working, and Chen Xiangyang had not yet been recruited as his informant.

Looking at the lively, expressive Chen Xiangyang in front of her, Jiang Ling said, “I’ve heard of you—heard you’re really good at fixing bikes.”

Chen Xiangyang proudly flopped back into his recliner. “So my reputation’s that big already?”

With a grand wave of his hand, he said, “Let me take a look at your bike, see if anything’s wrong. Don’t worry, we’re friends now—I won’t charge you a dime.”

Chen Xiangyang was someone who valued loyalty above all. The reason he got into trouble back in his hometown was because he had stood up for a friend out of brotherly loyalty.

Before Jiang Ling and Song Guanshu could even respond, he was already inspecting the bike. “This bike’s really clean… the chain’s a little loose. I’ll oil it and tighten it up a bit.”

After checking it thoroughly, his hands were stained with grease, and he had smudges all over his clothes.

Seeing how well-maintained the bike was, Chen Xiangyang didn’t want to touch the frame too much. He just motioned for Song Guanshu to give it a test push. “Doesn’t it feel smoother than before?”

Chen Xiangyang looked at Song Guanshu and Jiang Ling with eager, expectant eyes. Jiang Ling sighed helplessly, “Alright, alright. If we find anything out, we’ll definitely let you know right away.”

As the three of them were testing the bike, Director Ding, who had just gone into the guesthouse not long ago, suddenly walked out.

The three of them were standing right across the street. The road was nearly deserted, and Director Ding spotted them immediately—including the two familiar faces.

If it had been any other regular factory worker, Director Ding probably wouldn’t have recognized them, and he could’ve pretended not to. But he had been the witness at Jiang Ling and Song Guanshu’s wedding.

Now, standing on opposite sides of the road, Jiang Ling met his gaze, and they both saw the shock in each other’s eyes.

Director Ding hadn’t expected to run into workers from his own factory near the most remote guesthouse in the southern part of the city. And Jiang Ling hadn’t expected Director Ding to come out so quickly—it had barely been enough time to fix a bike and chat a little.

As the subordinate, Jiang Ling took the initiative to greet him from across the road. “Director Ding, are you here with your wife…”

Director Ding gave a light cough. “No, that’s not my wife. I came to pick up a friend. She’s here in Beicheng on a business trip and staying at the guesthouse.”

Well then, Jiang Ling didn’t even need to make a special trip to tell Chen Xiangyang whether or not those two were sneaking around.

Director Ding had already made it very clear to everyone—that woman isn’t his wife.

If the three of them hadn’t seen him go into the guesthouse with her themselves, they might’ve actually believed that nonsense.

Jiang Ling nodded. “Then I misunderstood.”

Director Ding quickly changed the subject. “What are you doing out here? Bike trouble?”

Jiang Ling pointed at the bicycle chain. “Yeah, the chain came off. We walked a few streets before finally finding someone who repairs bikes.”

The bike chain was slick with fresh oil, and there were even two drops of grease on the ground—perfectly matching Jiang Ling’s story about just having it repaired.

Chen Xiangyang’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. This woman was truly a master of lying without even needing to rehearse.

Under Director Ding’s gaze, Jiang Ling turned to Chen Xiangyang and asked, “Comrade, how much for the bike repair?”

“This one’s pretty simple—” The words no charge were already on the tip of his tongue, but at Jiang Ling’s warning glance, he quickly changed course. “Two mao will do. Looking forward to your next visit.”

Jiang Ling waved her hand. “Let’s hope not. It’s too inconvenient when a bike breaks down midway.”

Her behavior and conversation were flawless. Director Ding figured that the two of them weren’t deliberately following him. It was just his own bad luck that he happened to run into people he knew.

He asked briefly about both Song Guanshu and Jiang Ling’s work situations and offered a few words of encouragement for them to continue working hard, then said he had to get going.

They politely waved at the director. “We’re heading home too.”

Jiang Ling got back onto the rear seat of the bicycle and didn’t exchange another word with Chen Xiangyang before leaving.

“Hey, if your bike ever breaks again, remember to come to me!”

Director Ding couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. This young man really would do anything to drum up business.

The southern part of the city wasn’t close to the steel factory’s staff housing area. Jiang Ling was discussing what to eat for dinner with Song Guanshu when she suddenly felt something cold hit her face. She thought at first that some bird flying overhead had left a “gift,” but the next moment, raindrops began to fall in a heavy, scattered patter.

The rain grew heavier and heavier. Neither of them had brought an umbrella, so they could only let the rain soak them. In no time at all, they were drenched.

Song Guanshu pedaled quickly through the rain. Jiang Ling, afraid of being flung off the back, reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Knowing that he disliked physical contact, Jiang Ling usually held onto the bike seat when riding on the back, just to keep things pleasant between them. But today was an exception.

It was strange—when they barely knew each other, she could pull off any sort of intimate gesture without thinking twice.

But now, after living under the same roof for over a month, wrapping her arms around his waist again felt awkward in every possible way.

Especially since his clothes were soaked through by the rain, clinging tightly to his skin.

Jiang Ling had the distinct illusion that her hands were pressing directly against the skin of his abdomen.