The yellow talisman paper stuck to the Wooden Doll’s forehead had come from Xun Ruosu’s own hand. Its soul had been incomplete from the start, rendering it immobile, and with only a crudely carved mouth, it couldn’t speak. Thus, Xun Ruosu had to relay its words.
And so, Xun Ruosu spoke with utmost seriousness. “It says it’s sorry.”
The Wooden Doll was stunned. I didn’t say that!
“It also says that it never meant to abandon you back then,” Xun Ruosu continued, fabricating freely without regard for the dead man’s wishes. “It had no choice in the matter.”
The Wooden Doll went berserk. I didn’t say that! I really didn’t!
Xun Ruosu ignored its silent inner screams.
Chen Huaiyue’s memories were fragmented and scattered; she couldn’t recall many details. The Wooden Doll had been evasive, answering only some of Xun Ruosu’s questions. Before Xue Tong had burst in, the information Xun Ruosu had gleaned was scant at best, barely enough to piece together a rough guess.
Xue Tong had no yellow talisman to guide her, yet she seemed to sense the Wooden Doll’s frenzy all the same. Her face had been stern moments ago, but now she arched a brow, adopting an air of detached amusement as she waited to see what tricks Xun Ruosu would pull next.
Exorcising a departed soul came with strict prerequisites. It wouldn’t do if the soul had an extra soul or orifice, nor if it was missing pieces. If a living soul were forcibly attached to Chen Huaiyue’s body, it would be tantamount to a malicious ghost committing murder—and no lamp vessel could be formed. The Infant Spirit’s state was equally incomplete, far from ideal for exorcism.
Both of them were burdened with deep obsessions; the Infant Spirit was even a malicious ghost edging toward fierce ghost territory. Ordinary methods wouldn’t suffice, which was why Yuan Jie had involved Xue Tong in the first place.
He had known her for years, tending the ever-burning lamps in her temple’s hall, and he was well aware of her vengeful nature. Once this was settled, she would surely storm the Abbot’s Quarters and twist his head right off his shoulders…
Yuan Jie had already spent the night chopping thorny branches up the mountain, preparing for his atonement.
Xue Tong’s gaze on Xun Ruosu was utterly undisguised. Those peach-blossom eyes of hers were naturally alluring, their corners flushing pink at the slightest emotional stir. But Xue Tong was a liar—her smiles couldn’t be trusted, nor could the fleeting red at her eyes.
With just two sentences from Xun Ruosu, the Wooden Doll was left flailing helplessly, utterly mortified.
The Infant Spirit in the cage, who had been puffing out his cheeks in anger moments before, now turned back with pursed lips. “Really?”
The unformed child was a pitiful sight, scarcely more appealing than the stick-figure Wooden Doll. Xun Ruosu nodded without batting an eye. “Really.”
“Then… then I’ll forgive him.” The Infant Spirit proved himself a naturally born malicious ghost, reasonable to an outrageously innocent degree.
“…”
The Wooden Doll had given up struggling.
Chen Huaiyue had given birth to only one child that day; otherwise, there would have been another corpse beneath the locust tree. The Wooden Doll had been forged by gathering a soul, splitting one person’s three souls and seven po between it and the Infant Spirit.
A six- or seven-month stillborn, its soul lingering outside the body—it had never been whole. Had it failed to become a ghost and instead been led by a soul-guiding lamp to reunite with its other half, the ritual performer could have gathered all three souls and seven po into the Wooden Doll. But the child had died in the womb, already harboring an obsession.
The soul within the Wooden Doll had never endured the Infant Spirit’s torment. Nurtured under Chen Huaiyue’s care, it had gradually awakened its own awareness. The two consciousnesses were incompatible, yet they belonged to one complete person—each convinced they had been cruelly abandoned.
Outsiders could only meddle so much. Only the souls themselves could resolve their own grudges.
Xun Ruosu stepped back from her handiwork, slipping away to Xue Tong’s side while the Wooden Doll and Infant Spirit indulged in their tearful “reunion,” pouring out tales of longing and bitterness.
Thus far, every garment Xue Tong had worn had been exorbitantly expensive—save for the one now ruined beyond repair. Unless she embraced the virtue of mend-and-patch thrift for another three years, it was destined for the trash bin.
Xue Tong clearly cherished the dress; her expression remained sour even now. She only lazily lifted her eyelids as Xun Ruosu approached. “What time is it?”
“Nearly midnight,” Xun Ruosu replied, gesturing toward the compliant Chen Huaiyue by the dressing table. “Let’s start with her. A soul lingering in the mortal world for thirty years—the merits from her exorcism will all go to you. Worth more than ten dresses.”
“You don’t want them?” Xue Tong had never seen such generosity. Those who lived off merits often brawled over uneven shares.
“You’re the main body; I’m just a half-body. I don’t need much to get by,” Xun Ruosu said, tapping her toe on the floor and nodding toward the space under the bed. “The living soul will suffice.”
Xue Tong shot her a sidelong glance. “Lucky for you you’re with me. An employee like you—freeloading with zero ambition—would’ve starved on the streets.”
Xun Ruosu fell silent. In that instant, she could think of a hundred retorts, but she feared fulfilling the adage about pointless arguments no one could win. Instead, she lowered her gaze and played mute.
“…”
Xue Tong eyed the little mute and suddenly felt the room grow emptier.
She could spend an entire weekend with friends in close company for two days straight. She and Xun Ruosu had known each other for barely twenty-four hours—how had it become habit so quickly?
The realization only fueled her irritation. She strode toward Chen Huaiyue, radiating an aura that kept strangers at bay. Xue Tong was the sort who could beat a malicious ghost into whimpering submission; her killing intent was unmasked now, leaving Chen Huaiyue rigid with fear, not daring even to twitch.
“Wait.” Xun Ruosu spoke up suddenly, interrupting Xue Tong’s incantation chant.
Xue Tong shot her a look that said, You’re so annoying.
“Last time we entered Zhang Yue’s lamp vessel, something felt off. We were immersed in someone else’s memories, blind to the outside world. What if an intruder interrupted—or worse, sabotaged us?” Xun Ruosu produced two sheets of yellow talisman paper. Blood still trickled from her hands; the silk threads were too fine, sharp as blades, and the wounds wouldn’t close anytime soon. To avoid waste, she had drawn most of the talismans in blood mimicking cinnabar.
One talisman burned to ash, filling the room with golden-red butterflies. The other she pressed to Xue Tong’s chest. “It repels ghosts.”
Xue Tong: “…”
For some reason, it made her feel cheapened.
“Chen Huaiyue died long ago; her case is more complex, but it should be familiar territory for you,” Xue Tong continued, leading the “newbie” as the boss. “Zhang Yue couldn’t walk the reincarnation wheel path—he needed a soul-guiding lamp to guide him. She’s bound by obsession, trapped in the mortal world, unable to cross over on her own… Since we divined the character for ‘affection,’ unraveling the karma should do it.”
But karma like hers couldn’t be summed up in a few words or phrases. Chen Huaiyue wandered in dazed confusion day after day. To untangle her knot, they’d need to enter the lamp vessel once more.
Chen Huaiyue’s obsession clung to the Wooden Doll; her bond with the child had been profound. The doll’s bizarrely crude craftsmanship came from Yuan Jie’s hands, and it encapsulated everything she had ever loved in life. With a flick of her fingertip, Xue Tong truly summoned a Pure White Lotus Lamp.
Yet the lotus lamp was exceedingly fragile, devoid of swirling obsession at its core—like a half-finished product.
Xue Tong found it odd too, but no vessel’s form could hinder her prowess. No two leaves in the world were alike, nor any two people. Chen Huaiyue wasn’t a lone soul; her obsession was intricate, much like a living person’s emotions—love and hate intertwined, impossible to encapsulate in a single phrase.
Xue Tong gathered her fingers, conjuring a golden dome of light from the void. She explained, “The object holding Chen Huaiyue’s obsession isn’t just one thing. Scattered as they are, they’ve thinned the lamp vessel to the brink. Touch it wrong from inside or out, and it shatters… A lamp vessel mirrors the human heart. Once destroyed, you and I would be trapped within.”
“It’s dangerous. Are you coming in with me?”
She smiled faintly, her eye corner crinkling like a crescent moon in the sky—bright yet laced with mischief.
“Xue Tong, didn’t I tell you once?” Xun Ruosu reached out, her fingertip brushing Xue Tong’s outer eye corner. “When you tease people, you unconsciously narrow your eyes like this?”
This time, Xue Tong took a step back. Her face paled in an instant. Where Xun Ruosu’s finger had grazed, a burst of golden radiance erupted. Xun Ruosu wasn’t one to press her advantage; she withdrew her hand, catching the golden glow in her palm—
A tiny “swastika” seal.
Xue Tong hissed and turned her head away. Xun Ruosu had touched her before, but never had it burned like fire… Her eye corner, the size of a nail, now webbed with red threads—and Xue Tong was caught in the net.
“…”
Xun Ruosu said nothing for a long moment.
She had seen karma lines on malicious ghosts before, glimpsed only fleetingly. The bindings on Xue Tong ran even deeper.
A single character for “affection” turned to obsession had trapped Chen Huaiyue in the mortal world for over thirty years. What had Xue Tong done wrong? Those obsessions and karma threads resembled chains binding a criminal—imposed punishment, or self-forged locks?
Inexplicably, Xun Ruosu asked, “Is it because of me?”
“Little sister, how long have we even known each other?” Xue Tong laughed lightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself with wishful thinking.”
Xun Ruosu didn’t press further. She flipped her hand, enclosing the golden Buddhist seal in her palm. “Xue Tong, if I wronged you in some past life to this extent, don’t hold back when you come to collect your debt… No one could owe debts like these. I’m bolder than Yan Qing, but even I fear a fierce ghost’s haunt.”
The faint smile on Xue Tong’s face vanished at once. She stared at Xun Ruosu for a good while before summing it up. “You’re nuts.”
The Wooden Doll chose that perfect moment to hop up and rap Xue Tong’s kneecap, urging her to get back to work and stop getting distracted.
Grinning, Xue Tong squatted down, twisted off the Wooden Doll’s head, and tossed it into the cage with the Infant Spirit.
The next instant, Xun Ruosu felt that familiar dizziness. The room’s furnishings warped and twisted. She blinked once, and the surroundings had changed.
With her prior experience, Xun Ruosu knew she was now inside the lamp vessel.
Xue Tong’s slightly tattered dress was pristine and neat once more. She cared deeply about her appearance; even in someone else’s domain, she conjured a hairpin from thin air to bundle up her long hair.
Xun Ruosu gave her an appraising look. “All dressed up like a dog.”
Having bottled up her urge to spar verbally with Xue Tong for so long, Xun Ruosu thought, If I speak first, it doesn’t count as insisting on winning, right?
Chen Huaiyue’s lantern vessel contained the same courtyard, but it was far “younger.” The doors showed no rust, the laid blue bricks were a lighter color, untouched by the damp green moss everywhere. Two simple monks’ rooms faced each other across a square well, with a locust tree by the well’s edge—no taller than a person, seemingly freshly planted.
Over thirty years, a locust tree ill-suited to shade and moisture, blocked from sunlight by the rooms and hugging the well, could never have grown into the arrogant behemoth it was today, rivaling the heavens in height.
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