The paper crane as a messenger was no ordinary thing to begin with, and the words it carried could only be heard by Zhong Li herself. Even if her father grew suspicious right then and there—with the two of them standing no more than half a meter apart—Zhong Wei had no idea that his daughter was being egged on by Xue Tong, gradually turning rebellious.
Zhong Li gathered her thoughts, softening Xue Tong’s arrogant attitude in the retelling. “Sister Xue came to me on her own. She said not to ask too many questions—just find her first, and she’d explain everything in person.”
Zhong Wei remained somewhat skeptical, but Xue Tong’s reputation loomed far too large for anyone to risk delaying her business. And so, the family left only Zhong Li’s little aunt, Zhong Min, outside while the rest headed for the dilapidated brick house.
This modest, long-abandoned dwelling was unusually lively today. Fortunately, in the early hours before dawn, the fire had yet to die out completely. To prevent it from spreading and harming the innocent, the police had already evacuated and resettled the area. Out in the countryside, where land was plentiful and people scarce, there were only about a dozen households along the road. Three or four hours earlier, the surroundings had been cleared of every last soul, sparing them the burden of prying eyes.
Zhong Li halted several meters from the little tiled house, coming to an abrupt stop. She had already sensed that someone had tampered with the seemingly frail and pitiful structure. It radiated an aura that screamed “keep out,” so forbidding that even wandering ghosts had the good sense to steer clear from a safe distance.
Zhong Li had already plucked the paper crane from her shoulder and cradled it in her palm. The crane was tiny, far more delicate than a full-sized yellow talisman folded into shape—almost as exquisite as a fingernail. After pausing, she released it into the air. A few minutes later, Xun Ruosu emerged from within.
“Why are you here? Where’s Sister Xue?” Zhong Li asked, rising onto her tiptoes to peer inside.
Zhong Wei barked, “Little Li, mind your manners!”
Zhong Li shrank back, then spoke prim and proper. “Excuse me, where is Sister Xue?”
“She’s inside, figuring out how to kill me and dispose of the body without getting caught by the law.” Xun Ruosu mimed a vicious twisting motion, as if throttling someone, then outlined a space in the air about half a meter wide and two meters tall. “This is the way in. If you so much as brush against anything else, I can’t guarantee what might happen.”
She emphasized, “All the restrictions around here are meant to stand up against heavenly thunder. I don’t need to tell you how powerful they are, do I?”
“…”
Zhong Li wished she would demonstrate once more. She had been too busy tiptoeing to peek inside and hadn’t noticed where this invisible door was supposed to open.
Zhong Li hesitated, reluctant to step forward. She felt an odd kinship with Xue Tong—they both shared that stubborn aversion to asking for help. She fumbled with gestures for what felt like ages until her mother prompted from behind, “Lost your way?”
Xun Ruosu might have a black heart, and she did enjoy teasing her niece from time to time, but she knew when to quit while she was ahead. She lit a yellow talisman and passed the flame through the empty air. A square door of pale gold shimmered into existence before Zhong Li.
“It’ll only stay visible for half a minute—hurry inside.” Xun Ruosu smiled faintly.
She thought it looked kindly enough, but to Zhong Li, it was the grin of a sly old fox.
Xue Tong was indeed inside the house. In her hand gleamed a dagger four or five inches long. An old grindstone sat in the corner of the crumbling walls, and she was half-crouched there, polishing the blade to a mirror sheen. She truly looked like she intended to silence Xun Ruosu for good—and yet Xun Ruosu, the would-be victim, had the nerve to draw even closer.
She pointed at Xue Tong by way of explanation. “She’s angry right now and full of hate for me. Give it a little while, and she won’t be anymore.”
“…”
Zhong Wei was, after all, a middle-aged man raised with strict discipline and a strong sense of gentlemanly decorum—in short, a seasoned man of the world. With one glance, he could tell that Xue Tong wasn’t seriously sharpening that knife to murder Xun Ruosu, and that Xun herself was anything but the simple, harmless figure she appeared.
Before leaving the hospital the night before, both Xun Ruosu and Xue Tong had showered and changed clothes. On the way, they’d stopped at a supermarket and picked up bread, water, and crackers, all stuffed into a cloth bag. Xue Tong could go without food or drink, of course, but Xun Ruosu—though she wouldn’t die from it—still clung to human habits like digestion. Every four hours, she had to stuff herself full, or her stomach would start cramping.
At that moment, Xun Ruosu wore a mint-green knitted sweater with the ancestral pocket watch hanging from her chest. She was munching away on a hunk of bread… and with one look, Zhong Wei recognized it as a Xun Family heirloom.
By generation, Zhong Wei and Xun Ruosu were peers. As a boy, he had lived at the main house for a time, tagging along after the young master of the household and calling his uncle “big brother” in childish innocence. It was there, too, that Zhong Wei had once seen a woman holding an identical pocket watch—the very same one now dangling from Xun Ruosu’s neck.
Looking closer, their facial features bore a striking resemblance as well.
“You… you’re Xun Ruosu?” Zhong Wei ventured. “My little uncle’s daughter?”
Xun Ruosu nodded slightly. “I’m the lone sapling of the Xun Family—nothing like the storied lineage of the Zhong Clan. And you are… which of my brothers, if I may ask?”
“I’m Zhong Wei, from the third branch of the Zhong Family.” After this simple introduction, Zhong Wei studied her carefully. “But I heard that the Xun Family line had died out. You should have…”
“Died?”
Xun Ruosu swallowed the last bite of bread. She gestured for Xue Tong to stand and prodded the mark on her collarbone. “My ancestors pulled some strings against the heavenly dao and the natural order. Retribution could strike me down at any moment.”
The dead could not return to life—that was the most fundamental rule of existence.
There were plenty of capable people in the world. When family ties, romance, or friendships came to an abrupt end, those left behind would inevitably seek ways to fill the void. If reviving the dead were that simple, the world would be overrun with walking corpses, their souls forcibly bound to flesh and wreaking far greater havoc. Thus, Zhong Wei regarded Xun Ruosu with growing wariness.
“Rest assured, they forcibly extended my lifespan before I even died, so I’m still technically alive. I need to breathe, and I need to eat.” Xun Ruosu went to great lengths to explain. “Third Brother—you’re from the third branch. Do you mind if I call you that?”
Zhong Wei’s guard didn’t drop, but he nodded all the same.
“Third Brother,” Xun Ruosu continued, “Xue Tong and I have something to ask. What’s the mission you were assigned? Exorcising the wandering ghosts from yesterday’s accident?”
“Something like that. But beyond the wandering ghosts, there’s a fierce ghost behind last night’s disaster. I was wondering earlier why they’d send people like us to handle a fierce ghost. Turns out Miss Xue arrived ahead of schedule.”
Zhong Wei inclined his head politely toward Xue Tong. “We’ll have to rely on you for the fierce ghost.”
Xue Tong was wiping the flat of the blade with her thumb, not bothering to look up. She dismissed him like a buzzing mosquito.
She did enjoy a crowd, but the glittering, glamorous kind amid a dance floor’s revelry—not this: a decrepit shack crawling with spiders and centipedes, now crammed with a family of five, plus Xun Ruosu and Huang Xiaoran. This sort of “lively” just made her want to lash out.
“That’s it?” Xun Ruosu pressed. “No other tasks?”
Zhong Wei found that odd as well. “Any others I wouldn’t know about?”
Dispatching Zhong Family members made perfect sense for cleaning up the aftermath under normal circumstances. But if Huang Xiaoran had become a fierce ghost thanks to one of their own, letting those connected parties meddle now smacked of ulterior motives.
Zhong Wei had no inkling of these twists and turns. Seeing Xun Ruosu fall suddenly silent after so long, he finally had a chance to glance around with the deference in his eyes momentarily eased.
The room lay barren, save for Old Man Guan with his face shrouded in tissue paper. What stood out was the strange circle of bricks in the center—clearly tampered with. Gray ashes from burned paper talismans clung to them, mingled with dried bloodstains. And between every pair of bricks stood an upright copper coin. The arrangement looked haphazard, but it was actually a miniature Exalted Dragon Bureau.
This formation was simplistic. Folks might set one up casually at home during an unlucky year clashing with the thunder position—just a token effort. But to lay it out with such precision required true expertise, and when wielded by different hands, its effects could vary wildly.
Zhong Wei couldn’t fathom it. Setting up an Exalted Dragon Bureau indoors was about as useful as installing a lightning rod with proper grounding. Was someone in this house about to get struck by lightning or what?
Xun Ruosu had no intention of letting Zhong Family members cross paths with Huang Xiaoran just yet. Using talismans and incantations, she had bent the light itself to conceal the girl from everyone’s sight. Zhong Wei could only draw on his vast experience to infer that someone else was in the room—someone deliberately hidden.
But that was the extent of what Zhong Wei could discern. The Xun Family’s support skills were formidable, even if exorcism itself wasn’t much use to them. In the field, they were sidelined—like a race car mechanic who couldn’t drive worth a damn. Useful enough not to starve, but no one in the racing world paid them much mind.
“Since you’re here to exorcise the wandering ghosts, don’t waste time with us. Get to work.” Xue Tong’s blade was finally honed to satisfaction. She slid it into its leather sheath and tucked it at her waist. “These souls are fresh. Most haven’t accepted their deaths yet, and the more resentful ones are veering toward evil. They’ve been howling for hours already since last night.”
“…”
You’ve just been sitting here listening to them howl for hours? What if they actually breed a malicious ghost or two?
Xue Tong added, “Zhong Li stays.”
Called out by her idol, Zhong Li snapped to attention and saluted with excitement.
Had it been anyone else giving the order, Zhong Wei might have questioned or protested. But Xue Tong’s status set her apart; even holding a conversation with her was an honor. The Zhong Family annals spanning generations mentioned her only sparingly, always with profound respect. As a conservative middle-aged man raised in such a traditional household, Zhong Wei held her in especially high esteem. He didn’t belabor the point. If Xue Tong said go, the whole family withdrew.
Only Wang Xuejuan—Zhong Li’s mother—lingered with worry, glancing back every other step. She feared her proud, headstrong daughter had offended the teacher somehow and was about to get a paddling after class.
The Wangs, like the Zhongs, had their own lineage. Yet theirs neither shone as brightly as the Zhong Clan nor faded into obscurity like the Xuns. It remained steady and unremarkable, producing middling descendants seldom worth mentioning.
Zhong Li flashed her mother a reassuring gesture before bounding happily toward Xue Tong, eager to bask in a bit of her idol’s glow.
