Chapter 6

The thirteen-year-old boy blushed furiously at Xue Tong’s words, his ears burning red. He did harbor special feelings for Xun Ruosu deep in his heart, but they felt oddly complicated. Though Zhang Yue knew nothing of romance, he sensed that his affection wasn’t the simple “like” everyone assumed.

One by one, all the guesses fell flat. In the end, even Xun Ruosu wondered if she’d accidentally stepped on Zhang Yue’s foot while crossing the street some time ago—surely something like that had to have sparked their karma. Otherwise, every random mishap in the world could be pinned on a single person.

“Whatever,” she said. The tangles between people were endless; even sharing a single pebble underfoot could count as karmic ties. Even someone of Xun Ruosu’s bloodline, able to glimpse the Heavenly Dao, felt powerless against it. “Since he’s come right to our door, treat this as a demonstration for me. Send him on his way.”

Xun Ruosu turned back to Xue Tong.

No matter the reason, the two of them were now bound together, inseparable. Xue Tong had been itching to play the boss, but even new hires got a probation period. She had to teach something, and Xun Ruosu could shamelessly slack off in areas she’d never touched before.

Xue Tong laughed in exasperation. “Little sister, if it were that easy to send him off, I would’ve done it back in that desolate field. Why else would I drag this filthy soul home? The path to reincarnation requires a Soul-Guiding Lamp. From the day of death to the seventh day, the thoughts of relatives serve as the lamp’s wick. The departed soul must travel for seven days before entering reincarnation on the eighth.”

“The whole family is dead. Forget the seventh day—no one even knows where the corpses are rotting in some corner. I didn’t stop him from turning into a Malicious Ghost earlier precisely so he could rack up sins on his own. Then I could’ve slapped him into ashes and earned some Merits. But now? He’s just discarded trash, wandering the human world, unable to enter reincarnation.”

Only after Xue Tong finished did Xun Ruosu drawl, “Relatives’ thoughts can form a Soul-Guiding Lamp, and with it, the soul can navigate the Reincarnation Wheel Path on its own. That’s a perfect closed loop—even without you, it runs fine. So tell me, is your name carved on Yama’s Palace just for decoration?”

“…”

If not for their forced Half-Body bond, with Xun Ruosu sharing her life force, Xue Tong would’ve turned the single ghost in this house into two by now.

“Are you saying the Merits from exorcising him are too paltry?” Xun Ruosu had a knack for hitting sore spots. “Even a mosquito’s meat is still meat. You mentioned daily quotas before. I don’t know why those exist, but this kid’s Merits might be small—they still count toward the total. Or do you have other work today?”

If she had any work, Xue Tong wouldn’t be bickering with Xun Ruosu in the wee hours at home.

Xun Ruosu wasn’t in a hurry. She swatted Xue Tong’s legs off the sofa and sat in the corner herself. “Take your time thinking it over. We’ve got time.” With that, she picked up an orange from the coffee table, split it in half, and offered a piece to Xue Tong. “Pretty sweet. Want some?”

Xue Tong shot her a sideways glare. In the interplay of sunlight and living room shadows, Xun Ruosu dangled half a segment from her fingertips. She looked languid, having gone all night without sleep, faint fatigue under her eyes. Yet she handled things meticulously—even picking off the white pith from the orange, leaving only the translucent skin encasing vibrant pulp. Xue Tong’s lips twitched. “Get lost.”

One thing conquered another in this world. The moment Xue Tong spat “Get lost,” Xun Ruosu stuffed the segment into her mouth.

It had to be said—Auntie’s taste was spot on. The orange really was sweet.

At that moment, Zhang Yue had shrunk himself into a puddle small enough to squeeze under the coffee table. He’d just caused trouble and felt too embarrassed to show his face. Besides, he’d realized he was the main source of the sisters’ spat.

Orphaned young, he’d never heard snide remarks at home before. Instinct made Zhang Yue act like an ostrich, head buried deep—tail feathers sticking out, but no sign of the rest.

His butt poked up as he crammed his head under the table.

Xue Tong swallowed the orange segment and prodded the Little Ghost’s rear with her toe. “Hand over your suona.”

Zhang Yue wanted to refuse, but under her roof, resistance was futile. If Xue Tong really wanted it, she’d snatch it with one hand. Without much hesitation, he compliantly raised the suona over his head.

Xun Ruosu recognized this suona. It belonged to an old man in the funeral procession, whose blasting had looped mournfully in her ears, both noisy and lively. Afraid it might haunt her to death with eyes wide open, she’d taken a good look at it.

Crowds at joyous or sorrowful events meant sticky fingers. Probably to prevent theft, the suona’s end was engraved in tiny script with its owner’s name: “Li Jian.”

When the Copper Hairpin wrapped in blood threads had been pulled from Zhang Yue’s forehead, it left behind the character for “Jian.”

Xue Tong pinched the suona between three fingers. Blood threads slithered out from the Copper Hairpin like living serpents, engulfing the instrument in an instant. “When the dead cling with deep Obsession, they bring the most important possession from life to me. It’s called a Soul Guide—the foundation for crafting their Soul-Guiding Lamp.”

Xun Ruosu nodded along while eating her orange. Xue Tong tsked. “I’m no patient teacher.”

Xun Ruosu popped the last segment into Xue Tong’s mouth and nodded. “That much is obvious.”

“…” Fuming.

A Cyan Lamp detached from within the suona, shaped like a hand-sized lotus. The blood threads once coiled around the Copper Hairpin now huddled in its core. Xue Tong continued, “Soul-Guiding Lamps vary by soul, but pure cyan like this is rare. Who’d have thought a kid who died young carried Merits from past lives… The Obsession forms the wick—it must be lit with blood from the heart.”

“It’ll hurt a bit. Bear it.”

The next instant, it felt like someone had gouged a knife into Xun Ruosu’s chest. Pain blanked her mind in a flash.

When Xun Ruosu came to, she saw Xue Tong’s schadenfreude grin. “Hurts, huh?”

Xun Ruosu nodded. “And that’s just one lamp. In chaotic times, with souls adrift everywhere, wouldn’t your heart be shredded a thousand times over?”

“…” Xue Tong paused, stunned, then laughed. “It’s the job. You get used to it.”

“At this stage, the Soul-Guiding Lamp is formed but incomplete. It needs the thoughts of the living for spirit energy—without them, it can’t light the path.” Xue Tong went on. “The next part is the crucial one.”

The Cyan Lamp’s blood-red core flared with eerie light, engulfing everything. Xun Ruosu’s eyes stung. In the blink between closing and opening, their surroundings transformed.

Before them loomed a rural self-built house: two stories, slanted pointed roof, concrete courtyard—the quintessential Jiangnan style. Wall cracks showed, colors uneven; it had to be at least a decade old, damp in the rain.

A Black Umbrella shielded Xun Ruosu’s head. The cyan lamp was gone from Xue Tong’s hand. She spoke. “This is the lamp’s interior, the Sumeru Realm. Everything we see is Zhang Yue’s Obsession.”

“The dead form attachments to the world in two ways: hatred they can’t let go, or love. Usually, they’re intertwined. But we extracted Zhang Yue’s just before he turned Malicious Ghost. That blood-red ‘resentment’ won’t want exorcism—it’ll make things difficult for us.”

Inside the lamp, Xue Tong shed her brash whimsy. The Black Umbrella in her grip was like a sword, carving out safe ground amid the endless drizzle.

“What’s our goal here?” Xun Ruosu had seen big scenes before.

Sudden entry into the lamp brought only brief headache, no lasting effects. She slipped into the role quickly—end it fast, rest sooner.

“Ghosts’ memories aren’t reliable,” Xue Tong said. “A day haunting the human world twists their nature. What they say and do is all to stay longer. Only the lamp restores the truth—and preserves ‘thoughts.'”

“Even a Heavenly Lone Star who dooms everyone around him—relatives, friends—still has teachers, classmates. The Xun Family hid their names, yet you found me. Living means some bonds can’t be severed. Bonds breed thoughts; even a spark can ignite a prairie fire. Our job is to find that spark.”

Xun Ruosu gave Xue Tong a curious look, tempted to remind her—they hadn’t just “met.” Her Xun ancestors had schemed to bind this childless woman to share her life.

Just then, suona wails erupted from the house—blared miserably, like a broken gong howling opera, enough to make ghosts weep.

“Can we go in?” Xun Ruosu asked.

“Hand.” Xue Tong’s long skirt was pure formalwear: fitted, elegant, no pockets or practicality. Yet somehow, she produced a Red Wrist Rope—handwoven chain with three Silver Bells dangling. Their faint tinkles were worlds apart from the suona’s racket.

The bells resembled a Soul-Shaking Bell, but with archaic patterns and elaborate design—clearly treasures.

She tied the Red Rope around Xun Ruosu’s wrist. “You’re my Half-Body now. I’m the main one, so I won’t feel your pain. But if you die, it’s trouble for me. These bells? I can find you anywhere.”

The rope hung loose; Xue Tong shoved the umbrella at Xun Ruosu and cinched the ends. The bells jingled. Up close, Xun Ruosu sensed a chilling killing intent from Xue Tong—like blood-scented wind howling over a lofty peak, suddenly brushing her nose.

“…You,” Xun Ruosu started, then remembered they weren’t that close. Probing too deep felt wrong, so she cut herself off. “Thanks.”

This was all Zhang Yue’s memory. The door was unlocked. Past the courtyard lay a vast hall, maybe forty or fifty square meters, with sparse furniture: a wooden bar table, one dining table, two spruce sofas against the wall, lacquered dark red and peeling.

A draft whistled through, chilling the house with an eerie cold.