Because Yi Ping frequently came to bring good fortune, Lan He almost became the lucky charm of the crew over the past few days.
Lan He felt exhausted. Pretending not to see Yi Ping was not a big deal—he had been doing it for over twenty years.
However, Yi Ping always liked to hover beside him and blow cold air. Even if he would occasionally switch sides, it would have been better, but Yi Ping, with his severe social anxiety, always chose the same spot, as if it gave him a sense of security. The cold air made Lan He feel like he was about to develop rheumatism…
He even suspected that this was the rumored wickedness of the Four Great Sects. Would all the sudden wealth be used to treat rheumatism in the end? Lan He wondered when Yi Ping would finally finish repaying his debt and leave.
During a break on set, Lan He dreamed that his hands were cold. When he woke up, he instinctively looked to his right, relieved that Yi Ping wasn’t there—it was just a nightmare. As for the noise that woke him, it was his colleagues gossiping about something.
Zhang Qingyou’s voice was loud: “…This thing that got stolen is even more shocking than the Golden Threshold and the Golden Gateposts, right? They stole a dragon!”
Lan He was wide awake. A dragon? Did he hear that correctly?
It seemed like too many things had been stolen lately. Could this “dragon” be another dragon-shaped artifact?
Even someone like Lan He, who usually kept his curiosity in check, couldn’t resist walking over to join the conversation. “What are you talking about?”
Zhang Qingyou showed him his phone and read aloud: “Look at the trending topic. There’s even a news report. Today, a new art film was released by Kunlun Films called ‘Searching for Spring in the Snow.’ Audiences across the country noticed that in the opening logo, where there should be a dragon spiraling over mountains with a full moon in the background, the dragon was missing—only the mountains and moon were left.”
Everyone in the crew had been so busy that they hardly had time to rest, let alone check their phones during the day.
Although “Searching for Spring in the Snow” wasn’t particularly famous, Kunlun Films was a well-known company that had been around for years. Their logo, featuring a coiled dragon, was something everyone had seen since childhood, even before entering the industry—it was an iconic trademark.
Sometimes people would joke about it, especially when Kunlun acquired other companies, by drawing the dragon capturing their logos. Who would have thought the dragon would be captured one day?
Looking at Zhang Qingyou’s phone, there really was a trending topic titled #Kunlun’sDragonStolen#.
Many viewers posted pictures and videos showing the logo at the film’s opening. This had been discovered for about half a day, and at first, people thought it was photoshopped by some internet user. But as more people shared images, some even verified it themselves, leading to widespread discussion, and only then did people start to believe it.
The topic was buzzing, with some thinking it was a prank.
However, others pointed out, why would an art film mess with its own company’s logo?
—It’s not unheard of for companies to modify their logos to fit a film’s theme, like animating the logo for an animated film or dressing up a character in a spacesuit for a sci-fi movie. But “Searching for Spring in the Snow” was an obscure film, and its content had nothing to do with dragons. Moreover, Kunlun Films was known for its seriousness and had never changed its logo for any film.
The idea that Kunlun would permanently change its logo was even more absurd. Kunlun was such a large company, their logo held significant influence—it would be crazy to change it quietly like this.
Some marketing accounts even claimed to know people within Kunlun Films, saying that even Kunlun’s employees had no idea and were currently conducting an internal investigation. This suggested that it might have been a deliberate act by someone within the company.
This made the situation much more intriguing. With so many copies of the film, it wasn’t possible to alter each one individually. If the master copy had been tampered with, when could this have happened? It had to be someone from within, but why?
Lan He found it a bit funny. “Who would go out of their way to ‘steal’ the dragon?”
Everyone chimed in, mostly agreeing that it seemed like an inside job, though no one could figure out the motive. It was a strange situation—people had seen websites getting hacked, but something like this was unheard of.
Just as someone mentioned companies having their websites hacked, Zhang Qingyou’s phone vibrated. It was a message from his gossip group, which was made up of people in the film industry with good connections. After reading it, he looked up in shock and said, “Oh my, it’s not just the film’s opening! Kunlun Films’ logos everywhere are missing the dragon, including on their official website, internal forums, and so on. Even re-uploading doesn’t help. The programmers are at a loss, and even the experts they hired are stumped. The internal investigation is real, and they’re pouring all their resources into it. Rumor has it that if they can’t get the dragon back, they might temporarily pull ‘Searching for Spring in the Snow’ from theaters…”
This caused an uproar. “Was this done by some powerful hacker? But why would they need to pull the film?”
“No way!” Shi Xuan was shocked, instinctively guessing, “Could this really be a publicity stunt? ‘Searching for Spring in the Snow’ is an art film—are they trying to attract people to the theater like this? What kind of production is this, going so far?”
Zhang Qingyou exclaimed, “I don’t know! My friend is also shocked, but apparently, the higher-ups are taking this very seriously. If the dragon isn’t found, future films might also be affected.”
Everyone was stunned. Kunlun was a big company, and “Searching for Spring in the Snow” might not make much money, so pulling it might be understandable. But they were sure to have big commercial films lined up—this was no joke. Even though Zhang Qingyou was the one saying it, it was still hard for them to believe.
“Is Kunlun out of its mind?” Shi Xuan couldn’t believe it. “Could it just be an exaggeration to show how serious they are? If they really paused all their films, could their cash flow handle it? Would Kunlun Fengling allow them to do that?”
Even if Kunlun had the backing of a large group, they couldn’t afford to mess around like this. Kunlun Films was part of the Kunlun Fengling Group, a company with nearly a century of history. The founder was a famous opera singer and later a film director, having witnessed the development of Chinese cinema.
Now a media giant involved in many industries, the group had great respect for its roots. The current boss of Kunlun Films was the eldest son of the group’s leader.
Zhang Qingyou mumbled, “It’s true… I’m starting to think this has something to do with internal power struggles. But whether they really said they’d pull the films if the dragon isn’t found, I don’t know—maybe it was just said in the heat of the moment.”
His words made everyone think it was more believable. Perhaps Kunlun’s eldest son had been set up to be made a fool of. This definitely seemed like the work of an insider—otherwise, no matter how skilled a hacker was, they could only hack a website, not mess up logos across the nation.
The group fell silent, pondering this mysterious power struggle that could lead to pulling films.
At this moment, Zhang Qingyou suddenly remembered something and said to Lan He, “Hey, Lan He, you’re in Director Liu’s film ‘Chase,’ right? Kunlun is the investor, aren’t they?”
Lan He, who had just woken up, was still dazed, but then he realized, “Damn… they are!”
If Kunlun ran into trouble, would it affect the production of “Chase”?
Lan He held his head in his hands, feeling dizzy. What started as just watching the drama unfold now seemed like his own house was collapsing…
—
As soon as Zhang Qingyou learned about this, many well-informed individuals also found out, and the news quickly spread and fermented. Although Kunlun officially claimed it was an internal issue and that they were investigating, various rumors had already begun to circulate.
Netizens eagerly followed the gossip, with some believing it was an internal power struggle, using the logo incident as a pretext to target the heir of Kunlun Films. Others speculated that it was a business conflict, with commercial espionage meant to embarrass Kunlun. Then there were those with more outlandish theories, suggesting a supernatural explanation—otherwise, how could it be that after two days and countless investigations, even the website’s logo couldn’t be restored?
There were also rumors that the group had consulted a Feng Shui master. Some self-proclaimed experts in metaphysics on Weibo even chimed in, claiming that there was something “spooky” about this.
[A certain master said that the logo was stolen through a magical ritual! Kunlun without its dragon is no longer a mountain!]
[…Although Kunlun has always seemed to believe in these things, isn’t this a bit too exaggerated? I think it was just hacked.]
[??? This is the first time I’ve heard of a ritual stealing a logo—no, stealing the dragon from a logo. Is it only the dragon that was stolen?]
[I have a bold idea…]
[Did they steal the Dragon Mark from the National Bureau?]
[I didn’t say that—it was the person above!]
[The person above you lost their account already.]
[I’m going to cast a spell and steal the grass from Jinjiang…]
The rumors flew, and no matter what kind of gossip you preferred, there was something for everyone to enjoy.
Because of this, the box office for “Searching for Spring in the Snow” surged significantly. However, if the rumors were true and the dragon wasn’t found soon, the film might actually be pulled from theaters prematurely, making its fate all the more tense.
As the situation continued to escalate over the next two days, it seemed like it was about to become a citywide legend, with all the gossip focused on it.
At this critical moment, Liu Chunyang called Lan He. “You’ve heard about Kunlun’s missing dragon by now, right?”
Lan He replied, “Yeah, the whole of China knows about it.”
Liu Chunyang sighed, “Since ‘Chase’ is still in post-production, I’m also caught up in this mess. I’ve had a long-standing relationship with Kunlun Films, but look at the trouble this has caused…”
Lan He asked anxiously, “Can it be resolved?”
It wasn’t easy for a small-time actor like him to land a role in a big director’s film.
“It’s hard to say right now. The reason I’m calling you is because this whole thing is quite strange. That Kunlun logo was designed by a very famous Feng Shui master back in the day. It’s considered a key element in the company’s Feng Shui setup. The master was even involved in designing some modern structures in the capital. Now that there’s an issue with the logo, it’s directly affecting Kunlun’s fortune. Just think, if the dragon on Kunlun Mountain is gone, can it still be called Kunlun? Can it still be the ancestor of all mountains?”
Lan He finally understood why Kunlun Films was taking this so seriously. It was well known in the industry that Kunlun’s executives were superstitious. But he was also a bit puzzled—why was Director Liu telling him all this? Just to inform him of the inside story?
Liu Chunyang continued, “That master passed away long ago. Now they want to invite the immovable monk from Juehui Temple to take a look, but they can’t get him to come. No matter how much money they offer, they can’t convince him. The eldest son of Yu Hangjia, the head of Kunlun Films, is not even a year old yet, and since the logo incident, he’s been crying non-stop, and nothing seems to work…”
Lan He suddenly became apprehensive. “Are you thinking of introducing me as a babysitter for the boss’s child?”
Liu Chunyang awkwardly laughed, “Don’t say that. Since they can’t invite the immovable monk, Yu Hangjia has found a few other masters. One of them suggested that until the logo issue is resolved, they could stop the child from crying by having him sleep with a strong godfather for a few nights.”
Lan He suddenly understood. Liu Chunyang had just mentioned his long-standing relationship with Kunlun Films. “Director Liu, you aren’t suggesting that you’re that strong godfather, are you?”
Liu Chunyang replied, “No.”
Lan He: “?”
Liu Chunyang: “I’m the godfather, but you’re the strong one.”
Lan He: “…………”
Lan He: “Is that even a reasonable explanation??”
Liu Chunyang, standing his ground, said, “Lan He, this is important for our film. You’re the second male lead! You might not be afraid of anything, but I am. Someone told me they suspect that Yu Hangjia’s family is being haunted by a yellow spirit, and that the logo was stolen by it. I’m a bit scared, but I feel safer with you around. Nothing will happen with all the masters there—we won’t worry about anything else…”
Hearing the term “yellow spirit,” Lan He suddenly felt a pang of recognition. Yellow spirits, theft—could this be a clue?
Though he had been adamantly against becoming an Impermanence, over time, Lan He had become friends with Old Bai, First Lady Hu, and the others. Seeing how distressed they were over this matter, Lan He wanted to help by looking for clues. He decided to go and see for himself—could it really be the work of a yellow spirit?
And as Liu Chunyang mentioned, it was also for the sake of the film.
So, while Liu Chunyang was still rambling on, Lan He cut in, “I have no problem going, but there’s still some time left before filming wraps up.”
Liu Chunyang immediately replied, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Old Wang and get you a few nights off. Just think of it as sleeping in a different place. Lan He, for the sake of our movie, go sleep at the investor’s house!”
Lan He said, “…Don’t ruin my reputation. Make it clear that I’m there to sleep with the child!”
—
After getting Wang Mao’s approval, Liu Chunyang drove to the set to pick up Lan He and took him to a well-known villa area in Beijing. He navigated the area with ease and led Lan He inside.
Lan He’s first impression of the house was that it was designed with Feng Shui in mind. He had a limited understanding of this, only knowing what he’d heard from others in the industry. Still, he could tell that the place had been meticulously planned. The entrance had a pair of qilins for protection and prosperity, a Feng Shui threshold, and other elements that Lan He couldn’t quite identify.
The living room on the first floor didn’t show any sign of Yu Hangjia yet, but several groups of people were seated there. Some wore long robes, others were draped in Taoist garments; a few had topknots or long beards, looking like they belonged together. These were probably the masters that Liu Chunyang had mentioned Yu Hangjia had invited.
Yu Hangjia had contacted them individually before, but this was the first time they were all gathering together. They were currently in the midst of “discussing the Dao,” which was really just a way of probing each other’s backgrounds. Since Beijing was not that big, some of them were already familiar with each other or had heard of each other, leading to polite exchanges.
With just a few words, Lan He learned that the group included disciples from Maoshan, Chu Ma disciples, Feng Shui masters, and more. The renowned Maoshan and Chu Ma schools were both represented, and many of the masters had brought assistants or disciples, making the gathering lively.
While they were chatting, the masters turned to look at the sunglasses-wearing Liu Chunyang, who was acting all high and mighty, and the beautiful, ice-cold Lan He beside him. They wondered who these newcomers were and why they hadn’t spoken up yet.
The one wearing sunglasses also had a five-colored thread tied around his wrist, which suggested he was an insider. Some of the masters who were skilled in reading people’s appearances felt that the young man next to him seemed to have an unusual aura as well.
At that moment, Yu Hangjia and his wife came downstairs with their child. Liu Chunyang warmly greeted them and took the child—only to immediately hand the child over to Lan He. Holding the child, Lan He smiled, revealing his sweet dimples.
The masters thought to themselves, “Oh, we misunderstood—they’re here to take care of the child.”
Liu Chunyang then removed his sunglasses, and one of the masters who had seen a lot of movies recognized him as a famous director.
“Hangjia, Sis-in-law, this is the second male lead of ‘Chase’ and my sworn brother, as I’ve mentioned. I brought him along to hold your son,” Liu Chunyang said, almost making Lan He choke. He couldn’t believe Liu Chunyang had made him a sworn brother just to smooth things over.
“Mr. Yu, Mrs. Yu,” Lan He greeted them politely, without taking the opportunity to acknowledge the family connection since the Yu couple was significantly older than him.
“Hmm, your brother here is much better-looking than you,” Mrs. Yu laughed. Her surname was Liu, and she also held a position in the company. She didn’t put on airs just because Lan He was a lesser-known actor, especially since Liu Chunyang had introduced him.
Yu Hangjia scanned the living room, filled with masters, and noticed something off. “Isn’t there a master missing?”
“Apologies, I wasn’t feeling well,” said a man as he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his stomach. When he looked up, he happened to meet Lan He’s eyes.
Huh? Lan He was surprised to see that it was Ying Shao.
Ying Shao was equally surprised and delighted to see Lan He. “Mr. Lan!”
“Do you two… know each other?” Yu Hangjia raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, Mr. Ying is my neighbor. I didn’t expect to run into him here,” Lan He replied simply.
“Indeed, it’s a fortunate coincidence that Mr. Yu invited me here,” Ying Shao couldn’t help puffing out his chest. He had been on the brink of returning to his hometown in Northeast China due to financial troubles, but his luck had turned around. Mr. Yu had heard about how he had dealt with “Master Lou” and invited him to consult on this matter. Regardless of whether he ended up solving the problem, he’d still receive a substantial appearance fee.
Ying Shao was quite pleased with himself and was eager to show off his skills, especially since there were so many formidable peers around. He wanted to demonstrate his unique talents as a gu master—after all, his expertise might be the key.
Of course, before that, he had already stuffed himself at lunch, overeating out of sheer determination…
What pleased him even more was seeing his neighbor here. Ying Shao wasn’t familiar with the film industry, so he had no idea that Lan He was in a movie funded by Kunlun. He grinned, thinking that Lan He, who had always been skeptical of him and had called his claims “hysteria,” would finally have to believe him now!
Ying Shao couldn’t resist winking at Lan He.
“Oh,” Yu Hangjia said, assuming it was just a coincidence, and then turned to Lan He with a serious tone. “Brother, why don’t you and Chunyang take the child to play in the courtyard for a while? I have some matters to attend to—just remember, don’t believe in ghosts and spirits!”
Ying Shao: “????”
Mr. Yu, what are you saying??
Lan He was also taken aback for a moment but then nodded. “Understood.”
Yu Hangjia had already heard from Liu Chunyang that Lan He didn’t believe in superstition and had a strong aura, which reassured him. Inviting Lan He over was partly for this reason, so of course, he encouraged Lan He in this way.
The other masters, all experienced and worldly, didn’t mind Mr. Yu’s fragmented and contradictory statements. They even maintained faint smiles and nodded occasionally, indicating that Mr. Yu was absolutely right.
Ying Shao barely managed to suppress the urge to blurt out an exclamation as he sat back down, feeling a bit crushed.
—
As the conversation continued in the living room, Liu Chunyang led Lan He and the child to the courtyard. The nanny brought over tea and snacks and helped care for the child. In reality, the two of them were just keeping the child company.
Lan He had come prepared. He gently rubbed the child’s back, and sure enough, the child stopped crying—although Liu Chunyang’s presence also helped. Despite his fear, Liu Chunyang’s life force was strong, making him effective at calming the child, even if he was afraid of those very forces.
Madam Yu, watching through the glass, sighed in relief after a few moments.
Lan He, while appearing to focus on the child, was actually listening intently to the conversation in the living room. The glass door wasn’t fully closed, allowing him to faintly hear what they were discussing regarding Yu Hangjia’s family situation.
“…Mr. Yu, I cast a divination and concluded that the yellow spirit causing this turmoil is not within this house!” one of the masters declared.
Yu Hangjia wasn’t surprised, as someone had proposed this theory earlier in the afternoon. “Indeed, we couldn’t capture anything here. Could it be at the company?”
“No, it’s not that. We’ve inspected various locations these past few days and found no major issues, which suggests it’s not the yang residence but the yin residence that’s problematic. Most likely, a foreign spirit or entity has invaded your family’s ancestral tomb, stealing your family’s fortune, which is why your son is constantly crying. It’s a response to the disturbance of your ancestors’ spirits,” another master, an expert in yin-yang practices, explained.
“Indeed, given how careful Mr. Yu has been with Feng Shui in both your home and company, the only possibility is that something has happened at the yin residence, allowing the spirit to take advantage and steal the Kunlun dragon.”
In Feng Shui, both yang residences (living homes) and yin residences (ancestral tombs) are crucial. As described in the ancient text “Zang Shu” (The Book of Burial), human life is sustained by the vital energy of heaven and earth, and after death, burial in the earth allows this vital energy to nourish the bones and protect the descendants.
Feng Shui theory posits that the burial site of ancestors can significantly impact the fortunes of their descendants.
“Is it my great-grandfather’s tomb?” Yu Hangjia asked, growing anxious. His great-grandfather was the founder of their family’s enterprise. “The tomb is regularly maintained, and we’ve had Feng Shui experts design the layout… Should I send someone to inspect it?”
“It might not necessarily be your great-grandfather,” suggested another master, a Chu Ma disciple. “Your family must have a tomb register, correct? Could we take a look?”
The tomb register, or “tomb genealogy,” is part of a family’s genealogy records. It details the location, Feng Shui, and geographical orientation of a family’s ancestral tombs, often with diagrams.
Though modern customs have changed, with fewer families maintaining tomb registers, the Yu Family was particular about these traditions, and their wealth had allowed them to preserve both old and new tomb registers.
Yu Hangjia nodded. His father had entrusted him with this responsibility, but the tomb register was kept at their old family home, not with him. He immediately called home to have someone send pictures of the register.
The Yu Family held firmly to tradition. They had both an old tomb register, over a hundred years old, written on cloth scrolls, and a new one, which had been revised by a Feng Shui master as conditions and times changed. Not all ancestors were buried in the same place as originally planned due to these changes.
As time passed, the geographical environment and Feng Shui had also shifted. The masters present used the locations from the register to make predictions or perform divinations.
Ying Shao, being the youngest and least renowned among the masters, had little say. The more experienced Feng Shui and divination experts debated the matter, but their opinions were divided: some believed the problem lay with the fifth-generation ancestor’s tomb, while others thought the disturbance was in Yu Hangjia’s great-grandfather’s yin residence.
“Why not send teams to investigate each site?” Ying Shao, eager to prove himself, suggested. “We know the exact locations from the tomb register. I could even send my gu spirits to check.”
“No need for you to do that. I’ll send the celestial spirits from my shrine to investigate. If it’s an external spirit causing trouble, our Zhenfu Shrine is well-equipped to handle it!” a Chu Ma disciple immediately boasted. Chu Ma disciples cultivate relationships with animal spirits, and their shrine also housed a powerful spirit known as the King of Sorrows, giving them more confidence than Ying Shao.
This disciple, known as Mr. Ma, was always addressed as such by Yu Hangjia.
Mr. Ma began his ritual, with his assistant drumming and singing a sacred tune, invoking spirits:
“Sunset over the western hills, the sky turns dark, households bar their doors. Gentlemen on the road seek inns, birds return to the forest, tigers to the mountains. Seven-star glazed tiles above, eight-sided golden bricks below. Feet on the ground, head held high, walking with large strides in quick succession. Standing firm with feet planted, setting up the incense table to invite the spirits. First, invite the fox, then the yellow spirit, the long python, the agile mink, and the King of Sorrows…”
Some Chu Ma disciples would dance during rituals, a practice known as “noisy hall spirits,” but Mr. Ma was a “seated hall spirit,” so he only sang without dancing.
After the ritual, Mr. Ma shivered as the spirit entered him. He communicated with the spirit and sent it to investigate. About twenty minutes later, he spoke again, his voice sharp and thin.
He addressed Yu Hangjia: “A few days ago, a heavy rainstorm disturbed the Feng Shui of your great-grandfather’s tomb, allowing an external spirit to enter and steal your family’s little dragon. This isn’t just an ordinary invasion; it’s likely the work of an old enemy seeking revenge. You’ll need to negotiate with this spirit and then relocate the bones after reburying them. But when I went to your yin residence to confront the spirit, we negotiated for a long time…”
He clicked his tongue, sucking in air as if in pain. “I couldn’t persuade it. We’ll need to gather all our forces and go to the site for another round of negotiations!”
Yu Hangjia broke out in a cold sweat. This sounded more like a battle than a negotiation.
But he understood the implication: his great-grandfather’s tomb was the issue, and they needed to investigate the site.
Yu Hangjia asked, “May I ask, is this external spirit truly a yellow spirit?”
Earlier, other masters had suggested that a yellow spirit was causing the trouble, though they initially thought it was in his home or company, where they had spent hours trying to capture it without success.
“It’s hard to say. Its actions do resemble those of a yellow spirit. I was initially suspicious, wondering if it could be connected to the recent disappearance of the golden mouse, but…”
Many in the field of spiritual work were aware of the golden mouse incident, and while Mr. Ma hadn’t been directly involved, he had learned about it through his shrine’s spirits. He, like Lan He, suspected that the troublemaker might be the same entity responsible for stealing official hat and golden mouse.
As Mr. Ma spoke, he opened his hand to reveal an object: “But during our negotiation, this object fell from the spirit. Whatever it is, it clearly has a significant background.”
The object had appeared out of nowhere, and everyone looked closely at it. Written on it were the words: “Eastern Peak Underworld, Since I’m Here, Battle Donkey 001.” The onlookers were baffled.
They understood the donkey part, but “Since I’m Here” was… what?
Yu Hangjia, recognizing the reference to Eastern Peak Underworld, pondered, “Is there someone backing it?”
“It’s referring to Lord Lai,” Ying Shao finally got a chance to speak up. “That’s the title of Lord Lai. When I once communicated with a ghost, there was a Yin Messenger whose hat was inscribed with ‘Since I’m Here,’ hence the honorific Lord Lai, associated with Eastern Peak Underworld. This should be his.”
“Huh? What about the donkey?” Mr. Ma looked confused. “It’s called Lord Lai? I thought it was Afanti.”
Everyone else was just as puzzled, but the presence of something connected to the underworld indicated a deeper mystery at play.
Ying Shao scratched his head. “I have no idea what a ‘battle donkey’ is. And why would a yellow spirit have something belonging to Lord Lai? Lord Lai is upright and impartial; it couldn’t have been stolen from him, could it?”
In truth, most people suspected that Impermanence was the yellow spirit’s protector, but Ying Shao insisted on Lord Lai’s integrity.
“Who cares? Just bring more money! Money can communicate with the gods!” someone suggested, and the group readily agreed. Everyone in the business of dealing with the underworld knew that when interacting with spirits, it was essential to bring plenty of paper money and incense.
However, most of the group indicated that they wouldn’t accompany Mr. Ma on this venture. They were somewhat superstitious and preferred discussing the matter rather than directly involving themselves in the investigation. Only Ying Shao was eager to go, determined to see who dared to steal from Lord Lai.
Lan He, who had been secretly eavesdropping, found himself suddenly needing to act. When the baby needed to be fed, the nanny took over, and they were led upstairs to rest. As he passed the living room, Lan He caught a glimpse of one of the masters holding up a familiar piece of paper.
It was the one Lan He had folded himself—he recognized it immediately, his pupils contracting in surprise.
As the person responsible, Lan He had a broader perspective than the others. Instantly, he thought of his donkey and Xiao Song!
Could it be that Xiao Song was being targeted for revenge by the yellow spirit? And what about the battle donkey? Its tag was gone—had it died in battle?
Lan He had originally planned to just gather some information, but now it seemed he would need to investigate further.
With this in mind, Lan He quickly went upstairs and secretly burned a letter to Old Bai.
He and Liu Chunyang were supposed to share a room tonight. The baby slept for long periods, and after feeding, it was now peacefully asleep in the crib with a baby monitor nearby to alert the nanny when feeding was needed.
Liu Chunyang, a night owl, was still wide awake and was planning to play some games in the suite’s study. Lan He, however, said, “Director Liu, I’m quite tired, so I’ll go to bed first.”
Liu Chunyang responded absentmindedly, accustomed to seeing tired actors all the time.
Lan He lay down, pulled the covers over himself, and immediately his soul left his body. Still feeling cautious, he cast a sleep charm on Liu Chunyang, ensuring the director fell asleep at his desk before leaving the room.
—
When Lan He descended, the masters were just about to set out. He overheard their intended direction and decided to head there first, taking a shortcut along the Yin Road, which was always faster.
Yu Hangjia’s great-grandfather was buried in a cemetery, a place well-visited by admirers and descendants, as the old artist had a wide following. For this reason, the tomb had never been relocated.
Lan He didn’t know the exact location and hadn’t expected the cemetery to be so large. As far as he could see, it was filled with graves, and he almost got lost. Old Bai had yet to respond, likely busy with other matters.
Tentatively, Lan He called out, “Xiao Song?”
After calling several times, he finally heard a faint reply, “Xiao Lai.”
It was Song Futang’s voice. Lan He followed the sound and found Song Futang’s spirit standing under a pine tree. He let out a sigh of relief—though he knew Song Futang had protective talismans, it was still reassuring to see him unharmed.
Song Futang was surprised to see Lan He but quickly asked, “Are you here on official business?”
“Sort of…” Lan He had actually come for Song Futang, but he hesitated to admit it. While he was considering how to explain, he heard a soft, tapping sound behind him. Turning around, he saw the little limping donkey.
Overjoyed, Lan He reached out, “Hey, you’re okay! I was worried you’d been caught and turned into donkey-hide gelatin…”
The little donkey came over and rested its head on Lan He’s hand.
At that moment, Song Futang suddenly warned, “Stop—”
But it was too late. As soon as Lan He touched the donkey, it instantly transformed into a gleaming white skull, covered in an indescribably slimy substance.
Lan He held the skull in his hands, and his soul nearly froze with terror. Most of his experiences had been with ghosts, and just moments ago, he had let his guard down upon seeing Song Futang. This unexpected turn of events, much like when he encountered the spider gu, left him utterly terrified. In a panic, he flung the skull away. “Ah! What the hell!!”
He could clearly see the skull’s warm brown eyes staring at him as it flew in an arc through the air.
Song Futang watched the skull fly and land, puzzled. “…?”
Lan He: “…………”
…Isn’t Xiao Lai supposed to be a fierce general of Eastern Peak? Just how much more do I not know about him?
The two of them stared at each other in silence.
After a moment, Song Futang hesitantly asked, “Were you scared?”
Lan He immediately denied it, “No, I’m not scared! I’m a fearless Impermanence!”
Song Futang: “…”
Inwardly, Song Futang was taken aback:
…How adorable is this? A Impermanence who still gets scared.
Author’s Note:
Song Futang: How much more do I not know about Xiao Lai…
↑ Kid, you must have a lot of questions. He hasn’t even taken off his mask—you don’t know your wife is beautiful, and you don’t even know his name.
Thank you for the chapters!
Sorry Song Futang but you don’t know shit 😭