Bai Wu was still in chaos, unable to comprehend Lan He’s meaning. He even thought that the yin energy was so intense that the usually skeptical Lan He had also seen a ghost. Adding to the confusion, Bai Wu had revealed itself and said to Lan He, “Don’t be afraid, I’m not like them. I’m here to protect you. Don’t you remember me? I’m…”
In its beady black eyes, a deeply humanized sense of humiliation was evident: “I’m Yi Ping!”
Lan He: “…”
Lan He: “…I know.”
“You know?” Bai Wu still didn’t understand.
Lan He reached down, grabbed both of its paws, and lifted the large hedgehog, placing it to the side, “Leave the rest to me.”
Then Lan He sat up, or rather, the soul stood up.
Bai Wu was still bewildered: “How did you suddenly die? Was it from fright?”
No, it couldn’t be. It had mustered the courage to repay the favor, so why had Lan He still died?
The female ghosts were also a bit confused, but since the living had died and there was still a hedgehog, they exchanged glances and continued to approach, eerily saying to Bai Wu, “Come on…”
Lan He, with a cold expression, did not dodge but walked straight towards them, drawing out a fan: “Come on!”
The female ghosts: “………………”
One could see the previously fierce expressions start to crack, gradually becoming panicked. Apparently, they had not completely lost their sanity, as they recognized the fan of a ghost messenger and felt fear.
Lan He walked faster and faster, though there was no sound of footsteps, it brought immense pressure, especially since he also took out a sheet of paper that radiated a righteous aura.
The female ghosts were utterly terrified, their formation fell apart, and they pushed and shoved each other. Even when their embroidered shoes fell off, they didn’t dare turn back to pick them up. They scattered in all directions, screaming, “Help! Help!”
Lan He chased them for about two hundred meters, fanning one of the female ghosts into a wall. Her companions didn’t care and continued fleeing. She fell to the ground, clutching her face and crying.
Lan He approached and saw she was still crying, “Look up. I have a question for you.”
The female ghost raised her face, revealing two streaks of blood under her eyes.
Lan He: “…Fine, keep covering it. I ask you, did you see a living soul in black clothes wearing prayer beads being captured here?”
The female ghost nodded, “There were two people in black clothes. One of them matched your description, but the other’s face was unclear, just looked full of murderous energy. We didn’t dare get close.”
Lan He: “Which way did they go? You’ve been here a long time, so you should be familiar. Lead the way.”
The female ghost began to tremble and asked for confirmation, “You’re an Impermanence, right?”
Lan He wasn’t wearing a hat, but the fan was enough to prove his identity. He did it on purpose; wearing the hat would expose his identity. He was still quite famous in the underworld, “Yes, why?”
There wasn’t just one Impermanence, so admitting it wasn’t a big deal.
The female ghost sighed in relief, “You’re so fierce… Your righteous aura is just like that of the one who recently caused a commotion in the underworld. I was a little scared.”
Lan He was taken aback and asked, “You’ve also seen Sun Wukong?”
The female ghost, confused, said, “Who’s Sun Wukong? I was talking about the old lord from the Eastern Peak underworld.”
Lan He: “…………”
What was going on? Last time, he heard it was a scolding in a Mulian drama, which was relatively true to history, but how did it turn into a big commotion in the underworld after being passed around? He tied the female ghost in place with a paper rope, afraid she would run away, “The old lord and I aren’t from the same department. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Lan He returned, only to find that Yi Ping had disappeared. He made a puzzled sound and called out, “Yi Ping? Where are you?”
No response.
Lan He searched around and finally found Yi Ping lying flat in front of a sightseeing cart, hands folded on its abdomen, eyes tightly closed, face peaceful.
Lan He: “…”
If this were a painting, its title should be “Waiting for Death,” right?
Actually, this was within Lan He’s expectations. “Why don’t you lie here for a while? I still have something to do, so I’ll be leaving first…”
Bai Wu: Still serene.
The moment Lan He took out the soul-reviving fan, Bai Wu felt like it no longer existed.
At that instant before death, countless moments spent with Lan He flashed through its mind. With each memory, its quills seemed to grow inward, piercing its own heart. Is this what they mean by “those who harm others will eventually be harmed”?
Its benefactor turned out to be an Impermanence. In other words, Lan He must have always been able to see and hear it…
Bai Wu could never have imagined that there could be someone in this world who loved acting so much.
Before the goddess of Mount Tai, it wasn’t that Bai Wu didn’t want to spread goodness and truth, but being born into the Bai family was so difficult. Let it leave.
After all, no one would drive the cart at night anyway, and besides, it was a proper celestial being now, not so easily crushed to death. Lan He squatted down and pasted talismans on his own body, writing sealing charms.
He heard a sob and turned to look, but there was no sign of movement. A moment later, a single tear slowly rolled down from the corner of Yi Ping’s tightly closed eye.
Lan He: “…”
Lan He thought, the only thing that might make Yi Ping give up the idea of suicide was probably…
“Sorry, I originally planned to keep it from you until you left. I didn’t expect something like this to happen today. Earlier, I actually wanted to fulfill your wish and set up a Fortune God Tower for you. Since you’re so upset, let’s just pretend none of this happened. I won’t tell anyone, and you can forget about it. I don’t need you to repay me. How does that sound?”
Bai Wu’s lips moved slowly: “Do you have a courtyard house?”
Lan He, with a blank expression, said, “No, just an eighty-square-meter apartment. Take it or leave it.”
Being a household spirit was indeed better than being a wild spirit. In this life, Bai Wu had never lived in a Fortune God Tower, so even if it were to die… Bai Wu thought for a while, then slowly got up, eyes vacant, and said, “Then I’ll wait a few more days before I die.”
“…No rush. You can rest here first. I just wanted to let you know. I still need to save someone.” Lan He stopped it, “To you, three or more people probably look like a vast crowd.”
Bai Wu hesitated but still silently followed behind Lan He.
Although Lan He had already killed its soul, if he wasn’t there to protect him, what if something happened to Lan He? Then it would lose both its benefactor and the Fortune God Tower. What would it do then? Boohoo.
…
Lan He hid his body well and placed the talismans on it. Then, led by the female ghost, he continued toward the Prince’s Mansion, but this time he floated, naturally moving faster.
On the way, they passed by a pond, where there were also female ghosts sitting by the water’s edge. The scent on them was completely different from that of hanging ghosts. Typically, ghosts who died on land carried the scent of paper ash, while those who died in water carried the smell of mutton.
Given this, Yu Hangjia’s words were not wrong; there were indeed many ghosts here, some who died on land and some in water.
“I don’t know where they went after this, but this place isn’t very large. They might be…” The hanging ghost was still speaking when suddenly, snow began to fall from the sky.
Lan He was taken aback, looking up at the snowflakes fluttering down. It wasn’t winter yet…
When the “snowflakes” in the dark night sky fell into Lan He’s hand, he realized they weren’t snowflakes at all but round, square-holed white paper coins. Each piece had a diameter of about three inches, but from a distance, they looked like snowflakes in the air.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a scene like this…” The female ghost murmured, her expression nostalgic. “Many years ago, when I was buried, someone held up large strings of paper coins. It took someone with great strength to toss them high into the air, covering the sky, making it look like snow was falling.”
The yellow and white paper coins corresponded to gold and silver.
Just as Lan He was finding it strange, he heard a voice coming from nowhere: “Corner man, back end answer, ten strings of coins from the old master! Eight strings of coins from the old lady…”
The voice was loud and clear, and after each line, there was a synchronized response about the amount of money.
“Why is there a funeral procession here? Is it also for ghosts?” Lan He sniffed carefully but didn’t smell any paper ash.
Bai Wu and the female ghost were also confused: “It seems real, like the voices of the living.”
Accompanied by the voice announcing the money, a procession appeared. Leading them was someone carrying a large string of paper coins, scattering them as they walked. Behind them were people holding mourning banners, plaques, wreaths, and so on. There were also a few children around ten years old, dressed in white, beating small drums and carrying colorful canopies. Naturally, there were also those carrying the coffin.
The procession consisted of dozens of people, making quite a racket as they approached.
Lan He saw that among the crowd, someone seemed to be holding a portrait. He looked closely and felt a chill down his spine. It was clearly his own face.
The female ghost gasped: “How am I dead again?!”
“??” Lan He was bewildered. Looking at Bai Wu, it was also clutching its chest, saying, “I knew it, I’m already dead…”
Lan He: “…”
The behavior of the two was strange, and Lan He himself felt something was off. If he was the one who died, why would he be buried according to Beijing customs when he wasn’t from the capital? And as an only child, where would the supposed grandaunt come from?
The confusion seemed to deepen, but Lan He didn’t realize that he was gradually losing his emotional fluctuations. Unnoticed, even the initial confusion faded away, and his footsteps came to a stop.
As Lan He’s thoughts became increasingly jumbled, the people in the procession all turned their gazes toward him, their faces surprisingly adorned with bright smiles. The pallbearers patted the red longevity coffin, and the lid opened.
As soon as Lan He saw it, he unconsciously began walking toward it, as if it were his final resting place. The female ghost and Yi Ping followed him, and they all reached the longevity coffin. Lan He climbed in, laying down.
Yi Ping also jumped in, transforming into a large hedgehog and squatting on Lan He’s chest.
The female ghost also intended to crawl in, with one leg already halfway inside, when Lan He suddenly let out a cry of pain—the fact that Yi Ping sat on him was one thing, but its quills were sharp and rigid, standing upright.
Lan He’s expression cleared up as he realized how odd it was for him to be lying in a coffin. He felt something was wrong and tried to sit up to take a look.
The pallbearers, seeing this, hurriedly attempted to close the coffin lid and nail it shut. The female ghost, unable to get in, fell outside.
The sound of hammering echoed—thump, thump—as the coffin was being sealed…
In the darkness, Lan He, enduring the pain, pushed aside the oblivious hedgehog. He took out First Lady Hu’s nail from his chest pocket and quickly burned it. As the nail turned to ash, his thoughts became much clearer, like clouds parting to reveal the sun.
Lan He kicked the coffin lid hard, and the not-yet-secure lid was sent flying. When he got up and looked around, he realized that it wasn’t a coffin at all, but just a large cardboard box meant for packing big items. Surrounding him were paper scraps and garbage, arranged in a formation.
Only then did Bai Wu snap out of it: “What’s this? Why are your clothes torn?”
“?” Lan He replied, “Don’t you remember? I thought you pricked me on purpose to wake me up.”
He added silently to himself, or maybe it was some form of revenge. Good thing it wasn’t my physical body. If it were, and I’d been pricked by Yi Ping, would there have been any chance of survival? I would have turned into a sieve.
Bai Wu looked at the formation on the ground and gradually came to its senses, weakly saying, “I didn’t know. It was just a subconscious reaction to danger, so my quills stood up.”
—Ordinarily, its quills wouldn’t stay erect all the time.
Looking around, they realized that the female ghost had taken advantage of the situation to escape.
Lan He began to ponder. Based on his personal experience, the illusion spell just used was either from the Huang sect or the Hu sect, similar to what Melon Head Immortal had done before.
However, the caster was far more skilled than Melon Head Immortal. Without even being present, they had created a formation that was much more confusing than Melon Head’s illusion. He had unknowingly fallen into their trap.
Bai Wu, still bewildered, asked, “So what do we do now? The guide ran away.”
Lan He, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed: “No rush. It should be nearby. Otherwise, why set up a deceptive formation here?”
From the nearby garden, faint braying of a donkey could be heard, confirming Lan He’s suspicion, “Let’s go.”
…
Song Futan, holding the reins of a small lame donkey, sat on a stone bench, coldly eyeing the black-robed figure he had brought with him. Although the person hadn’t revealed their face, Song had a vague feeling that this was the same person who had robbed Yan San outside Juehui Temple.
The black-robed figure reached out, blowing on their fingernails, which appeared sharp. “Last time outside Juehui Temple, it wasn’t convenient to talk. This time, I finally have a chance to chat with you.”
It was also the first time the figure spoke, their voice somewhat indistinguishable between male and female.
Song Futan ignored them. Among the many demons and monsters, the black-robed figure was already considered one of the more refined ones, not resorting to threats.
The black-robed figure approached, sighing, “Spitting red lotus to heal the body. Isn’t this a chance given by heaven, allowing me to swallow the lotus and form a pill?”
He spoke openly about his intention to devour Song Futan, his fingers grazing the donkey’s head. The sharp nails and faint aura of malice made the donkey freeze in fear.
Song Futan said calmly, “Don’t touch my donkey.”
The black-robed figure glanced at the paper donkey’s plaque, suddenly laughing softly. Two points of red light seemed to flash under the robe as he said in a bewitching tone, “The lord is buried underground, I linger among the living… If you wish to meet its master, why not go to the Yellow Springs sooner?”
As he spoke, a thin blade extended from between his fingers.
Many ghosts and monsters had tried to drive Song Futan to madness through bloody, eerie, and terrifying scenes, hoping he would give up on living and willingly abandon the prayer beads.
Only by doing so could they, who couldn’t get close to the beads, achieve their desires. But Song Futan had never wavered.
The black-robed figure had not raised their voice nor conjured any terrifying illusions, but their words struck straight at the heart.
To manipulate someone, it isn’t always necessary to know what they fear; knowing what they desire works just as well.
Although Song Futan remained silent, the black-robed figure seemed to understand perfectly. “Did I guess correctly? You’re truly wavering, heh…”
Even the smallest crack was enough for him. The red glow in the black-robed figure’s eyes intensified, but then suddenly flickered as he swiftly dodged to the side.
A chain flew silently through the air, missing its target due to the black-robed figure’s quick movement.
The one holding the other end of the chain was none other than Lan He.
Though they were some distance apart, the soul-binding chain had a certain flexibility. Lan He had seen Old Bai and Yan San use a single rope to bind a large number of ghosts, without sacrificing any agility.
Since becoming an Impermanence, Lan He’s skills had been enhanced, and even in the real world, he had an uncanny accuracy with the chain. He rarely missed when targeting ghosts, so he was disappointed to see this attempt fail. “This little critter is pretty nimble.”
The black-robed figure glanced at Lan He’s soul-binding chain and chuckled. “So, it’s you.”
Since the main opponent had arrived, it seemed there would be no shaking the resolve of the red lotus today.
Lan He raised his voice, “That’s right, I’m Impermanence. Let him go now, and I might spare you. Don’t think you can escape the judgment of Taishan’s Underworld…”
The black-robed figure: “…………”
Taishan’s Underworld? What kind of new saying was this? Had he really fallen so far behind the times?
The black-robed figure suppressed his confusion; asking Lan He for clarification would only lower his own status. Instead, he lazily responded, “Do you even know who I am?”
Lan He was also speechless. “Judging by your sneaky attire and outdated illusions, you’re definitely the one who stole the hat last time.”
The black-robed figure was startled. “You’re not as foolish as I thought…”
Damn, it really is him, Lan He thought. In all my time on duty, I’ve only met a few people and ghosts in the underworld and witnessed a few events. If it weren’t for you, I’d even mistake Melon Head for you!
But of course, he couldn’t say that aloud. With full confidence, Lan He declared, “We’ve already tracked you down and came specifically to catch you. Surrender now.”
The black-robed figure sneered, clearly not believing a word of it.
Lan He shook the soul-binding chain and threw it out again.
The black-robed figure, confident and agile, easily dodged once more. “I just praised you for not being stupid, so why do you insist on doing something you know you can’t succeed at…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the chain landed squarely on Song Futan.
Lan He yanked the chain, pulling Song Futan towards him. Who said the chain could only be used on the culprit?
Song Futan: “…”
The black-robed figure: “…………”
Lan He swiftly pulled Song Futan back and introduced him casually, “This is Yi Ping, and this is Xiao Song.” He tossed a piece of paper to Yi Ping, “Yi Ping, send a message to Miaogan Mountain and the underworld.”
“My name is Bai Wu,” Yi Ping said tearfully, obediently squatting to write the message.
Song Futan: “…” He had always wondered why he was called Yi Ping.
The black-robed figure, however, remained calm and composed, saying with indifference, “Miaogan Mountain is nothing. I’ll spare you this time.”
“? You’re clearly just afraid of First Lady Hu,” Lan He shot back, determined not to let him go easily. He scattered the remaining paper he had taken from Officer Wang.
The black-robed figure, forced to dodge, slowed down a bit. Lan He’s speed, however, was faster than expected, and his words made the black-robed figure furious: “Who’s afraid of that dead fox?”
It didn’t take long for the black-robed figure to understand why Lan He was so quick.
Lan He extended his left hand, revealing sharp claws. The black-robed figure detected a familiar aura on them: “First Hu …”
Lan He didn’t hold back, aiming straight for the black-robed figure’s face. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Lan He hooked his claws into the figure’s hood and ripped it off, revealing a pair of tattered, furry pointed ears.
“You’re not from the Huang sect?” Lan He asked, recognizing that the ears weren’t the round ones typical of weasels, which the Huang sect members usually concealed. These ears resembled those of the Hu sect.
The black-robed figure finally removed her hood, realizing there was no point in hiding any longer.
As the hood came off, Lan He noticed that the black-robed figure bore a resemblance to First Lady Hu. She had slanted, fox-like eyes with heavy makeup—or were those dark circles? In any case, it was clear she was a female fox spirit.
No wonder she couldn’t be found among the Huang sect members; her previous deceptions must have been a ruse. Even Hu 79 hadn’t recognized her, not because she was from the Huang sect, but because she was a fellow sect member. The level of the illusion she had cast matched that of her kind.
She flicked out her sharp tongue, licking the spot on her cheek where Lan He’s claw had grazed her, and her torn ears twitched. “You want to capture me? Too bad you only have a fraction of her power.”
As she spoke, she suddenly leaped into Lan He’s arms. Lan He instinctively caught her, but she was incredibly heavy. Looking closely, he realized it wasn’t a fox at all, but a solid gold door threshold.
As for the fox herself, she had used an object to substitute her form and had already vanished without a trace. Her illusion techniques were indeed profound.
Lan He, perplexed, held the gold threshold and asked Yi Ping, “Do you know who that was? She looks a lot like First Lady Hu, and her physical characteristics were quite distinct.”
Those ears were so torn up, and yet she deliberately exposed them.
Bai Wu, still squatting on the ground, responded in a daze, “Never seen her before.”
Forget it, asking Bai Wu is pointless.
For the time being, it seemed like Old Bai and First Lady Hu hadn’t arrived yet, so Lan He wrote another letter to urge them. Remembering he had a dinner appointment at Xingshuang, he temporarily entrusted the gold threshold to Yi Ping. Though it wasn’t a golden mouse, it was still an artifact of some value.
As for what was left to deal with…
That would be Song Futan.
“Were you… dining at Xingshuang?” Lan He turned to ask him.
Song Futan looked at him with a strange expression, not yet realizing anything was wrong. “Mm, did you see me?”
Lan He wasn’t sure how to explain—whether to start from the beginning or just get to the point. But time seemed short, so he decided, “Let’s meet at Xingshuang and discuss it there. I’ll explain everything to you.”
What does that mean? Song Futan hadn’t yet broken free from his previous thoughts.
“After you wake up, don’t leave just yet. Wait for me to find you—I’ve got a surprise for you.” Lan He waved the soul-reviving fan at him.
Song Futan’s soul drifted back, his mind flashing with something he struggled to grasp—
.
After returning to his body, Lan He hurried outside, his steps light and somewhat joyful. By this time, the main gates were already closed, so he had to climb over the wall to get out.
Before he even reached Xingshuang, he received a call from Chen Xingyang. “Hey, bro, what’s going on? Did you fall into the toilet? I sent you a message on WeChat, but you didn’t reply. I even came over to bring you some toilet paper, but you weren’t there.”
He had almost thought Lan He had gotten into trouble after arguing with someone in another private room, wondering if he had too much to drink.
“Ah, I wasn’t feeling well, just stepped out for some fresh air,” Lan He said, jogging as he spoke.
Bai Wu was once again overwhelmed with tears, realizing that Lan He was truly good at acting. He behaved as if Bai Wu didn’t exist at all in front of others.
How could there be such a person? How could this person be my patron? Our Bai sect has lived honestly all our lives, resigning ourselves to fate… But why is there a way to die that utterly destroys the soul like this?
“Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?” Chen Xingyang asked.
“I’m fine, just ate a bit too much,” Lan He quickly replied. He glanced over and noticed that Yi Ping seemed to be feeling sad again, kneeling forlornly on the ground. Lan He decided not to worry about him for the moment.
“Then hurry up and come over, Director Liu is getting ready to go see Director Song,” Chen Xingyang said, seemingly having spoken to someone, urging Lan He.
Lan He: “…Oh, okay.”
They had indeed planned to go earlier, but with everything that had happened, Lan He had almost forgotten. He had also just arranged to meet with Xiao Song… Lan He was still buzzing with excitement at the thought of this first “online friend” meeting, but remembering that he needed to stop by Director Song Qiyun’s place first made him feel a bit deflated.
But thinking it over, it should only take a moment to greet them; he could go see Xiao Song soon afterward.
When Lan He arrived at Xingshuang, he found that Chen Xingyang and the others were already outside, and Chen gave him a nod. “Let’s go.”
“Is it in this courtyard?” Lan He asked as he followed Liu Chunyang through the corridor, noticing that they were heading further in. A sense of unease crept over him.
“Yeah, just here.” Liu Chunyang rubbed his nose and knocked on the door twice before pushing it open, calling out, “Old Song, long time no see!”
Wait a minute, isn’t this…
Lan He suddenly remembered: Song Futan, Song Qiyun—both surnamed Song. And Xiao Song had mentioned some connection with Yu Hangjia. How had he not made this connection before?
“Come on,” Chen Xingyang said, assuming Lan He was feeling shy, and gave him a gentle push inside.
Lan He’s steps felt unsteady as he floated inside, still trying to process what was happening.
Song Futan was sitting sideways by a small table, his head lowered, lost in thought, still pondering the words Lan He had said earlier.
The room became lively with greetings as Song Qiyun and his brother-in-law stood to welcome Liu Chunyang, but Song Futan remained seated, seemingly dazed.
Liu Chunyang shook hands with Song Qiyun, and there was no need to introduce Chen Xingyang, as he was familiar with Song Qiyun’s brother-in-law, Dou Qishan. The only unfamiliar face was Lan He.
Liu Chunyang patted Lan He on the back, introducing him to each person. “Director Song, I heard you’ve met him once. This is his wife, President Dou. Oh, and—” he teased, “Master Xuan Guang?”
Song Futan lifted his head indifferently and saw the young man standing beside Liu Chunyang. The man was slightly slender, with strikingly beautiful features, but what caught Song Futan’s attention first were his eyes.
He had warm brown eyes, eyes that Song Futan had seen countless times, yet was seeing for the first time—eyes that, compared to the coldness of a soul, were full of life. Just by looking at those eyes, Song Futan could confirm that this was indeed him.
So, this was the secret, the surprise he had mentioned.
In that instant, it was as if the snow had just melted, and the night was close to the dawn of early spring. The melted snow flowed like a cold river into the rosy light of dawn.
Song Futan stood there, stunned, feeling as though a hazy mist had settled over everything around him, muffling all sound.
The young man smiled at him among the others, showing sweet dimples. “Hello, I’m Lan He.”
At that moment, the sounds of the world returned to normal.
Author’s Note:
Phew, finally revealed the shou’s name at 200,000 words.
AAAAAAAAAAAAH THEY FINALLY MEEEETTTTT