Song Futan suddenly stood up, his expression grave. Both Ying Shao and the others couldn’t help but look at him.
Song Futan said seriously, “Which cemetery is it exactly? This behavior is a violation of portrait rights and defamation. The creators, sellers, and buyers all need to bear legal responsibility.”
Chen Xingyang: “But… Teacher Xuangguang, you’re being quite selective here. I was just talking about getting married multiple times, and you didn’t react at all.”
Now, suddenly starting to lecture about the law—doesn’t that seem a bit schizophrenic?
Song Futan: “Mm.”
Chen Xingyang: Mm? What does that even mean?
“Haha, selling marriage certificates does need to be reported. It’s so disrespectful,” Lan He said. “But I really haven’t had such a dream. Could it be because you’ve been single for too long?”
As he casually joked, he glanced at Hu 79, wondering if perhaps something had come after him but was dealt with by Hu 79.
However, Hu 79 was sleeping soundly in the Wealth God Tower, and Bai Wu was even less likely to appear.
Chen Xingyang, exasperated, said, “Just because I’ve been single for a long time doesn’t mean I’m that bad, okay? I dream about different people each time! Hey, stop talking and go away. You don’t understand this. Let me discuss it with Master Ying.”
“Okay, okay.” Lan He really stepped back a couple of steps.
Ying Shao hesitated before speaking, “…”
“Actually, I contacted my agent right away, and I found out that it’s not just that one cemetery or vendor selling these underworld marriage certificates. They’ve appeared in many places, with official registration offices, dates, and everything. Fifty yuan a piece, featuring international and domestic celebrities, influencers—you name it. It’s like pirated posters, making a profit off it. This has been going on for a while… But every time I dream, it’s always about that one cemetery.”
Chen Xingyang explained, “But Lan He, who tops the charts, hasn’t had such dreams. Does that mean I’m being targeted? Is someone trying to force me into a ghost marriage?”
In the capital, the term for ghost marriage ceremonies was “corpse bone pairing,” where the families of both parties would become “corpse bone relatives.”
Ghost marriages had existed since ancient times, with many different scenarios. Sometimes there was a marriage agreement while both were alive, or sometimes families arranged a marriage after death. In some cases, both the man and woman had passed, while in others, only one had died—either the woman or the man. The dead would “marry” someone, and the deceased man would be “welcomed back to the grave” with his bride. From this practice, the profession of ghost matchmakers also emerged.
—But regardless of the region, there was no precedent for repeated ghost marriages!
“It’s strange that you’re only dreaming about half of the process—just the ceremonies, without the bridal chamber. Even in the underworld, bigamy isn’t allowed. Even in ancient times, it was one husband with multiple concubines, not multiple wives,” Ying Shao said, confused. “And ghost marriages require formal compatibility matching and betrothal rituals, including verifying birthdates of both parties. In your case, it feels more like you’re being used as a tool… like a rented prop or something.” Moreover, such a process wouldn’t require birthdate matching—just knowing Chen Xingyang’s identity would suffice.
Chen Xingyang: “…”
Chen Xingyang: “…And it costs fifty yuan a time!”
Damn, he really was being used like a tool!
Each time, he was exhausted, but it wasn’t even a proper marriage. It was like he was being used as a prop for wedding photo shoots, without even getting paid. The fifty yuan for the marriage certificate didn’t even end up in his hands.
Chen Xingyang said anxiously, “So what do I do now? I don’t even know where this is all coming from. It has to be related to that marriage certificate they’re selling, right? Should I report them right away?”
“Don’t be hasty. Reporting it is definitely the right thing to do. Since your dreams are only tied to that one cemetery and the marriage certificates are being sold in bulk, it’s hard to say where the real issue lies. Let’s not alert the wrong people for now, and we can deal with it later.” Even if the dreams were unrelated to the certificates, the selling of such items was both disrespectful and illegal.
Ying Shao glanced at Lan He, who seemed to have given up on speaking, and said, “I need some time to think this over. Come to my house later this afternoon.”
“Okay, thank you, Master Ying.” Chen Xingyang suddenly remembered something and added, “Also, could you report this to the authorities in the underworld? I heard you have connections with ghost officials.”
Ying Shao: “Uh-huh…”
Chen Xingyang ended the video call.
Ying Shao immediately turned to Lan He, “I’d like to file a report.”
Lan He flipped open a notebook and pretended to write, “I’ll dispatch Officer Xiao Song right away. He’s already eager to serve justice.”
Song Futan: “…”
Song Futan lightly touched his sword, clearly struggling to hold back. “Are you sure you haven’t had dreams like this?”
“No,” Lan He said as he woke Hu 79 up, asking her and Bai Wu if they had sensed any traces of magic being used.
Hu 79, still groggy, shook her head.
Song Futan said, “At the moment, we don’t know the specifics of the culprit, how many victims there are, or whether Chen Xingyang is the only target. We might need to be cautious and wait until they approach Chen Xingyang again, so we can catch them all at once.”
Ying Shao: Cautious? He seems rather eager for some violent enforcement.
“Here’s an idea, I’ll make a paper substitute for Chen Xingyang and see what happens,” Lan He suggested. It was time to showcase his traditional skills. Later, they could ask Chen Xingyang for some hair and his birthdate under the guise of Ying Shao’s name—just to trick the spirits.
…
Chen Tianji ran a restaurant, and his only daughter had just graduated from college when she tragically died in a car accident. Both he and his wife were devastated. On their daughter’s birthday, while visiting her grave in the cemetery, they saw vendors selling underworld marriage certificates.
At that time, his wife found it curious and said, “I can’t believe they sell these things. Let’s buy one too. Our daughter loved watching that movie *Chase*, and it seems like they’re even selling certificates for those stars.”
Chen Tianji found it funny and joked to the vendors, “What’s the point of burning something like this? It would be better to pair her bones for a ghost marriage. But with her temper, she didn’t even like dating when she was alive, so she probably wouldn’t be up for a ghost marriage either.”
Even though he ran a restaurant, his grandfather had once made a living serving the dead, a well-known master of scattering paper money during funerals in the capital. Back then, it was an art to scatter the paper high and wide. His grandfather had been a benchmark in the industry, training apprentices, and to this day, their family still had connections with those serving the dead.
One of the vendors recognized him. “Brother Chen, you’re not seeing it the right way. Come take a look at this marriage certificate.”
Chen Tianji glanced at the vendor named Shan Liang. From what he knew, Shan Liang’s father had been a *chuma* (spirit medium), passing the family connection to Shan Liang’s older brother. The term “passing the connection” was like transferring property—it referred to passing a spiritual gift to someone in the family, typically upon retirement. Sometimes it was even passed between spouses.
In short, Shan Liang was the one who hadn’t made the cut, not chosen by the ancestors or spirits.
It was a sad situation. While his brother, who had the spiritual gift, wasn’t fond of the industry, Shan Liang, who wished to practice it, wasn’t able to. After a fallout with his brother, he started selling items at the cemetery, scraping a living off the dead.
As a result, Shan Liang stood out from the other vendors—his family actually knew the business. Even though he didn’t inherit the gift, Chen Tianji was willing to take a look. “What’s so special about yours?”
It didn’t look that different from the others.
Shan Liang said, “Look, mine costs 3,800 yuan, but it’s different. If you buy it, I guarantee your daughter will ‘marry’ this celebrity.”
Chen Tianji looked at him as if he were an idiot.
Shan Liang laughed, “I know you don’t believe me. You can ask Liu from Xiemu Hall.”
Xiemu Hall was a coffin shop, and this Liu was someone Chen Tianji knew—his grandfather’s apprentice. Liu had eventually switched to selling coffins. Seeing Shan Liang’s conviction, Chen Tianji couldn’t help but call Liu.
Liu immediately confirmed, “It’s true! I bought one for my granduncle and several family members had dreams where he married a female celebrity. Later, he even thanked me in a dream, saying he was quite proud down there.”
Chen Tianji: “…”
Shan Liang smiled, “What do you think? The 3,800 yuan doesn’t just get you a piece of paper; it covers the wedding expenses too. If you ever need anything later, you can come find me.”
Chen Tianji looked at him strangely, “You can handle things like this now?”
“What can’t I handle?” Shan Liang said nonchalantly. “I have my own connections too.”
“Wait, something feels off,” Chen Tianji’s wife interjected, confused. “Isn’t this… selling the same certificate multiple times?”
Chen Tianji shook his head. Though he didn’t know how Shan Liang managed it, he was starting to understand the logic.
As expected, Shan Liang exaggeratedly explained, “Sis, 3,800 yuan and you think you’re getting a real marriage with a celebrity? It’s just a symbolic ceremony, fulfilling a dream! If I told you I could really marry your daughter off to a celebrity, then I’d be scamming you!”
Chen Tianji’s wife: “…”
She was left speechless.
Curious, Chen Tianji gave it more thought. Liu wouldn’t lie to him. Though it wasn’t a real marriage, would their daughter actually receive it? The 3,800 yuan was a small amount to them, less than what they spent on her concert tickets. Chen Tianji said, “Alright then, give me one for Lan He.”
“Lan He’s unavailable,” Shan Liang immediately replied.
“Why not? Isn’t he a top seller? Others are selling him, why can’t you?” Chen Tianji’s wife asked. “Our daughter loved watching *Chase*, which he starred in.”
“If she likes *Chase*, then buy Chen Xingyang’s. He’s been selling well recently, and he’s the lead actor. I won’t even charge you extra,” Shan Liang suggested. While Lan He was the top seller, Chen Xingyang was not far behind, ranking second or third.
For the Tianji couple, they were both celebrities, so it didn’t really matter. They bought a marriage certificate, followed Shan Liang’s instructions to burn it, and gave him their daughter’s birthdate and details.
“By the way, why can’t we buy Lan He’s certificate?” Chen Tianji asked.
“The business hasn’t opened up yet. Maybe later,” Shan Liang said with a sly smile. ‘Yeah, right,’ he thought. Lan He lived next door to Ying Shao and was the ambassador for Miaogan Mountain’s tourism, so it wasn’t convenient to mess with him. Shan Liang would like to, but it would have to wait until Lan He wasn’t around.
Some other celebrities either deeply believed in deities or had altars with statues at home, or their Yang energy was particularly strong, such as some action stars… none of these were suitable for doing this kind of business.
—
Chen Xingyang went to Ying Shao’s house as agreed, handing over his hair and birthdate. Ying Shao then took out a small paper figure and a hat, and said to Chen Xingyang, “Tonight, when you go to sleep, don’t sleep in the master bedroom. Place the paper figure on your bed and sleep in the guest room, wearing this hat. No matter what sounds you hear, don’t react.”
The hat was Lan He’s official hat, and by wearing it, Chen Xingyang would essentially become invisible.
As for the paper figure, it was made quickly, not as refined as the one Dou Chunting used last time. It was a simple, flat figure, but it should work for now.
Chen Xingyang followed Ying Shao’s instructions when he got home, placing the paper figure in his usual sleeping spot, and then he went to the guest room to sleep.
In the past few days, he’d been having strange dreams. The scariest part was realizing that reality and his dreams were the same, though he hadn’t actually seen a ghost while fully awake. Now, he was both nervous and a little excited, unable to sleep. Would something happen tonight?
He lay in bed until midnight, feeling a bit drowsy, when suddenly he heard a thud—it came from outside the window, as if something had hit the glass. But he lived on the sixteenth floor.
It’s happening. It’s really happening!
There really is something.
Chen Xingyang remembered Ying Shao’s instructions but couldn’t help glancing sideways. Through the gap in the curtain, he saw a flickering shadow.
In an instant, his body felt like it was plunged into an icy abyss, cold sweat pouring down.
His legs went weak, and he immediately closed his eyes, stiff as a board. *They can’t see me, they can’t see me, they can’t see me…* Ying Shao had said, no matter what he heard, he shouldn’t react. He kept his eyes tightly shut.
Even though the soundproof windows should have blocked outside noise, he still thought he could hear faint, eerie murmurs.
Outside the window.
Lan He: “Hu Xiren, be careful.”
Crashing into someone’s window like that—seriously?
Hu 79: “Don’t mind the details. Chen Xingyang is sleeping soundly. Let’s go inside.”
Ying Shao was guarding downstairs, while they sneaked inside, hiding under the bed and in the wardrobe.
Chen Xingyang wasn’t taken away every night, so it wasn’t certain if tonight would be the night. Nevertheless, Lan He lay under the bed, instructing Hu 79 and Bai Wu, “You two hide in the wardrobe, and watch for my signal later.”
Hu 79: “How will I see it?”
Lan He: “…”
He forgot he was wearing a mask. Casually correcting himself, he said, “Watch for my eyes!”
After waiting for about an hour with no activity, Lan He started to wonder if there wouldn’t be any action tonight. But when he turned his head, he saw a leg outside the bed, wearing red silk pants. Looking the other way, he spotted a green skirt, the feet hovering slightly off the ground—clearly not human.
“Groom, let’s go. Time to get married again,” a drifting voice echoed.
From the perspective of the two ghosts, the person lying in bed was “Chen Xingyang.” He seemed a bit stiff, but some souls, when out of their bodies, were dazed and groggy, making it easier for the ghosts to perform the wedding.
The two ghosts supported “Chen Xingyang” from both sides. Hu 79, barely able to hold back, cracked open the wardrobe door, while Lan He prepared to grab their legs. Just then, they overheard the two ghosts, as if they were employees complaining about their boss:
“So tiring, how long do we have to keep doing this? We worked on weddings when we were alive, and now we still have to do it after death. After all that, we only get a tiny bit to eat.”
“What can we do? The boss says this is a long-term investment, and once we make some money from these marriages, we’ll break into the market. Who knows, maybe later we can profit off these celebrities too. When times get better, we’ll all be eating well. But honestly, I think he’s just tricking us.”
“Exactly, he seems pretty stingy. I heard my coffin was made from pine wood, and he even mocked me for it.”
Lan He raised his hand, signaling everyone not to move. *These celebrities?* It sounded like this was some kind of ghostly wedding company. And they weren’t only targeting Chen Xingyang.
Lan He originally planned to subdue them on the spot, but after reconsidering, since it was just a paper figure, why not follow them and see if they could catch the whole operation?
The two ghosts carried the paper figure outside. Lan He and his team waited a bit before following. From a distance, they saw the two ghosts, dressed in garish outfits, place the paper figure into a carriage drawn by paper horses. The two sat in the front, driving the carriage, while the paper figure leaned in the back.
The ghosts seemed completely at ease, not even glancing behind them.
Trailing them from afar, Lan He muttered, “Following them like this is tiring. Should we just beat them up and force them to lead us to their base?”
Hu 79: “Their acting might not be up to par, who knows what’ll happen when the time comes. What if we miss some of them?”
Lan He: “…”
He faintly felt like there was a hidden jab in there, but it did remind him that since this was a group operation, it was crucial to catch them all in one go.
Lan He: “I’ll burn a message to Old Bai now, so he can prepare to surround them.”
The underworld’s corporate culture frowned upon going solo, and even group work was too mild. The best strategy was always an all-out brawl.
Hu 79 laughed mischievously, “Fortune favors the bold, and the timid starve. These ghosts pulling off stunts like this in the capital are definitely playing with fire.”
No sooner had Hu 79 said this, than the carriage the two ghosts were riding transformed into a coffin before their very eyes. She paused in surprise, “Looks like they have some skill, even capable of illusions.”
Just a moment ago, she had mentioned they were courting death, using “board” as a slang term for a coffin lid—meaning they were dead serious. Of course, using such a phrase with ghosts was a bit odd. But once she had unwittingly exposed the trick, and since their abilities weren’t that great, the illusion was dispelled.
Now, what they saw was indeed a colorful paper figure sitting on a coffin, eerily conspicuous in the night. Ghost marriages were a blend of wedding and funeral customs, with the bridal party dressed in bright red and green, cheerfully festive yet deeply shrouded in the presence of death.
Lan He instructed, “Let’s go for an inside-outside strategy. Bai Wu, you sneak into the coffin when you get the chance.” Bai Wu, being a hedgehog adept at staying hidden, was well-suited for stealth.
Hu 79 volunteered, “I’ll go!”
Recalling her earlier collision with the window, Lan He quickly declined, “No, you’re too clumsy.”
Hu 79 glanced at her furry hands in dismay, “Is having fur a crime?”
Lan He: “…”
Bai Wu had squeezed into a crowded subway before, so what was a coffin in comparison?
He transformed into his original form and, with a surprising level of agility for a hedgehog, darted forward. Reaching the back of the carriage, he struggled a bit, using his paws to claw at the edge and pulling his legs up. His round, chubby body tilted slightly to the side, showing how much effort he was putting in.
Lan He and Hu 79 watched in silence: “…”
Lan He muttered, “Maybe we’re pushing him too hard…”
But despite the struggle, Bai Wu finally gave one last push with his short paws and tumbled into the coffin. It wasn’t quite like going to buy oranges, but his departure did look rather sorrowful.
Hu 79 commented, “Doesn’t seem too smart. Shouldn’t they have sent one of their own kin to infiltrate instead of just going after Chen Xingyang?”
She wasn’t fully aware of the situation, so Lan He casually replied, “Yeah, who knows why. Even though my underworld marriage certificate sells the most, I’ve never had any dreams.”
Despite that, both he and Song Futan had been troubled by the whole ordeal.
Hu 79’s eyes lit up: “Really? Yay!!!”
Song Futan: “…”
Lan He: “…”
… This fox was suffering from a serious case of celebrity obsession.