Dou Chunting was terrified at the sight of Bai Wu’s spines, which stood erect from the stimulation. On the other hand, Bai Wu was equally alarmed when he saw another person in the car.
He was far more frightened than Dou Chunting. He flipped backward and curled up tightly…
Lan He was cautious. After his cover was blown, he sent word to Hu 79, informing her that there was now an additional person in the know. Seeing Bai Wu like this, he said, “Didn’t Hu 79 tell you? My cousin knows; it’s fine.”
Bai Wu was silent for a moment before murmuring, “I just got used to the two of you. I thought I could handle it.” His voice was thick with suppressed anguish. “It’s still too much…”
Lan He: “…”
“Too much of what?” Dou Chunting saw the hedgehog speaking human words, though he didn’t quite understand the content. He kept glancing cautiously into the rearview mirror and asked tentatively, “What’s wrong with him?”
When he was at Lan He’s house, he had praised this hedgehog for being intelligent. Now, he realized it was actually a celestial being. He had heard a lot about foxes and weasels, but he knew little about beings of the Bai family.
“He’s scared of you,” Lan He said simply.
Dou Chunting felt momentarily flattered. Am I really that intimidating? No, wait, could it be the spirit judge seal left at my uncle-in-law’s place? Has it rubbed off on me from being around too long?
At this moment, another small whirlwind appeared in their field of vision, hurtling straight toward Dou Chunting’s car. A fox with half its tail missing crashed onto the vehicle and swiftly crawled through the window.
Hu 79 flipped gracefully to the ground and flashed a sharp-toothed smile. “Respect to your family.”
She was in fox form but exuded distinctly human expressions. Dou Chunting sighed inwardly, What a dashing fox.
Lan He nodded and reassured Bai Wu, “I think you’ve made a lot of progress. You even dared to come out on your own. Keep it up.”
Bai Wu hesitated, his eyes faintly glistening with unshed tears, but he said nothing.
Hu 79: “…”
Lan He understood immediately and turned to Hu 79. “Did you bully Bai Wu?”
Hu 79 exclaimed loudly, “No!”
Lan He pressed, “Say that again. Did you?”
Dou Chunting mumbled hesitantly, “She said no…” His first impression of this fox was very positive. He thought she was bold and straightforward, a truly refreshing fox.
Hu 79 glanced sidelong at Bai Wu, who shrank back instinctively. Although he said nothing, his body language spoke volumes.
Lan He was now fully convinced—Hu 79 must have forced Bai Wu to come out.
Hu 79 flew into a rage. “Your surname is Bai—is it the ‘Bai’ from ‘White Lotus’?!”
She pounced on him in an instant. Bai Wu curled up, and she nudged the parts without spines with her snout. Her claws inadvertently scratched the leather seats, leaving several marks. Before Bai Wu could make a sound, Dou Chunting let out a wail: “Ah!!”
Hu 79’s manner was wild and fierce, completely lacking the celestial grace she had displayed earlier. Dou Chunting felt both distressed and exasperated.
“Enough, stop fighting. I was just wondering where Bai Wu got the courage to come all the way to the outskirts of the capital to pick me up,” Lan He said as he pried them apart.
Bai Wu, clutching his head, climbed up and transformed into human form. He slumped into the front passenger seat, pressing himself against the car window.
Hu 79 also climbed into the back seat. Her furry rear end wriggled as she wedged herself between Lan He and Song Futan, twisting left and right to separate the two of them. Then she transformed into human form and sat firmly between them.
Lan He: “…”
Song Futan: “…”
Dou Chunting, slightly distracted, exclaimed, “Hey, why can’t I see the two of them anymore?!”
Given their current state, Dou Chunting, lacking any supernatural bone structure, yin-yang eyes, or willow-leaf water, naturally couldn’t see anything.
Hu 79 reached out and wiped Dou Chunting’s eyes, allowing him to temporarily see them. “Wow,” he exclaimed. Looking at Bai Wu in human form beside him, he said, “Hello, hello, you’re quite handsome.”
Bai Wu couldn’t even meet his gaze. “You… you’re very spirited too…”
Dou Chunting: “…”
Lan He couldn’t help but remind him, “You’d better focus on driving.”
“Right, right!” Dou Chunting quickly gathered his concentration.
—
Since the crew wouldn’t gather at the filming location until the next day, Dou Chunting drove to Lan He’s house. Song Qiyun was also there. He didn’t feel like going home to face his wife and father-in-law, so he decided to stay with his son for a day to observe how he and Lan He got along.
Dou Chunting wanted to stay too but was promptly sent away by Song Futan.
During dinner, Lan He even prepared a dish with Hunan flavors.
Watching their seamless cooperation, Song Qiyun felt increasingly uncomfortable and cast complex glances at Lan He.
Even though Lan He kept his head down, focused on eating, he could hear Hu 79’s voice speaking to Song Qiyun beside him: “What kind of look is this little Song’s dad giving you?”
Lan He slowly raised his head.
Song Qiyun quickly and casually averted his gaze, acting as if nothing had happened.
Lan He: …Director Song, was that really necessary?
After finishing the meal, the dishes were placed in the dishwasher, and Lan He finally had a moment to go online, scrolling through his social media feeds.
He noticed that a hot topic lately was the persistent rain in the capital, with widespread flooding causing concern and also spawning jokes online.
A user with the handle @TowerHoldingHeavenKing had been posting furiously, claiming that the recent heavy rains were caused by a dragon sighting—possibly the one he had previously filmed. He mentioned that he had reported it to the police, but no one took him seriously, and he hoped netizens would judge whether what he filmed was a dragon.
The user had previously gained some attention for a video claiming to capture a dragon in the capital. Now his antics had amused netizens following the flood updates, with comments like: “Alright, so the rain’s because a dragon’s causing trouble? Hope the government sends an expert to handle it; I’m about to grow mold here.”
“Can we send this dragon to drought-stricken areas instead? Some places are bone dry while others are drowning.”
“I don’t believe you—every time it’s shot with potato-quality footage, clearly trying to stir things up.”
“…”
Lan He had some recollection of this person, especially since Wang Lili had mentioned receiving a report from this netizen, whose real name was apparently Li Jing. What an amusing name—this guy seemed dedicated to tracking down dragons.
“Hey, speaking of which, with all this rain, wouldn’t it delay the construction of the Zhenwu Bridge?” Lan He suddenly thought aloud.
Song Futan checked his monk friends’ social media and indeed saw a post from Siming: “The excavated pool has completely flooded…”
“Construction might’ve stopped too. I’ll ask,” Song Futan said, heading to the balcony to make a call.
Song Qiyun, steadying himself on the sofa, asked, “So you two live on different floors?”
He seemed skeptical. Did they really just eat meals together, and then Song Futan went back to his apartment? Was the upstairs unit truly not just for appearances?
Lan He replied, “Yeah.”
At that moment, he seemed to hear something and turned to look behind him.
Song Qiyun said earnestly, “When an elder is talking to you, why are you so restless?”
Lan He replied awkwardly, “Uh…” He just thought he faintly heard crying.
“Tsk, tsk.” Hu 79 sneaked behind Song Qiyun, wiped his eyes, and darted away.
Song Qiyun felt a sudden grayness before his eyes as if the entire color palette had darkened. Then he heard a faint, sorrowful crying sound, seemingly coming from outside.
Before he could process this, a swaying white dress appeared outside the window—only half visible!
Song Qiyun’s heart skipped a beat as his brain registered the sight. The hem of the white dress was covered with dense, blood-red handprints—small ones, layered and overlapping.
It felt like a bomb had gone off in his head. Completely panicked, he fell off the sofa, pointing at the window with a trembling hand, stammering, “Gh-ghost… ghost…?”
As he spoke, the figure with the blood-stained handprints moved closer! It continued to descend, revealing a waist, then a chest, as if at any moment, a face would emerge. The most terrifying part was imagining what that face might look like.
Two hands also began to emerge from the sleeves, as if they were about to press against the glass!
Song Qiyun, pale-faced, clung to Lan He’s arm. “It’s coming inside—”
Lan He turned around and was startled too. The countless small, blood-red handprints on the white clothes made his heart race. But he couldn’t show fear in front of Director Song. Calmly, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!”
Song Qiyun glanced at him, full of gratitude.
Just then, the white figure with bloody handprints passed through the glass and entered. Its true face was revealed.
It was a deathly pale face with a tongue slightly sticking out, about the length of a finger joint. Tears glistened faintly in the corners of its eyes.
Lan He exclaimed, “Old Bai?!”
Old Bai floated closer, his expression ghastly. Upon closer inspection, the so-called white dress was actually his oversized white uniform. The bloody handprints weren’t bloody at all—they smelled more like mud and had a yellowish-red hue as if they were from clay. As for why they looked like children’s handprints…
Lan He asked, “…Did you just come down from Mount Tai?”
Old Bai replied, “I just escaped! Thank heavens the temple’s guardian gods saved me; I was about to be ‘killed’ by those Mount Tai kids! They covered me in mud!”
Song Qiyun: “…”
Although this was indeed a Wuchang and still terrifying…
Song Qiyun slowly let go of Lan He’s arm and held his forehead.
*Sigh*. Forget it. Let the younger generation figure out their own lives. He no longer had the face to criticize Lan He.
Not wanting to see more ghosts or further embarrass himself, Song Qiyun decided to call it a night and head to bed. Once he left, Hu 79 peeked out from the Fortune God Tower and giggled.
—
“Father, quite a bit has happened in the capital while we’ve been away these past few days,” Old Bai said, wiping the handprints off his uniform.
“What kind of stuff? More ghostly trouble?” Lan He asked, no longer surprised. Ever since the incident at Zhenwu, the capital had been plagued by all sorts of supernatural phenomena and eerie tales, some of which he had inadvertently caused himself.
Old Bai replied, “When I was coming up from downstairs, I ran into your neighbor. He was telling someone about a dragon sighting in the capital.”
“I saw that too,” Lan He said, chuckling as he showed Old Bai the news. Even some media outlets jokingly speculated if the Dragon King was throwing a tantrum. “He’s probably playing a game or reading a novel.”
Old Bai grinned. “Who knows? Your neighbor was telling his employer that while offering sacrifices to the Dragon King might not always work, a dragon from Kunlun would be invincible.”
“Kunlun?” Lan He paused. Was Ying Shao discussing with Kunlun Entertainment’s Yu Hangjia? “That could be about dragon veins, or maybe they’re talking about worshipping at a Dragon King Temple.”
He didn’t take it seriously. After all, how could there really be a dragon?
At this moment, Song Futan came back after his phone call, looking a bit perplexed. “The construction site has been shut down. A worker fainted and, upon waking, claimed to be the Dragon King. He said the area under the bridge was his thousand-year resting place and that the construction had disturbed him. Dragons never live under bridges, and if the bridge isn’t dismantled, he’ll flood the capital.”
Lan He was stunned, momentarily unable to think.
To him, dragons were mythical creatures. Even though Hu 79 had once said dragons might exist, none of them had ever seen one, nor did they know if they still existed. It all felt so distant—completely unreal!
Hu 79 climbed out from the Fortune God Tower and screeched, “What?! There’s really a dragon in the capital? Are the monks sure?”
Such a mighty existence was beyond even the knowledge of the Four Great Houses. Even Hu 79 seemed unsure.
“Things are chaotic now,” Song Futan continued. “This incident has leaked. Some practitioners and outsiders who didn’t know about the Zhenwu Bridge project have heard about it and assume the project was meant to find the dragon.”
The chaos was understandable. After all, it was a dragon.
People’s imaginations ran wild. Some, like Yu Hangjia, boldly sought to use the dragon to boost their businesses. Others suggested suppressing it, Liu Bowen-style. Still, others advocated worshipping this powerful being.
“Oh my god, what now? Can we reason with a dragon?” Lan He muttered as he slowly came back to his senses. “The bridge must be built!”
He wasn’t even sure what he was saying. A legend had come to life, and now they had to negotiate with a dragon? His mind raced: What was a dragon’s combat power like? Could Grandma Wang fight it? No, wait, she probably wouldn’t leave her mountain…
“I think there’s something suspicious about this. Let’s go to the site and take a look,” Song Futan said, looking less agitated and more contemplative.
“Alright.” Lan He quickly got ready. His spirit companion followed, as did Old Bai and Hu 79, leaving only Bai Wu behind.
—
At the construction site.
It had been days since they’d last visited, and the place was now guarded by the military, preventing anyone from entering.
Fortunately, as spirits, they bypassed the outer barricade. Inside, a few monks and Taoists were stationed, checking for supernatural entities like them. According to Song Futan, many fellow practitioners were now watching the site closely.
Since a Wuchang was leading the investigation, they were naturally allowed in. Song Futan even copied Lan He’s habit of covering his face to avoid unnecessary trouble.
Inside a prefab house, they found Master Budong reciting scriptures. Sikong was speaking with a man in a suit, saying, “…That’s not it, at least a ninety percent chance it isn’t. I’ve explained this clearly.”
Several other practitioners were seated nearby—familiar faces from various religious organizations in the capital, all key figures privy to the Zhenwu project.
Master Budong was the first to notice them. Opening his eyes, he greeted them, “Amitabha, Wuchang has arrived.”
Sikong and the suited man stopped talking. The man glanced around warily and muttered, “What Wuchang?”
Master Budong ignored him. “Wuchang, come with me.”
He led Lan He and the group to another prefab house. The rain continued to drizzle, soaking his monk’s robe.
On the way, Lan He couldn’t hide his excitement and asked, “Master, did you see the dragon?”
His mind was full of images of the Dragon King of the East Sea, Nezha’s rebellion, and legends of Beijing’s dragon veins—North Sea, Black Dragon Pond, Beixinqiao. Could it be one of those four rumored dragons? Was it male or female?
Dragons were symbols of Chinese heritage. What now—would the descendants of dragons have to fight one?
Master Budong chuckled but didn’t answer directly. Instead, he said, “Though I led the construction of this bridge, the project involved expertise from various fields: geomancers selected the site, astrologers chose the timing, and the Lu Ban Guild designed the structure. Why, then, would it disturb a dragon?”
His words were a wake-up call for Lan He. He realized he hadn’t considered this.
Indeed, legends often spoke of dragons beneath the capital, but with a project as significant as the Zhenwu Bridge, Master Budong would have exercised the utmost caution. How could they so coincidentally and carelessly disturb such a hidden and mighty existence?
Lan He went to see Song Futan, perhaps because he had also thought of this earlier.
“This room contains the worker possessed by evil,” said Master Budong as he opened a small window on the door. The window was so small it could only fit a bowl through it.
Lan He looked inside. Apart from a dim yellow lamp, a table, and a bed, there was nothing else. “Where is he?”
Just as he finished speaking, a head appeared, hanging upside down. It stared at Lan He through the window, breathing audibly.
Lan He was so startled that he took two steps back. The gaze was too eerie. The inverted eyes seemed to cling to him, icy and sticky…
Was this the possessed worker? So, he had been hiding in a blind spot, hanging above the door?
Suddenly, the man withdrew his head.
Lan He leaned slightly forward to look again and saw him “sliding” down the wall. Though it was a human body, it seemed to adhere to the wall like a soft-bodied animal. He slithered along the floor for a while, his limbs grotesquely twisted, before crawling back up the wall…
Lan He couldn’t bear to watch anymore and stepped back, taking two deep breaths.
“When I first spoke to him, I was also shocked. He demanded that not only should the construction stop, but a great ritual lasting forty-nine days must also be performed. Other workers who saw him immediately knelt and proclaimed, ‘Hail the Dragon King!’ Even now, people are trying to get in to see him. They believe he’s a dragon,” said Master Budong. “But putting aside all the legends and rumors, Wuchang, what do you think this worker resembles?”
Lan He thought back carefully to the icy feeling when he locked eyes with the worker, and his movements, particularly when he occasionally looked up. “I think… like…”
Hu 79, unable to hold back, tugged on Lan He’s sleeve. “Just think of everyday life—someone you know!”
Lan He blurted out instinctively, “Like a snake.”
Lan He had never seen a real dragon and didn’t know what one looked like. But based on what he had just seen, he would definitely say it resembled a snake.
Master Budong nodded. “Exactly. This great being is likely just a highly cultivated snake spirit, not a dragon. I only recently figured this out. Over the past few days, with all the people here and rumors spreading, even government officials have sent people to ask if this dragon is connected to the dragon veins. The religious community is abuzz with gossip. As an old monk, I feel utterly helpless!”
He had secretly been building a stabilizing bridge here, but now, with the news leaked, people speculated he was searching for dragons, serving as the national master to subdue a dragon on behalf of the government, or trying to become a dragon knight. Imaginative theories abounded.
The task of stabilizing the site needed secrecy, but even Master Budong had been momentarily fooled.
Other monks, unaware of the truth, might ponder the news. But Master Budong, who had lived up to his dharma name—”motionless”—for years, had suddenly come here in secret, fueling wild speculation.
Currently, the news has reportedly spread within a certain scope. Even foreign embassy personnel in Beijing had taken an interest. The rapid changes in the situation over just a few days left Master Budong both amused and exasperated.
Master Budong was considering whether he might have to admit that this place was an under-construction central stabilization point. But he feared even that explanation wouldn’t be believed. Compounding the issue, the snake spirit had genuine and impressive cultivation. While it was no dragon, its hidden cultivation was likely real.
Lan He’s emotions were in turmoil. At first, he thought dragons were myths, then it seemed like one had appeared. Now that it was revealed to be a snake, he stood speechless for a while, feeling both relieved and somewhat disappointed. “The issue is, why did this snake spirit initially call itself the Dragon King and muddy the waters? Isn’t that a scam?”
“Just trying to glorify itself. In folklore, snakes are little dragons,” said Lao Bai. “Honestly, I almost believed it at first. Part of it is the influence of myths, and part is the monk himself appearing stumped.”
With Master Budong’s abilities, ordinary supernatural beings shouldn’t have been able to trouble him.
Master Budong smiled bitterly. “I had devoted all my energy to chanting mantras. Besides, this snake spirit is indeed extraordinary. The pretense of dragon-like majesty initially fooled me too. I was shocked. But upon reflection and a discussion with an incense master, I realized this was a common tendency of beings from the Four Animal Spirits. That made me even more certain it was a snake spirit.”
The old monk, with his sharp perception, had seen through Lan He’s identity at a glance, demonstrating his keen insight.
But when it came to the “common tendency,” Lan He didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean by the common tendency of the Four Animal Spirits?”
Hu 79, representing one of the Four Animal Spirits, the Hu Sect, was present. Master Budong hesitated, finding it hard to explain.
Hu 79, however, was bold and straightforward. She said, “It’s nothing, just boasting. We claim to be immortals, but in reality, we’re just supernatural beings practicing the Dao. Many immortal families, whether causing mischief or helping others as altar spirits, like to borrow the names of well-known deities, regardless of sect. At the very least, they’ll claim to be one of the Seven Fairies. Back when I was cultivating incense offerings, I told people I was either the Queen Mother of the West or the Buddha.”
Lan He: “…”
Everyone: “……”
Master Budong: “I… Amitabha!”
Author’s Note:
Hu 79: If I knew foreign languages, I’d impersonate God too!