“What does ‘so sweet’ mean?” For a moment, Dou Chunting doubted his hearing, but he quickly began doubting the snake’s proficiency in Mandarin instead.
Lan He, still eating his meal, glanced up briefly and said, “Don’t hide. He’s just excited over the drama.”
Dou Chunting felt awkward. Oh, so it wasn’t a temper tantrum? That made him look overly timid.
There was no helping it; ever since losing his spiritual guide, his courage seemed to have disappeared along with it.
Summoning his nerve, Dou Chunting stepped out from behind Song Futan and cautiously approached Lan He, which brought him closer to Liu 13. Liu 13 paid him no mind at all, just as he hadn’t when Dou had been shouting earlier. His full attention was glued to the screen.
Of course, it was the climactic moment when the male and female leads were sharing a sweet romantic scene—there was no way Liu 13 could afford to be distracted.
From this distance, Dou Chunting finally got a clear look at what Liu 13 was watching—a romance drama that aired last year. One of the actors was from his own company, so he recognized it. It was definitely a love story.
What’s more, Liu 13 was repeatedly rewinding and replaying a specific scene: the male lead cornering the female lead against a wall. She thought he was about to hit her, but instead, he passionately hugged, kissed, and confessed his love.
Dou Chunting: “………………”
It felt like he’d been hit over the head with a hammer. He was completely dumbfounded: *Who am I? Where am I? What did I just witness??*
So when Liu 13 said “so sweet,” he really meant *that* was sweet?
Why? Why could this terrifying snake immortal watch a romance drama with such a murderous expression, be so immersed in it, and even savor it repeatedly?
As if reading Dou Chunting’s thoughts, Lan He smiled mysteriously and asked, “Do you know much about snakes?”
Dou Chunting, still in a daze, replied, “N-not particularly fond of eating them.”
Lan He: “…”
Liu 13, finally looking up with an unfriendly gaze, said, “What did you just say?”
Realizing his faux pas, Dou Chunting almost burst into tears under Liu 13’s glare.
Song Futan stepped in smoothly. “He said he doesn’t like eating them and hasn’t tried. Is there a problem with that?”
Huh? Liu 13 thought for a moment and realized there wasn’t, so he returned to his drama.
Lan He: “…”
Lan He explained to Dou Chunting in a low voice, “You see, practitioners who fall due to excessive hatred are often reborn as snakes, enduring the pain of shedding skin. Snakes who manage to cultivate successfully might recall some emotions from their past lives.” He hinted this might explain Liu 13’s peculiar attraction to romance stories.
“And,” Lan He whispered even more quietly, “Liu immortals’ spiritual essence is typically concentrated in their heads. When they fight, they often get hit on the head. Over time, even if it doesn’t kill them, it might… well, you know.”
This was gossip among other spiritual beings, akin to the rumors about Bai Sect being called harbingers of doom. It might be exaggerated but still revealed some truths.
Dou Chunting: “Ohhh?”
While the two whispered, Liu 13 slammed the table angrily. “Are you bad-mouthing me?” Other immortals often joked about the Liu clan, which made them both fierce and sensitive. Plus, Lan He had previous offenses—he’d once mocked Liu 13’s intellect in front of Hu Sect.
Did he overhear? Lan He thought the heightened senses of the Four Great Clans were still too sharp. From now on, he’d have to be more careful when gossiping about snakes. He quickly said, “No, no, we were discussing legends.”
Surprisingly, Liu 13 just grumbled a few irritable words before being drawn back into his drama, no longer pursuing the matter.
Song Futan sat down and remarked to Dou Chunting, “Why are you slacking again?”
Dou Chunting, feeling wronged, protested, “I’m not! Someone’s been filing non-stop complaints against me these past few days. Remember when we left the park, and someone shouted ‘Black Dragon’ behind us? Turns out it was a conspiracy theorist active online. He somehow dug up my identity and kept calling my company, saying he wanted to report me. At first, he was vague, just threatening me to confess. My dad thought I’d done something shady and made me go back for questioning. Then the guy finally clarified—he wanted to report me for illegally raising a dragon. I told him, ‘What nonsense! That dragon belongs to Lan He!'”
Lan He: “…I’m not raising one.”
Dou Chunting continued, “Anyway, I ignored him after that. He’s still posting blurry photos online though…”
He showed them the pictures and added, “Hey, bro, sis-in-law, check this out!”
Song Futan, obliging, glanced at the images.
Lan He: “…”
…
“Senior Brother, Senior Brother, open the door!”
Li Jing knocked urgently.
A Daoist peeked out from behind a partially opened door. “Why are you here again? Can’t you go to another temple? Why don’t you go to your Baiyun Temple?”
Li Jing retorted confidently, “Baiyun Temple won’t host me.”
The Taoist was speechless: “Well, I don’t want to entertain you either!”
Li Jing said, “No, senior brother, I really captured it, and after much effort, I found some clues. Look, this part of the photo here, that’s the black dragon. And this car on it, I had someone look up the license plate. It’s a company car, and the people using it that day were one of the company’s junior bosses and a celebrity…”
Li Jing began babbling, the gist being that the dragon had already appeared in the mortal world, and he hoped his senior brother would investigate.
The Taoist rolled his eyes.
Ironically, he was in the know.
There were no dragons in the capital. There was a ruckus caused by a snake spirit, but whether it was a snake spirit or a dragon spirit, they had all been sealed under a bridge by Master Budong as the guardian of the bridge. How could they possibly be roaming the mortal world? As for Dou Chunting and the celebrity, they might have simply passed by the park, but how could they take a dragon away? That day, besides the masters, there was the military present too.
Unless it was another snake spirit—what did that have to do with him?
This Li Jing, after chasing dragons for so long, had already gone a bit mad.
“You can forget about it. To be honest, that’s not a dragon. There are no dragons in the capital.”
“There is a dragon!!” Li Jing shouted and stormed off, continuing to post on his Weibo account, which had gained some followers, “Even though my senior brothers don’t understand me, I have to say it: the black dragon in the capital has already entered the mortal world and infiltrated the capital’s entertainment industry.”
His followers started commenting:
[Follower A]: “King, I believe you. I adjusted the photo you took of the black dragon last time, and you can clearly see a long, black creature.”
[Follower B]: “My relative lives near that park and said they heard strange sounds. Although some neighbors didn’t hear it, after seeing your Weibo post, they were even more convinced they weren’t dreaming…”
[Follower C]: “A dragon, sure. But joining the entertainment industry? What does that even mean? Becoming an actor?”
Some genuinely believed him, while others mocked him.
Li Jing decided to post his evidence and analysis, linking everything together—from the dragons he photographed, the recent heavy rains, the car’s owner, and more. As a peripheral member of the Taoist sect, he knew some bits of real or fake esoteric information.
Finally, he concluded: “I’ve heard that recently many wealthy people are trying to curry favor with this black dragon. The facts are clear. After the dragon got in the car, the Dou family’s young master, who only recently entered the family business to fight for power, has risen in status. This is all because Dou Chunting is worshiping the black dragon, even bringing the celebrity Lan He along to worship the dragon for profit! I am publicly exposing this!”
Because Li Jing randomly dragged Lan He into this, fans quickly noticed and mocked him. “You know nothing! Lan He only acted in a movie funded by the Dou family. He has no management contract with them, and his prior acquaintance with Dou Chunting was due to other reasons.”
Li Jing replied: [What reasons?]
A netizen responded: [Go look up *Lan Ming Pigeon*!]
Li Jing: [??]
Li Jing looked up “Lan Ming Pigeon” and ended up seeing a bunch of strange videos and novels. Frustrated, he muttered: [I think this actor’s sudden rise might be because he’s been devout all along. Now that he’s worshiping a dragon, his career will soar even further.]
Lan He’s fans saw this nonsense and decided to play along: [Alright, alright, let’s help you out by tagging @ForestryBureau. Someone’s reporting illegal dragon breeding here.]
Not only did they tag the Forestry Bureau, but they also tagged Taoist masters with Weibo accounts.
Some Taoists and religious figures browsing online saw this and chuckled. Li Jing’s nonsense was nothing new. He had previously claimed to have captured dragons and even accused a local government of covering up the truth. Now, he was dragging celebrities into it.
As for Dou Chunting, never mind that. Lan He? Even if he were a snake spirit, it had nothing to do with Li Jing!
Only two mischievous Taoists replied: [Let me also tag @Zoo for you.]
—
Lan He was amused by his fans. “It’s a good thing his pictures are so blurry. Otherwise, what would we do if our dragon-raising news got out?”
Upon hearing this, Liu 13 stretched his neck out by 1.3 meters, peering over to look at the phone.
He even twisted his neck to face the screen.
Lan He: “………………”
Lan He clutched his chest and decided to add “No stretching necks or sticking out tongues” to the list of prohibited actions.
Liu 13 retracted his neck, his expression serious. “The world is drunk, and he alone is sober. This person has keen eyes but no opportunities.”
Lan He: …You sound so convincing.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Lan He said. “I need to start filming now. Aren’t you going back?”
Liu 13 nonchalantly replied, “This dragon floats wherever it pleases…”
After all, he could just find a tree to rest under.
With little time to eat, Lan He ignored Liu 13, as long as he didn’t expose himself. Turning his thoughts to the upcoming scenes, Lan He whispered a few words to Song Futan.
Liu 13 immediately exclaimed, “You’re badmouthing this dragon!!”
Lan He: “?? I’m not!”
This time, there really wasn’t anything.
Liu 13 looked at them suspiciously. “Don’t let me catch you.”
Lan He: “…”
Dou Chunting: “…So sensitive, huh.”
Both of them simultaneously thought about how, when they had previously commented on Liu 13, it seemed like he didn’t actually hear anything. He probably just assumed anyone whispering in front of him was badmouthing him…
No wonder he so easily let it go at the time.
—
The filming for *Ghostly Charm* was already in its final stages, and Lan He was close to wrapping up. He had no romantic scenes whatsoever; it was all about Xiao Yuqian and Yu Mengmeng’s love story, with him just sitting on the side watching, often filmed as part of the blooper reels.
Lan He complained, “They’re the ones in love. Why are you filming me?”
The photographer replied, “The producer said you’d definitely feel jealous and bitter, so we should capture that for promotion…”
Lan He: “What a joke! Do you even know about *Lan Ming Pigeon*?”
The photographer burst into laughter. “Hahaha!”
Lan He laughed along, and so did the rest of the staff. Nobody expected Lan He to joke about his fans’ inside joke.
At that moment, Song Qiyun called out, “What are you guys doing? One more take.”
Xiao Yuqian and Yu Mengmeng were asked to redo their scene.
Today, Xiao Yuqian seemed a little off. Song Qiyun, with a blank expression, said, “The lighting on your face is a bit dark… Alright, action!”
Lan He noticed something was wrong. Despite this being an emotional scene, Xiao Yuqian’s expression looked somewhat aggressive.
As expected, Song Qiyun stopped the scene again.
“Sorry, that’s my fault.” Xiao Yuqian, embarrassed for dragging down his co-star, rubbed his face in frustration.
Yu Mengmeng felt awkward. “It’s okay.”
Song Qiyun was at a loss. Normally, with Xiao Yuqian’s feelings for Yu Mengmeng, this kind of scene should go smoothly. How could he possibly look so hostile?
Could it be that Xiao Yuqian had been pretending all along and didn’t actually like Yu Mengmeng?
“You should take a break,” Song Qiyun said.
Xiao Yuqian felt too ashamed to face Yu Mengmeng. He went to find Dou Chunting. “Boss Dou, where’s that spirit judge of yours? Can you bring it back to the set?”
Dou Chunting looked glum at the mention of the spirit judge. “I can’t bring it over.”
“Why not? Ugh…” Xiao Yuqian looked dejected.
Dou Chunting asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Xiao Yuqian waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve been having nightmares lately and feel mentally off.”
It wasn’t just a mental issue—his demeanor seemed affected too. He often unintentionally showed a subtle yet fierce expression.
Dou Chunting asked seriously, “Tell me about it.”
Xiao Yuqian hesitated for a moment before saying, “But don’t tell Director Song, okay? I keep dreaming about fighting someone. My emotions always get caught up in the dream; I feel overwhelming resentment and hostility. Even when I wake up, I feel irritable and can’t calm down.”
Dou Chunting asked earnestly, “Did that person say anything? Like make any requests?”
Xiao Yuqian replied, “No.”
Dou Chunting continued, “Have you encountered anything strange recently? Or acquired something new, especially right before you started having these dreams?”
Xiao Yuqian thought for a moment. “Not really—wait, yes, but it’s probably nothing. Before I started having the dreams, I just bought an artwork. It’s porcelain.”
Dou Chunting asked, “What kind of porcelain?”
“An antique piece, bought it with a friend. They said it’s from the Ming Dynasty and cost over a hundred thousand.” Xiao Yuqian showed him a photo on his phone. The image was of a blue-and-white porcelain plate with a design of a European castle and a knight. The brushwork wasn’t particularly fine, and there was a crack in it.
“A Ming Dynasty piece? More like last year’s.” Dou Chunting pointed at the castle on the plate. “This looks ridiculous. Why not draw the Titanic while you’re at it?”
Xiao Yuqian protested, “…It’s export porcelain from that era, so it has exotic elements!”
This type of export porcelain was also known as “Kraak ware,” named after Portuguese ships from the port of Carrack that transported large quantities of Chinese porcelain. When these ships were seized, European nobles vied to purchase the porcelain. Back then, people didn’t know its origin, so they simply called it “Kraak ware.” Later, the term continued to refer to similar blue-and-white export porcelain.
Because these items were made for foreigners, the craftsmanship wasn’t as refined, often appearing somewhat rough and impractical, as they were mainly used for decoration abroad. Some designs featured exotic motifs such as castles, knights, tulips, or picture frames, drawn in simple sketches.
To the untrained eye, they might even look like a parody—akin to blue-and-white porcelain depicting Doraemon.
“Oh?” Dou Chunting understood now but couldn’t help laughing. “It looks so crude.”
He added, “Still, you shouldn’t let your guard down just because it’s an… artwork. Antiques are old objects, and who knows what they might carry? Sometimes they develop their own spirits. Didn’t you ask about its origin when you bought it? Maybe it’s being sold precisely because there’s something wrong with it—what if it’s haunted by a foreign ghost?”
Many auction items come with their own stories, and sometimes, it’s not the artistic value but the tale behind them that makes them valuable. Stories of “cursed” items often capture public imagination. Some people avoid them out of superstition, while others are indifferent. Legends of such items abound.
“Don’t scare me,” Xiao Yuqian forced a laugh. “That can’t be it, right? The seller was anonymous and didn’t mention any backstory, just that it was sourced globally. They sold several pieces at the time, and others bought some too.”
To be honest, Xiao Yuqian had only bought the simply drawn blue-and-white porcelain on impulse, thinking it wasn’t too expensive. At first, he found it unique, but later, it felt unimpressive. As a Chinese person, he still appreciated traditional porcelain more.
Dou Chunting chuckled. “Which auction house did you buy it from? I’ll ask around.”
He made a phone call, and a few minutes later, he hung up and said, “Definitely problematic. Apart from you, most of the other buyers have already decided to resell their pieces. They wouldn’t say why, but it’s probably the same as your situation—having nightmares.”
“Boss Dou, what should I do?” Xiao Yuqian panicked. “What if it really has a foreign ghost attached to it? Should I sell it too?”
“In my experience,”—which was really just hearsay—Dou Chunting said, “if it’s already haunting you, selling it won’t help! But don’t worry; I’ll ask an expert for you!”
He felt like the team’s pillar of stability, with actors coming to him for help. Look at how well he was fulfilling his father’s task.
“Thank you!” Xiao Yuqian said gratefully, looking at Dou Chunting with anticipation.
Dou Chunting said, “Hmm… Before I consult the expert, let me get permission from my cousin. You just wait here peacefully. Here, take this set of Five Emperors’ Coins for protection.”
Relieved, Xiao Yuqian watched as Dou Chunting went off to find Song Futan.
Everyone knew that where Song Futan was, Lan He was likely nearby—a near certainty on set.
The moment Dou Chunting found them, he said, “Wow, do you know why Xiao Yuqian has been off lately? He’s been having nightmares! I think he’s haunted.”
Lan He, who was reading a script, didn’t even look up. “Impossible. He doesn’t have the scent.”
If it were a ghost, Lan He would have smelled it already.
Dou Chunting asked, “Huh? Then why?”
Lan He replied, “Maybe it’s not the porcelain after all.”
Dou Chunting felt awkward. “No way. Everyone else who bought it resold theirs. If I’m wrong, how embarrassing would that be?”
“Hmm, well, the porcelain has been in his possession. If it’s ancient and carries a foreign ghost, maybe its scent is different from Chinese ghosts?” Lan He touched his cheek, pondering. He’d never smelled a foreign ghost before. “Right, foreign cultures don’t have the tradition of burning spirit money, so maybe their ghosts don’t have the scent of ash. But how would we exorcise it? Would we need to communicate in a foreign language?”
Lan He had never heard Old Bai mention if the Dongyue Netherworld had a foreign affairs department or if the local courts handled such cases directly.
Liu 13 coughed loudly several times.
Lan He suddenly remembered that they had a senior with vast experience right here. He told Dou Chunting, “I think you should consult the Liu Immortal.”
Dou Chunting shrank back, hesitant.
Lan He encouraged him. “Recommend him a few dramas. He likes sweet romances.”
The sweeter, the better. Appealing to his interests was the way to go.
Dou Chunting mustered his courage. “I know a few saccharine dramas—straightforward, no plot, just pure fluff. Would you be interested…”
Liu 13 stared at Dou Chunting in disbelief.
It was undeniable now! Liu 13 stood up abruptly and transformed into a giant black snake, flipping over Lan He’s bed and desk in a storm-like fury. Even the blankets were tossed to the floor. While he could forgive Lan He—they’d fought before—how dare Dou Chunting insult him so blatantly?
The black snake roared in rage, “Are you mocking this dragon as brainless?!!”
Under the shadow of the serpent, Dou Chunting was in tears.
Dou Chunting: “…Huh?? No, I didn’t mean that!!”
He was beyond wronged. Why was this dragon so sensitive, always ready to defend his dignity?
Lan He felt even more wronged. “Why is my room involved again?!”
Song Futan calmly rescued the suitcase and said indifferently, “Hmm? Looks like you’ll have to sleep in my room tonight.”
Lan He: “…”
Author’s note:
Liu 13: *Another treacherous citizen dares to harm me!!*
Not Song Futang jumping on the chance 😭