This Pokémon isn’t much different from household spirits, right? Recently, Lan He caught a snake, and even someone else’s weasel spirit ended up switching to his house for offerings. As for battles, there’s no need to elaborate…
Just thinking about it made Lan He feel a lot of mental pressure from this game mode.
After shooting an advertisement all day, Lan He and Song Futan rode back in the agent’s car that evening.
The agent glanced at them through the rearview mirror. To be honest, from her close observation, their relationship didn’t seem simple. However, due to Song Futan’s background, she couldn’t say much. She didn’t even dare suggest Lan He keep a low profile. It wasn’t easy for their company to have a popular artist, and it wasn’t as if no one had tried to poach Lan He. If they upset Song Futan, what if he helped Lan He terminate his contract?
“Um, Lan He, how about hiring two assistants? Don’t worry, I’ll find discreet ones,” the agent suggested.
Currently, Lan He attended events with temporary assistants sent by the company if needed. He didn’t have a personal assistant and still lived in his original apartment. The agent suspected he avoided hiring help to prevent exposure of his relationship with Song Futan.
Lan He responded casually, “No need. I’m fine like this. Oh, by the way, sis, I plan to move soon. Could you have the company cancel my lease?”
Does this mean… he agreed? Song Futan looked at him.
“Okay, should I help you find a new place?” The agent, after seeing their meaningful glances, tactfully stopped talking.
“No need. I’ve found one myself.” The shooting location was in the suburbs, and the return trip was a bit long. Lan He added, “Sis, you should rest. Let Mr. Xuan Guang drive.”
The agent hesitated, “Oh, is that okay?”
Despite her words, she was tempted. Driving at night was indeed tiring.
Song Futan chimed in, “It’s fine. Pull over ahead.”
Just as they spoke, Lan He noticed two figures by the roadside signaling for a ride. The agent exclaimed softly, guessing that the people might be in trouble at such a late hour. Since she planned to stop anyway, she pulled over in front of them. “Did your car break down?”
When she got a closer look, she was startled. These two, one in a black suit and the other in white, had an ageless air—both youthful and mature. The man in black looked cold and distant, while the one in white had smiling eyes. Yet both carried an exceptionally sharp aura, making her wonder if they were newly signed artists.
She assumed the one in white would speak, but unexpectedly, the cold man in black said, “Can we hitch a ride?”
“Ah… let me ask…” The agent felt a chill and pulled her cardigan tighter. She thought she should refuse but couldn’t seem to say no after hearing him speak.
Lan He, sitting in the back, looked closely through the window. He froze. Without waiting for the agent to reply, he rolled down the window to take a better look. The man in black was unmistakably Fan Wujiao, the Black Wuchang!
As for the one in white, Lan He hadn’t seen him before, but somehow he instinctively felt this must be Xie Bian.
Fan Wujiao recognized Lan He and Song Futan, saying, “It’s you two.”
The agent, thinking they had recognized a celebrity, asked, “…Lan He, what do you think?”
Lan He replied, “Let them in.”
What a coincidence! Hitchhiking ghosts weren’t uncommon, but these two were the official Black and White Wuchang—unique across China and far from ordinary ghost emissaries. Running into them was exceptionally rare.
Others might have declined, but the agent was utterly charmed by their appearance and didn’t find their cold, eerie presence scary at all. And as for Lan He, how could he refuse his colleagues?
The agent got out of the car and moved to the front passenger seat.
Fan Wujiao and Xie Bian got in, sitting beside Lan He. As they approached, Lan He felt an overwhelmingly cold and chilling aura.
He whispered, “Master Fan, Master Xie?”
Fan Wujiao nodded.
Xie Bian gave a faint smile, but it carried a slightly eerie tone. “So it’s you.”
Did he notice the chain? Lan He recalled Fan Wujiao mentioning that Xie Bian wouldn’t be happy to see the chain with him. Shrinking his hand back, he pretended to be indifferent. “Yes, it’s me. Why are you two in suits? Did headquarters change the uniforms?”
Would he have to wear a suit all the time in the future?
Fan Wujiao explained, “No, we just attended an annual meeting.”
See, Master Fan, despite his cold demeanor, answered straightforwardly.
Wait, an annual meeting? It’s only mid-year. Just as Lan He was about to comment, something clicked in his mind. Oh, right—it’s the Ghost Festival!
Ah… the Underworld’s annual meeting was the mid-year Ghost Festival.
Lan He asked, “Does the annual meeting require formal attire? Shouldn’t you wear… I don’t know, something from an ancient dynasty? Or has the Underworld been influenced by Western culture too?”
Fan Wujiao replied, “Oh, it’s just for the annual performance. We didn’t have time to change.”
Lan He: “…………”
Speaking of which, according to legend, the Black Wuchang, Fan Wujiao, is combative and fierce, capturing evil spirits. His name signifies that those who break the law are beyond salvation. The “Peace Under Heaven” on his hat reflects this meaning. In contrast, Xie Bian represents gratitude to the gods and guarantees peace, and his presence is said to bring wealth.
Although encountering either Wuchang is bad news for the living, comparatively, Xie Bian seems more approachable.
However, Fan Wujiao has been the one doing all the talking so far, while Xie Bian seems ill-tempered—perhaps because of the chains?
Lan He began to suspect that the supposed personalities of Black and White Wuchang are just stereotypes based on their appearances. Xie Bian’s crescent-shaped eyes give off a smiley impression, but his words are far from kind.
The manager, seated in the passenger seat, boldly asked, “Handsome guys, what do you do, and how did you end up here?”
Fan Wujiao pointed to Lan He. “Traveling with him. It’s for work.”
Manager: “I knew it! You’re in the industry too… sigh.” So, they were already signed with an agency—what a pity!
Lan He: “…”
The manager was completely oblivious!
Xie Bian then asked, “What industry?”
Manager: “Huh? The entertainment industry, of course. What, are you halfway in? Doing it part-time?”
Xie Bian: “Fish… what industry? I know funeral wreaths, though.”
The manager chuckled politely. “Let’s not make such jokes during Ghost Month. Handsome, you’re really mixing metaphors.”
Xie Bian: “Niutou isn’t here.” Neither is Mamian.
Manager: “???”
Xie Bian: “???”
The two stared at each other in bewilderment.
Lan He: “…”
Song Futan: “…”
What are these two even talking about? Such nonsense!
Having been around Old Bai for so long, Lan He almost forgot about the usual ways of underworld envoys. Of course, Fan Wujiao and Xie Bian wouldn’t think of covering for Lan He. Back then, Old Bai openly reeled in his soul in front of a crowd.
Lan He quickly interjected, “Work must be tiring.” He hinted that these two were babbling due to exhaustion. The manager looked sympathetic; after all, work stress often led to mental health issues in the industry.
Xie Bian snorted. “Of course it’s tiring. And you’re doing great, huh? How many jobs have you done all year?”
Manager: “Our Lan He is very diligent and famous!!”
Lan He: “…”
If he wasn’t mistaken, Xie Bian must be referring to his part-time job…
Indeed, for a while, Lan He had been avoiding this particular job, working far less than his peers. He said, “Yeah, it’s not easy for me either.”
When they reached the city, Fan Wujiao said they would get off and even pulled out a few bills from his pocket to pay them.
To the manager, these were hundred-yuan bills. But to Lan He and Song Futan, they were clearly hell banknotes.
Isn’t this just like a ghost story? You give a ride to ghosts, only to find the money turns into hell banknotes the next day…
“No need. Do you think I’d take your money?” Lan He firmly pushed the money back.
Manager: “Exactly!”
The manager sighed. Lan He, usually so low-profile and sometimes even thrifty, suddenly showed a bit of a superstar’s flair. But maybe it was her bias talking; she found it endearing rather than annoying… Unlike these two nobodies—offering money felt insulting!
Xie Bian leaned forward. “Oh, then why don’t you give me some?”
Manager: “…”
Fan Wujiao: “…”
The strangest part was, Lan He actually gave them something. After rummaging through his backpack for a while, he pulled out a thick envelope and handed it over to Xie Bian, bypassing Fan Wujiao. “Here.”
Xie Bian took the envelope and weighed it in his hand. “Well, aren’t you something…”
Fan Wujiao pushed Xie Bian off the car.
Lan He rolled down the window. “Be careful with your work. Good luck.”
The two Wuchang’s duty was to capture evil spirits, so it was obvious that being called away from the annual meeting meant an urgent task.
“Mm…” The two Wuchang replied faintly and floated away.
The manager was still dumbfounded. “Y-You actually gave them money?!”
Lan He chuckled. “Of course not. Who carries that much cash around these days? It’s just filled with some chocolates.”
“Geez, you scared me!” The manager breathed a sigh of relief, then belatedly realized something was off. “Those two handsome guys… they gave off a creepy vibe. When they got in the car, I swear the temperature dropped.”
Lan He replied, “Maybe it’s time to get the AC in your car fixed.”
Manager: “…Oh.”
…
After discussing with his company team and preparing some materials, Lan He went to audition for the role of Master Jing Sheng, accompanied by Song Futan.
The director, Fang Xiayun, had directed numerous serious dramas and films, with a resume even more impressive than Song Qiyun’s. He appeared very stern.
In recent days, Lan He had studied the character of Master Jing Sheng, learning that he was also of the Zen school. He crammed in some studies with Song Futan and referenced the image of Master Budong. During the audition, his performance made Fang Xiayun’s eyes light up.
Fang had watched many audition tapes for the role of Master Jing Sheng. Most actors leaned toward an artsy and somber portrayal, trying to appear profound but failing to convey genuine wisdom. A few were better and even learned some Buddhist principles, but something always felt lacking.
Initially, when the producer suggested inviting Lan He, Fang Xiayun hesitated. He thought, “Is it necessary to invite Lan He just for his popularity?”
Lan He was best known for his portrayal of Zhang Xunchun, a villainous role that left a deep impression. Playing a lay Buddhist or monk didn’t seem to fit his image. Even with excellent acting skills, would audiences find it jarring? This was a critical consideration, as many talented actors struggle to escape preconceived notions.
The producer then showed Fang a photo of Si Kong bowing to Lan He. In the picture, Lan He slightly returned the gesture. One monk, one layman—there was no sense of opposition, and the image even carried a hint of Zen.
This moved Fang Xiayun, and he reluctantly sent an invitation.
Now, watching Lan He’s performance, Fang found it unexpectedly aligned with his vision. Lan He truly seemed like a lay practitioner. Fang gave him another segment to audition.
After watching two scenes, Fang Xiayun was very satisfied. He asked Lan He, “Have you studied Buddhism before?”
Lan He honestly replied, “No, I crammed for it over the past couple of days.”
Though it was just a crash course with Song Futan, combined with his interactions with Master Budong, Lan He felt that Zen wasn’t as inscrutable as it seemed. Sometimes it could even be crude. Master Linji’s blunt scolding and direct approach to enlightenment came to mind.
—Most importantly, Lan He felt as if Master Budong’s staff had granted him divine assistance. When listening to explanations or reading the script, his understanding seemed to deepen significantly.
After all, the staff was an artifact Master Budong had used to help many disciples achieve enlightenment.
Fang Xiayun nodded. He couldn’t immediately finalize the role since it was one of the leads in an ensemble cast, but he had another question. “If you get this role, will you bring a scriptwriter into the production?”
Some major actors brought their own scriptwriters to set, having them revise the script or add scenes they were unhappy with.
Lan He was about to say he wasn’t that influential yet but then glanced at Song Futan, who was accompanying him.
Lan He: “…Pfft.”
He realized that the serious Director Fang might have just made a joke.
Fang Xiayun chuckled as well. He was already acquainted with Song Futan, though not closely. “Alright, thank you for coming. We’ll inform your company of the results.”
“Thank you, Director Fang, for giving me this opportunity. Just being considered is already a great honor.” Lan He politely shook hands with Fang Xiayun. Truly, working with an excellent director was an invaluable experience for any actor. His past collaborations with Song Qiyun and Liu Chunyang had greatly benefited him.
Actors bring characters to life, imbuing them with soul, but it’s the director who orchestrates the entire story. Even Xiao Yuqian improved significantly under Song Qiyun’s guidance.
…
After the audition, Lan He was busy with moving. He was relocating from the apartment he had rented for years to Song Futan’s house.
Ying Shao was reluctant to see Lan He go. Even though they both had busy schedules and rarely met, knowing that such a prominent figure lived nearby had given him great peace of mind.
Lan He hired a moving company. Since he didn’t have much stuff and wasn’t moving furniture, everything fit into a single trip.
After finishing renovations on the single-family villa he bought two years ago, Song Futan had never moved in. Back then, strange events involving spiritual disturbances in Jingcheng often caused him to leave his body, disrupting his life. But the delay worked out for the best, as he could now move in with Lan He.
The villa had one basement floor and three above-ground levels, styled in a minimalist modern aesthetic. It came with front and back yards. A flowering tree stood in a corner of the front yard, a remnant from the renovation, but like the lawn, it hadn’t been maintained in ages.
As soon as Hu 79 entered, she began rolling around madly on the lawn; Liu 13 admired the large tree; Bai Wu gently touched a corner of the wall and shed tears of joy—this was the realization of a dream.
Even though it wasn’t a courtyard house, it was still enormous.
Lan He, wearing a mask and holding a cardboard box, was unrecognizable to the workers. Upon realizing it was a housewarming, one of them remarked, “Boss, moving into a new house, you should burn some incense everywhere to ward off evil.”
Lan He glanced at the food bowls in his box and the frolicking household spirits, momentarily speechless. “…Thanks.”
Ward off evil? With them around, the place was more likely to attract it…
Song Futan instructed the workers to place Lan He’s belongings in the master bedroom. After they left, he hugged Lan He and watched him observe their new home and the little spirits. The scene felt so domestic—it made him feel blissful, like they were a happy little family.
He imagined trimming the plants and trees, basking in the sunlight together on the lawn—Lan He reading scripts, himself working, and Hu 79 using her fluffy paws to massage Lan He…
Lan He looked up. “The front yard is huge. Should we dig up the grass and plant some vegetables?”
Song Futan: “…”
Lan He’s parents loved growing scallions and garlic on their balcony, so leaving such a large space unutilized seemed wasteful.
Before Song Futan could respond, Hu 79 shrieked, “I live here! You’re planting vegetables?! Am I supposed to sleep with fertilizer?! Huh?!”
Household spirits differ from ordinary animals; they value cleanliness, especially the Hu clan. Families who worship household spirits never dump dirty water directly onto the ground. It’s always poured at a lower level to avoid accidentally wetting the spirits, which would anger them. Even when using the bathroom, they would politely ask the spirits to step aside.
Lan He shrugged. “Oh, I forgot. Never mind, then.”
Song Futan exhaled. “…We can dig in the backyard. Let the front yard be their living space.”
The tree could serve as a floating residence for Liu Xian, while Hu 79’s small villa could go in another corner. Bai Wu could settle in a storage room on the basement floor with a golden-thread lattice.
Lan He’s manager called via video to check on his new residence. Seeing Song Futan in the background, she forced an awkward smile and avoided commenting. Instead, she praised, “Wow, it’s so big and beautiful! Why not get a dog? It could guard the house!”
Lan He glanced at Hu 79, who had just finished sprinting and was now joyously digging up the ground with her hind paws. “…No need. We have surveillance.”
The manager dropped the subject and began discussing other work matters.
That evening, the new house was lit up all night. Song Futan cooked dinner, and after eating, he cuddled with Lan He on the sofa to watch the news. The atmosphere was cozy and leisurely.
Lan He practically lounged in Song Futan’s arms. The sofa was so soft it felt like it might swallow him, making him sleepy.
Hu 79 had just finished cleaning the entire villa, dissatisfied with the job done by the cleaners. She plopped onto the sofa and declared, “Xiao Song, I counted—there are four bedrooms here! You’ll never have to sleep on the window seat again!”
Song Futan: “…Oh.”
Hu 79 dashed off to fight with Liu 13 over a phone.
Lan He covered his face with his hand.
Song Futan gently pulled his hand away, cupping his face to plant a kiss on his soft lips. “What’s so funny?”
Lan He: “Nothing, just laughing.”
He glanced at the household spirits. Although they were noisy, it wasn’t as cramped as before. Upstairs, it would be even quieter… Almost cozy.
Over in the corner, Liu 13 suddenly stood up tall. His legs transformed into a snake’s tail as he raised the phone.
Hu 79, unable to snatch the phone, evaluated the angle of the wall before springing toward it.
Liu 13 swatted her away with his tail. “Stop yelling. Let me look!”
The fox shrieked, “Hand it over! It’s voting time!!”
Finally, Liu 13 handed over the cracked old phone but continued staring at the screen, where he saw a flurry of fan comments. He suddenly turned to Lan He and Song Futan. “What is *FuLan Couple*?”
Hu 79 ignored him, engrossed in the phone.
Liu 13 repeated the question, more urgently. “What is *FuLan Couple*?”
Lan He: “Uh…”
Liu 13 pressed on, “I saw someone say it’s sweet. Quick, tell me!!”
Lan He and Song Futan: “…………”
Hahaha it really IS sweet xD Thank you for the chapter!