Liu 13 chased Old Bai for quite a while, spewing curses as he went. Old Bai, sly as ever, fled the scene immediately, leaving Liu 13 behind, mouth agape, fangs and tongue exposed as he hissed, “Ahhh—!”
First Lady Hu continued nibbling on the incense offering and commented, “I don’t know why, but Old Bai is always acting weird.”
Hu 79 and Bai Wu nodded in agreement.
Liu 13, though clueless about the reasons, was highly suspicious. He darted his head toward Bai Wu, hissing, “Explain!!”
Faced with the cunning Hu sect, Liu 13 decided to terrorize Bai Wu from the Bai sect instead.
Bai Wu, startled, hiccupped and slowly turned his back to Liu 13.
“…,” Liu 13 slithered around, his head reappearing in front of Bai Wu, and sneered, “Hmm? You lot from the Bai family, are you all plotting against me?”
Bai Wu: “…”
After a long silence, Bai Wu mumbled, “I’m not even from the same Bai family as him…”
Sure, they were both surnamed Bai, but they were from entirely different lineages.
Liu 13 scoffed. “Hu this, Bai that, none of you are any good.”
He wriggled his body, his snake head shifting with a cold glint in his eyes. If it weren’t for that ridiculous collar around his neck, he would’ve been truly menacing.
Bai Wu crouched down, hugging his head in a defensive pose, effectively shutting down.
“?” Liu 13 growled, “Get up! Get up and answer me!”
Old Bai had fled, Bai Wu was playing dead, and the Hu sect members were watching the chaos unfold from the sidelines.
Lan He hurriedly pulled Song Futan indoors.
The first floor of the house had excellent lighting, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. From the sofa inside, Lan He could clearly see the black snake flailing about in the courtyard for ages, like a GIF stuck on loop.
First Lady Hu’s arrival hadn’t just pushed Liu 13 further down the hierarchy—it had also sparked his furious antics and led to other petty infighting.
The four sects held grudges tightly. First Lady Hu had once beaten Hu 79 ages ago. Although Hu 79 had now proactively made peace, her behavior still occasionally irked First Lady Hu.
If First Lady Hu were easy to deal with, she wouldn’t be First Lady Hu.
So, when Lan He returned from a lesson, he found First Lady Hu sitting atop Hu 79, clutching a handful of her hair.
Lan He: “…”
As celestial foxes and managers of Miaogan Mountain, couldn’t they come up with more refined methods?
Lan He asked Song Futan, “What are they fighting about now?”
Song Futan glanced back and replied, “Something about you imitating someone on TV.”
Lan He turned to the Hu sect duo. “Could you not pull each other’s hair? Does that look dignified?”
First Lady Hu and Hu 79 simultaneously fumed, “You even gave her a hairpin?!!”
Lan He: “…”
It wasn’t a serious fight, though—just some casual squabbling, much like Old Bai’s occasional sarcastic remarks.
Besides, First Lady Hu’s primary role was at Miaogan Mountain, so she didn’t stay at Lan He’s place as consistently as Hu 79 and the others, only visiting occasionally.
—
With the protective artifact properly secured, Lan He enjoyed a relatively peaceful period. Most of his time was spent focusing on his primary work. After two months of various lessons and research, he joined the production crew to begin filming. The tentative title of the movie was *Old Stories of the Mountains and Rivers*.
The shooting locations were all in Beijing, so there was no need to travel out of town. Song Futan, while not bold enough to move into the crew’s hotel, might as well have. He occasionally took care of things at home but often hung around the set.
The crew noticed this behavior and couldn’t help but comment on it, exclaiming, “Wow, this is gutsy! This doesn’t seem like *just* being good friends!”
Lan He’s costume for the film was a long robe, matching the period style of the many actors on set in traditional attire. Today, Song Futan came to visit him during a break, tugging lightly at Lan He’s robe. “You’re still too thin. Grandpa asked me to bring you some soup tomorrow.”
The director had instructed Lan He to gain some weight, but Song Futan, seeing him in the robe, still thought he looked too gaunt.
“Please thank Grandpa for me. But I can’t gain too much, or it’ll affect my roles,” Lan He said with a smile. Then, as if prompted by the thought, he added, “When this film wraps up, I’ll take you home for Miao New Year.”
This was a clear sign of meeting the parents. Though they had been together for some time, Song Futan had never pressed Lan He to introduce him to his family. He wasn’t sure what Mr. and Mrs. Long’s views were—if they were conservative, he’d have to approach things gradually.
But Lan He’s proposal meant he was ready to open up to his family. Song Futan held Lan He’s hand and said, “Okay.”
Noticing traces of ink on Lan He’s fingers, likely from writing scenes in the film, Song Futan grabbed a wet wipe and gently cleaned them. Passersby from the crew couldn’t help but feel blinded by the affection radiating between the two.
As he was wiping, Song Futan caught sight of two figures in long robes standing by the table. Initially, he thought they were actors, but upon closer inspection, he realized they cast no shadows on the ground.
He subtly withdrew his gaze and looked at Lan He, who was leaning on the table, seemingly focused on his hand. However, Song Futan, familiar with Lan He’s mannerisms, knew this wasn’t the case.
The two continued their unhurried hand-cleaning routine while the two ghosts whispered with their hands tucked in their sleeves.
“Is it him?”
“He looks like it, but also not quite… Did we find the wrong person? If it’s him, why does he seem like he can’t see us?”
“Could it all just be a rumor? This feels unreliable. What a waste of time.”
One ghost leaned closer to Lan He and called softly near his ear, “Master Lai? Lord Lai?” When there was no response, he grew bolder. “Lai the Scoundrel?”
After calling out twice without eliciting any reaction, the ghost clapped his hands nervously and whispered to his companion, “Oh, what courage I’ve shown!”
Lan He: “…”
The ghost scratched his chin and mused, “Could it really just be a rumor? How could such an outrageous story spread? Didn’t they say Lai the Scoundrel died in a car accident, his face crushed beyond recognition? How could he look like this?”
Lan He, resting his chin in his hand, chimed in lazily, “Yeah, who could’ve spread such a thing?”
The ghosts froze.
Without even glancing their way, Lan He rolled up his sleeve, exposing a faint red mark on his wrist. “Go wait for me in the makeup room.”
The ghosts exchanged nervous glances but scurried off, leaving the living crew none the wiser. Those nearby assumed Lan He was simply chatting with Song Futan.
In the makeup room, Lan He pushed open the door and stepped in, hearing one ghost yelp, “Who—who turned on the light?”
“Your father,” Lan He replied, shutting the door behind him. “Who told you I’m Impermanent Lai? Came to spectate, did you?”
The two ghosts shook as if caught in an earthquake. “Master Lai, we only heard it from… from some other ghost. We were hoping to find Impermanent Lai to uphold justice… No intention of spying…”
Lan He leaned against the table. “Tell me, who said it?”
The ghosts hesitated, heads bowed.
“I won’t hold it against you. Just spill it,” Lan He coaxed.
One ghost dared to lift his head. “You really won’t hold it against us?”
Lan He smirked. “What’s the point of holding a grudge? I just want to know who started it.”
He wasn’t angry. His cover had always been paper-thin, and with so many witnesses, it was impressive that it had taken two months for ghosts to hear the rumors.
The main reason? Lan He had a bet going with Song Futan, wagering which sect would leak the secret first.
Now was the moment of truth.
Finally, the ghosts confessed that a Taoist, while training spirit soldiers, had let slip the information to ghostly subordinates, and the story had spread like wildfire.
“Ha! I knew it!” Lan He beamed. “I told you they couldn’t keep their mouths shut. All right, you can go.”
The ghosts bowed deeply before fleeing, eager to leave the room.
“Come on, sir! Please seek justice,” the ghost tugged at Lan He’s sleeve. “My remains weren’t properly buried. They were dug up by a swindler convincing my unfilial descendants to bring them back home…”
Lan He replied speechlessly, “Although I am an Impermanent, I don’t deal with such matters. For this kind of issue, why not just register it at the City God’s Temple? Are you expecting me to hold court for you?”
The ghost muttered, “The line at the City God’s Temple is too long, so I came to try my luck.”
Indeed, the incense offerings at the City God’s Temple were more abundant than ever, and it was likely busier than before. Lan He was about to walk away, but paused and said, “Just this once. Now, tell me, what’s the deal with your remains? Was it some weirdo digging up your bones?”
The ghost was overjoyed, bowed to Lan He, and said, “I had been buried peacefully for many years. After my cremation, a piece of bone resembling the Bodhisattva Guanyin was left behind and buried in my urn. When my descendants relocated my burial site, they hired a swindler who saw the bone and claimed bringing it home to worship would protect the family. But how could it protect anything? Please, sir, help me rest in peace and return my remains to their rightful place.”
Lan He was puzzled. “What Guanyin bone?”
The ghost pitifully replied, “It’s just a piece of bone left after cremation, shaped like a seated Guanyin.”
Lan He glanced at him. “You have such talent?”
The ghost hung his head. “Yes, people used to say I was a tough nut when I was alive…”
Lan He: “…”
Such Guanyin bones are rare; among thousands of cremated remains, it’s not guaranteed to find one resembling Guanyin.
Moreover, some claim that different people leave different shapes behind. High monks’ remains might be called sarira, but in most cases, these bones are just excuses for extortion. Even if there is a connection to the Buddha, incomplete remains bring no blessing.
The process of taking the bone home involves rituals, picking it up with red cloth, and ceremonially inviting it into the house. This simple act costs at least a thousand yuan.
“I understand now. Give me your name and address,” Lan He said, jotting it down and forwarding it to the people at the Eastern Peak Temple. Professional tasks should be left to professionals. Surely, he wasn’t going to put on a mask and handle this himself.
Besides, wearing a mask wouldn’t make them believe him. Taking it off would make them believe even less…
The ghost bowed deeply again in gratitude.
Lan He left and shrugged at Song Futan. “The secret’s out. Now even ghosts know.” He explained the ghost’s case to Song Futan, mentioning the Guanyin bone. “What do you think your remains will look like after cremation? A seated Buddha or a lotus flower?”
Song Futan pinned him to the wall and kissed him passionately. “I’m no monk, so of course, it would be…”
“Hiss…”
Lan He: “…”
Song Futan: “…”
Both turned their heads to see a snake’s head peeking in through the window.
Lan He cursed under his breath, straightened up, and shut the window before walking out with Song Futan.
Liu 13: “??”
He shifted into human form and walked through the wall, still wearing a neck brace despite being healed. “Wait! You didn’t finish. What would it be? Burned into a shape that shows your love?”
Lan He: “…”
Liu 13 was the only one bold enough to follow them to the set. Lan He ignored him, sat down, and continued reading the script. Song Futan also shot a dissatisfied glance at Liu 13. “You’re all better, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Liu 13 yawned. “But is it me who’s fine or you two who are too unproductive? All you do is film all day. Why not spend more time together?”
Lan He chuckled. “This may be my first relationship, but I won’t take romantic advice from a single snake like you.”
Liu 13: “…”
Liu 13 was fuming. “Is this how you treat a dragon? Having a true dragon in your home means you should fulfill its requests properly!”
Just then, a crew member called out, “I bought some dragon beard candy. Anyone who wants some, come and get it!”
Liu 13 pointed in their direction, exasperated. “See? Even they know—dragons need sugar!”
Lan He: “…”
What nonsense. Did he think everyone had lost their minds?
……
Liu 13 lingered on set for two days, replenishing his sugar levels before finally agreeing to return to the park for patrol. Even as he left, he muttered nonsense about “dragons blessing the capital while being mistreated.”
When Lan He moved to an outdoor location for filming, Chen Xingyu and her brother Chen Xingyang brought Miaomiao along for a visit.
Miaomiao could already speak now and called Lan He “uncle” with great enthusiasm.
“Such a sweetheart.” Lan He felt Miaomiao had grown quite a bit, and he pinched the soft, chubby cheeks.
Chen Xingyu smiled warmly and said, “Do you like kids? Then find yourself a partner and have one.”
Lan He thought about his partner and replied, “I’m afraid that might be a bit difficult.”
Chen Xingyang was shocked. “Wait… you have a partner? Since when?”
“Uh…” Lan He hesitated. “For some time now. I’ll check with him, and next time, we’ll have a meal together.” Song Futan wasn’t present; he was home tending to offerings.
“You’ve kept it tight-lipped. Is your partner in the same industry? Someone from the crew?” Chen Xingyu asked curiously. “And what do you mean by ‘difficult’? Are they unwell? Maybe you should try praying at Miaogan Mountain?”
Lan He replied, “Let’s talk about it another time.”
Miaogan Mountain? That’d mean meeting First Lady Hu and Granny Wang San. There didn’t seem to be a need.
“Well, if someone’s focusing on their career, why rush them?” Chen Xingyang commented.
Chen Xingyu chuckled. “That’s true.”
Chen Xingyu booked a separate room, so Chen Xingyang shared a standard twin room with Lan He. While Chen Xingyu showered, she left Miaomiao in their care.
Miaomiao was all smiles around Lan He. After playing with the child for a while, Lan He said, “I’ll go take a shower too.”
“Sure,” Chen Xingyang said, taking over Miaomiao.
Chen Xingyu’s showers were famously lengthy. Even after Lan He entered the bathroom, she still hadn’t come out. Chen Xingyang, carrying Miaomiao, wandered around the room. Suddenly, Miaomiao’s mouth turned down, and he began to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Chen Xingyang checked instinctively—no hunger, no wet diaper, no pain, no itch. Was it simply that he missed Lan He?
“Are you missing Uncle Lan He? He’s in the shower,” Chen Xingyang coaxed.
Miaomiao, teary-eyed, pointed at something and said, “Claw, claw.”
Chen Xingyang followed the child’s gaze and spotted something red on the windowsill. On closer inspection, it was a bright red fingernail.
Was the room not cleaned properly? Lan He had moved in just the day before. Feeling a bit uneasy, Chen Xingyang remembered Miaomiao’s crying, so he opened the window and tossed the fingernail outside.
He gave Miaomiao some water and walked around the room. When he looked again, his hair stood on end.
The same bright red fingernail was lying on the windowsill as if stained with blood.
“Damn it,” Chen Xingyang muttered under his breath. They were only on the second floor. Peering out into the dark, desolate countryside, he could see nothing but thick fog—or maybe smog.
Summoning his courage, he opened the window and looked out again, paying special attention to the air conditioning unit for footprints. Beyond a certain point, visibility was poor.
Nothing. No traces.
Chen Xingyang threw the fingernail out with force this time.
In the wind, a faint voice seemed to whisper, “Tsk, you trying to die?”
Chen Xingyang’s face turned pale. He slammed the window shut, only for Miaomiao to burst into loud cries again. He rushed to knock on the bathroom door. “Lan He! Lan He?”
Lan He came out wearing a bathrobe, freshly showered. “What’s wrong?”
Seeing Lan He’s calm demeanor reassured Chen Xingyang somewhat. He handed Miaomiao over and grabbed the corner of Lan He’s robe. “Damn it, I heard a voice outside.”
“This is the second floor; hearing sounds isn’t unusual,” Lan He replied calmly.
“…Yeah, but Miaomiao was crying too,” Chen Xingyang said, not wanting to seem too cowardly. “Maybe… he just missed you.”
Sure enough, now that Miaomiao was in Lan He’s arms, he stopped crying, just like when he was a few months old.
Chen Xingyang hesitated for a moment before saying, “Also, just now, there was a long red fingernail on the windowsill…”
He found it hard to explain what came next. After throwing it out once, it reappeared. Speaking of eerie things at night felt like inviting more trouble.
“What fingernail? Maybe the wind blew it in. Red? Could be from some girl with nail art,” Lan He replied calmly as he walked to the window.
“I closed the window!” Chen Xingyang followed him, and the moment he looked outside, he almost wet himself. “Holy sh—”
In the thick, impenetrable night fog, faint green lights flickered and swayed. Miaomiao, who had just calmed down, started crying again, his wails piercing through the quiet room.
Lan He, facing away from Chen Xingyang, had a subtle change in expression. He felt as though something dangerous was watching him, and the sensation sent a shiver down his spine, though he didn’t show it.
Chen Xingyang was close to fainting. “Th-this… I-I’ll call…”
“It’s probably phosphorescent flames, also known as ghost fire. This place is remote; maybe there’s an old burial ground nearby. Human bones contain phosphorus.” Lan He pulled the trembling Chen Xingyang to the bed and sat him down, placing Miaomiao in his arms. “Wait here. I’ll inform the hotel.”
Chen Xingyang understood the science behind it, but the atmosphere was undeniably eerie. Combined with the earlier sounds and fingernail incident, he felt like a ghost was about to appear at any moment.
When Lan He tried to leave, Chen Xingyang refused to let go. “C-call the front desk!”
“I want to go directly. It’ll be faster if they check it out immediately,” Lan He said calmly. Internally, he was uneasy. There was no trace of yin energy, but the overwhelming demonic aura was unsettling.
Those green lights weren’t phosphorescent flames; he had said that only to calm Chen Xingyang. He needed an excuse to leave and report this.
Lan He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Where had this come from?
By all logic, after fixing the Golden Summit, building the Zhenwu Bridge, and aligning the Five Towns, the city should have returned to peace. He’d even enjoyed two quiet months. Why was there such commotion now, like the realm of a hundred ghosts?
And was it his imagination, or was this directed at him?
…Were they ambushing him when he had no allies around?
What went wrong for the protective measures to fail in just two months?
“You can’t go!” Chen Xingyang pleaded, only to hear a sudden “bang” as the window, untouched by anyone, flew open. He froze. The wind blew in, carrying an object that landed on the floor—a bright red fingernail. This time, faint laughter drifted in with the wind.
“Thud.” Chen Xingyang fainted without hesitation, fortunately onto the bed, with Miaomiao lying on his chest, teary-eyed.
Lan He frowned, rubbing his wrist as he walked to the window and looked out coldly.
The moment he appeared, the green lights swayed more violently, accompanied by sharp whispers.
“It’s him, right? Hehe, all my spying paid off.”
“Don’t push, Sister 109.”
“Yes, it’s him! He looks so wealthy. Slurp…”
“I’d love to follow him home and live the good life.”
Lan He: “…?”
He glanced at the fingernail on the floor and twitched his mouth in irritation. Something felt off, so he leaned forward for a closer look.
“He’s looking at us!” someone exclaimed.
The cluster of green lights moved closer, emerging from the dense fog to reveal a group of eerie-looking foxes. Their eyes glowed green, sharp teeth bared, and claws extended as if ready to tear him apart.
Crowded together, the foxes, instead of retreating upon being discovered, scrambled to throw their fingernails at Lan He.
“Sister Da-jie and Number 79 can do it, so can we!”
“Try my nail! =3=”
Lan He: “……………………”
Author’s note:
The price of being exposed: *We can all do it!*
hahaha it’s always so lively around Lan He xD
Thank you for the chapter !
They all want tasty food XD