Lan He thought for a moment that Chang Yueyuan was up to something serious. Her fierce expression almost made him shout, “Hit her again!” He had always suspected that she was a tiger in sheep’s clothing. But after seeing her break two tiles with her kneeling stance, he realized… she just wanted to call him “Dad”?
Chang Yueyuan had heard Old Bai calling him “Father” and assumed that if she wanted to visit his house, she must first acknowledge him as her father. She had been beaten before, but was easy to soften when her heart was moved. After all, what immortal wouldn’t be tempted by the fragrance Lan He created?
Unfortunately, Lan He stiffly said, “Don’t… just get up.”
He pulled Chang Yueyuan up.
Hu 79 commented idly, “Look at how well-behaved she is.”
Liu 13: “…”
He glanced at Hu 79, sensing some hidden meaning behind her words. He pressed his foot down, cracking another tile, and gave Hu 79 a threatening look.
When Lan He turned back, he felt a little dizzy. Before he could say anything, Chang Yueyuan, who had just been helped up, knelt down with a “thud” again. “I won’t get up unless you agree!”
Lan He: “…”
“Go away; I can’t afford a daughter like you.” Lan He weakly sank into the sofa, glancing at the unapologetic Chang Yueyuan and Liu 13. He sighed, “One is bad enough. Honestly, I can’t handle another like Liu!”
Hu 79 burst into laughter.
Song Futan, holding back a smile, patted Lan He’s head. “Just buy tiles and let them fix it themselves.”
Lan He was speechless. At this rate, when he retired, he might as well open a home repair business—fixing tiles and unclogging drains, everything included.
Chang Yueyuan still wanted to forcefully acknowledge him as her father, but was suppressed. She reluctantly shrank into the sink, muttering, “Man, one day, you will willingly take care of me!”
Lan He: “…”
What kind of nonsense was this?
The next day, Lan He began leading the household immortals on visits, collecting and cataloging paranormal incidents in the capital over the past two years. It coincided with the year-end, when temples and Taoist monasteries were doing their accounting. Thanks to the protective talismans, incense offerings had hit new highs in the past two years.
When Lan He visited the Eastern Peak Temple, it was initially for an investigation and a chat with Daoist Jiang He. In Jiang He’s room, he saw a somewhat familiar face.
After a moment of recollection, Lan He recognized her as one of the souls he saved at Beihai that day. Although he didn’t know her personally, he had heard that she was a big shot. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have managed to invite the reclusive Master Budong out of retirement.
Moreover, the lady wasn’t alone. A man was pouring tea beside her—a man Lan He remembered from the news as the mayor of the capital.
The mayor appeared very respectful toward the lady, recounting, “Daoist, that day, I returned from a trip. While my car was refueling, I stepped aside to smoke. On the roadside, I encountered someone in traditional clothing. Amused, I struck up a conversation. I asked about his job, and he said, ‘At the city government.’ I laughed and said, ‘Me too! How long have you been employed, and what’s your department?’ He replied, ‘I am the mayor.’ I chuckled and said, ‘What a coincidence! I’m the mayor too.’ Initially, I thought he was delusional. But then he said, ‘You govern the living; I oversee the dead. The division of yin and yang is fate. I grant you three nights of good dreams.’ Suddenly, I woke up and realized I was sitting in my car. Later, I indeed had three consecutive nights of wonderful dreams!
“Daoist Jiang He, what does this dream signify? Who is this underworld mayor, and can I worship him at Eastern Peak Temple?”
Previously a skeptic, the mayor lacked much knowledge about such matters. Daoist Jiang He explained, “You likely encountered the City God. The mayor of the capital corresponds to the Capital City God Temple, representing the deity of the city. But worshiping him at Eastern Peak Temple is incorrect; the Capital City God Temple is the proper place. Throughout Chinese history, there have only been four Capital City God Temples. The one in active use is the one in the capital, which was renovated and reopened a couple of years ago.”
The lady expressed interest. “That’s fascinating—receiving good dreams! Let’s include the Capital City God Temple in our itinerary.” She had already toured many temples in the capital, driven by enthusiasm after her soul-severing experience.
Lan He recalled that his colleague Xiao Yugan from *Ghostly Charm* had received good dreams as a reward for a good deed. It seemed that the mayor’s experience with the Underworld City God, Lord An, was genuine.
At this moment, Daoist Jiang He noticed Lan He, quickly excused himself to the guests, and stepped outside to speak with him.
Lan He asked his questions, and Daoist Jiang He, assuming it was for compiling some documentation, answered diligently. The underworld was known for its voluminous and tedious paperwork.
Inside, the two guests, hearing only Daoist Jiang He’s voice, found the silence outside increasingly odd. When Daoist Jiang He left them to chat with someone, their curiosity about the unseen figure grew. The lady peeked through a crack and was startled—outside, there was no one; Daoist Jiang He appeared to be speaking to thin air.
Her heart skipped a beat as she stepped back.
Later, when Daoist Jiang He returned, she couldn’t resist asking, “Daoist, who was that just now?”
With a faint smile, Daoist Jiang He replied, “Someone you’ve met before—at Beihai.”
“Ah, it was him,” the lady whispered.
The mayor, puzzled, asked, “Who?”
“It’s nothing.” The lady shook her head. She had verified this emissary’s identity through records but refrained from broadcasting it. This emissary even delegated bounty collections to temples, maintaining such a low profile that she had no chance to thank him in person.
…
Meanwhile, rumors about *Ghostly Charm* being stuck in review grew more believable, drawing public concern. People remarked that while the title included “ghost,” the records and Song Qiyun’s past style clearly indicated it was merely satirical. There was no reason for prolonged delays—unless the reviewers themselves felt criticized?
At this time, another rumor surfaced: the review board suspected Lan He and Song Futan of a homosexual relationship, which led to the holdup of their work.
Netizens:
[???]
[What the heck, hahaha, the reviewers are bigger shippers than me! I can’t believe they’re real!]
[LOL, what kind of ridiculous reason is this? I don’t believe it.]
[Right, even if they are gay, they haven’t come out. Isn’t it the case of “what isn’t brought up isn’t investigated”?]
[Hey, hey, don’t make it sound like they are actually gay. Jokes aside, aren’t Lan He and Song Futan as straight as it gets?]
[Straight men are the most cringe-inducing sometimes… and they do it so blatantly.]
The rumors about Lan He and Song Futan being overly affectionate on set indeed sparked suspicion among some people. Although unrelated to the review process, the speculation accidentally hit the mark.
However, at this point, *Ghostly Charm* suddenly passed review without a single cut.
[See? I told you Lan He isn’t gay!]
[Um, what? He wasn’t in the first place.]
[Ha, what’s wrong with these people? Then why was it held up for so long?]
[Apparently, to minimize cuts. Song Qiyun had to run himself ragged. But it seems some big shot appreciated the film, found it interesting, and put in a word. Then… it passed entirely uncut.]
[…Stunned. So, does this mean it can be scheduled now?]
[Very soon. Probably after the New Year.]
—
The clearance and subsequent scheduling of *Ghostly Charm* naturally made Lan He happy. Based on the leaked rumors, although no specific name was mentioned, he figured it could only have been the influential lady he had saved who helped.
However, Lan He was currently devoting most of his energy to field visits. The collected data was being entered into the computer, but the task was far from finished due to its enormity.
This reduced the amount of work Lan He took on in the living world, leaving fans complaining about the lack of fresh content. They eagerly awaited the promotional activities for *Ghostly Charm*, hoping Lan He would appear soon.
By year-end, Lan He, who had been too busy to return home the previous year, found himself in the same situation this year.
On New Year’s Eve, Lan He had dinner at Song Futan’s house. Their families were already aware of their relationship, so there was no need for pretense. During the evening video call, both sets of parents exchanged greetings.
Song Qiyun awkwardly greeted Lan He’s father, whose approval was at least 50% coerced, leaving him slightly uncomfortable.
Lan He’s father remarked, “Young Song has it hard, balancing work while taking care of Lan He’s life, managing everything inside and out.” He then gave a thumbs up.
Song Qiyun: “…”
Song Qiyun suddenly sat up straight and loudly retorted, “It’s nothing! Lan He is also very considerate. He even helps Futan tie his tie before they go out.”
Everyone else: “…”
Around 8 p.m., Lan He and Song Futan didn’t linger at home. They headed to Juehui Temple, accompanied by the household immortals—after all, even immortals celebrate the New Year, and they had just shared a festive meal.
The family also knew that Master Budong seemed to have had some mental issues over the years. Considering his teacher-like relationship with Song Futan, they supported the idea of accompanying him at Juehui Temple.
The temple was bustling on New Year’s Eve, though the peak wouldn’t come until midnight.
Years ago, someone tried to bid millions for the right to offer the first incense stick of the New Year, but Master Budong refused. To this day, devotees eagerly awaited the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Day to compete for the first incense offering and ring the bell to pray for blessings.
Lan He and the others entered the monks’ living quarters, an area off-limits to visitors.
Sikong was helping Master Budong walk laps in the courtyard. When he saw them arrive, Sikong greeted them, but Master Budong remained unresponsive.
“Happy New Year’s Eve. How is the Master doing today?” Lan He observed that Master Budong’s complexion seemed fine. He had been nourished with supplements recently, though his eyes remained dull.
“My brothers and I take turns staying by the Abbot’s side,” Sikong replied.
“Why don’t you rest? We’ll keep him company for a while,” Lan He suggested.
“Amitabha,” Sikong thanked him. The temple was understaffed due to the large number of visitors, and he hadn’t even had time for dinner.
Chang Yueyuan circled Master Budong and then quipped, “Are you sure he wasn’t knocked silly by me, Dad?”
“…Don’t go around claiming random people as your father,” Lan He said. “I’ve told you countless times: stop fantasizing. You don’t have what it takes.”
Chang Yueyuan tilted her head, confused. “Do you mean claiming a father or fighting monks?”
Lan He: “Both!”
He pointed at Chang Yueyuan. “You’d better stop kneeling, too. These bluestone tiles have been here for over a century. They’re not easy to replace.”
Song Futan helped Master Budong sit down and began reciting the *Diamond Sutra*.
His voice was clear and cold, blending harmoniously with the surrounding ancient trees and shrubs. The red walls and green tiles of the monastery shielded them from the outside world, where only faint murmurs of visitors hinted at the lively New Year’s celebrations nearby.
Except for Old Bai, who wasn’t present, Hu, Bai, Liu, and Chang sat cross-legged on the ground, listening intently to the sutra.
For a moment, this place felt like a world unto itself, filled only with the murmurs of the scripture, the soft yellow glow of streetlights, an empty courtyard, and—
“Meow, meow—”
Lan He heard a few cat meows and looked up to see an orange tabby sitting on the roof ridge. Against the backdrop of a cloud-streaked night sky, it tilted its head as if listening to the scripture.
When Song Futan finished reciting, Master Budong murmured woodenly, “Amitabha.”
“Master? Master, are you awake?” Lan He stared at him intently, but Master Budong only gave that one response before falling silent again.
“Sigh…” Lan He propped his chin in his hand.
“Come on, it’s New Year’s Eve. Don’t be so gloomy,” Liu 13 said. “Why don’t you two kiss or something?”
Lan He choked: “…”
For a moment, he thought Liu 13 was speaking like a normal person. Then came that absurd suggestion.
At this moment, the orange tabby leaped gracefully from the roof in three jumps, landing lightly on the ground. It strolled over nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the presence of immortals after spending so much time at the monastery.
Seeing Lan He’s attention on the cat, Song Futan explained, “The temple originally had a few stray cats. Over time, they settled here. The visitors like them, and the monks feed them and give them names. When they’re old enough, the temple takes them for neutering.”
“That’s nice,” Lan He said with a small smile, watching the cat’s adorable movements.
Another meow sounded, this time from the bushes, soft and delicate.
“Is there another one?” Lan He teased. “Come out, little kitty.”
A black-and-white cat emerged from the bushes, striding confidently. Around its neck was a clear plastic Elizabethan collar that reflected the light, making it hard to miss.
Lan He: “…”
Liu 13 lowered his gaze from rolling his eyes heavenward, staring at the cat as it moved toward Lan He.
The cat sauntered leisurely across the courtyard, stopping in front of Lan He and rubbing against his hand. However, the collar meant Lan He only felt the plastic surface.
Lan He: “…………”
Liu 13, struck hard, shouted, “What is that!!! Why is it wearing an Elizabethan collar too?!”
“Meow!” Both the orange and black-and-white cats cried out in alarm and bolted.
Lan He sighed. “It’s just… you know, everyone recognizes these collars as good things. They’ve become trendy, so everyone’s copying the look. What can I do? I told you I’d take it off when your injury healed, but you refused to let me.”
Liu 13 yelled angrily, “Nonsense! You tricked me!”
The usually invisible Bai Wu quietly offered, “That’s because you kept licking your wound…”
“Shut up!” Liu 13 instantly transformed into his true form, a black snake, and furiously sprayed Lan He with insults, even dragging Song Futan into it. “You two! It’s outrageous! Not only do you constantly scheme against this dragon, but on New Year’s Eve, you won’t even kiss or share some sweet moments—instead, you’re reciting Buddhist scriptures! Is this something humans would do? Are you even men?!”
Lan He: “??”
Was this a rant or a personal attack?
Lan He sighed. “No way, Snake, is not kissing on New Year’s a crime too?”
Song Futan: “…”
Liu 13, clearly not understanding Lan He’s teasing tone, continued flailing dramatically.
When Sikong returned after dinner, he was greeted by the sight of the black snake writhing wildly. Carefully stepping around him, Sikong said worriedly, “Could you stop dancing? I’m afraid someone might see you.”
Liu 13: “Shut up! Fahai!!”
Sikong: “…” Could you stop calling every monk you see “Fahai”?
Sikong turned to Song Futan and said, “Tonight we still need to ring the big bell. In past years, it was always the abbot who did it to guide the souls of the departed. But now… I’m not sure if the abbot is still aware enough to perform the ritual.”
The ancient bell was only rung once a year, and tradition dictated that everyone would hear its three resounding strikes.
The abbot ringing the bell wasn’t just ceremonial; it was significant. The bell, an artifact of great power, was used to guide the souls of the departed and ward off evil. With a high monk performing the ritual, its power could be fully realized, exorcising more spirits and protecting against malevolent forces. Each New Year’s Eve, when the bell rang, many immortals, monks, and Taoists would bow in its direction in reverence.
If someone else took over, the bell’s effectiveness would inevitably be diminished.
“Let’s do it together—help the abbot over there,” Lan He said, wrapping himself up in a mask, scarf, and glasses before leading everyone outside.
By now, it was nearing midnight, and Juehui Temple was packed with people. They awaited the bell’s first toll, after which the main hall doors would open, allowing worshippers to offer incense or strike the smaller prayer bell for blessings, the louder the better.
“Hey, isn’t that Chen Xingyang?” Hu 79 said.
“Huh?” Lan He glanced over but couldn’t recognize anyone.
Hu 79, relying on her keen sense of smell, pointed to a man bundled up just as tightly as Lan He. “That one.”
Lan He and Song Futan exchanged a quiet word before Lan He walked over and patted the man on the shoulder. “Xingyang?”
The man turned around, looking surprised. “You…”
“It’s me, Lan He,” Lan He said in a low voice. “What are you doing here?”
Now up close, Lan He noticed that Chen Xingyang was holding hands with a girl, both of them clutching incense sticks.
“No way, how did you recognize me?!” Chen Xingyang exclaimed. He was so bundled up that even his ears were covered.
“Heh,” Lan He deflected. “Came to offer incense?”
“Yeah, though there’s no chance of getting the first incense, so we’re just burning it outside. Then we’ll line up to ring the bell,” Chen Xingyang said curiously. “What about you? Don’t tell me you’re here for the first incense, too. I heard you studied with a master here while preparing for your role as a monk. Did they give you a pass for the first incense?”
“As if I’d do something like that! Besides, I’m not that kind of person,” Lan He said. “I’m just here with friends for a stroll.”
Chen Xingyang laughed—of course, Lan He wasn’t the type to burn incense and pray. He was mostly joking anyway. The competition for the first incense was so fierce that even powerful officials couldn’t buy their way in. Even if Lan He tried to pull strings, it probably wouldn’t work.
“Alright, I won’t hold you up,” Chen Xingyang said, though he couldn’t help winking and nudging, even though Lan He couldn’t see it. He assumed Lan He’s “friend” must be a significant other.
“More like you don’t want me interrupting *you*,” Lan He teased before slipping away to find Song Futan. Despite the crowd, he never lost his way with the help of his soul-guiding rope.
By this time, everyone was eagerly awaiting the first bell of the New Year. Tradition dictated that the abbot of Juehui Temple would strike the ancient bell, marking the beginning of the incense-burning ceremony.
There had been rumors, however, that the abbot’s declining health might mean Sikong would assist with the bell this year—a meaningful event in its own right.
Chen Xingyang stretched his neck to get a better look. It was his first time at Juehui Temple, driven by his changing perspectives on the world over the past couple of years.
Seeing his girlfriend struggle to see, he lifted her slightly. “How’s the abbot holding up?”
From afar, they could see the abbot already standing by the ancient bell, a towering structure over six meters tall and weighing several dozen tons. It was an impressive artifact, inscribed with 230,000 scriptures. Striking it once was equivalent to reciting all those scriptures, accumulating boundless merit.
Monks surrounded the abbot, though the details were unclear from a distance. Behind the abbot stood two figures dressed in casual clothes with their faces covered, making them stand out among the monks.
Others might not recognize them, but Chen Xingyang did. One of them was the person he had just spoken to—Lan He.
He smirked to himself. It seemed Lan He really was close to the monks, mingling among them like that.
As midnight approached, the abbot suddenly reached out, pulling the two figures forward. Chen Xingyang watched as they hesitated briefly before stepping up and forcefully striking the massive bell.
Worshippers murmured in surprise, but as the deep, resonant sound of the bell filled the air and its reverberations stretched for miles, no one had time to think further. They rushed to offer incense and ring the prayer bell for blessings.
Chen Xingyang: “???”
…Buddy, you said you wouldn’t compete for the first incense, but then you go and strike the first bell? Do you think that’s appropriate?
Author’s Note:
You counter with a line of dialogue, I counter with nonsense.
You counter with Liu, I fold.
Hu Hu Bai Bai Liu Liu, matching games, mahjong, poker… all are options now. XD