Lin Gui was clearly just a fan of Lan He alone. Although both CP fans and Lan He’s solo fans used the same “coo-coo” chant, they were easy to distinguish. Her walls were covered with solo posters of Lan He, and her collection of merchandise was all Lan He-related. Her bookshelf didn’t have a single fanfiction book involving Song Futan’s name.
When Old Bai arrived at her house, he noticed this immediately.
Lin Gui had a terminal illness and didn’t have much time left. Following tradition, her family decided to bring her home, letting her spend her final days in her own room, in familiar surroundings.
Since Old Bai was in the room, it was a clear sign that Lin Gui wouldn’t last much longer. As her consciousness faded in her final moments, she even saw Old Bai’s white figure counting down according to the timetable recorded in his documents.
“Three, two, one—”
Lin Gui passed away on cue.
Her family erupted into heart-wrenching cries. Meanwhile, Old Bai used his soul-reaping rope to pull Lin Gui’s spirit from her body. For the first time, her long-ill body felt light and liberated. She looked at her family reluctantly. “Dad, Mom…”
They clung to her body in anguish.
Though they had mentally prepared for this moment, it was still devastating when it finally arrived. Practical matters soon took over. Relatives began organizing tasks: they needed to dress Lin Gui’s body in burial clothes before it stiffened, pack up her belongings and bedding to be burned that same day, and rearrange the bed where she had passed. After someone dies, there’s just so much to do.
Even Lin Gui herself felt a bittersweet gratitude for her relatives stepping in to help; otherwise, her parents, already overwhelmed with grief, wouldn’t have been able to handle it all.
“It’s time to go. You’ll have another chance to visit during the seventh day’s soul return,” Old Bai reminded.
Confronted with the afterlife for the first time, Lin Gui felt deeply conflicted. She cast one last longing glance at her parents and followed Old Bai out.
“Move faster! Your document has discrepancies that need to be clarified at the City God Temple,” Old Bai urged.
Lin Gui, who had been bedridden and barely talked to anyone for ages, started peppering Old Bai with questions once she got over the initial shock. She asked about everything: where she was going, whether she could let her parents see her during their next meeting, and even, “Are you Bai Wuchang (White Impermanence)?”
Old Bai grew increasingly annoyed. When Lin Gui asked what the City God looked like, he replied coldly, “You want to know what the City God looks like?”
Lin Gui nodded eagerly. “Is he like the statues—bearded, pot-bellied, dressed in official robes?”
“Those are just mortal speculations,” Old Bai replied, fabricating as he went. “Gods have no fixed form. To inspire awe, their appearance aligns with the image you mortals are most impressed by. In truth, though, he’s just an old man who’s lived for centuries.”
Lin Gui tilted her head in confusion. “What does that mean? Would he look like the boy I had a crush on? Or maybe like my mom?”
She accepted this explanation quickly, even finding it quite reasonable.
“That makes sense,” she thought. The logic was sound, and the myths she had read were, after all, just myths. Now that she was dead, she was witnessing the real underworld. With renewed curiosity, she resumed her questioning.
Old Bai continued spinning nonsense until they arrived at the City God Temple. After exchanging tokens with the temple’s ghost guards, he said, “I’m here to verify some documents.”
“Please proceed. The boss is in the main hall,” the ghost guard said, referring to their superior.
Lin Gui was led to the main hall, where she saw a handsome young man in a red robe processing paperwork. His fair complexion appeared even more striking against the bright colors of his robes. His aura was both noble and mesmerizing, with dimples faintly visible at the corners of his lips, adding an alluring touch. Lin Gui was utterly stunned.
It turned out the City God, as she perceived him, looked exactly like her favorite celebrity, Lan He!
Lan He glanced at the document, confirmed the name, and asked, “Lin Gui?”
This was just a young girl. Lan He noticed her staring and assumed she might recognize him. His identity was no secret in the underworld.
To his surprise, Lin Gui quickly collected herself, dropping her dazed expression. “Yes, sir.”
Her respectful attitude amused him. In her mind, Lan He’s appearance must have been a facade concealing a pot-bellied old man.
Intrigued, Lan He gave her another glance before instructing a subordinate to fetch additional records.
Lin Gui waited obediently beneath the main hall, taking the opportunity to admire the “old man’s” celebrity guise and fulfill her dream of seeing Lan He. Just then, she heard a clicking sound. Turning around, she saw someone who looked exactly like Song Futan, leading a donkey toward them.
“My gosh,” Lin Gui tugged at Old Bai. “This is too much. Who is this god now? Why does he look like Song Futan?”
Lan He and Song Futan both heard Lin Gui’s remark and immediately realized something was amiss. They exchanged exasperated glances, certain that this was a result of Old Bai’s nonsense.
Old Bai chuckled mischievously. “Who do you think it is?”
Song Futan sighed softly in resignation.
In the underworld of the capital city, everyone secretly referred to Song Futan as the “City God’s Lady.” He was well aware of this, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.
Lin Gui cautiously ventured, “Zhang Guolao?”
Song Futan: “…”
Lan He: “…”
Song Futan: “I’m not—”
Old Bai burst into raucous laughter. “Hahaha, Zhang Guolao! Hahaha!”
Lin Gui looked utterly bewildered. “If you’re not Zhang Guolao, who else could you be with that donkey? Afanti?”
Old Bai slapped his thigh in delight. “Look closely! This is the City God’s Lady.”
Lin Gui looked as though she’d been struck by lightning.
This time, it was Lin Gui’s turn to panic. She clutched her head. “No! How could my subconscious make the City God’s Lady look like Song Futan? Have I been corrupted by those CP fans? No! No!! It’s their brainwashing!”
Song Futan: “…”
Lan He glanced at the distraught Lin Gui, who had shut her eyes in torment. “??”
Old Bai gestured for silence with a finger to his lips, snickering. “Hehehe…”
He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as he teased this chatty young woman.
Struck by this revelation, Lin Gui was completely deflated. She squatted down in the hall, looking dejected. Suddenly, a man in black robes with a scarred face strode in. He held a document in his hand, which he accurately tossed onto the desk. “Here. Found it, as promised.”
Found it…? A dragon? Lin Gui’s mind was spinning. Yet after realizing that her imagination had paired Lan He and Song Futan together, nothing seemed to shock her anymore.
So, she simply stared at the black dragon for a while.
“Thanks.” Lan He, now serving as the City God, had apparently enlisted his family deity to run errands for him.
As Lan He reviewed the document, Liu 13 squatted beside him and pulled out a phone, casually watching a variety show Lan He had starred in.
“!!” Lin Gui was stunned. The underworld, this dragon—it could use a phone and watch TV? And he was even using the senior-friendly phone that Lan He had once promoted! Did this mean she could actually bond with a dragon?
But the black-robed man looked utterly ferocious.
Lin Gui, both eager and terrified, couldn’t resist inching closer. “Can I watch with you? I like Lan He, too.”
Liu 13 slowly turned his head, a question mark practically materializing on his face. “?”
Facing his menacing expression, Lin Gui grew even more nervous but pressed on. “I was a Lan He solo fan when I was alive. Are you one too?”
Liu 13: “…”
Was this woman insane? Or was she as blind as the thorny little bird?
You’re staring at the real one above you and yet… you’re choosing to watch the screen with me? Up until now, there have been quite a few ghost fans who recognized Lan He after death, but none of them reacted like Lin Gui.
Despite his confusion, Liu 13 said, “Suit yourself.”
His lukewarm response, devoid of any joy in fandom solidarity, left Lin Gui doubting if he was truly a fan. She’d met male fans before, after all. Then again, this wasn’t a person—it was a dragon. She wasn’t really in a position to judge whether dragon fandom was normal or not.
On the screen, Lan He was chatting with the host and other guests, even joking about some memes related to himself circulating online.
Lin Gui clasped her face in her hands. “Aaaaaah! Lan He, stay away from the fans’ personal lives!!”
Lan He: “…”
Liu 13 suddenly understood. *Ye Gong likes dragons!* No wonder she wasn’t paying attention to the real Lan He. Fans like this don’t want their idol to feel too close.
Lin Gui continued squealing. “Aaaaah, so cute! I’m dying!!”
Lan He held back his words yet again.
Liu 13, unfazed, remarked, “Well, yes, you are dead.”
Lin Gui: “…”
…
“Alright, all done. Confirm this soul and let her pass,” Lan He said, having finished reviewing the paperwork and stamping it with the City God’s seal.
“Time to go.” Old Bai motioned for Lin Gui to leave. Reluctantly, she got up and took one last look at the City God. Though she knew the image was false, it still felt so real…
“Can I come back later? Where am I going now? What time is it? What does he look like in your eyes?” Lin Gui resumed her barrage of questions for Old Bai.
Old Bai rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly losing patience.
“Wait,” Lan He said, adjusting his robes as he descended from his seat. “What do you want to know?”
Old Bai chuckled wickedly. “Well, here’s your chance—the City God himself is answering your questions. Make it count.”
Seeing Lan He’s face up close gave Lin Gui a dizzying sense of awe. She steadied herself, deciding to take this opportunity seriously. Instead of asking idol-related questions, she asked, “When I return on the seventh day after death, will my parents be able to see me?”
“Mortals and ghosts walk separate paths. But if your will is strong enough, they can sense your presence and smell your scent.” Lan He paused before adding, “In the next life, you may meet again if fate allows it. However, you might not remain family. Perhaps one of you will be human while the other becomes plant, animal, or bird. But even so, that will still be a reunion.”
Lin Gui murmured, “…I see.”
Though it was different from what she imagined, she felt the underlying compassion in the City God’s words. Even in death, there was a kind of care unique to the underworld.
Lan He suddenly asked, “Also, do you like me?”
“…What? That’s not appropriate!” Lin Gui exclaimed, startled. She looked at the City God in horror. The City God’s “wife” was right there, and he dared to openly flirt with a new ghost, saying something so suggestive.
Old Bai finally lost it, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “Hahahahahahahaha!”
Lan He, too, was amused by Lin Gui’s terrified expression. He turned to Old Bai. “What exactly did you tell her? Look how scared she is.”
Old Bai, struggling to catch his breath, replied, “Hahaha, I told her that when mortals see gods, they automatically perceive them as the most impressive figure in their memory. Hahaha!”
No wonder—it all made sense now. Lan He suddenly understood. “You’re such a scoundrel.”
Lin Gui stood frozen. “What does that mean?”
Lan He replied casually, “It means that no matter who sees me, I always look like this. I am Lan He, the real one.”
Lin Gui: “????”
“No way you’re the City God!” Lin Gui pointed at Song Futan. “And him—he’s… the City God’s Lady! And the dragon… he’s also a Lan He solo fan, but he didn’t even get excited… Wait, wait, Lan He is an atheist!”
She suddenly remembered the biggest inconsistency: their Lan He doesn’t even believe in gods.
“I’m not a solo fan,” Liu 13 said disdainfully. “I’m a CP fan. What’s there to get excited about if there’s no romance?”
Lan He added, “That’s all just an entertainment industry persona.”
Lin Gui: “…”
She was stunned.
Wait, does this mean…
Song Futan confirmed, “I am Song Futan.”
Lin Gui: “…”
“Alright, time to go. Your idol personally sending you off should make you happy, right?” Old Bai started dragging Lin Gui along. “I’ll explain later how the City God thing works.”
“No, no, explain now! How is he the City God? And what’s the deal with the City God’s Lady? Don’t drag me yet, wait—I still need to confess!” Lin Gui screamed.
“Understood. Thank you. But there’s already a City God’s Lady,” Lan He said, struggling to hold back laughter as he shook hands with Lin Gui. “Safe journey.”
Lin Gui burst into tears.
She deeply regretted learning the truth too late. “Boohoohoo, I don’t want to leave—I want to see you again.”
Even though he maintained a fake persona, and even though he seemed to actually be in a relationship with Xuan Guang…
“Hey, the underworld also recruits civil servants. Your resume isn’t bad. If you’re not in a rush to reincarnate, you could consider applying and eventually transfer to the capital,” Old Bai suggested. “But for now, it’s really time to go.”
Lan He even began to suspect that Old Bai had schemed all this just to recruit someone.
“Old Bai is really shameless, tricking my girlfriend fan like this,” Lan He remarked as he watched Lin Gui being dragged out of the hall, turning back repeatedly with every step.
Song Futan: “Girlfriend fan?”
Lan He: “Haha, spend more time online and you’ll understand. There are many types of fans: girlfriend fans, mom fans, CP fans…”
Song Futan chuckled. No wonder fans kept shouting for him to stay out of their personal lives.
As Lin Gui neared the exit of the hall, she cast one last lingering glance at Lan He and Song Futan. Everything was clear to her now—they really were a couple. Heartbroken, she cried out, “Boohoohoo, fine, I accept it. But Xuan Guang! You better treat my wife well!!”
Song Futan: “??”
Lan He: “??”
Song Futan: “What kind of fan is this?”
Lan He had no idea either. “I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to find out…”
Only Liu 13, rolling up his sleeves, roared in anger, his voice echoing through the City God Temple: “What nonsense is she spouting about ‘wife’! Is she trying to break up the CP?!”
Author’s Note:
The one leading a donkey might not be Afanti, nor Zhang Guolao—it could very well be Song Futan…