By the time they got home it was already 3:40 AM. This was a duplex single residence with mostly wood-colored furniture in an overall warm yellow tone—small but cozy.

Ji Tong rummaged through the shoe cabinet for Zhou Xin’s slippers. “They’re a bit small, try them on.”

Zhou Hui took off his sneakers and slipped his feet into the slippers, but not even half his foot could fit in. They were way too cramped.

Ji Tong frowned. “Wait a moment, I’ll go buy some.”

“Where can you buy them now?”

“There’s a store that doesn’t close, not far from here.” Ji Tong took her elevator card and had just put her hand on the door handle when she was embraced from behind. Her body tensed, her heart pounding.

“Don’t go.” Zhou Hui stood barefoot on the floor in his white socks, kicking off the other slipper. “I can go without them.”

His arms were too long—Ji Tong was wrapped in his embrace like a little chick. She wasn’t particularly short, being at least 5’5″, but in front of him she felt like an underdeveloped child.

“It’s almost four o’clock. Let’s wash up and sleep.”

The way he said it, he sounded more like the host.

Zhou Hui rubbed the top of her head with his chin. “We’ll talk after you wake up.”

He released Ji Tong, picked up his suitcase barefoot and walked to the living room, finding an empty spot to set it down. Seeing Ji Tong still standing by the door, he straightened up and smiled at her. “If you’re not tired, we could do something else?”

Ji Tong quickly took off her shoes, went to the balcony to grab clothes and headed to the bathroom, glancing at him quickly as she passed. “You sit.”

Zhou Hui sat on the sofa and looked around. His gaze fell on the various sized photo frames on the wall, below which was a two-tier triangular wooden rack filled with flower vases. Zhou Hui got up and went over. He didn’t understand much about flower varieties, only thinking the yellow, white, and red ones looked quite nice.

He went to the entrance to get the forgotten wilted flowers and arranged them in a vase, admiring them for a while. Then he sat at the nearby desk, looking at the open collection book densely packed with flower petals of various types.

The desktop was covered with a layer of glass. Under the glass, on white cardstock, many horizontal lines were drawn. Zhou Hui pushed the book aside, his gaze drawn to those black lines.

[What is this?]

[These are the people I killed. Left side are the Japanese devils, right side are the traitors]

[Not many]

Zhou Hui raised his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, organizing these fragmented and chaotic scenes flashing through his mind.

Similar things had happened countless times this year, especially more frequently recently. Those memories came suddenly and without order, often leaving him in complete disarray.

[Aren’t you afraid I’ll poison you?]

[Beautiful scenery, delicious food, plus a beautiful woman—dying in your bed, I’d accept it]

[Try to leave Nanjing…]

…

When he had sacrificed the White Whip back then, his soul was nearly scattered to the wind. Lord Jiang sensed the anomaly in the Soul Whip and immediately rushed up. He sealed the agitated Soul Whip and extracted He Feng’s shattered remnant soul, bringing both the whip and soul back to the Eleventh Palace.

He Feng was pieced together bit by bit by Lord Jiang, but he had scattered too severely and ultimately couldn’t return to his original form. During the soul condensation process, Lord Jiang truly felt the weight of his life and death, dense down to every detail.

Lord Jiang kept his remnant soul in a soul vessel for two months. Though it regained some vitality, it still looked half-dead.

Pei Yi returned to the Eleventh Palace to submit his monthly report and learned of He Feng’s accident. He mocked the soul vessel for two straight days, then turned around to find ways to reshape his soul.

One day, as Lord Jiang was resting, he came in with great fanfare, bringing several young offenders and throwing them beside Lord Jiang. “Young boys, most nourishing.”

Lord Jiang was startled, frowning deeply as he told him to take them back. “Take them away, take them away, no need for this.”

Pei Yi was silent for a moment, bundled up three little ghosts and sent them out, then came back to check on He Feng. “How is he? Just keeping him stuffed in there won’t help him take shape.”

“Scattered beyond recognition—how can a few remnant soul wisps take shape?”

“Is he conscious?” Pei Yi bent down and blew on the soul vessel. “Hey, surname He, I’ve been cursing you for so many days, at least give me a reaction.”

“Stop calling him. He can’t hear, and even if he could, he wouldn’t bother with you.”

Pei Yi lazily stood up, fiddling with the newly made soul instruments on the table. “So what do we do?”

Lord Jiang added some ghostly fire under the soul cauldron, making the fierce ghost inside shriek hoarsely. He sealed off the noise and said to Pei Yi, “I’m afraid there’s only one solution.”

“What solution?”

“Send him to reincarnate and cultivate his soul anew.”

“Would Old Zhou agree to that?” Pei Yi whooshed in front of him. “But if you go speak to him, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Lord Jiang swung his ghost axe at him. “Don’t come near me, you reek of malevolent energy.”

Pei Yi darted away. “You’re actually afraid of malevolent energy.”

“It stinks terribly.”

Pei Yi sniffed himself. “Where does it stink? You’re the one who stinks! Old thing.” As soon as he finished speaking, a purple light flashed over. Fortunately Pei Yi dodged quickly, avoiding the rope that hung from the beam. “Attacking at the slightest disagreement, bad old man.”

Lord Jiang opened the soul vessel and released He Feng’s remnant soul—sparse black energy circling weakly around, ready to dissipate the moment it left his power.

Pei Yi shook his head in lamentation. “This is too tragic.”

Lord Jiang collected the remnant soul into his sleeve. “I’ll make a trip to the Tenth Palace. Help me guard things here, don’t let the little ghosts come in and steal anything. If any soul instruments go missing, I’ll hold you accountable when I return.”

Pei Yi teleported to lie horizontally on the beam. “Go, go, go, waiting for your good news.”

Lord Jiang spent his days in the instrument room researching soul tools, so few underworld officials had seen him. Before the establishment of the Eleventh Palace, Lord Jiang had served in three palaces, staying longest in the Tenth Palace, so most of the old underworld officials here knew him well and greeted him respectfully.

This matter shouldn’t be publicized, so Lord Jiang avoided King Zhuanlun and found one of his subordinate underworld officials, whose earthly name was Huang Zhaoshi. After much small talk, Huang Zhaoshi guessed he must have another purpose and said directly, “Does Lord Jiang have some business?”

“Indeed I have a favor to ask.”

“Whatever Lord Jiang needs, just tell me.”

Lord Jiang didn’t continue beating around the bush with him. “I have a remnant soul here that I’d like you to register and send for reincarnation.”

“Remnant soul? What do you mean?”

Lord Jiang released the remnant soul from his sleeve, using his energy to temporarily condense it into a phantom.

Huang Zhaoshi was shocked. “Isn’t this your palace’s patrol envoy? How did he end up like this?”

“Work injury. He destroyed an evil ghost and sealed a Soul Whip, obliterating himself in the process.” Lord Jiang stroked his beard and looked at him askance. “Help me out?”

“Small matter.” Huang Zhaoshi casually grabbed the Book of Rebirth. “You choose one?”

Lord Jiang politely replied, “Each has their duty. You should choose.”

“What are you saying? I was hoping Lord Jiang could give me a soul instrument for cultivation. I’ve been feeling quite weak lately.”

Lord Jiang smiled. “Come pick one from my place when you’re free.”

Huang Zhaoshi opened the Book of Rebirth. “Then please?”

“Then I won’t say more thanks.” Lord Jiang looked at the dense text, truly getting a headache. “Are all these at the front already arranged?”

“If you’re in a hurry, find one you like and I’ll insert it at the front. Or replace one and fill in the gap.”

“That would be troublesome.”

“We’re all family here, Lord Jiang needn’t be polite.”

Lord Jiang carefully selected and pointed to golden text in the middle of a page. “This one then.”

Huang Zhaoshi summoned a brush and circled it. “Wealth and nobility, wealth and nobility.”

Lord Jiang looked at these few lines with satisfaction. “It’s rare to trouble you with business—what’s the current saying—going through the back door.”

Hearing this, Huang Zhaoshi laughed heartily. “My back door is always open for you.” He looked further back and calculated on his fingers. “Oh, this morning at the Chen hour. You’d better hurry.”

Lord Jiang collected the remnant soul and cupped his fist in farewell. “Then I’ll take my leave first.”

Huang Zhaoshi stood and returned the gesture. “Until we meet again.”

Lord Jiang directly sent He Feng to the Terrace of Oblivion. One hundred and eight corridor rooms each had tables set with bowls of amnesia soul soup. The male and female ghost souls escorted here had to drink this soup to forget their past lives.

He Feng still maintained the phantom form that Lord Jiang had gathered, completely unconscious. An underworld official was about to force the soup down his throat when, having barely swallowed half a mouthful, he suddenly awakened and struggled desperately, spilling all the soup. The official filled a new bowl and, seeing he wouldn’t drink, picked up an iron hook to force it down. Lord Jiang materialized nearby and said heartbrokenly, “Enough, enough, let him pass.” He pulled out a soul bean from his sleeve and gave it to the official—this item was very nourishing for ghost souls.

The official happily accepted it. “Thank you, Lord Jiang.”

He Feng was allowed to pass through. Lord Jiang escorted him all the way across the Bridge of Helplessness, ferried across the hundred-li River of Forgetfulness, all the way to the south.

The timing was perfect—the baby had just been born.

Lord Jiang released him. “Go.”

He Feng refused, struggling and unwilling to be reborn. Lord Jiang kicked him inside.

The child didn’t cry. Medical staff spanked his bottom and flicked his feet, but still he wouldn’t cry.

“If you hadn’t committed killing after death, why would you suffer decades of punishment? With merits and demerits offsetting, you could at least be reborn into a good family or promoted to military officer, but you had to be trapped by love.” Lord Jiang felt somewhat reluctant, sighing, “Ever since the Eleventh Palace was established, you and I have been companions the longest. Now I can only send you this far.”

Lord Jiang saw him choking on his breath, refusing to breathe, and helplessly shook his head. “I know you’re worried about that girl. I’ll go close her heavenly eye and slightly adjust her fate to ensure her lifelong peace and safety.” He channeled breath into the baby’s body. “You must recuperate well, peacefully finish this life, and we’ll meet again in the future.”

As soon as Lord Jiang left, clear crying could be heard from the delivery room.

Zhou Wei joyfully took the child from the nurse’s hands.

“It’s a boy.”

Zhou Wei smiled and thanked them. “You’ve worked hard.”

He gently rocked the baby. “Zhou Hui, little Zhou Hui.”

…

Water splashed loudly in the bathroom—Ji Tong stayed inside for a full forty minutes. After coming out with dried hair, she saw Zhou Hui had fallen asleep sprawled on the desk. She quietly walked over to check and found a blanket to carefully drape over him.

She crouched beside the desk, resting her chin on the table edge to watch him.

Sleeping so soundly, he must be exhausted.

Ji Tong’s left foot went numb, so she supported herself with her right foot while crouching. Soon her right foot also went numb, and unable to maintain her balance, she sat down on the floor with a thump. She carefully stood up, turned off the desk lamp, and tiptoed up to the second-floor bedroom.

She lay against the railing watching him, afraid that if she wasn’t careful, he would suddenly disappear like before.

She didn’t want to experience separation again.

About half an hour later, Zhou Hui moved his arm. Ji Tong quickly pulled her head back and lay down, not knowing why she was nervous when this was the person she had longed for day and night, etched in her bones.

From the sound, Zhou Hui had entered the bathroom—water flowing inside, he was showering.

Ji Tong stared wide-eyed, counting his age on her fingers—no matter how she calculated, he was at most seventeen.

Zhou Hui finished his shower quickly, not blow-drying his hair to avoid disturbing her.

Ji Tong heard him come out, her heart skipping a beat as she held her breath listening to the movement below.

He paused in the living room for five seconds, then quietly walked toward the stairs.

Ji Tong gripped her blanket tightly but heard him go halfway up then back down. He found a cup, poured some cold water, and stood on the balcony.

He gazed out the window while Ji Tong peered down at him.

She wanted so badly to rush down and hug him tightly.

“He Feng… Zhou Hui.”

Zhou Hui looked back up and saw her leaning against the wooden railing of the suspended second-floor platform. “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Mm.”

Zhou Hui put down his cup and walked to the living room, standing under the platform and looking up at her slightly. “Thinking about me?”

“Mm.”

“What’s drawn on the white paper under the desk? Before it was people killed, but now we’re in a law-abiding society.”

“People saved.” The room had no lights on, her eyes were pitch black. “Surgeries I’ve performed.”

Zhou Hui curved his lips. “So many.”

Ji Tong smiled too. “I’m thirty-four now, I’ve been working for many years.”

“You don’t look like you’re in your thirties at all.”

“How old do I look?”

Zhou Hui’s face carried a smile as he lightly furrowed his brow and gestured with his fingers. “Just a tiny bit older than me.”

“No way, I’m half again your age.” Ji Tong asked him seriously, “So how old are you exactly?”

“I was born in Macau, moved to Canadian citizenship when I was three.”

“So?”

“Mm?” He looked at her with his hands in his pockets, smiling. “If my parents agree, I can marry at sixteen.”

“Are you sixteen? Or seventeen?” Ji Tong looked him up and down. “You’re not fifteen, are you?”

“Your attention is never where I want it. I’m 125 years old this year, is that acceptable?” He turned sideways, pulled out identification documents from his backpack, and raised his hand to pass them to her. “See for yourself.”

Ji Tong quickly took them, relatively satisfied with this age. “You’re seventeen.” She looked at the name and photo on the documents. “Alexis, how old were you when this was taken? You look so young.”

“About two years ago.”

Ji Tong looked at him in surprise. “Such a big change?”

“I grow fast.” Zhou Hui watched her serious expression, stepping closer. “Are you satisfied with how I look now?”

“It’s a bit hard to get used to.”

“It’s okay, you have the rest of your life to get used to it.”

Ji Tong was nearly melted by his gentle smile. “What did you eat to grow so tall?”

Zhou Hui reported one by one: “Milk, meat, eggs… most importantly, my parents are tall. My dad is 6’0″, not especially tall, but my mom is 5’10”.”

“So tall. What about you?”

“I’m 6’3″.”

“You’re still in high school, right? In Canada? Which city?”

“I started school early, I’m already a sophomore. The school is in New York.”

“It’s not vacation time now, is it?”

“To come find you, I took a gap year.”

“Then you’re delaying your studies.”

“No delay.”

“What’s your major?”

“Music.”

“How old are your parents?”

Back to the age question again. Zhou Hui smiled helplessly. “Are you worried they’re around your age?”

Ji Tong was hit where it hurt and stopped talking.

“My dad is forty-nine, mom is forty-seven. They were originally against marriage, but accidentally having me forced them to marry.”

“Are they with you in New York?”

“No, they’re in Toronto. You don’t need to worry about this—when I went back to apply for a visa, I told them I was returning to China to find my girlfriend who’s already in her thirties.”

“They had no objections?”

“Why would they object? They’re very open-minded.” Zhou Hui smiled. “The human body is just a container.”

“What do your parents do?”

“My dad is a composer, mom plays cello, but starting two years ago they took over a small ranch and went to live a rural life.”

“How romantic.”

“We can do that too.” Zhou Hui gazed at her affectionately. “They raise many horses there. I’ll take you horseback riding.”

Mentioning this, Ji Tong felt a pang of sadness. She handed the documents back to him. “Here, little friend.”

Zhou Hui took them and covered her hand in the process.

Ji Tong didn’t pull her hand away, letting him hold it. “Do you want to come up?”

Zhou Hui coughed lightly and released her hand. “I assume you don’t have any condoms here.”

“…” Ji Tong’s face immediately burned. Fortunately in the dark he couldn’t see the color clearly. “Mm.” She hastily explained, “I didn’t mean that…”

“I used to lack awareness in this area, but now—”

“Aren’t you sleepy?” Ji Tong quickly changed the subject.

“A little. I haven’t really slept for two days.” Zhou Hui retreated to lie on the sofa. He was too tall, making her small sofa look like a toy chair. He crossed his hands behind his head as a pillow. “Now it’s my turn to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I haven’t remembered everything yet. What about you?”

“I have complete memories.”

“About you and me, I only remember a little—that I became a ghost and pestered you.”

“It wasn’t pestering… I used to encounter ghosts frequently, and you often protected me.”

“I see.” Zhou Hui took a light breath, still finding it somewhat incredible. “How did I die?”

This stumped Ji Tong. That time falling into the river, He Feng definitely didn’t die—he lived until thirty-five. She vaguely remembered him mentioning to her more than ten years ago that he had gotten sick. “It seems like illness.”

“Seems like?”

“I’m not very clear either. I died at twenty-seven, you were thirty-five.”

Zhou Hui was silent for a moment. “How did you die?”

“My undercover identity was discovered by the Japanese. I jumped into the river while escaping.”

“Undercover?” Zhou Hui furrowed his brow, his mind becoming chaotic again. “I only remember I was undercover. You seemed to have opened a clothing store? In Nanjing, we even—” He suddenly stopped, slowly curving his lips. “Help me sort this out. I can’t get the timeline clear. My head is very confused right now.”

“Starting from when?” Ji Tong hugged a pillow and lay comfortably. “We weren’t together for long—altogether less than half a year.”

“Yun Village, our first meeting.”

…

They had just gotten to going down the mountain to attend the feast at the Pei family when Zhou Hui fell asleep.

Ji Tong was quite energetic, not falling asleep until daybreak.

She slept until noon, climbed up joyfully to look for He Feng, but found only herself in the room.

She didn’t have time to put on slippers and quickly ran downstairs, searching from the balcony to the bathroom. He was gone, even his suitcase was gone.

Ji Tong stood helplessly in the living room, various possibilities flashing through her mind.

Was it a dream? Seeing a ghost? Or had he left?

She looked at the empty house, recalling what had happened just hours before, and instantly broke down crying, hugging her legs as she sat on the floor.

Gone again, gone again.

Gone again.

Suddenly there was a beeping sound from the door lock. She stared blankly at it, uncertain who was coming.

As soon as she saw Zhou Hui’s tall figure, she immediately stood up and rushed over.

Zhou Hui looked at her tear-streaked face in surprise. “Why are you crying?”

“I thought you had left again.”

“I thought you had abandoned me again.”

“I thought—”

He stepped inside, using his foot to close the door. The vegetables and flowers in his hands fell to the floor as he scooped her into his arms, one hand gripping her waist, the other holding her neck, frantically biting and nibbling her lips.

Suffocation, weightlessness, thoughts completely blank.

Ji Tong felt like a mass of wet cotton swaying and floating in the air. Every time she was about to fall, he would lift her up again like a warm wind, drying her, burning her…

Zhou Hui released her, their noses touching. “Having found you with such difficulty, I won’t leave.”

Tears still hung at the corners of her eyes.

“Making you wait so long.” Zhou Hui gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

“A’Zhi.”

…