He Jia Feng Yi carried a lamp as he entered the library of the Imperial Preceptor’s residence. The Imperial Preceptor didn’t enjoy reading books; it was simply that all prestigious families in Nandu built libraries to display their cultural depth, so the Imperial Preceptor followed the trend and built one as well. This library wasn’t made with the fashionable wooden structure but was entirely constructed of stone blocks and mortar, resembling an altar from a distance. Inside, books were piled haphazardly, clearly never touched by the Imperial Preceptor.
He raised his lamp and fumbled around the library, somehow finding a book from somewhere, checking its title, and then placing it on the third shelf of the fourth bookcase from the left. After more searching, he retrieved another book and placed it on the first shelf of the second bookcase from the right. After arranging seven books in this manner, a faint sound emerged from within the library. The bookcases trembled slightly, dust falling downward, revealing an entrance in the floor. Steps descended into darkness, disappearing into unknown depths, with faint glimmers of light flickering below.
He Jia Feng Yi extinguished his lamp and proceeded down the stairs. Behind him, the secret door slowly closed. The staircase made a turn underground, opening into a brightly lit chamber. One hundred and fifty-nine lamps illuminated the underground room as bright as day. Here stood a Yellow Register altar, though traditional Yellow Register altars were typically set up in the open air, while this one was underground.
The Lower Prime Yellow Register: when stars shift their proper courses, the sun and moon lose their brightness, rain, and sun miss their proper times, cold and heat fall out of order, warfare never ceases, epidemics flourish, famine follows upon famine, death comes without warning, lonely souls wander, and new ghosts suffer injustice. If rituals are properly performed, disasters can be dispelled, living beings will receive blessings, and the netherworld will be graced with mercy. From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, all may establish it.
He Jia Feng Yi circled the altar once, then casually lifted an openwork white porcelain cover, revealing a red candle with a blue flame burning atop it.
This was the heart candle of some evil ghost.
Red spots immediately appeared on the back of He Jia Feng Yi’s hand, quickly spreading to his forearm. He instinctively stepped back, examining the back of his hand, shaking his head and sighing: “Ghost energy is truly filthy.”
Frowning as if extremely disgusted, he extended his thumb and index finger to pick up the heart candle, moving it far from his body to a table at the side and began to tinker with it.
Duan Jingyuan felt that something wasn’t quite right about going out today. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but she sensed something strange, and her eyelid kept twitching badly.
Perhaps due to her unsettled state of mind, she browsed through her usual embroidery shop but couldn’t find any patterns that pleased her. Just as she was about to leave, a servant boy mentioned that there was another batch of embroidery patterns in the back courtyard that others had ordered. Not wanting to return empty-handed, Duan Jingyuan asked the servant to show her these patterns first, thinking she could negotiate with the owner if she found something she liked.
The servant boy beamed with delight and very eagerly led her and her maid to the back courtyard. As soon as Duan Jingyuan stepped inside, a cloth was pressed over her mouth and nose. In the pungent odor that overwhelmed her, Duan Jingyuan drowsily realized that this servant boy looked unfamiliar and had been overly attentive.
After an indeterminate time, Duan Jingyuan awoke in a strange room, her eyes dry and her head pounding. When she tried to rub her temples, she found herself unable to move, her hands and feet bound and her mouth stuffed with something. Turning her head, she saw her maid Bi Qing in the same condition, eyes open, looking around in terrified confusion, not understanding what had happened, muffled sounds coming from her gagged mouth.
The door opened, and Duan Jingyuan looked up to see a familiar face—Wang Qi, who had been harassing her for days, strode in smugly wearing brocade clothes, accompanied by three men.
Duan Jingyuan immediately understood what was happening, glaring and making indistinct sounds.
“Two weak women drugged and without strength, how could they possibly cause trouble? Binding them so tightly is boring. Quickly untie Miss Duan and Miss Bi Qing,” Wang Qi waved his hand, smiling maliciously.
The servant-like men came forward to untie Duan Jingyuan and Bi Qing. As soon as she was freed, Duan Jingyuan tried to escape, but her limbs were weak and powerless. She couldn’t even stand up, let alone flee. Bi Qing rushed over and embraced her.
Forcing herself to remain calm, she said, “Wang Qi! What do you think you’re doing? I warn you, I am the legitimate daughter of the Duan family. If you dare harm me, neither my father nor my brothers will let you get away with it!”
“Of course I know that you, Duan Jingyuan, are the precious pearl of the Duan family, General Duan’s sister, with your nose in the air. But my father is also the current Minister of Revenue, and our family holds the hereditary title of Marquis. Yet you dare to be indifferent to me and even show displeasure in front of Fang Xian Ye? What is Fang Xian Ye anyway? A lowborn with no father, no mother, no family background. You would go to his seat but not to mine?”
Wang Qi spoke harshly, his expression becoming increasingly distorted as he continued. Duan Jingyuan grew more frightened with every word, retreating backward as he advanced until her back pressed against the wall. Wang Qi seemed to take pleasure in seeing her afraid. He crouched down and said, “Do you think your father and brothers can do anything to me? Once we have consummated our marriage, for the sake of your reputation, your Duan family will have no choice but to marry you to me. Besides, because of Duan Shunxi, my sister’s whereabouts remain unknown to this day. How much does the Duan family owe my Wang family? How dare you even question me about these matters?”
Duan Jingyuan’s face turned pale as she gritted her teeth and said, “No… my brother will not let you get away with this!”
Wang Qi smiled and reached out to tear at her collar. Suddenly, Bi Qing fiercely scratched Wang Qi’s face, shouting, “Don’t you dare touch our young miss!”
His face bleeding from the scratch, Wang Qi stepped back angrily and ordered, “Catch her and beat her severely!”
The three servants immediately seized Bi Qing, who struggled desperately like a madwoman. She had the same fiery temperament as her mistress, cursing with words like “scoundrel,” “beast,” and “may you die a miserable death.” Duan Jingyuan shouted for them to release Bi Qing, struggling to stand up only to fall back down.
Bi Qing had not been drugged as heavily as Duan Jingyuan and still had some strength, but she was no match for three men. In the scuffle, Bi Qing was thrown violently, the back of her head striking the sharp corner of a cabinet. The pink figure paused for an instant, and there was a distinct cracking sound as she fell to the ground along with a vase from the cabinet. Blood gushed from the back of her head, forming a pool. She twitched slightly in the blood pool, her once-clever mouth no longer able to utter a single curse, her eyes staring straight at the young mistress she had served since childhood.
Duan Jingyuan froze for a moment, then burst into tears, crawling toward Bi Qing and calling her name.
When the servants tried to drag Bi Qing away, she clung desperately to Bi Qing’s arm. From the corner of her eye, she saw Wang Qi impatiently covering his face as he walked toward her, reaching out his hand.
At that moment, Duan Jingyuan felt a bottomless despair. She thought that if Wang Qi dared touch her, she would bite him, scratch him, gouge out his eyeballs, fight to the death to take half his life, and then end her own.
Just as his hand was about to touch her, when her despair had reached its peak and she had decided to fight him to the bitter end, his fingers suddenly fell off.
Although it sounds bizarre, his fingers truly did fall off. His index and middle fingers dropped to the ground, leaving only two bleeding holes on his hand, the cuts remarkably clean.
Wang Qi stood frozen. When a crow abruptly landed on his shoulder, he finally began to scream shrilly, clutching his hand. Crows like black clouds poured in through the window, densely filling the corners of the room, pecking at Wang Qi’s fingers on the floor.
Yet these crows uniquely cleared a space around Duan Jingyuan and Bi Qing in her arms.
Wang Qi’s servant’s face pale with fear, pulled him toward the door. Turning back, they saw an extraordinarily beautiful woman standing in the room. She was tall with a pale complexion, a black mole beneath her phoenix eyes, wearing a red cross-collared robe, standing with her hands behind her back, her eyes completely black without whites.
Seeing them turn, she raised an eyebrow slightly and asked, “What’s wrong? Weren’t you happy just now? Are you leaving already?”
Wang Qi pointed at her in shock and exclaimed, “It’s you… from the Duan family…”
“An evil ghost,” He Simu extended her hand, her pale, slender fingers snapping in the air. Instantly, Wang Qi’s three servants were beheaded, their three heads rolling on the ground, eagerly torn apart by the crows.
Wang Qi screamed and fell to the ground, his legs trembling, so frightened that he wet himself, his mouth stammering pleas for mercy.
He Simu beckoned with her finger, and Wang Qi was lifted into the air by his neck, struggling desperately and unable to speak. She ignored him and walked two steps forward to stand before Duan Jingyuan, asking seriously, “Do you want him killed?”
Duan Jingyuan stared at this strange yet familiar young woman.
Was this He Xiaoxiao? It was her, but… not her. The young woman before her was excessively pale, her blood vessels showing blue-purple, emanating an eerie aura… and her eyes were still pitch black.
She looked like a dead He Xiaoxiao.
Sensing Duan Jingyuan’s fear, He Simu closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she suppressed her ghostly aura, her eyes now clear with distinct black and white.
“Do you want him killed?” He Simu repeated.
Duan Jingyuan showed a hesitant expression and shook her head.
He Simu nodded in understanding: “To torture someone, there are many methods better than death.”
She waved her hand, and Wang Qi, suspended in mid-air, fell to the ground. He prostrated himself, wailing, “Thank you, immortal, for sparing my life! Thank you, immortal, for sparing my life!”
He Simu half-turned her head and said, “I told you, I am not an immortal. I am a ghost.”
“Yan Zhang,” He Simu called.
A female figure appeared in the blue smoke, completely wrapped in black cloth with only her eyes exposed. She knelt halfway to the ground and said, “My King, Yan Zhang is here.”
The head of the Xiao Ghost Palace, Yan Zhang.
He Simu gestured with her chin toward Wang Qi, who was trembling like a sieve on the ground, and said, “This man likes young women, and coincidentally, the young women in your palace also like men. Play with him, but don’t go too far. Just leave him alive.”
Yan Zhang glanced at Wang Qi and asked, “To what extent can we play? Until he loses his mind or becomes impotent?”
“That’s acceptable.”
“I obey your command.”
Hearing this conversation, Wang Qi directly fainted from fear. He Simu turned to look at Duan Jingyuan, who was huddled in the corner holding Bi Qing, looking at her with fear and confusion. She asked in a small voice, “Who… who are you?”
He Simu walked to her, the crows obediently flying up to clear a path for her. She answered, “He Xiaoxiao.”
Duan Jingyuan shook her head repeatedly: “No… Miss He… Miss He is human, she’s someone my brother likes… a living person.”
He Simu looked at her quietly without speaking.
Suddenly, Bi Qing began to convulse violently, as if in a final burst of energy, grabbing Duan Jingyuan’s sleeve. Duan Jingyuan immediately looked down at her, urgently calling, “Bi Qing… Bi Qing…”
Duan Jingyuan instinctively looked up at He Simu, as if seeking her help, but upon seeing her face, which seemed both human and ghost, she swallowed her words.
She feared this He Xiaoxiao.
He Simu lowered her gaze to look at the poor dying young girl and asked, “Bi Qing, do you have a wish?”
Tears seeped from Bi Qing’s eyes as she spoke falteringly, “My… my brother… he’s committed a crime… imprisoned… my mother alone…”
“You hope your brother can be released to care for your mother in her old age?”
“Yes…”
“Then I will rescue your brother and give your mother enough money to last her lifetime. Are you willing to let me eat you?”
When Duan Jingyuan heard the word “eat,” she hugged Bi Qing tightly in great horror and urgently said, “No, you can’t…”
“Willing…” Bi Qing said, tremblingly reaching out to grasp the hem of He Simu’s skirt.
He Simu bent down and grabbed Bi Qing’s collar, effortlessly lifting her. Bi Qing’s feet dangled helplessly, and then blood splattered. Her head drooped to the side.
He Simu set Bi Qing down, arranging her neatly on the ground. The wind gusted through the window, making He Simu’s long hair and red clothes flutter. Several silent crows perched on her shoulders, and Bi Qing’s fresh blood spattered her face, making her look like a specter from the legendary Blood Lake Hell.
Duan Jingyuan stared at her blankly.
He Simu crouched down, her eyes now clear with distinct black and white but still cold, looking at Duan Jingyuan and asking, “Do you have strength? Can you stand up?”
She reached out to take Duan Jingyuan’s hand, but Duan Jingyuan, like a startled bird, immediately and almost violently shook her off, leaving He Simu’s hand suspended in mid-air.
Yan Zhang said from the side, “How dare you! Such ingratitude, daring to reject the King…”
He Simu raised her hand in a wave, and Yan Zhang fell silent. He Simu stood up, drew a half-circle in the air with her right hand, and a scroll from a nearby vase flew into her hand. She held one end of the scroll and offered the other end to Duan Jingyuan, looking down at her.
“If you don’t want to touch me, hold onto this and stand up.”
“Or stand up on your own. First, you need to stand up. Don’t show useless pride.”
Duan Jingyuan bit her lip as she looked at He Simu. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally reached out with a trembling hand to grasp the scroll and, with He Simu’s help, stood up from the ground. Even standing, she was still unsteady, her hand gripping the scroll tightly, afraid to let go.
He Simu looked at her and smiled, saying, “Very good.”