The New Year’s Eve in the mortal realm is always the liveliest time of the year. Countless fireworks bloomed above the night sky of Nandu, with every household adorned with lanterns and decorations, presenting a festive sea of red as far as the eye could see. Fang Jian Ya’s mansion was rather quiet due to the few residents, so he decorated the manor together with his servants. While hanging lanterns at the front door with He Zhi, a cluster of fireworks rose in the distance, illuminating a brilliant scene.

Fang Jian Ya gazed at the fireworks for a moment. When he lowered his head, he unexpectedly saw Duan Jingyuan standing at the entrance. She wore an orange fuzzy cape, her face flushed and slightly out of breath as she looked up at him. Her maid stood behind her, carrying a lacquered wooden box.

Fang Jian Ya came down from the ladder and bowed to Duan Jingyuan: “Miss Duan.”

Duan Jingyuan curtseyed in return, glancing at him somewhat awkwardly before saying, “Lord Fang… we made extra dumplings at our mansion. I thought since you don’t have family in Nandu, I’d bring you a bowl.”

Her maid then handed the food box to He Zhi. Fang Jian Ya opened the lid to see the steaming bowl of dumplings, looking at Duan Jingyuan in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words.

Duan Jingyuan, however, thought he didn’t believe her and was about to reject her goodwill. She rounded her eyes and puffed her cheeks, picking up a dumpling and eating it herself. Blowing on it as it burned her mouth, she mumbled, “See… I’m eating it myself. I didn’t poison it.”

Fang Jian Ya froze for a moment before breaking into a smile. He closed the food box and said to Duan Jingyuan, “How could I suspect poison? Thank you for your kindness, Miss Duan.”

The distant fireworks illuminated Duan Jingyuan’s face. Her eyes glistened with light as she avoided his gaze in embarrassment and said, “What kindness… we just made too many at home.”

With that, she turned around straightforwardly, leading her maid back to her sedan chair and returning home. Fang Jian Ya watched her leave, smiling and shaking his head.

He Zhi held the food box and asked curiously, “Why would Miss Duan bring you dumplings, my lord? Doesn’t she rather dislike you?” After a pause, he added, “And Miss Duan arrived by sedan chair, so why was she out of breath?”

Fang Jian Ya took the food box and smiled at He Zhi, “You can hang the lanterns yourself.”

With that, he carried the food box inside.

Why was she out of breath? The Duan mansion was some distance from the Fang mansion, yet the dumplings were still hot. She must have hurriedly scooped them into the food box right after they came out of the pot and ran out the door.

Fang Jian Ya couldn’t help but smile as he thought about it, thinking that this New Year wasn’t bad, and hoping next year would be even better.

While the mortal realm celebrated a bustling New Year’s Eve, Yan Ke was bound by enchanted ropes, kneeling in the grand hall of the palace with his hands tied behind his back. These binding ropes were a treasure from He Jia Feng Yi, who had finally redeemed himself by capturing Yan Ke.

All the hall lords who had followed He Simu’s call to defend the throne were present. The interrogation and sentencing had concluded, with Yan Ke naturally sentenced to disintegration. Dealing with his remaining followers was merely a matter of days.

Now only He Simu and Yan Ke remained in the great hall. He Simu stood up from the throne and slowly walked down the steps to stand before Yan Ke. She bent down to look into his anger-filled eyes and said calmly, “Yan Ke, you have ultimately failed.”

Yan Ke gritted his teeth and said, “Flaying the soul to merge with the Ghost King’s Lamp—either success or lamp destroyed and soul damaged—I naturally don’t have your ruthlessness.”

“In your eyes, the Ghost King’s Lamp is a precious treasure, a supreme sacred object. In my eyes…” He Simu pointed to the silent silver-inlaid locust wood throne on the high platform and said, “It’s no different from that seat, merely an object.”

From Yan Ke’s life to his death, his five attempts at rebellion had all failed. His desires ran too deep—pursuing in life and seeking in death, tripping over his own feet, the more he sought, the more unattainable it became.

Yan Ke lowered his head, then raised his eyes to look at He Simu. His eyes still held unchanging anger, but his voice trembled slightly, “When did you… know it was I who killed your father?”

“I suspected from the beginning and confirmed it when I banished Bai San Xing to the Nine Palace Maze Prison.”

“So back then you… so for these three hundred years, your dependence on me, your trust, your closeness… were they all false?”

“Yes, all false.”

Yan Ke’s hopes were mercilessly shattered, but he still forced out words through his clenched throat, “But you appointed me as Right Chancellor, allowing me to implement the Golden Wall Law…”

“You are indeed capable, and you enjoyed the sight of all hall lords following your commands when you implemented laws as Chancellor, didn’t you?” He Simu crouched down, smiling faintly as she said, “I had to give you some sweetness. As the saying goes, make full use of what’s available.”

In the light of candles and night pearls, her features were deep and her smile shallow, with something seemingly unbreakable hidden in the depths of her eyes. She was still so beautiful, just as when he first fell for her.

Just as when he was first deceived by her.

Yan Ke’s eyes turned pitch black, the ghostly energy around him surging as he let out a roar, trying to get closer to He Simu. But he was firmly bound by the enchanted ropes, unable to move, his furious cries echoing through the great hall, wave after wave.

He Simu did not avoid him. She blinked and even smiled, saying, “You look like you’re in pain. Good.”

To make an evil ghost who couldn’t feel pain suffer, she had indeed put in considerable effort and over three hundred years. She had elevated Yan Ke, and after his departure, she would need to find another evil ghost to fill his position of power to prevent chaos. So only after Feng Yi created a magic tool that could control Bai San Xing were all preparations truly complete.

Her finger touched Yan Ke’s forehead. Yan Ke’s eyes trembled, finally revealing confusion and sorrow as he asked, “If I hadn’t killed the previous king, would things between us… be different?”

“If you could have done that, you wouldn’t have become an evil ghost,” He Simu said flatly.

He said softly, “I did like you. I truly liked you very much.”

He Simu smiled slightly.

“I know.”

Your affection for me was true but shallow, your greed for power deep and long-lasting.

“You don’t want to be the Ghost King.”

“I don’t want to be, but I won’t hand this world over to someone I dislike.”

The Ghost King’s Lamp at He Simu’s waist emitted a blue light. Her fingertips ignited with blue flames that burned from his forehead down to his shoulders and body, engulfing him in fire.

“Farewell, Yan Ke.”

He Simu stood up and bid him goodbye.

Yan Ke gritted his teeth, refusing to let out cries of pain. Through the flames, he stared fixedly at He Simu, as if seeing the street a thousand years ago where he was drawn and quartered, his pain and resentment, his ambition and grand aspirations departing with his limbs and life.

Such hatred he felt, such intense hatred. He had been so close, so very close to success.

The roaring flames consumed everything. At the end of his bone-deep agony, he suddenly wondered, was it so close? Would that truly have been a success? The things he had pursued for a thousand years—would obtaining them have brought happiness?

He had gone too far to have the chance to start anew.

The obsession that had confined him to this world gained freedom as it turned to ashes.

He Simu looked up at the fine ashes on the ground, waved her hand to open the hall doors, and the wind swept the ashes away quickly, carrying them to the distant corners of heaven and earth. The clear moonlight streamed through the hall doors, falling at her feet. He Simu gazed at the night sky outside the window and slowly walked into the light.

No moon was visible, yet she could see the moonlight.

In the moonlight, she turned into blue smoke, and when she reappeared, she stood at the top of Mount Xusheng, before the two tombstones of her parents.

She crouched down to look at her father’s tombstone, reaching out to wipe away the fallen dust, and said, “Father, Mother, Happy New Year. I’ve avenged you. Are you happy, old man?”

What was she calling him the old man for? She had long since surpassed the age her parents were when they were buried here.

She remained silent for a moment, then smiled gently: “You might have a new neighbor soon. When he grows old, when he passes away, I plan to bury him beside you. He’s a very interesting person; you would certainly like him.”

“When you left, I had already decided that I would never be abandoned again, that I would always be the one to leave first. But with Duan Xu…” He Simu fell silent for a while, then said softly, “I plan to give him that right, the right to leave me first. I think someday, I will be heartbroken because of this.”

“But there’s no helping it, is there?” She stood up and looked at the vast sea of stars above, surging with silver light.

Why become the Ghost King? When would a better evil ghost worthy of being Ghost King appear?

—These mortals love their relatives, lovers, and friends, along with this vast world. If you let them love and be loved in peace, then every bit of that love concerns you.

—Perhaps they don’t know you, don’t know your name, don’t even know they’ve received your help. But they love you.

“Because they love me,” He Simu murmured.

And the one she loved encompassed black and white, red and yellow.

He was the sum of all colors in the world.

For all sounds, for the ice river, for the slightest warmth, for the fragrance of wine, for delicacies.

Ultimately, for the remains three feet under the earth, for the four-inch wound in the heart.

When He Simu returned to the palace, Duan Xu had just awakened. He leaned against the bed, holding a bowl of medicine and saying something to the ghost servant, his pale face full of smiles—the familiar falsely sincere, truly cunning expression. Seeing He Simu arrive, the ghost servant found salvation, running to He Simu to report that this human refused to take his medicine.

Duan Xu looked at He Simu with an innocent face. He Simu waved her hand, dismissing the ghost servant, and sat by his bedside.

She asked, “How long have you had this bloody vomiting condition?”

Duan Xu, knowing he was at fault, cleared his throat and said, “About… two and a half years…”

“Two and a half years. When was the first attack?”

He Simu’s tone was too calm, identical to the day they parted, making Duan Xu tense up entirely.

“It’s because of exchanging the five senses with me, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me?” Seeing Duan Xu not answering, He Simu confirmed it herself.

Duan Xu hesitated for a moment, feeling that honesty was best at this time, and said, “If I told you, you wouldn’t exchange five senses with me anymore, right? Then you wouldn’t be able to perceive colors, temperature, smells, or melodies again. That would be too unfortunate.”

He Simu was silent for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. In a whirl, Duan Xu found himself pinned to the bed by He Simu. The medicine bowl shattered on the floor with a crisp sound, the bitter medicine fragrance wafting up.

He Simu slowly pressed down, looking at Duan Xu with disdain, almost mockingly saying: “What exactly am I in your eyes? A villain who drains your five senses and then leaves without a care? Someone who doesn’t care even if you die? Duan Shunxi! Do you think I wouldn’t be sad? That I have no heart!”

She slammed her fist beside Duan Xu’s face. Duan Xu stared at He Simu’s eyes, which were trembling. If ghosts could cry, she would probably be crying now.

She was always composed, her emotions buried deep, so when sorrow broke through the dam and gushed forth now, it was overwhelming.

Duan Xu looked at He Simu with wide eyes, at the deep sorrow in her eyes. He said, “You are a merciful and gentle evil ghost, you naturally wouldn’t drain my five senses. But that is your will, not mine. I never thought about living a long life; even a hundred-year life would be brief compared to yours. The five senses are just five senses to me, but to you, they are the entire world.”

“What do you mean ‘just five senses’? Duan Xu, I only have this one life, and you only have this one life. Your five senses are your world too! Do you understand at all… what you mean to me…”

But she didn’t finish the rest of her words. After a pause, He Simu gave a bitter smile and suddenly changed the subject: “Why do you think I left you?”

“…Because you traded the Ghost King’s Lamp for my antidote, which went against your principles,” Duan Xu guessed.

He Simu slowly shook her head. She leaned close to his ear and said softly, “It’s because I suddenly realized I liked you too much, to the point where I couldn’t accept having to watch you leave me someday.”

Duan Xu’s eyes gradually widened, his voice somewhat hoarse as he murmured, “Birth, aging, illness, death—aren’t you already accustomed to seeing these?”

He Simu gave a light laugh: “Yes, I’ve seen so much I’m tired of it, seen so much I’m unmoved, seen so much I don’t want to see anymore! But for you, I still… cannot accept it…”

Despite her extraordinary talents, her invincibility in battle, her mastery of zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting without five senses, being the lord of all ghosts, there were still things she wasn’t good at.

For four hundred years, she had never learned to accept farewells.

She no longer wanted to part with anyone.

She kept her distance from everyone, and if she got too close, she would leave first. This temperature was just right, not too cold, like the residual heat of ashes that would never burn again.

Duan Xu, this fox, wore her down, begged her, tempted her with unprecedented vitality, saying he would warm her. But he was a blazing fire, igniting her with irresistible heat.

“You will eventually be extinguished. Like my aunt and uncle, like my parents, disappearing completely, leaving me alone in the world.” He Simu caressed Duan Xu’s face and said softly, “I know you’ve always been afraid I would forget you. I… I’m afraid too. I don’t want to forget you. I want to remember you.”

Forever, just like now, to recall your face, your smile, your scent, and your colors when I think of you.

To remember fireworks and bright lanterns, flower fragrances, wine aromas, blood and wedding attire, polo and sunshine, your breath, temperature, pulse, scent, smile, wild words, whispers, pleading, and coquetry.

Not wanting to forget, not wanting everything to return to silent dust, like water disappearing into a long river. Not wanting to become dust disappearing into the soil, not wanting to become water disappearing into the long river.

He Simu gave a light laugh and said, “But in the end, it will be so.”

On the road of her life, there were only the unmarked graves of others.

Duan Xu looked at He Simu without speaking.

His eyes were wide open, round and bright, containing a thin layer of moisture, clear as water jade. That moisture trembled slightly, gradually turning red, spreading from the eye sockets.

He Simu’s throat tightened. She said softly, “Why are you crying?”

Duan Xu curved his eyes into a smile. As he smiled, tears fell from the corners of his eyes into his hair.

“I’m crying for you,” his voice trembled slightly.

Crying for his beloved, who gave love as he did; crying for his beloved, who would endure loneliness in the end.

He reached out to embrace her back, which was cold and rigid, held very straight. He patted her back and said, “Simu, our Ghost King, why are your bones so stiff? Relax, relax, I’m here.”

He Simu stiffened for a moment, then gradually relaxed, following his guidance to rest on his chest.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly.

Duan Xu embraced her back with both hands. After a quiet moment, he laughed lightly and said, “Holding you, warming you up.”

Although he deliberately tried not to think about those things, he knew that his life had been full of various misfortunes, and would continue to be so in the future.

But when holding her, he recalled the divination that said misfortune would turn to fortune.

At the end of all these hardships, could it be her?

She might be the fortune in his difficult life.

Even when rejected, kept at a distance, angry and sad, he still felt it was worth it. Regardless of the outcome, if he could relive it a thousand times, he would hope to meet her, every time, a thousand times.

“Do you regret meeting me? If you could start over, would you want to know me?” Duan Xu asked softly.

He Simu remained silent. She closed her eyes, laying on his chest, letting out a long sigh before embracing him.

“I would.”

No matter how many times she started over, she would always take his hand on that New Year’s Eve, pulling him up from the ground. And she would also embrace him at this moment, deciding to accompany him through this brief life.

She would be sad, but would never regret it.

They were completely alike in this regard, and perhaps that was enough.

Duan Xu laughed softly and said, “What you just said only once, does it include the first sentence?”

“What?”

“You said you liked me,” Duan Xu said. “It’s the first time I’ve heard you say you like me.”

He Simu raised her head to look at him and said, “You never asked. I thought you didn’t want to hear it.”

“I want to hear it. How could anyone not want to hear that?”

He Simu was silent for a while, then slowly embraced Duan Xu’s shoulders, lowering her eyes as she said, “I like you. If you want to hear it more often, you must live a long life.”

Duan Xu held her back and said softly, “All right.”

Because he had lost too much blood, Duan Xu’s body was weak. Jiang Ai’s chef prepared many foods to replenish his qi and blood. He Jia Feng Yi also sent some marvelous medicines, saying that Duan Xu’s illness was related to the five senses spell, and mortal doctors might not have identified the problem. In a few days, a senior brother from the Star Palace who specialized in medicine would come to examine Duan Xu.

Drinking the medicine under He Simu’s intimidation, Duan Xu frowned and said, “Simu, I’ve stayed in the ghost realm too long. I don’t know the situation in Nandu. I need to go back.”

“You vomited so much blood and fainted, having just awakened, still swaying when you walk. Even if you went back, what could you do?”

The winter sunlight that day was warm as they chatted casually, truly a good time in the world. He Simu leaned against Duan Xu, half her body warmed by him, as she held the ghost register and turned to a new page, her gaze following down the page. Upon seeing certain lines of text, she suddenly froze, reaching out to wipe the newly appeared records as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Duan Xu looked over curiously: “What’s wrong?”

Then he saw the line of text her finger had traced:

Xue Chen Ying, born in the second year of Tianyuan, died on the third day of the first month of the first year of Xinhe, in Yuzhoufujian.