The spring night was faintly cool. Cheng Huaili sat in his wheelchair with his brow furrowed, a vague unease gnawing at him.

He asked Lu Shouhuai, “Where is Cheng’an?”

“He went out with the men and hasn’t come back yet.” Lu Shouhuai spread a thin blanket over his legs. “But please don’t worry, General. No one in Shangjing is a match for them, and we’ve already spoken with the authorities — they won’t intervene.”

Propping his head on his hand, Cheng Huaili murmured, “For some reason, I just feel as though today is not a fortunate day.”

Lu Shouhuai thought about it. “Indeed, it isn’t.”

“How so?”

“Seventeen years ago today, the woman from Guixiang in Yuexian County was said to have died in difficult childbirth — two lives lost.”

Cheng Huaili’s expression shifted slightly. He shifted in his seat with some restlessness.

In those years, he had taken his two sons with him to go off and join the army, leaving behind his pregnant first wife — it wasn’t that he was heartless, but a woman with child was not easily moved, and there was no use for her on the battlefield, so it was better to leave her in their hometown.

In the house, there were altogether three sacks of white rice and two strings of corn. He had left her a full two sacks of white rice. He reckoned that with neighbors to help her as well, she could make it through that winter.

Before long, however, news arrived from their hometown that his wife had died in difficult childbirth.

They had been husband and wife for so many years — he grieved for her. But he soon encountered the later Princess Shou’an, and when the two of them wed, he had even offered a prayer to heaven on her behalf.

Yet every time her memorial day came around, Cheng Huaili still felt a cold draft at his back.

“General need not be afraid,” Lu Shouhuai said. “I specifically had Ruheng and Qingrong bring a whole group of people to host a late-night cockfight in the courtyard. With so many people around, yang energy is strong — there’s nothing to fear.”

Cheng Huaili nodded. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

Saying so, he stifled a drowsy yawn.

“General should rest first,” Lu Shouhuai said. “I’ll go check on the young ones in the courtyard.”

“Mm.”

He was pushed into the main chamber and helped onto the bed. Cheng Huaili closed his eyes and drifted off.

The wind rustled through the leaves in the courtyard, making a low, wailing sound like someone’s weeping.

“Sanglang~” A voice called to him.

Cheng Huaili’s eyes flew open at once.

In the pitch-black room, a figure sat in the corner — long hair draping over its face, calling to him in a chilling, drawn-out voice: “Sanglang~”

He looked at it calmly for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “Playing at ghosts and spirits? I, Cheng, have the souls of countless men beneath my hands. What I fear least of all is talk of ghosts and gods.”

It’s over.

Ningsu, crouching on the roof beam above, felt his heart go cold by half.

This old scoundrel truly isn’t afraid of ghosts!

They had discussed it beforehand with Miss Chen — if something like this happened, they were to retreat immediately.

He couldn’t help but look toward the figure sitting in the corner, ready to help her escape—

But the white, flower-like shadow showed no intention of fleeing.

She sat perfectly still, one hand cradling her long hair, the other moving like a comb as she drew it through in long strokes. Her delicate fingers pinched a small handkerchief, and her voice rose again in a mournful murmur: “You again… mixed your knife-wiping cloth with my face cloth when you were washing.”

The figure in the bed shuddered violently.

Cheng Huaili’s pupils trembled. Gripping the bedframe in disbelief, he leaned forward slightly, then slowly pulled back. “No — I don’t believe it. There are no such things as ghosts in this world.”

“Sanglang, I spent more than ten years accumulating good deeds just to be allowed to come find you…”

The white figure with her visibly swollen belly drew closer to Cheng Huaili, and as she did, she lifted the long hair away from her face.

Moonlight fell through the latticed window, illuminating her brow and eyes.

Cheng Huaili stared blankly — and then began yanking at the bronze bell cord beside him like a man gone mad.

But the rope that would ring at the slightest pull on ordinary days gave no response no matter how desperately he pulled today.

“No… don’t come any closer! Stay back!” He went rigid and pressed himself toward the far wall of the bed. “I did nothing wrong by you — I didn’t!”

“Didn’t you?” The white figure said softly and mournfully. “Five sacks of white rice, ten strings of corn — you didn’t leave me even a single grain…”

“That’s wrong — that’s wrong! It was three sacks of white rice and two strings of corn. I left them for you — I left them!” Cheng Huaili chanted frantically, trying to drown out her words.

But this figure was not some outsider to be brushed aside with a few words. She glared at him with hatred, eyes that looked nearly ready to drip blood. “Liar…”

“You deceived me so cruelly…”

“A spirit-woman told you I was carrying a daughter. So you decided to starve me to death, and then sell my corpse for a ghost marriage…”

Ice-cold hands came to rest on the severed end of his right leg. The white figure said softly and hauntingly: “Cheng Sanwang, I have come to claim your life. What you owe me, you must repay with your life…”

A familiar face drew near, carrying with it a thick, putrid stench of decay.

In what felt like a single instant, he was dragged out of this place of wealth and grandeur and back into that dark, dilapidated village.

Moldy straw. Maggots writhing in the corners of the walls. And that woman whose face, long looked upon, had grown detestable.

Cheng Huaili was so frightened he couldn’t even form a scream. His mouth gaped open wordlessly to its limit. His bloodshot eyes were stretched wide. His whole body convulsed.

On reflex, he grabbed for the sword stored on the cabinet beside the bed — but before his hand reached it, darkness swallowed his vision.

“Ahhh——”

A piercing, agonized scream tore through the sky above the General’s Manor. Lu Shouhuai, who had been walking away, stiffened and immediately turned back toward the main chamber.

The servants guarding outside also rushed in — some lighting lamps, others searching the room.

The lights blazed to life. But there was only Cheng Huaili in the room.

He had collapsed on the bed. Beneath him was a foul, acrid smell. His face was deathly pale. He was unconscious.

“Quickly — quickly, fetch the divine physician!”

Physician Wang had been just about to fall asleep when he was hauled over. He felt for the pulse: “What happened here? He’s been frightened out of his wits — his soul is barely still in his body.”

Lu Shouhuai’s brow creased. “Perhaps a nightmare.”

“A nightmare can do this—? Never mind, get the Soul-Returning Pill first to stabilize the General’s spirit.”

Given the unusual nature of the day, and since the physician had found no trace of poison or injury, Lu Shouhuai did not overthink it. He opened the concealed cabinet set into the wall of the inner chamber and placed the medicine into Physician Wang’s hands.

Physician Wang fed one pill to Cheng Huaili, and then set the bottle on a tray. “Watch him for half an hour. If his breath is still this faint, feed him another one.”

“Understood.” Lu Shouhuai nodded, but something still felt off to him. “When I left just now the General was perfectly fine — how did things turn to this in just one moment?”

The servants standing watch outside all shook their heads. “The General seemed to be having a nightmare. As soon as we heard the screams we rushed in, but the mechanisms outside delayed us — it took a long time to get the door open. By the time we got through, it was already like this.”

Lu Shouhuai looked up suspiciously at the roof beams. They were empty.

He looked around the room at every corner as well. No traces were left behind.

But when his gaze fell on the rope of the bronze calling bell, his expression darkened. “Seal every gate in the compound immediately. There is an intruder.”

“Yes, sir.”

And amid the jostling of clothing hems in the commotion, the golden bottle silently disappeared.