Perhaps it was the harsh winter chill that surrounded him—Ni Su watched the fresh blood flowing from the corpse at his feet, steam rising faintly white in the moonlight.

The wilderness stretched empty, only the cicadas’ incessant song filling the air.

“Dead? They’re all dead?”

Ni Su heard a servant’s terrified shout from behind. She turned to see the two men clinging to the carriage door, trembling violently.

Ni Su turned back around. Corpses lay strewn across the mountain path, while the figure that had stood not far away moments ago had vanished without a trace.

Her entire body felt ice-cold. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm as she returned to the carriage and retrieved some banknotes from her bundle to distribute to the two servants.

“Miss, who… who saved us?” One servant clutched the banknotes, only now recovering enough to ask in a trembling voice.

“I don’t know.”

Ni Su pressed her lips together, then after a moment continued, “You came out with me. If you return to the Ni family, Second Uncle won’t spare you either. Better to take this money and leave.”

“But Miss, you…”

The thinner servant hesitated, but his companion tugged at his sleeve. His words stopped as he recalled the blade that had nearly severed his neck, his heart still pounding with lingering fear.

“Thank you, Miss! Thank you!” The dark-skinned servant pressed the other’s head down, and both kowtowed repeatedly in gratitude.

This ordeal had already shattered their courage. The road to Yunjing was long—who knew if they might encounter such danger again? Ni Su knew these two could not be kept. She watched as they hastily descended from the carriage and ran along the mountain path into the pitch-black wilderness, quickly disappearing from sight.

She sat in the carriage, still occasionally catching whiffs of the blood outside.

The carriage curtain had been slashed by the bandits’ blade. Moonlight spilled across her feet. Ni Su stared at it for a moment, then tentatively called out: “Are you still here?”

Her voice was soft, almost like talking to herself.

On this sweltering summer night, a gentle breeze suddenly brushed her face, stirring the fine hairs at Ni Su’s temples. Her eyelashes trembled slightly as she turned her gaze toward the window covered by a bamboo curtain.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. She almost held her breath as she gathered her courage and lifted the curtain.

Pale moonlight fell across her face. Ni Su saw him standing by the window, his entire form somewhat faint—the kind of transparency that approached translucence.

As if with just one touch, he would dissolve into mist like he had that day in the cypress grove at the mountain temple.

Ni Su suddenly dropped the curtain. She sat in the carriage, hands gripping her skirt tightly. After a long silence, she finally found her voice again: “You… you’ve been following me?”

A breeze stirred softly, like some silent answer.

Ni Su turned her face toward the bamboo curtain. “Why are you following me?”

“Unless summoned, the departed cannot enter the mortal realm.”

Beyond the curtain, that voice carried no inflection—cold and deathly still.

Ni Su immediately thought of the winter garment she had burned with her own hands. Her lips trembled: “An old dharma master—he asked me to help him.”

As if awakening from a dream, Ni Su retrieved the beast pearl from her sleeve.

“What are you holding?”

The person outside seemed to sense something.

Ni Su pressed her lips together, hesitating briefly before extending her hand out the window.

The bamboo curtain knocked lightly against the window frame. The extremely young man turned his head toward the sound, his features cold and pure. Tentatively, he raised his hand and reached forward.

His icy fingers suddenly touched hers. Ni Su’s entire body trembled, as if wrapped in ice and snow. In that brief instant, the beast pearl between her fingers fell into his palm.

His eyes were vacant, his fingers tracing the pearl’s patterns slightly. His eyelids moved: “It’s him.”

“Who?”

Ni Su keenly caught those two certain words.

“The Earth Count of Youdu.”

Youdu? Earth Count?

Ni Su had heard the name “Youdu” before. The most common term now was the Yellow Springs or Hell, but the Earth Count—who was that?

Why had he orchestrated this scheme, leading her to summon this living soul?

“You should leave now, or you may face the authorities.”

The beast pearl was tossed back inside, rolling to rest at her feet. His words brought Ni Su back to her senses—she understood he was warning her that someone would come.

Ni Su could only pick up the pearl and clumsily grasp the reins. The carriage lurched crookedly along the mountain path. She never quite got the hang of it but dared not delay, continuing forward in one direction.

After traveling for a long time without seeing the walls of Bridge Town, Ni Su realized she had taken the wrong path. Fortunately, she found an abandoned mountain shrine to shelter in temporarily.

A candle burned in the temple. Ni Su sat hugging her knees in a pile of dry grass, dazed for a while, tears streaming down her face.

She knew—for Ni Zong to invest so much in capturing her, he must have discovered that Cen Shi had sold the fields and estates, and that the money was in her hands.

This could only mean one thing.

Mother was gone.

Her eyes reddened. Ni Su bit down hard on her teeth, burying her face in her arms. Suddenly she felt a cool breeze across her back. Her shoulders trembled as she instinctively sat up straight.

She didn’t look toward the temple entrance behind her. After a long while, she finally spoke: “Why did you help me?”

A hint of suppressed sobbing colored her voice.

Though the firelight spreading through the temple was dim, it illuminated Xu Hexue’s face. His eyelashes blinked, and those hollow eyes gained a touch of light. He shifted his gaze, making out the girl with her back to him, curled in the pile of dry grass inside the temple entrance.

“What year is it now?”

Ni Su waited a long time before hearing his sudden question. Without turning around, she answered truthfully: “The nineteenth year of Zhengyuan.”

The nineteenth year of Zhengyuan.

Xu Hexue froze.

One month in the mortal realm equaled half a year in Youdu.

He had spent nearly a hundred months in Youdu, yet barely fifteen years had passed in the human world.

Ni Su heard no more words from him, but watching her shadow on the ground, she recalled the phantom she had seen before. She couldn’t help but ask: “Why did I see my brother’s shadow behind you that day in the cypress grove outside Dazhong Temple?”

“Perhaps I was touched by his soul-fire.”

Xu Hexue stood beneath the eaves, his voice cold and detached.

“What does that mean?” Ni Su had been afraid to think about one possibility for many days. She whirled around suddenly, the candlelight revealing her reddened eyes. “Are you saying my brother he…”

The candle flame flickered. The figure outside the door, which had been fainter than moonlight, had somehow gained a touch more substance.

“Youdu is separated from the mortal realm by the River of Resentment. By the riverbank among the silver grass, new souls often appear, including soul-fires from those suffering separation sickness.”

Only when someone suffered from soul-separation sickness would fragmentary soul-fires like fireflies fall by the River of Resentment. Only their blood relatives could see the phantoms formed by these soul-fires.

“How could my brother have soul-separation sickness?” Ni Su’s mind was in chaos, recalling her mother’s instructions, her eyes heating with tears again.

She wondered whether her mother now stood by the River of Resentment, among the silver grass.

Ni Su suppressed her overwhelming grief and looked up. That person stood tall and graceful, his back to her, head raised as if gazing at some distant point in the long night.

Viewed this way, he seemed no different from an ordinary person.

As if suddenly sensing something, he abruptly turned his face. Those translucent, extremely cold eyes met her gaze. His pale lips parted slightly: “Ni Su.”

He had heard others call her by that name more than once.

He also knew she was heading to Yunjing.

Ni Su stared at him blankly.

“I was summoned by you and cannot leave your side in the mortal realm, but I also have unfinished business.” Xu Hexue fixed his gaze on her. “Since this is so, why don’t we make an agreement? On this journey to Yunjing, I’ll help you find your brother, and you help me fulfill my wish.”

In the ruined mountain temple on this boundless summer night, Ni Su waited quite a while before speaking: “Your unfinished business—what is it?”

“Like you, seeking someone.”

“Seeking whom?”

Hearing this, Xu Hexue lowered his gaze. Ni Su’s eyes followed his to the line of silver embroidered characters at the edge of his sleeve.

“An old friend.”

Two simple words.

Perhaps it was that friend who had prepared this winter garment, written the memorial tablet, yet delayed a full fifteen years before burning it for him. Ni Su remembered what the old monk had said that day.

Ni Su said nothing. He stood outside the door without speaking either. She noticed his shadow on the ground—a floating, luminous white, fluffy ball of light.

To share a path with a ghost—Ni Su shouldn’t have had such courage.

“Alright.”

Ni Su’s throat tightened, but she met his gaze. “As long as it doesn’t harm innocent lives or cause unprovoked trouble, I can agree.”

With that, she lay down in the pile of dry grass, her back to him, and closed her eyes.

But she couldn’t sleep at all.

Setting aside the ghost she couldn’t shake off outside the door,

When she closed her eyes, she saw her mother’s face, her brother’s face. Tears moistened the corners of Ni Su’s eyes. She sat up again and took out some dry rations from her bundle, eating piece by piece.

She turned her head and saw his shadow again—fluffy, seemingly with a tail, like some unknown creature, lively and adorable.

Ni Su looked up, unexpectedly meeting his gaze.

She didn’t realize tears still clung to the corners of her eyes. She simply saw him staring at her and lowered her eyes to the dry rations in her hand.

Ni Su took out a piece and offered it to him.

But he didn’t move, his expression indifferent.

Ni Su withdrew the half piece of flatbread. Staring at the candle flame for a moment, she rummaged through her bundle and pulled out a candle, offering it tentatively: “You ghosts—don’t you like eating these?”

—