Chapter 48: The Red-White Clash of Evils

Lu Qi waited outside for Tan Xueci for over an hour, but neither Tan Xueci nor the program crew’s cameraman came out.

Feeling a bit worried, he was just about to get out of the car to look for them when the cameraman emerged carrying his equipment. The man was a towering figure, nearly 1.9 meters tall; compared to him, Lu Qi, who was roughly the same height as Tan Xueci, looked quite frail. The man was built like a bear.

“Old Chen,” Lu Qi hurriedly asked the cameraman, “Where’s Xiao Ci?”

The cameraman called Old Chen had a vacant look in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, and after getting into the car, he sat in the back seat without moving.

Lu Qi felt an inexplicable chill crawl up his scalp. He waved his hand in front of the man’s eyes, but there was little reaction. Lu Qi sprinted into the alley and found Tan Xueci lying on the ground.

“Xiao Ci!” Lu Qi was startled and quickly knelt to shake Tan Xueci’s shoulder. “Xiao Ci?”

Tan Xueci seemed to be shaken awake, but like the cameraman, he gave no response, resembling a pale, beautiful doll.

Lu Qi looked into the misty alley; figures seemed to be flickering inside as if some strange creatures were parading through. Cold sweat poured down his back. Daring not to look further, he picked Tan Xueci up on his back and ran out.

Lu Qi drove the beat-up car back to Xiao Cai’s house with a series of loud thuds and shouts: “Taoist Yu! Taoist Yu!”

However, Yu He was not there, nor was He Xunye. Only a few guests from the program crew and Aunt Zhang’s family were present. Lu Qi had no choice but to lay Tan Xueci on the k’ang bed, saying tremulously, “Xiao Ci doesn’t seem to be able to speak. I don’t know what happened.”

Several guests quickly dropped what they were doing and got up to shake Tan Xueci’s shoulder. Tan Xueci’s small face was freezing cold. His eyes were open, yet there was absolutely no reaction.

Lu Qi hurriedly found the director and had someone carry the cameraman into the room, laying him on the k’ang as well.

“Oh dear,” Aunt Zhang said worriedly from the side, “could he have lost his soul? Today is the Temple Fair, the anniversary of General Yan’s death. Many spirits come here to watch the opera. I’m afraid he’s collided with a spirit.”

“Lost his soul?” Zhang Chengfa was stunned. He remembered playing by the Yan River as a child and losing his soul; his mother had walked along the river calling his name to bring him home.

While everyone was anxious, He Xunye walked in from outside. He froze for a moment upon seeing Tan Xueci. His brows furrowed as he strode over to Tan Xueci and gripped his shoulder.

Tan Xueci had just been fussing about pushing him out of the car, but now he was limp, lying in his arms as if dead—unable to speak or move, with only a faint heartbeat.

He Sui stood there with a grim face, wanting to check on Tan Xueci, but He Xunye blocked him completely. He could only grit his teeth in secret.

He had warned Tan Xueci long ago to stay away from He Xunye, but Tan Xueci wouldn’t listen. He felt that being near He Xunye was exactly what invited all this trouble.

It was no wonder the elders of the He family said He Xunye’s fate was ill-omened—his fate was too “hard,” destined to bring misfortune to his kin. He had once dismissed it as feudal superstition, but now he couldn’t help but believe it.

He Xunye’s two brothers had died, his brother-in-law had died, his sister’s child had died, and even his sister had gone mad. After losing so many children, He Xunye’s mother, Xu Yuzhu, turned to Buddhism, chanting sutras in the Buddhist hall every day to deliver the souls of her children.

The Xu family was also a lineage of Feng Shui masters, but they met with a catastrophe that nearly wiped out the entire clan. The few surviving children were sent to be raised by befriended aristocratic families; thus, Xu Yuzhu was raised in the He family.

She and He Wuling had known each other since childhood. He Wuling was slightly younger than her. They married at sixteen or seventeen and had a good relationship until He Xunye was born. As the children in the family died one after another, the couple’s relationship grew increasingly strained.

He Xunye possessed extraordinary talent in the Feng Shui world, far surpassing He Wuling, the head of the house. The entire He family relied on He Xunye to handle matters, yet He Xunye’s relationship with everyone in the family was terrible.

Virtually anyone who got close to He Xunye was either killed or injured. Combined with He Xunye’s own eccentric and cold personality, he had already reached a state of being deserted by family and friends before his death. If he hadn’t married a wife after his death, there might not have been a single soul willing to burn spirit money for him.

“We must call back the soul immediately,” Aunt Zhang said, pacing around. Seeing He Xunye had arrived, she hurried to grab a piece of red cloth and handed it to him, saying in a heavy accent, “Take this, go to the door and call the child’s nickname three times. If he hears it, he can come home.”

Aunt Zhang and Uncle Zhang were honest, mild-tempered people who didn’t talk much, but from listening to the guests’ chatter, they knew Tan Xueci and He Xunye seemed to be married.

Soul-calling is best done by parents. If the parents aren’t there, other relatives or a spouse will do.

But the caller must at least be a living person to call the soul back to the world of the living. If one is already dead and tries to call a soul, it will only cause the lost spirit to lose its way home.

This is why people say “the paths of the living and the dead are different.” They aren’t walking the same road, so how could they travel together?

As He Sui reached for the red cloth, his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t specialized in Feng Shui, but he was, after all, a descendant of the He family. He realized He Xunye either dared not or could not call the soul. He thought to himself, So what if He Xunye is dead? What is there to fear?

Unless He Xunye really was dead, ghosts existed in this world, and one was hiding among them.

“Uncle,” He Sui said, his back breaking into a light cold sweat. Having reached his limit over the past few days, he said coldly, “If you can’t do it, let me try. Don’t delay Xiao Ci’s return home.”

As He Sui reached out his hand, before he could touch Tan Xueci, He Xunye gripped Tan Xueci. The malevolent spirit’s eyes were dark and heavy. “When did I ever say you could touch him?”

He Sui’s hand was blocked. His whole body stiffened. He took a deep breath but still couldn’t suppress the rage in his heart.

Only now did he suddenly feel a surge of resentment, as if his wife had been stolen. The look he gave He Xunye was full of disgust and hatred, as if looking at a shameless “third party.”

But the malevolent spirit smiled at him. No one else heard it, but a ghostly, cold, and obsessive voice rang in He Sui’s ear:

“Even if he dies, he can only lie in my coffin. I will take him to hell with me; it’s not your turn.”

He Sui suddenly looked up, his expression tinged with fear.

Yu He heard the commotion and walked over with a peach-wood sword. Rolling up his sleeves, he said, “No need for such trouble.”

As he spoke, his fingers formed a seal. Outside, the night wind stirred, and a white mist vaguely began to shroud the area. “Wandering soul, where do you remain? Three hun and seven po, come now!”

Everyone held their breath.

“Heaven’s gate opens, Earth’s gate opens, the thousand-mile boy brings the soul back,” Yu He circled the two soulless people with his sword. “Three hun and seven po, return to the body. By the order of the Supreme Lord Lao Zi, move swiftly as the law dictates!”

Just as he finished the first chant, the cameraman suddenly clutched his own neck and sat up abruptly. The others were startled and rushed to pull his hands away.

The cameraman, drenched in sweat, panted for a while. The man, over 1.8 meters tall, was nearly reduced to tears. Trembling, he said, “I’m not dead?”

“What on earth happened?!” the director asked urgently.

The cameraman’s lips had turned blue-white from the cold. He took the quilt Qin Shuyao handed him, wrapped himself up, swallowed hard, and said with lingering fear: “I was following Teacher Tan to film. He went to get something. That room was too small to stand in, so I didn’t go in; I waited outside for him to come out. But he never did.”

“I thought I’d go call him, but then someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. I turned around and saw an old woman in red.”

That old woman was incredibly old; her face looked like a layer of ashen-gray skin stretched over bone. Her withered eyeballs were nearly squeezed out of their sockets, connected only by a tiny bit of membrane. There was a pool of bruised blood in the depths of her eyes, and when she grinned, every tooth was scarlet.

He had screamed in terror at the time. He wanted to run, but when he turned around, he found that the dark, cold entrance of the Village Committee seemed to be filled with people, all dressed in red, holding hands.

His eyes rolled back and he fainted. He had no idea he had actually walked out carrying the camera and even got into Lu Qi’s car.

“Why were there so many people in red?” Qin Shuyao rubbed her arms in fear. She only now remembered that the people she encountered at night also seemed to be wearing red.

Red is usually festive, but in a remote, backward mountain village, a group of people appearing in red in the middle of the night was terrifying. It could only make one think of vengeful spirits—specifically, the exceptionally fierce kind.

Yu He ignored their shouting and frowned at Tan Xueci. “Why hasn’t this one woken up yet?”

Soul-summoning was a minor task for a Taoist. Theoretically, the soul should have returned after one chant, yet Tan Xueci remained motionless.

The malevolent spirit reached out to stroke his wife’s cold face. His gloomy dark eyes turned toward Yu He, gradually losing patience.

Yu He: “…”

Why are you getting so aggressive?

Yu He tried a few more incantations and even pleaded with the ancestral master of his Taoist temple to return the soul, but to no avail.

He scratched his head, completely out of ideas. Taking the red cloth Aunt Zhang gave him, he went to the door and shook it a few times, sounding like a village auntie: “Come home, child, come home. Right, what was his name again? Xiao Ci, Xiao Ci, come home.”

No one called Xiao Ci responded to him, but the ghostly aura behind him had begun to spread like it was covering the sky and earth.

He Sui’s forehead throbbed. Is there something wrong with this Taoist’s mind? He’s acting like he’s having a seizure. He said through gritted teeth, “His nickname is Xiao Guai (Little Darling). That’s what his family called him when he was little.”

When Lu Qi had suddenly run in earlier, the director didn’t know what had happened and hadn’t managed to turn off the live stream in time. However, they had encountered strange things in the village before, so streaming it wasn’t a huge problem.

He vaguely knew that some things were just strange, but as long as a plausible explanation was provided in the show, it was fine. After all, they had to eliminate feudal superstition.

The comments in the live chat were anxious:

【Is it really not just low blood sugar? Is there a clinic in the village? I think they should send him to a clinic.】 【Should I say, it seems the ‘Ex-Husband’ still knows Xiao Xue pretty well. After all, they’ve known each other for over a decade; no one can compare.】 【Belated affection is cheaper than grass. Besides, who knows who was scolding Xiao Xue for pestering He Sui before? Such double standards. Why is nobody scolding He Sui for being Tan Yanning’s lapdog?】

The chat seemed on the verge of another argument.

“Before I came,” He Xunye held Tan Xueci’s wrist, looked up at the others, and asked, “What did you do?”

The other guests felt a strange shudder. They didn’t know if it was because He Xunye’s voice was too low and cold, or because his eyes lacked any human emotion, but it was inexplicably frightening.

“Nothing,” Qin Shuyao waved her hands nervously, “We didn’t do anything. We just spent the day helping Aunt Zhang’s family with farm work, and then we went to make a rag doll.”

He Xunye’s eyes were dark. He said no more and walked to the shrine in the main hall. He poked three sticks of incense into the bowl of raw rice and took the red string Xiao Cai was using for cat’s cradle from her hand.

For a moment, Xiao Cai’s eyes were filled with malice. She bit her lip until it bled but didn’t dare to scream; she just stared fixedly at He Xunye.

He Xunye took a piece of paper, casually folded it into the shape of a doll, and then tightened the red string around the doll’s neck. The smoke from the three incense sticks, which had been rising straight up, suddenly trembled violently.

Two lines of bloody tears flowed from the eyes of the doll in his hand. It gradually transformed from a paper doll into the likeness of the rag doll Tan Xueci had made to offer at Grandma Zhang’s temple.

The malevolent spirit’s pale face was shrouded in darkness, and his eyes seemed to hold a scarlet, dark fire. His hands had no nails and carried a bloody, ghostly aura. He said coldly, “You want to steal my person? I’ll burn down your temple.”

The director was startled, staring at the doll that had suddenly started bleeding. This was becoming a bit “unharmonious.” He was afraid the live stream would be banned, but when he tried to turn it off, he found that the stream had already been disconnected.

He scurried back and hid in a corner with several guests, shivering and not daring to make a sound.

He Sui gripped the jade Buddha on his chest—the new one his father had given him. The jade Buddha felt vaguely hot and then, without any warning, shattered into two halves as if it had been burned. He Sui cursed under his breath, “Dammit.”

Could it be that He Xunye was behind the previous incidents too? They are blood relatives, yet He Xunye really wants his life.

The rag doll struggled incessantly, and a few drops of blood squeezed out from the fabric—the blood Tan Xueci had dropped after pricking his finger earlier.

Those drops of blood were warm and hot. They scurried around in a panic for a moment before obediently curling up in He Xunye’s palm and ceasing to move. The rag doll also gradually stopped struggling.

He Xunye said nothing and left the Zhang house.

Yu He’s expression was grave as he smiled sinisterly at Xiao Cai. “What ‘good things’ are you people hiding in this village?”

He had actually been bluffing Tan Xueci. His Bagua mirror and compass had stopped working once they entered this village. The compass couldn’t find direction, and the Bagua mirror seemed covered in a layer of mist.

He could feel that there were definitely ghosts in this village, but in this place, he couldn’t actually tell who was a ghost.

Xiao Cai’s face was wooden. Aunt Zhang said nothing either, her dry gray hair hanging down as she pulled Xiao Cai to her chest.

They both stared silently at the night outside. The Temple Fair had begun; the sound of opera singing could be heard.

Tan Xueci had been tapped on the shoulder by that child in red and had fainted. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself inside a sedan chair. The chair was swaying, being carried by people.

He was suddenly shocked to find himself wearing a red bridal robe and a red head-cover.

Holding his breath, he reached out to lift a corner of the cover. There was nothing strange inside the sedan, but he could hear the cold, ethereal sound of gongs, drums, and suonas outside, as well as the sound of the Yan River rushing through the mountain village in the deep of night.

Tan Xueci’s eyes widened in fear. What is going on? His throat tightened. Could it be that I just took a nap in the bridal sedan? I haven’t even arrived at the He house yet, and everything that happened during this time was just a dream?

But that wasn’t right. This sedan was not the one that had originally picked him up; it was a bit smaller.

Tan Xueci’s heart beat rapidly. Before he could figure out what was happening, he suddenly felt that something was very wrong with himself.

He reached out and felt his hair. His hair, which was originally only slightly long, had turned into waist-length hair.

The jet-black, soft, and shiny long hair hung down, making his already pale face look only as big as a palm. His features appeared elegant and delicate, even somewhat gender-ambiguous.

Tan Xueci panicked. His eyes turned red as he held his black hair, frantically checking himself.

What should I do? Could I have turned into a girl?

Fine, we’re getting married, but why change my gender?!

Tan Xueci lowered his head and took a peek under his skirt, only then breathing a small sigh of relief. Fortunately, it was still there.

Just as he finished checking, the sedan chair suddenly came to a halt.

Tan Xueci wasn’t the kind of sacrificial fodder seen in horror movies who goes out of their way to die, but he didn’t like sitting around waiting for death either. He leaned toward the gap in the sedan curtain to look outside and immediately held his breath.

To his left came a funeral procession, carrying a pitch-black coffin. Several people were dressed in mourning clothes, carrying soul-calling banners, while others behind were tossing white spirit money into the sky.

To his right, a wedding was being celebrated with the blowing of pipes and beating of drums. The red sedan chair was both cold and festive. Inside the sedan, the vague figure of a bride in wedding robes could be seen. The two processions collided head-on.

The Red-White Clash of Evils.

Tan Xueci didn’t recognize many words, but he was inexplicably well-versed in these matters. He had heard before that a Red-White Clash creates a surge of ghostly energy—an omen of great misfortune, almost the most malevolent situation possible.

The Red Evil is usually a bride who died suddenly during her wedding, while the White Evil is a young man who died by drowning.

As Tan Xueci watched, he suddenly froze.

Wait. If they are clashing, then what about me? Why am I also sitting in a bridal sedan?

This looks like two ‘Reds’ and one ‘White’.

Tan Xueci stared unblinkingly through the gap in the curtain until a pale, bluish face suddenly poked in from outside.

“Hello,” the other person said with a gloomy smile.

Tan Xueci nearly screamed. This person’s skin was pale-blue. A dark-red robe hung down, and a large red silk flower was pinned to his chest. He looked like… like he was the groom.

This ghost groom wasn’t bad-looking—the people of Yanxia Village weren’t ugly. The man’s voice was hoarse and frigid as he reached out a hand to Tan Xueci and asked, “Does the bride want to get out of the sedan?”

Tan Xueci didn’t dare reach out. What is the meaning of this? If I reach out, am I getting married to another ghost? I’m barely over twenty and I’m already on my second marriage, and both are to male ghosts.

Tan Xueci’s eyes turned slightly red. He pursed his lips and stared at that hand. He didn’t get out, but the ghost bride from the other sedan stepped down, holding her skirts.

The female ghost was dressed in red, her eyes full of malice. She scolded, “Give me back the groom!”

At first, Tan Xueci thought the female ghost wanted this ghost groom; he would have been more than happy to hand him over. But the female ghost was staring at him with a chilly gaze. Tan Xueci was completely bewildered and pointed a finger at himself.

Him? Me?

He thought a second marriage was terrifying enough, but he didn’t expect a third. He didn’t know why he was so popular with ghosts.

The male and female ghosts had already started arguing. The male ghost gave a cold laugh and said, “Stop shouting! Whoever grabs him first gets him!”

Yanxia Village never intermarried with the outside world. But Tan Xueci had gone to the temple to leave a doll, and that doll carried his blood, which was equivalent to Tan Xueci offering himself to the temple.

Tan Xueci was now half a Yanxia villager.

There weren’t many unmarried people left in this village. He had finally found one with great difficulty; how could he possibly give his wife to another female ghost?!

“Are you insane?!” the ghost bride shouted. “Open your dog eyes and look—he’s a man!”

The ghost groom froze. He stared at Tan Xueci with a poisonous gaze, his face turning even paler than before. He said, “How is that possible?!”

He had clearly seen Tan Xueci being held in a tall man’s arms and calling that person “husband.” How could Tan Xueci be a man?! At most, his hair was a bit short, making him look neither here nor there, which was why he had changed Tan Xueci’s hair to be long.

“How can you be a man?” The ghost groom looked at Tan Xueci with malice, his mental state collapsing. “How can you be a man?! A man can actually call a man ‘husband’?!”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci thought to himself: Not only can I call him husband, but when my husband gets here, he can beat you all to death. But he didn’t know when his husband would arrive.

His flirtatious, upturned sheep-like eyes drooped. He cowered in the corner of the sedan chair, not daring to speak.

The ghost groom’s eyes began to ooze blood as he stared hatefully at Tan Xueci. He had died over thirty years ago and had never heard of such a thing as male homosexuality. But then again… Tan Xueci was quite pretty.

Fine. A man is a man. If I keep his hair long, he can still be a wife. I’ll just have to deal with it.

The ghost groom sucked the blood back in.

Seeing his arrogant, self-important look, the female ghost rolled her eyes—so hard that one of her blood-red eyeballs fell to the ground.

They were originally a couple, but their marriage was unhappy. She couldn’t stand his greasy, arrogant attitude and had fought for a divorce.

In that era, there were almost no divorces in Yanxia Village. Although they eventually divorced, after death, their families buried them together, which amounted to a post-humous marriage.

She hadn’t wanted to be with this dead ghost for a long time. She had happened to see that Tan Xueci had a heavy ghostly aura; if she swallowed Tan Xueci, she could become a powerful ghost king and leave this village. Who knew the dead guy would intercept her?

Tan Xueci watched in stunned silence as the two ghosts suddenly started fighting mid-argument. The female ghost slapped him with her sleeve, knocking the male ghost’s head off. Black blood sprayed everywhere. The male ghost spitefully picked up his head and put it back on his neck, his face grim. His black fingernails grew three inches long as he roared and charged at the female ghost.

The two ghosts were locked in a brawl, both emitting immense resentment. Tan Xueci could even see the rolling black ghostly mist. He had only seen this kind of ghostly aura on He Xunye before; ordinary ghosts didn’t seem to have it.

Tan Xueci: “…”

He suddenly felt that his friction with He Xunye was nothing—at least he hadn’t slapped He Xunye’s head off.

Tan Xueci thought ruefully.

The dead ghost should be secretly happy to have such a good wife like me.

Tan Xueci took advantage of their fight to sneak out of the sedan and run for his life. But his skirt was too long and got in the way, and for some reason, his back felt heavier and heavier.

He looked back, and his pupils shrank. The male ghost from the coffin had crawled out at some point and was clinging to his back. Though the ghost was young, his eyes were cloudy and his purple lips were split in a smile. Because they were so close, Tan Xueci could even smell the foul stench from the ghost’s mouth.

Tan Xueci was trembling with fear. Overwhelmed by disgust, he shook the other off with all his might and continued running in a panic.

The village was pitch-black at night; he couldn’t find his way at all. Seeing that the male ghost was about to catch up, he ducked into the nearby General’s Temple and hid under the altar table in front of the statue.

A red cloth hung over the altar, which was just enough to hide him, but he still shrunk back as much as possible.

As soon as Tan Xueci was hidden, the other entered the temple.

The ghost wasn’t wearing shoes; his blue-purple, blackened feet walked back and forth by the altar. In a hoarse voice, he kept calling out, “Come out, come out.”

Tan Xueci’s heart hammered against his ribs. He covered his mouth and didn’t respond. Seeing that he was being ignored, the ghost paused for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he had changed his voice to Lu Qi’s: “Xiao Ci, come out.”

Tan Xueci’s fingers curled. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered this kind of ghost; there was nothing unusual about them mimicking the voices of those around him.

But the male ghost kept changing voices, even mimicking Gao Ying’s voice: “Xiao Guai, Xiao Guai, Mama has come to find you. Come to Mama.”

Tan Xueci froze. Outside, “Gao Ying” was calling him incessantly, even with a sob in her voice, just like a mother looking for her lost child, calling out his nickname.

Tan Xueci’s eyes welled up. He covered his mouth even tighter, not daring to make a sound. It wasn’t until “Gao Ying’s” footsteps grew distant that he suddenly felt a sense of abandonment. His mind went blank for a moment, and he almost wanted to chase after her.

The ghost, thinking his ruse hadn’t worked, impatiently changed to another voice. A man’s cold, low voice rang out, especially clear in the night: “Tan Xueci.”

Tan Xueci was stunned for a moment, pulling himself out of the hallucination. His back was already drenched in cold sweat.

“Tan Xueci,” seeing that he still didn’t respond, the ghost gritted his teeth and finally became a bit anxious. He said urgently, “Come out. Come home with me. Aren’t you… aren’t you my wife?”

He said those last few words in a strange way, as if he deeply loathed something but had no choice but to mimic it.

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci’s face was numb.

If you’re homophobic, don’t pretend to be someone’s husband.

He Xunye would never call him with that tone, nor would he find the word “wife” so difficult to say.

Tan Xueci sat blankly on the ground, involuntarily biting his finger. Since when had he become so dependent on He Xunye? He couldn’t stop thinking about that dead ghost.

Even after thinking so much, he never doubted that He Xunye might not come to save him.

Even though that malevolent spirit always wanted to drag him to hell, now that he was actually in hell, he knew He Xunye would come to take him home.

Tan Xueci hugged his knees. The moonlight flickered into the temple. His misty eyes were open, and his snowy-white face looked like a white moon that had fallen to the human world.

He pouted and secretly touched the red marks on his body through his clothes. When He Xunye had licked him, he had been kneading and pinching him the whole time.

Why isn’t he here yet?

Could he have died out there?

Tan Xueci’s eyes suddenly widened. His already pale face lost even more color. He gripped his wedding robe nervously. Could it be that I actually pushed He Xunye to his death?

The male ghost looked for a long time and couldn’t find Tan Xueci, finally leaving in a rage. But Tan Xueci still didn’t dare come out.

He knelt under the altar, peeking out. Every time he heard the wind blow at night, he thought it was He Xunye coming, and he would stick his head out a little, only to pull it back in disappointment. He wiped his tears, unwittingly turning into a “husband-watching stone.”

He wrapped himself tightly in the wedding robe and fell into a daze, eventually falling asleep. He didn’t snap awake until the sound of footsteps rang through the temple again. He gathered his hair and skirt, hiding further back.

His breathing tightened and his heart raced faster and faster. This time, the “ghost” didn’t even bother with greetings; he directly reached out and pulled the cloth curtain open.

Tan Xueci’s scream was caught in his throat. Before him appeared a pair of familiar black leather shoes. A man was kneeling on one knee, squatting in front of him, his suit trousers creased.

The man’s expression was dark and anxious. His usually perfectly styled bangs had fallen over his brow, making his dark eyes look even colder and gloomier. It wasn’t until he saw the small heap that was Tan Xueci that the malevolent spirit’s tense expression finally relaxed, almost losing control.

His heart—which was so dead it couldn’t be deader—seemed to skip a beat because he saw Tan Xueci, who could cry and scold people.

Tan Xueci was curled into a tiny ball, his black hair clinging to his snowy face. His eyelashes were wet and trembling, and there were tear tracks in his eyes. His eyes were wide and his nose was slightly red from crying. Seeing He Xunye, a soft “whimper” escaped his throat. He sobbed, trying to crawl out with both hands and feet.

However, before he could crawl over, a finger pressed against his forehead, and he knelt there in a daze.

The malevolent spirit’s tension completely vanished. His movements were gentle as he poked Tan Xueci’s forehead, but his tone was malicious.

As if he hadn’t expected someone to be hiding under there, his dark peach-blossom eyes looked at Tan Xueci’s thick long hair and the skirt he was wearing. He said in surprise, “How did Xiao Xue turn into a girl?”

“No,” Tan Xueci was poked until he swayed. His beautiful face was a picture of grievance as he quickly explained, “I haven’t.”

“How can you prove it?” the malevolent spirit’s tone sounded troubled.

The statue above them was compassionate and merciful, looking more like a Buddha. But the ghost didn’t care, didn’t look, and didn’t observe precepts. Gazing at his wife, there was only a growing dark fire in his eyes—pitch-black and frenzied—yet carefully masked under a layer of gentle, wicked skin.

Tan Xueci was dazed. He gave a small sniffle. How was he supposed to know how to prove it?

“Lift up your skirt and let your husband see,” seeing that he didn’t understand, the malevolent spirit arched an eyebrow. The corners of his lips, which were redder than a normal person’s, curled up as he gave an ill-intentioned suggestion: “How will we know if we don’t look?”

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