Chapter 68: Havoc at Qilian Temple

Tan Xueci met He Xunye’s dark, sullen gaze without a shred of fear.

Seeing the youth freeze up with a tense, unmoving scowl, Tan Xueci simply cupped He Xunye’s pale face between his hands and leaned down to plant a few more loud, wet kisses right on his lips.

He had been thoroughly corrupted by his ghost husband in the real world.

When he kissed people now, he couldn’t help but slide his tongue inside.

His soft tongue slid past He Xunye’s lips, which were somewhat pale from blood loss, licking and sucking at them relentlessly until they were flushed a deep, vibrant crimson.

The youth’s complexion was starkly pale, his pitch-black hair cascading all the way down to his waist.

He possessed a pair of profoundly gloomy eyes that seemed perpetually shrouded in cold mist; staring into them for too long usually made people deeply uncomfortable, as if they were looking at some haunting, inescapable malevolent spirit.

But right now, he was being pinned flat against the hospital bed by a pretty boy.

His lips were thoroughly bitten and flushed, and even the tips of his ears burned red with absolute fury.

Deep within those heavy, dark eyes lay a rare, hidden flicker of utter bewilderment—instantly giving him a touch of genuine, vulnerable youth.

Hehehe.

Tan Xueci let out a deeply wicked chuckle in his mind.

In truth, he could tell He Xunye was completely shaken and absolutely did not want to be kissed.

But for some reason, seeing He Xunye look so utterly powerless and flustered felt incredibly satisfying, so he leaned down and sneaked a few more kisses just for good measure.

The youth’s face darkened completely.

A sharp edge of thin, barely suppressed fury leaked into his voice as he barked coldly, “Get off me.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” He Pinglan quickly interjected, physically stepping in to block her brother. She gave He Xunye a disapproving nudge and scolded, “Why are you being so incredibly fierce to your partner?”

Tan Xueci blinked his big, watery eyes innocently, giving He Xunye’s cheek one last affectionate squeeze before finally letting him go.

He Pinglan walked over and sat down right at the edge of the bed, warmly taking both of Tan Xueci’s hands into her own.

She seemed completely unbothered by the fact that this strange youth had just been straddling her sick, recovering little brother.

A faint, excited gleam danced in He Pinglan’s eyes, which she desperately tried to suppress out of fear of startling Tan Xueci.

Forcing her features into a warm, gentle expression, she asked softly, “Are you Xiao Xun’s boyfriend?”

He Xunye was already seventeen or eighteen years old, practically an adult.

Whenever she had tried to ask him about his love life in the past, he had always ignored her completely.

It turned out he wasn’t uninterested in romance; he was just completely uninterested in girls.

Tan Xueci, staying perfectly consistent with his usual bold declarations, replied with absolute, deadpan seriousness, “I am his wife.”

“…” He Pinglan’s brain visibly went into overdrive for a brief second to process that.

But once she wrapped her head around it, she accepted it with absolute enthusiasm, smiling brightly as she patted the back of Tan Xueci’s hand. “Wonderful! A wife is even better!”

This was infinitely better than just a boyfriend.

He Xunye: “…”

He Xunye’s face turned completely pitch-black in an instant, his breathing turning heavy and ragged.

He fixed a glacial, murderous stare upon the two of them.

The youth’s pale, slender knuckles gripped the hospital blanket so fiercely that his joints turned white, clearly pushing his forbearance to its absolute limit.

Tan Xueci actually wanted to sit on He Xunye’s lap for a little while longer.

In the real world, he and He Xunye were rarely ever separated, so he hadn’t realized it before.

But now that his actual ghost husband wasn’t here, and this teenage second husband refused to acknowledge him, he realized that clinging to He Xunye’s warm chest was infinitely more comfortable than sitting by himself.

However, remembering that He Xunye was still injured and recovering, he worried he might hurt him, so he reluctantly and slowly scrambled off the bed.

“How old are you?” He Pinglan asked, staring at Tan Xueci with immense curiosity. “And what’s your name?”

Tan Xueci looked slightly older than He Xunye, but his snowy-white face was stretched tight with an adorable, nervous tension.

His wide, slightly rounded eyes gave him an inherently innocent, delicate look that made people instinctively want to coddle him like a child.

As they spoke, Tan Xueci quietly slid his hand into He Xunye’s palm, trying to force the youth to hold it while he obediently introduced himself to his sister.

Having been married to He Xunye for so long, this was technically his very first time officially meeting his husband’s family, and he found himself feeling surprisingly nervous.

He Xunye coldly swatted his hand away.

Tan Xueci simply slid it right back into his palm.

If He Xunye refused to hold his hand, he would just force He Xunye to hold it anyway.

By the time his hand was swatted away for the third time, Tan Xueci’s eyes grew slightly red, his long eyelashes lowering as tears began to pool dangerously in his eyes.

“You absolute jerk,” He Pinglan snapped.

Seeing the boy’s tears, she reached across the bed and delivered a sharp smack to He Xunye’s thigh over the blanket.

She glared at him, lowering her voice to hiss angrily, “Your wife traveled all this way just to see you, and you won’t even hold his hand? Stop putting on airs and hold him right now!”

He Xunye: “…”

The youth closed his dark, turbulent eyes in sheer resignation.

When Tan Xueci stealthily slid his soft hand back into his palm for the fourth time, He Xunye’s fingers twitched with an uneasy, awkward tension—but this time, he didn’t push him away.

Tan Xueci instantly stopped crying, his face lighting up with absolute joy.

He hovered closely by the bed, calling out “husband” this and “husband” that, asking if he was in pain or if he wanted a sip of water.

It was only when He Pinglan pulled Tan Xueci aside to ask more detailed questions about his family background that He Xunye’s thin lips pressed into a hard line.

He turned his body away from them, lying down to face the wall. His silhouette radiated absolute, frosty rejection.

He Xunye had sustained severe injuries across his abdomen and chest, and his upper torso was wrapped in several layers of clean white bandages.

As the youth turned over, the bare skin of his back showed pale and flawless like cool jade, his shoulder lines tapering down into a sharp, athletic waist. He looked incredibly lean and well-built.

Tan Xueci felt a sudden, strong urge to reach out and stroke his back, but fearing he would push the youth into a genuine rage, he could only abandon the thought with a silent sigh of regret.

Meanwhile, He Pinglan was still gently interviewing Tan Xueci, asking where his family lived, what his parents did for a living, and whether he was currently enrolled in school.

In this illusion, she was currently in her early thirties, looking exceptionally striking and elegant.

She wasn’t wearing her signature white ghost nightgown, her complexion wasn’t deathly pale, and her eyes were bright and full of life, making her look closer to her mid-twenties.

Her husband was a member of the Xian clan from Mount Yan.

It was only through their conversation that Tan Xueci learned that apart from the Yan River, there was actually a Mount Yan.

The Xian clan of Mount Yan was world-renowned for their mastery over papercraft.

The paper dolls they crafted were incredibly lifelike, virtually indistinguishable from living humans at a glance, and they could even be used to deceive death itself.

If a member of their clan encountered a fatal calamity, the elders could craft a paper effigy to act as a scapegoat, a substitute body so perfect that even the Black and White Guards of Impermanence wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Because of this miraculous technique, the members of the Xian clan of Mount Yan enjoyed remarkable longevity, with many living past a hundred years old entirely free of disease or misfortune.

Their reputation in the feng shui world was legendary, standing second only to the He family.

Yet, it was this exact legendary clan that had been completely annihilated over a decade ago, leaving only one or two children alive. No one in the real world knew what had truly triggered that ancient slaughter.

He Pinglan’s husband was born with the surname Xian.

However, after the total annihilation of his clan, he took his mother’s maiden name, renaming himself Lian Jiche.

The Lian family was also involved in the feng shui industry, but they were considered a minor, ordinary family at best.

Lian Jiche looked to be around thirty-two or thirty-three years old, possessing a handsome, refined appearance.

He followed his wife’s movements like a loyal shadow.

As He Pinglan spoke with Tan Xueci, he simply hovered nearby, offering a gentle smile.

Even when He Xunye cast a frigid, warning glare at him from the bed, he didn’t show a hint of anger, clearly possessing an exceptionally mild and patient temperament. They looked perfectly matched.

He Pinglan and her husband were incredibly busy individuals, and Yu He had urgent duties of his own to attend to.

Seeing that He Xunye’s life was no longer in danger, they took their leave one after another, leaving only Tan Xueci and He Xunye alone in the quiet ward.

He Xunye kept his eyes closed, his long eyelashes casting a heavy shadow over his pale skin.

He lay perfectly still on the hospital bed as if deeply asleep, completely refusing to speak to Tan Xueci.

Tan Xueci amused himself by twirling a lock of He Xunye’s long black hair around his fingers.

After hovering by his side for a while, he would occasionally reach over to tuck the edges of the blanket around the youth, wrapping him up as tightly as possible.

Initially, He Xunye was merely pretending to sleep to avoid dealing with Tan Xueci.

However, as the immense physical pain and exhaustion washed over him, amidst Tan Xueci’s relentless, endless harassment—poking his face one second and planting a soft kiss on his cheek the next—he eventually drifted off into a genuine, heavy sleep.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he discovered that he had been completely wrapped into a tight, rigid cocoon by Tan Xueci, unable to even lift his arms.

He Xunye: “…”

He Xunye let out a cold, sarcastic sneer.

He decided that Tan Xueci was indeed exceptionally suited for taking care of sick people; if he ever truly hated someone, he would simply hire Tan Xueci to nurse them, and the victim would undoubtedly be dead within three days.

Tan Xueci had also fallen into a drowsy slumber nearby, only blinking his eyes open in bewilderment when he heard He Xunye’s sharp sneer.

He watched as He Xunye struggled fiercely to break free from the blanket cocoon and began shuffling toward the bathroom.

Tan Xueci scrambled out of bed and hurried right after him.

“Husband?” Tan Xueci pressed his face against the bathroom door, whispering in a low, eerie voice like a haunting spirit. “Husband, can you use the bathroom by yourself? If you can’t, I can come in and help you hold it.”

He Xunye offered absolutely no response, remaining as silent as a corpse.

Tan Xueci felt a bit anxious and genuinely worried about his well-being, so he cautiously pushed the door open to peek inside.

The youth’s back muscles tensed instantly, his eyes flashing with absolute frost as he yanked a nearby bath towel to cover his front, barking furiously, “Get out!”

Tan Xueci pouted, reluctantly stepping backward out of the room.

‘So stingy. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.’

Then again, the teenage He Xunye wasn’t quite as tall as his future self, standing at roughly 187 centimeters. Since he wasn’t quite as massive yet, Tan Xueci couldn’t help but wonder if that part of him wasn’t quite as exaggerated either.

His peek just now had been incredibly brief, leaving him with only a vague impression. It had seemed a bit smaller, but then again, maybe it hadn’t.

Tan Xueci began to spread malicious rumors about He Xunye in his own mind, wondering if it was only due to rigor mortis that the man’s asset had eventually transformed into such a terrifyingly rigid, massive object in the future.

The doctors never explicitly detailed what specific illness or trauma He Xunye was suffering from.

Whenever it was time to change his dressings, He Xunye would strictly order Tan Xueci to leave the room.

Throughout his several days of hospitalization, He Xunye remained entirely alone, with no family members staying behind to accompany him.

Even He Pinglan and Lian Jiche never returned, despite Tan Xueci initially assuming they cared deeply for him.

He Xunye’s primary wound was situated on the right side of his chest, meaning that every time he lifted his arm to feed himself, the movement would violently agitate the injury.

Although he didn’t voice any complaints, the fine beads of cold sweat gathering on his forehead made it clear to Tan Xueci that he was in immense pain.

“Husband,” Tan Xueci muttered, unable to watch him struggle any longer. He scrambled onto the bed and leaned close, saying softly, “Let me feed you.”

Although he frequently declared in his own mind that he wished He Xunye would drop dead somewhere out of sight, whenever He Xunye actually looked like he was on the verge of death, Tan Xueci’s overwhelming possessiveness would flare up, unable to tolerate seeing him suffer.

Tan Xueci rested his chin in his hands, sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite the youth, staring fixedly at his eighteen-year-old, sickly little husband.

He felt that his affection for He Xunye was much like looking up at the moon.

To outsiders, the moon appeared high, unapproachable, cold, and pure.

Only Tan Xueci knew that this exact moon spent its days acting like a shameless, vulgar stalker who refused to leave him alone, behaving like an absolute pervert.

Yet, it was his moon, and it deserved to hang beautifully in the sky, receiving the admiration of the world.

Even if it was to be despised or cast aside, only Tan Xueci had the right to do so. How could anyone dare to beat his moon until he was covered in wounds, leaving him to suffer all alone in a sterile hospital room?

Tan Xueci fell silent for a long moment before suddenly snatching the spoon out of He Xunye’s hand.

He scooped up a neat portion of rice and held it right against the youth’s lips.

The youth lifted his dark, piercing eyes, staring at him with an intensely sullen expression, his lips pressed firmly together as he turned his head away in refusal.

Tan Xueci shifted into a kneeling position on the mattress, reaching out to firmly grasp He Xunye’s chin, forcing the youth to turn back and look him in the eye.

Gazing down at He Xunye from his higher position, his wide eyes flashed with an exceptionally cold, striking beauty as he threatened sharply, “If you don’t eat it, I will feed you using my own mouth.”

He Xunye: “…”

He Xunye’s pupils trembled slightly.

Over the past week, he had come to realize that Tan Xueci was an absolute wildcard who was genuinely capable of following through on any threat.

His throat clicked as his Adam’s apple rolled violently, and finally, with an expression of pure humiliation, he opened his mouth.

When He Pinglan arrived at the hospital later that day, she was greeted by the sight of Tan Xueci carefully feeding her brother.

She didn’t enter the room, choosing instead to peek through the small glass window.

To her utter astonishment, her cold, unfeeling little brother was actually submissively swallowing every spoonful.

Furthermore, He Xunye had strictly forbidden any of them from staying overnight, making Tan Xueci the very first person capable of remaining in his room for so long without being driven out.

He Pinglan’s expression softened into a gentle warmth.

Tugging at Lian Jiche’s sleeve, the two of them huddled together outside like a pair of absolute thieves, happily spectating the rare show.

It was only when He Xunye’s dark, icy gaze suddenly snapped toward the window that they scrambled away in a frantic rush.

Initially, Tan Xueci had been sleeping on the spare hospital bed in the ward to avoid accidentally aggravating He Xunye’s chest wound.

Since they were the only occupants of the room, there were plenty of empty beds to choose from.

However, late one evening, he was suddenly awoken from a hazy slumber by a distinct, rhythmic scratching sound, like someone knocking on a door.

He propped himself up on his elbows. It was already past three in the morning, and if the medical staff were doing rounds, they certainly wouldn’t knock in such an eerie fashion.

A sudden, violent chill washed down Tan Xueci’s spine as he realized the sound wasn’t coming from the door at all.

It was coming from directly beneath his own bed.

Something was rhythmically knocking against the wooden slats right under his mattress.

Tan Xueci’s palms broke into a cold, terrified sweat.

He had absolutely no desire to look down and discover what kind of horrific entity was hiding beneath his bed.

He desperately wanted to scramble off the mattress and run over to He Xunye, but his limbs were frozen with terror, terrified that the moment his feet touched the floor, a ghostly hand would clamp around his ankle.

“Husband…” Tan Xueci began to whisper desperately. “Husband…”

Initially, He Xunye had fully intended to ignore him.

But Tan Xueci kept chanting “husband, husband” without a single pause, making it absolutely impossible for him to sleep.

The youth sat up with a dark scowl, half of his pale face entirely swallowed by the shadows of the night, radiating a terrifyingly sharp aura of violence.

He stood up from his bed. Although his chest and abdomen remained heavily wrapped in bandages, the white cloth only served to accentuate the lean, powerful musculature of his torso.

Tan Xueci remained curled in a tight ball on his mattress, whimpering softly, “Husband…”

“Shut up.” He Xunye walked over to his bedside. Reaching out, he slid his hands beneath Tan Xueci’s arms and lifted him effortlessly.

Tan Xueci was incredibly cooperative, immediately wrapping both his arms and legs tightly around He Xunye’s torso, clinging to him like a burr.

He Xunye carried him over and tossed him onto his own bed, before completely ignoring him once more.

He didn’t make any move to hunt down the entity beneath the spare bed; he simply lay down and closed his eyes to sleep.

Tan Xueci didn’t quite understand what this meant.

He remained kneeling on the mattress for a little while, staring down at He Xunye’s sleeping face.

Clutching the youth’s arm tightly to his chest to gather his courage, he finally screwed up the nerve to steal a glance at the floor.

Hiding beneath the empty bed was a female ghost with a sickly, greenish-white complexion.

Her hollow, pitch-black eyes were stretched wide, and she was rhythmically raising a skeletal, withered hand to strike the underside of the bed over and over, completely oblivious to the fact that her target had already left.

Tan Xueci snapped his head back instantly, refusing to look a second longer.

He rustled beneath the sheets, sliding under He Xunye’s blanket.

He Xunye’s body temperature was remarkably high, making the space beneath the covers incredibly warm and cozy.

Letting out a soft, comfortable yawn, Tan Xueci naturally buried his face right into the youth’s neck, settling in to sleep closely beside him.

The moment Tan Xueci’s breathing stabilized into a deep sleep, the youth beside him slowly opened his eyes.

In the absolute darkness of the room, he turned his head slightly to gaze at Tan Xueci’s flushed, peaceful face, his eyes lingering on the small pair of hands resting firmly across his chest.

Tan Xueci accompanied He Xunye in the hospital for over a week.

Occasionally, senior members of the He family would arrive to discuss urgent matters with the youth, appearing to be He Xunye’s uncles and elders.

Tan Xueci couldn’t comprehend the complex feng shui jargon they discussed, but he noticed that every single one of those older men looked absolutely terrified of He Xunye.

Their expressions carried a bizarre mix of deep reverence and intense fear, and none of them dared to step within a certain radius of the youth’s bed.

Whenever their gazes fell upon Tan Xueci, who was currently wrapped around He Xunye’s arm like a permanent fixture, their eyes would widen with sheer horror, as if they were looking at an absolute lunatic.

Tan Xueci took to gathering small stones from the hospital courtyard during his walks, using them to deliver sharp, painful smacks right to the backs of their heads whenever they left the room.

The elderly masters were beaten until they let out sharp cries of pain, scurrying out of the hospital building in a frantic rush.

When He Xunye was finally discharged, they returned straight to Qilian Temple.

He Xunye spent almost all his time confined to his meditation room, rarely ever stepping outside.

Just like the other monks in the temple, he spent his mornings participating in early prayers and chanting, and his evenings reading through heavy scriptures by candlelight. He was incredibly laconic, completely isolating himself from everyone else.

Although the monks had prepared a separate room for Tan Xueci, he never spent a single night in it.

Every single evening, he would drape his blanket over his head and march straight over to find He Xunye, nesting himself by the youth’s side and flipping through his sacred texts until they were completely disorganized.

He would pretend to study the scriptures alongside He Xunye, but he couldn’t comprehend a single character, frequently holding the volumes completely upside down without realizing it.

Even the Buddha statues in the hall would have shaken their heads in despair at the sight.

He Xunye had also brought along several other ancient texts.

Tan Xueci would shuffle his blanket-covered body closer to the youth, pointing at the titles one by one as he asked, “Husband, what does this one say?”

“…The emptiness of all phenomena,” He Xunye intoned softly, completely ignoring the boy’s antics.

He kept his eyes closed, his long eyelashes dark and elegant against the sharp bridge of his nose.

The dim candlelight danced across his pale, detached features, making him look entirely devoid of worldly desires as his fingers told the beads. He murmured under his breath, “Neither born nor destroyed, neither defiled nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing. Therefore, in emptiness, there is no form…”

‘Emptiness this, form that.’

‘How annoying.’

Tan Xueci began to grow restless.

He knit his brows and examined the diagrams within the text himself, realizing it looked like some sort of occult manual. One page depicted a complex flame formation along with several intricate hand seals, while others showed waves of water or bolts of lightning.

He couldn’t read the dense characters, but he could interpret the illustrations perfectly fine.

After staring at it for a while, he began to nitpick He Xunye’s performance, complaining that the youth’s chanting was entirely devoid of emotion. He even scolded He Xunye for being disrespectful, pointing out that since he was older, He Xunye should really be calling him Gege.

As Tan Xueci gestured wildly to make his point, he leaned far too close to the candle flame, appearing as though his long eyelashes were about to be singed.

The youth in monastic robes quietly paused his movement across the Buddhist beads, reaching out without a word to gently slide the candlestick further away from him.

Tan Xueci decided that he couldn’t let things continue like this; he needed to figure out exactly what kind of reality he was trapped in.

Initially, he had assumed he was merely trapped in another psychological illusion, but after spending a week here, he realized things weren’t that simple.

Because this version of He Xunye felt completely, undeniably real.

Although his personality was starkly different from his future ghost self, and he didn’t constantly fly into a primal, possessive heat, Tan Xueci’s intuition told him that this was exactly how He Xunye had been during his teenage years. He trusted his instincts completely.

He spent some time wandering around the temple grounds but found no useful clues, so he resolved to investigate the world outside the mountain gate.

Given the current timeline, his real-world self should be around ten years old. He couldn’t help but wonder if he might stumble upon a ten-year-old version of himself if he looked hard enough.

The following morning, Tan Xueci woke up early and headed straight toward the Tan family estate.

He Xunye made no attempt to question where he was going.

Over the past few days, he had treated Tan Xueci’s presence with absolute indifference, acting as though the boy didn’t exist.

However, when noon arrived and Tan Xueci still hadn’t returned to the temple, Yu He arrived instead.

Seeing that He Xunye’s table was piled high with several dishes of food along with two neat sets of bowls and chopsticks, Yu He unceremoniously plopped himself down into the opposite seat.

He scooped up a large mouthful of food, and before he could even swallow, he mumbled around his chopsticks, “Oh, did you know I was coming over today?”

When no response came, Yu He strained his neck to force the food down his throat.

Lifting his gaze, he slammed right into He Xunye’s pitch-black, murderous stare, looking exactly like an ancient demon ready to flay him alive. The sight nearly made him spit his rice right back out.

“…” Yu He shrunk back instantly, meekly lowering his chopsticks to avoid provoking the youth.

Yet, true to his gossipy nature, he couldn’t resist leaning forward to whisper cheekily, “Hey, what’s with the face? Are you waiting for your wife?”

“He has absolutely nothing to do with me,” He Xunye snapped, his expression turning instantly colder as his brows drew together sharply.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Yu He chuckled, winking at him as he teased loudly, “Totally unrelated! I mean, you guys just happen to share the same blanket and suck face, but you’re practically strangers. I get it, I get it.”

He Xunye: “…”

It was already late evening by the time Tan Xueci returned to Qilian Temple.

Strangely enough, the Tan family estate didn’t seem to exist in this world at all. Furthermore, many areas of the city were completely obscured by a dense, impenetrable white mist that physically blocked him from moving past them.

Regardless, he could at least confirm that this reality was entirely unnatural; he was definitely trapped inside a fabricated realm.

Tan Xueci muttered complaints to himself as he hurriedly swallowed some temple food before scooping up his blanket to march back to He Xunye’s quarters.

For the past week, he had been sleeping closely beside He Xunye because the platform bed only featured a single large mattress pad.

But when he stepped inside tonight, he discovered that two separate pads had been neatly laid out on opposite sides of the platform.

Furthermore, a clear, unbridgeable boundary had been established between them, physically separated by the small wooden tea table He Xunye usually used to hold his candles.

Tan Xueci thought to himself, ‘…’

‘What is this, bro?’

‘Are we breaking up already?’

Because he had returned so late, He Xunye had already lain down for the night.

The youth’s eyes were closed, appearing to be in a deep, undisturbed sleep.

Yet, in the very next fraction of a second, his blanket was violently yanked away with a sharp whoosh.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The youth sat up instantly, staring dead-eyed at Tan Xueci. His pale throat clicked as his Adam’s apple rolled, his eyes flashing with sharp irritation.

Tan Xueci casually shoved the small wooden table off the platform, dragged the two separate mattress pads together until they merged perfectly, and leaned his beautiful face dangerously close to He Xunye’s.

A brilliant, knowing smile spread across his lips, and with the absolute confidence and vicious charm of a seasoned married man, he declared boldly, “I’m doing you.”

He Xunye: “…”

He Xunye’s chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven breaths.

Under the warm glow of the candle, the tips of his ears flushed a brilliant crimson. He stared at Tan Xueci, his lips parting slightly, yet he found himself entirely unable to formulate a single coherent retort.

Finally, with a dark scowl, he turned his back to Tan Xueci and slammed himself back onto the mattress.

Tan Xueci let out a series of wicked, quiet giggles, pressing his front right against He Xunye’s back, the two of them huddling together like a pair of tight little mice.

The capital in this illusion had truly transformed into a living purgatory.

Every single evening, massive, overwhelming swarms of malicious spirits would manifest across the night sky, their dense, freezing black mists roaring as they swooped down upon the city.

The sheer terror drove the citizens into a state of permanent insomnia, forcing them to flee toward Qilian Temple in absolute desperation.

The volume of these entities was simply staggering, and each one possessed immense power, making it clear they weren’t ordinary spirits.

The destructive red flames wielding from He Xunye’s palms would frequently burn outside the mountain gate for an entire night without pausing.

Tan Xueci managed to gather fragments of information from the terrified refugees fleeing for their lives.

They whispered that the sudden influx of monsters was a divine punishment, brought down upon the city because someone had deeply angered a god.

Others insisted that the entity provoked was actually an ancient evil god, which explained why the retribution was so incredibly bloody and savage.

Regardless of the details, someone had undeniably crossed a deity.

“What god?” Tan Xueci asked, entirely bewildered as he nudged a middle-aged man sitting near him. “And who exactly angered them?”

The man waved his hand frantically, refusing to utter another word, his eyes darting fearfully toward He Xunye’s solitary figure in the distance.

The implication was clear—they believed He Xunye was the one who had drawn the divine wrath upon them.

Every single refugee treated He Xunye with absolute, trembling reverence, yet they avoided him like the plague. No one dared to speak a word to him, and the moment the spirits were incinerated into ash, they would scramble out of the temple grounds in a frantic rush.

It was impossible to tell what exactly they were so terrified of.

Furthermore, the monks of Qilian Temple were notoriously tight-lipped, completely refusing to answer any of his questions, leaving Tan Xueci stuck in a complete dead end.

This continued until one morning, when he woke up to find He Zhui’s father arriving at the temple, dragging a young He Zhui along behind him.

He Zhui’s father was named He Wangchen.

He had arrived with his son while the sky was still pitch-black, waiting outside the meditation room for He Xunye to wake up, his demeanor absolutely brimming with sycophantic reverence.

The moment He Xunye stepped across the threshold, He Wangchen scrambled forward, pleading desperately, “Xunye… your nephew recently ran into something deeply unclean. Please, take a look at him. I was hoping to request one of your specialized blood talismans.”

Just as the words left his mouth, he froze.

A strange youth stepped out from directly behind He Xunye.

The boy possessed a flawless, snowy-white face and was currently draped lazily over He Xunye’s back, his arms wrapped securely around the youth’s waist.

“…” He Wangchen was completely startled. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he pointed a trembling finger at Tan Xueci, stammering, “This… this, you…”

Tan Xueci’s posture made it absolutely clear that his relationship with He Xunye was anything but innocent. The casual, natural way he clung to the youth was far more intimate than the way He Wangchen interacted with his own wife.

‘This is a sacred Buddhist temple!’

‘How could someone behave so obscenely within these walls?’

Furthermore, he had never heard a single rumor suggesting He Xunye preferred men.

“It has nothing to do with you,” He Xunye snapped, his brows knitting together fiercely.

He held his string of black Buddhist beads tightly in his palm, the dark wood contrasting sharply with the lean, frosty paleness of his fingers.

He firmly unclasped Tan Xueci’s hands from his waist, forcing him to stand up on his own two feet before leading He Wangchen straight inside the room, shutting the door behind them.

Tan Xueci was left standing in the courtyard with He Zhui.

Tan Xueci possessed an exceptional memory, but he rarely wasted brainpower remembering things he didn’t care about. He couldn’t even recall what He Zhui had looked like at ten years old, so he leaned down to examine the boy’s face before curling his lips in distaste.

‘How incredibly ugly.’

He Zhui had absolutely no idea he had just been brutally insulted.

He lifted his gaze to look at Tan Xueci. By any human standard, Tan Xueci was a breathtaking beauty.

He Zhui had originally been standing with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking thoroughly resentful about being dragged here by his father, but the moment his eyes met Tan Xueci’s, his hands slowly slid out of his pockets.

He took the initiative to speak, asking curiously, “Why are you following my youngest uncle around like that? Aren’t you terrified?”

“Terrified of what?” Tan Xueci turned his head.

Seeing that Tan Xueci genuinely seemed oblivious, He Zhui hesitated for a moment before whispering darkly, “Aren’t you afraid my uncle will jinx you to death?”

His father had strictly forbidden him from spreading these rumors outside, but he figured He Xunye was trapped inside the meditation room and couldn’t possibly hear him.

“Explain yourself clearly,” Tan Xueci demanded, his brows drawing together.

“My dad says my youngest uncle possesses an incredibly harsh, violent spiritual destiny,” He Zhui whispered, casting cautious glances around the courtyard. “Every single person who gets close to him ends up dead. Even if they don’t die, they end up permanently crippled or hit with horrific misfortune. That’s why no one dares to step within a mile of him.”

Tan Xueci froze.

So that was the truth. No wonder the townspeople avoided He Xunye like a disease, looking at him as though he were a monster.

In reality, He Zhui was somewhat skeptical of these rumors himself, because his uncle appeared incredibly powerful and competent. Even his own arrogant father had to beg He Xunye for assistance, instilling a deep sense of reverence within the boy.

“His destiny is far too violent,” He Zhui added with a casual shrug. “He caused the deaths of so many people, which is why he’s confined to Qilian Temple to atone for his sins.”

Chanting scriptures and saving lives were merely his ways of paying penance.

Tan Xueci refused to believe a single word out of He Zhui’s mouth.

He spun around and bolted toward the meditation room, throwing the door open just in time to see He Xunye slicing open the tip of his finger to draw a talisman.

The yellow paper instantly and completely absorbed the fresh blood, the symbols flaring with an exceptionally brilliant, vibrant red before He Xunye handed the completed slip to He Wangchen.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” He Wangchen gasped, cradling the talisman like a treasure before waving frantically toward his son. “He Zhui, quick, come over and thank your youngest uncle.”

“There is no need,” He Xunye interrupted coldly.

Tan Xueci bit his lip, completely unwilling to let a talisman written with He Xunye’s own blood be handed over to that awful child.

He reached out his hand, fully intending to snatch it away, but He Xunye suddenly cast a sharp, warning look at him, causing his hand to freeze mid-air.

He could only watch in silence as He Wangchen led He Zhui out of the room, heading toward the main prayer halls to offer sacrifices. He Xunye remained entirely indifferent.

Tan Xueci paused for a beat before turning on his heel to pursue them.

While He Wangchen was locked in deep conversation with several temple masters, he ordered He Zhui to kneel before the main Buddha statue to kowtow.

He Zhui didn’t pray for peace, safety, or good health.

Tan Xueci hid directly behind the massive golden Buddha, distinctly hearing the ten-year-old child whisper his deepest wish: “I pray that when I grow up, I will become just as powerful and terrifying as my youngest uncle.”

Yue.

Tan Xueci felt a sudden surge of nausea.

Just as He Zhui completed his prayer and prepared to press his forehead to the ground, a low, eerie voice suddenly echoed through the entirely empty, silent hall, appearing to emanate directly from the lips of the Buddha statue before him.

“You’re not built for it,” the Buddha intoned softly.

Though the ten-year-old He Zhui tried to maintain a mature, unbothered expression, he was ultimately just a child. He was thoroughly terrified, instinctively scrambling backward as he snapped sharply, “Who’s there?! Who is speaking?!”

Could there truly be a living god manifesting within the temple?

Tan Xueci crouched low behind the statue, remembering the refugees’ rumors about an ancient evil god.

Letting his face fall into a flat, sinister expression, he whispered in a low, ghostly drone, “I am the ancient evil god. I hereby lay a curse upon you: when you grow up, you shall transform into an absolute, rotten piece of trash.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Tan Xueci turned and bolted out the back.

Realizing something was wrong, He Zhui scrambled to his feet and rushed behind the statue, but he found absolutely no one there. Instead, his father caught him behaving suspiciously behind the sacred altar.

He Wangchen didn’t unleash his fury within the sacred temple grounds.

However, the moment they returned to the He estate that evening, he pinned He Zhui down and broke a thick cane entirely over his back.

He Zhui was beaten within an inch of his life.

Nursing a heart full of bitter hatred, he became fully convinced that he had indeed been cursed by an ancient entity. That absolute, wretched evil god.

Meanwhile, Tan Xueci returned to the meditation room, only to find that He Xunye had vanished completely.

Assuming the youth had gone to consult with the abbot or was reading scriptures in another hall, he marched out and intercepted the monk whom he had previously teased about not having a husband.

The monk had grown genuinely terrified of Tan Xueci’s unpredictable behavior.

Letting out a soft, internal sigh of resignation, he raised his hand in a respectful bow and muttered, “Junior Brother Xunye is currently in the rear courtyard.”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, Tan Xueci bolted toward the back of the temple.

However, the heavy wooden gate leading into the rear courtyard was securely locked with a massive brass padlock. He rattled it fiercely, but the metal wouldn’t budge, and no matter how hard he pounded against the wood, no one came to open it.

“Husband?” Tan Xueci pressed his small face against the narrow slit between the doors, straining his eyes to peer into the dark courtyard as he called out hesitantly, “Husband, are you in there?”

By now, every single monk within the temple grounds had caught wind of the rumor that He Xunye had somehow acquired a fiercely devoted male wife.

A monk walked over to stand beside him, murmuring gently, “Benefactor, please return to your quarters. Junior Brother Xunye will be residing within the rear courtyard for the foreseeable future, and he refuses to receive any visitors.”

Tan Xueci couldn’t comprehend what kind of holy scriptures required a man to completely abandon his own wife.

But with no one willing to unlock the gate, he couldn’t exactly smash the sacred doors down without risking being forcefully evicted from Qilian Temple altogether. He had no choice but to return to his room for the time being.

As evening approached, the monk without a husband arrived at his quarters, strictly instructing him to lock his doors and windows the moment he finished his dinner and under no circumstances step outside.

Tan Xueci felt a heavy, ominous premonition settling deep into his bones.

Watching the frantic, tense movements of the monks rushing across the courtyard, his heart felt profoundly unsettled.

By seven in the evening, he had securely locked every window and door. Peer through the narrow cracks of the wood, the courtyard outside appeared entirely empty and still.

He scooped up one of He Xunye’s discarded scripture books, picking out the few characters he recognized and reading them aloud with immense, dramatic emotion.

Suddenly, a violent, unnatural gale erupted outside, rattling the walls of his room.

He scrambled to his feet and peered through the window, freezing as he witnessed an entity far larger than the typical malevolent spirits—its skin a sickly, bloated green and dripping with dark water—glide past the courtyard, heading straight toward the rear courtyard where He Xunye was confined.

Before long, the brilliant red glow of He Xunye’s flames erupted into the night sky.

Throughout the course of the night, at least a dozen entities of similar horrific caliber breached the temple grounds, all drawing toward the exact same location.

Tan Xueci spent over ten agonizing days waiting inside his meditation room.

Every single evening followed the exact same horrific pattern.

On certain nights, the sky would be completely choked by dense, black clouds of anguish as countless screaming skulls and skeletal wraiths coalesced into massive torrents of malice, diving straight toward the rear courtyard.

In the beginning, the fire flaring from He Xunye’s palms was blindingly bright and majestic, resembling a divine red lotus blooming over Qilian Temple, shielding the mountain from all external evil, burning with an unquenchable fury.

But as the days bled into weeks, the intensity of the flames began to visibly wane.

Before the light could completely extinguish altogether, Tan Xueci lost his patience and snuck back to the locked gate of the rear courtyard.

Peering through the narrow slit, he discovered that the exterior of He Xunye’s meditation room had been completely plastered with yellow talismans.

For some inexplicable reason, despite being written with standard cinnabar ink, the sight of those specific papers made him feel intensely nauseous.

He pressed his palm against the wooden gate. The inner side of the courtyard doors had clearly been lined with the exact same talismans, radiating a heavy, bone-chilling aura of pure yin energy right through the wood.

Tan Xueci’s pupils dilated with sudden shock.

This specific spiritual resonance felt terrifyingly familiar; it was the exact same icy, unnatural chill he had felt on the morning after his wedding night, when He Wuling had handed him that silk talisman pouch.

At the time, the talisman inside had instantly incinerated into ash the moment he took it, which was why he hadn’t thought much of it afterward.

‘A ghost-attracting talisman.’

Tan Xueci’s heart thudded violently against his ribs.

He realized He Xunye hadn’t been lying to him; the pouch He Wuling had given him back in reality had indeed been designed to draw malevolent entities straight to his location.

And right now, the exterior of He Xunye’s room was completely plastered with those exact same ghost-attracting talismans.

The clan elders and the temple masters were using He Xunye as a living lightning rod, deliberately drawing every single ancient, horrific entity in the capital straight to his doorstep so that he would be forced to incinerate them all alone.

An intense, paralyzing horror gripped Tan Xueci’s heart.

He had operating under the assumption that Qilian Temple was a sacred, benevolent sanctuary of the Buddhist faith. Now it appeared the reality was far more twisted. Otherwise, why would every single monk bolt their doors and windows the moment night fell, leaving a seventeen-year-old youth entirely isolated to face an army of monsters alone?

Tan Xueci took several steps backward before spinning around to track down the monk without a husband, demanding fiercely that he be taken to see the abbot immediately.

This time, however, the monk merely shook his head with a heavy, sorrowful sigh, murmuring, “Benefactor, please return to your quarters. The Abbot will not receive you.”

Tan Xueci fixed an intensely cold, striking, and dangerously sharp glare upon him.

Without wasting another second on useless pleading, he turned on his heel and walked away.

As dusk fell, Yu He arrived at the temple grounds once more.

Tan Xueci finally understood the true purpose of Yu He’s regular visits; he was merely waiting around for the exact moment He Xunye’s body collapsed from exhaustion and trauma so he could cart him off to the emergency room.

Yu He was perhaps the only person who could barely be considered He Xunye’s friend, entirely unbothered by the rumors surrounding the youth’s violent destiny.

Meanwhile, among the dozens of devout monks residing within this massive temple, not a single one was willing to perform even the basic courtesy of escorting the youth to a hospital.

“Hey…” Yu He muttered, raising his hand to offer a casual greeting the moment he spotted Tan Xueci.

However, Tan Xueci didn’t grant him a single glance, marching straight past him into his quarters. Yu He could only lower his hand with a defeated pout.

‘Seriously, neither of these newlyweds possesses a single shred of manners.’

Clutching his peach-wood sword to his chest, Yu He settled onto a stone bench in the courtyard to wait.

The moment night fully descended, every single lantern within Qilian Temple was completely extinguished, leaving only the microscopic, flickering candle glow from He Xunye’s distant quarters—resembling a solitary beacon designed specifically to lure fatal moths into a flame.

Yu He tilted his head back, staring up at the moon hanging in the dark sky. Given the hour, he figured the onslaught should be starting any minute now.

However, before he could even register the telltale surge of ghostly yin energy, every single lantern draped across the entire expanse of Qilian Temple suddenly and simultaneously flared to life.

In a fraction of a second, the deep darkness of the night was completely obliterated by a surging, interconnected sea of brilliant fire, transforming the entire sacred mountain into a massive, blindingly conspicuous lighthouse.

The microscopic candle glow from He Xunye’s quarters was completely swallowed by the overwhelming light.

“What is happening?!” terrified cries erupted across the temple grounds as monks began flinging their doors open, scrambling into the courtyards in utter panic. “What is going on?!”

Yu He bolted upright, sprinting with all his might toward the source of the most intense illumination, eventually skidding to a halt right before the grand steps of the main prayer hall.

Tan Xueci stood at the center of the terrace, his hands locked in a complex spiritual seal.

He hadn’t honestly expected the occult arts he had casually studied from He Xunye’s books to actually function, yet he had successfully ignited every single wick across the mountain.

He had set the entire expanse of Qilian Temple ablaze with light.

Clutching a roaring, massive torch in his right hand, he pointed the blazing wood straight at the gathering crowd of panicked monks and the ancient Abbot, Master Xuanshen, who had finally materialized before him. His eyes flashed with a lethal, striking intensity as he demanded fiercely: “Give me back my husband!”

Master Xuanshen, who was already well into his eighties with snowy-white brows and a long beard draping over his golden kashaya robes, closed his eyes and let out a soft, resonant chant to the Buddha.

In truth, Tan Xueci’s heart was hammering with immense anxiety.

He had fully expected Master Xuanshen to behave like some ancient, legendary grandmaster and strike him down, an outcome he possessed absolutely no physical power to prevent.

Yet, to his absolute astonishment, the moment the demand left his lips, Master Xuanshen simply raised a frail hand and gestured toward his disciples. Within moments, two monks emerged from the shadows, gently escorting He Xunye forward.

Across the vast, crowded terrace and the roaring sea of torchlight, He Xunye and Tan Xueci’s gazes locked.

Behind Tan Xueci lay a universe of brilliant, defiant fire, like a million eternal lamps illuminating the darkest night—the majestic image reflecting perfectly within the deep, fathomless depths of He Xunye’s dark eyes.

“Go on,” Master Xuanshen murmured softly.

He Xunye’s brows knit together in a subtle frown.

The youth’s long black hair cascaded over his shoulders, accentuating a complexion that had turned as pale as blank paper.

His fingers slowly rolled the dark Buddhist beads in his hand, his feet remaining rooted to the stone tiles as though he were locked in a deep, agonizing internal conflict.

Tan Xueci didn’t waste a single second. He sprinted across the distance, grabbed He Xunye firmly by the wrist, and dragged him away.

He could feel the telltale, freezing prickle of yin energy shifting through the atmosphere; the monsters were returning. If they didn’t run immediately, they would be completely overrun, and these wretched monks could honestly drop dead for all he cared.

He pulled He Xunye along as they sprinted blindly down the mountain paths.

Above their heads, a massive, dense torrent of black ghost mist roared past, paying them absolutely no mind as it dove straight toward the brilliantly lit targets at Qilian Temple.

It was currently the dead of winter, right at the very tail end of the year.

Although the official New Year celebrations hadn’t commenced yet, the streets of the scenic district below were already heavily adorned with thousands of vibrant red lanterns.

They ran until they reached a wide, silent riverbank, the dark water below speckled with floating lotus lanterns.

Tan Xueci finally skidded to a halt, panting heavily as he cast a tense, anxious glance back toward the distant mountain gate of Qilian Temple.

Throughout the entire flight, He Xunye had remained absolutely silent.

The youth’s vibrant red lips were pressed into a tight line, his dark eyes staring fixedly and unblinkingly at the boy before him.

The riverbank was enveloped in deep shadow, and feeling a sudden surge of nervous anxiety, Tan Xueci instinctively pressed himself closer to He Xunye’s side.

As he turned his head to scan their surroundings, his foot caught on a stray rock, causing him to stumble forward with a sharp gasp.

Before he could strike the ground, He Xunye’s arms shot out, catching him securely against his chest.

As Tan Xueci lifted his head, He Xunye happened to lower his gaze at the exact same moment.

The youth’s deep, cold eyes captured the tiny, trembling reflection of the boy in his arms.

Tan Xueci’s beautiful face was thoroughly smudged with black soot from his frantic torch-lighting sprint.

He stared up at He Xunye with wide, soulful eyes, and looking into that pale, breathtakingly handsome face and those pitch-black eyes, he felt his heart rate betray him, accelerating into a frantic rhythm.

He Xunye’s long eyelashes lowered as he slowly leaned down.

The crisp winter wind rustled the fabric of his white monastic robes and twirled his long black hair around their faces. Before either of them could fully process what was happening, their lips softly collided.

The contact was wet, warm, and remarkably soft.

Tan Xueci tilted his head back completely, melting into the kiss. Their tongues slid past one another, sharing a soft, mutual lick.

It was an entirely absurd reaction—given that he and his actual ghost husband had already engaged in every single depraved physical act imaginable back in reality—yet for some inexplicable reason, the tips of his ears turned a brilliant, burning red.

The moment their lips parted, Tan Xueci felt a sudden wave of confusion wash over him.

Something felt entirely unnatural about the interaction.

Lowering his gaze, he discovered that He Xunye’s hands were currently resting perfectly and rigidly flat against his own sides.

The youth hadn’t made a single move to slide his palms around Tan Xueci’s waist or squeeze his rear, a stark contrast to his future self’s immediate, predatory instincts.

‘Oh my god.’

‘My teenage second husband literally doesn’t know how to do anything.’

“You…” Tan Xueci blinked his big eyes, whispering in a soft, stunned murmur. “Do you literally not know how to kiss? Like, you actually have no idea what to do with your hands?”

“Is it absolutely mandatory that I know?” He Xunye murmured, his gaze dropping to the boy’s lips.

A faint, incredibly subtle smile seemed to grace his cold features, his dark eyes reflecting Tan Xueci’s stunned expression as he whispered softly, “Why don’t you teach me… Gege?”

Hehehe.

Tan Xueci rubbed his palms together in sheer, unadulterated glee.

He couldn’t believe his absolute luck; this was a once-in-a-lifetime, golden opportunity.

Ever since he had arrived in this illusion, his fear had been remarkably minimal—partly because He Xunye was permanently by his side, and partly because he knew his actual husband would eventually tear through reality to rescue him.

He had no idea how much time he had left before the illusion shattered, so he needed to maximize every second.

While this version of He Xunye was still an innocent, clueless virgin, he was fully determined to make the man experience exactly what it felt like to be pinned down and thoroughly taken advantage of.

He Xunye kept his head lowered, entirely oblivious to the deeply wicked, predatory thoughts running through the beautiful boy’s mind.

Seeing Tan Xueci’s eyes light up with a fierce, burning intensity as he stepped closer, the youth instinctively prepared to lean back in for another kiss. He decided that if it pleased the boy, he wouldn’t mind humming out a few responses to being called “husband.”

He couldn’t explain the strange gravity pulling at his thoughts, but tonight, the idea of kissing Tan Xueci didn’t repel him in the slightest.

However, before his lips could make contact, a sharp, incredibly loud SMACK echoed through the silent riverbank.

Tan Xueci had just delivered a resounding, powerful slap right across He Xunye’s rear.

The youth’s entire body went completely, rigidly frozen as his eyes snapped wide, staring at Tan Xueci in sheer, unadulterated shock.

“Turn around and face the river, sweetie,” Tan Xueci murmured, his striking face brimming with absolute, demonic mischief as he whispered a wicked temptation right into his ear. “Don’t worry… a little pain is perfectly normal.”

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