Chapter 72: A Small Fortune

Tan Xueci’s eyelids were completely flushed from weeping, his eyes swollen into two little peaches. There was no telling exactly how long he had been sitting out there crying.

He had finally managed to regain a bit of composure, but the moment he faced He Xunye’s face, his tears instantly cascaded down in a frantic torrent once more. He raised a hand to wipe them away, rubbing his entire face until it was bright red, looking thoroughly aggrieved.

He Xunye froze. He had never seen Tan Xueci cry like this before. Caught in a rare wave of panic, he cupped Tan Xueci’s face to brush away the tears, but no matter how much he wiped, they never seemed to stop. Left with no choice, he reached out to pull the youth into his embrace, gently stroking Tan Xueci’s back.

Tan Xueci rubbed his tears and nose entirely onto He Xunye’s suit jacket, his eyelashes clumped together into wet strands. His slender, pale fingertips tightly gripped the fabric of the man’s coat.

He felt a profound ache in his chest—an agony far worse than the moment he had been hacked to death by Gao Ying. Back then, he had merely felt confused as to why Gao Ying would suddenly attack him.

“I…” The moment Tan Xueci spoke, his voice carried a heavy nasal congestion. His eyes were completely drenched and bloodshot, shimmering with liquid light. Looking up at He Xunye in a daze, tears continued to trace down his pale cheeks as if he had suffered the ultimate injustice. He whispered, “Husband, it hurts so much…”

He wondered if he had fallen ill. He couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly where it hurt, but his entire body felt immensely uncomfortable, and his chest felt particularly stifled.

“Don’t cry, Baby,” He Xunye’s thumb brushed across his cheek. His voice was somewhat hoarse as well, though not for the sake of his own death. The fierce ghost’s pitch-black fox-like eyes carried a faint smile, reflecting Tan Xueci’s tear-stained, flushed face as he coaxed, “Aren’t I perfectly fine right now?”

“What do you mean fine…” Hearing this, Tan Xueci instead let out a loud, miserable sob, crying so layout and brokenly like a helpless child. He nearly drowned He Xunye in his tears.

His husband had been hounded to death; how could he possibly be fine?

It was already the end of December, right after several heavy snowfalls, making the late nights bitingly cold.

He Xunye ignited a talisman paper to warm up his body, then wrapped his arms around Tan Xueci, enveloping the youth completely inside his coat, fearing the continuous weeping would cause his face to freeze and chap.

Staring at the burning talisman, Tan Xueci’s tears flowed even more aggressively. He reached out to swat it away, choking out, “I don’t want it.”

He only wanted He Xunye to return a living husband to him, yet he feared such words would bring sorrow to the ghost. Ultimately, he could only peer through his red, swollen eyes, continuing to weep helplessly.

Had he known things would turn out like this, he wouldn’t have cared whether He Sui lived or died. He should have refused everything and simply left with He Xunye that night at the club.

At the very least, they could have spent time together before He Xunye’s passing.

The butler pricked up his ears. Hearing the loud, continuous weeping outside, he realized the little ancestor had finally returned. He let out a long sigh of relief, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

Had Tan Xueci failed to return, he figured tonight would have marked the literal expiration date of the current He family head.

Inside the residence, He Wuling had lost far too much blood. His eyelids sagged heavily, projecting an ancient, withered appearance. He stared blankly out at the snowy night, listening to the youth’s deeply sorrowful cries as his own eyes grew damp.

His parents had given birth to seven children, with him being the fifth. Because his siblings all possessed far superior natural talent, he had been the most inconspicuous child in the household, thoroughly ignored since youth.

Furthermore, he was naturally cowardly and weak. While his siblings were already capable of capturing ghosts on their own, he hadn’t even dared to sleep by himself at night, always needing to light a candle to find rest. Consequently, when the others bullied him, he merely endured it silently, never daring to contend with them.

In the entire He family, only Xu Yuzhu had treated him kindly, never looking down on him. They were kindred spirits who shared a mutual misery.

Even after he ascended to the position of clan head, the attitude of the remaining He family members remained cold and dismissive. In their eyes, he would always be that useless coward who never dared to strike back after receiving a slap.

Thus, after relying on He Xunye’s blood to finally hold his head high in the Feng Shui world, the realization that he could no longer harvest it filled him with dread. Without those exceptionally powerful talismans, he would be forced to return to that heavily mocked, despised position—a prospect he simply couldn’t endure.

Had he never experienced that pinnacle of prestige, it would have been fine. But once a person had witnessed such glory, how could they ever willingly return to the shadows?

During that golden period, even the abbot of Qilian Temple had actively visited him to discuss grand stratagems. The entire metaphysical community looked to him for guidance, and the common citizens spoke of the He family head as a legendary hero who had saved their lives.

Because he desperately wanted to remain a hero, several of his sons had died, and his daughter had severed all ties with him.

This wasn’t the life he had truly envisioned.

The finest dream he had ever held was for his family of six—perhaps alongside his children’s lovers and future grandchildren—to gather around a table for a peaceful reunion dinner during the holidays. That was what he truly desired.

But there was no turning back. He Wuling’s murky tears spilled from his eyes; they could never go back.

If only he hadn’t been born into the He family. Had he been born into any ordinary clan, his talent wouldn’t have been considered poor. He wouldn’t have faced ridicule and would likely have lived a wonderful life.

But he was already in his sixties. What was the point of harboring such thoughts now?

Beside him, Xu Yuzhu sat silently, a string of Buddhist beads resting in her hand. Tear stains marked her face, her eyes entirely numb.

Following the total annihilation of the Xu clan, people would simply shake their heads whenever they saw her, whispering behind her back.

“The Xu family is completely gone.”

“How could they ever seek vengeance? There are only a few toddlers left. True, there is an older daughter, Xu Yuzhu, but what use is she? She can’t even draw a talisman properly. She should just accept her fate.”

Listening to those whispers, she had felt a profound despair. Why did their entire family have to be looked down upon?

After her eldest son died, she had once consulted a physician, who noted she suffered from White Knight Syndrome.

Following the downfall of her maiden family, she had endured far too much coldness and adversity. She had become a person whom others only pitied and sighed over. Consequently, she directed her entire focus toward He Wuling; saving him allowed her to feel valued, giving her a reason to keep living.

Yet she had never anticipated losing so many children in the process. She truly should have stopped He Wuling from the very beginning.

Tan Xueci wept for a long time before his tears finally began to taper off. He Xunye’s palms were completely soaked with his tears. Before the ghost could even speak, Tan Xueci lifted his tear-veiled face, his voice incredibly hoarse and thick with congestion as he glared at him. “I know already. I have a lot of water.”

Perhaps this was the sheer familiarity born of being an old married couple. Before He Xunye could even open his mouth, Tan Xueci already knew what kind of indecent remarks he was planning to unleash.

“I also know,” Tan Xueci wiped his tears, letting out an occasional hiccup, “that you always say I have a lot of water when you’re f*cking me.”

He Xunye: “…”

All of He Xunye’s crude remarks were instantly choked back into his throat. Facing Tan Xueci’s deeply resentful eyes, he couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.

Tan Xueci failed to see what was so amusing. Laughing your good fortune away day by day like this… He only wanted to cry.

“Isn’t Husband still right here?” Fearing the youth would ruin his eyes from crying, He Xunye forbade him from continuing. He lowered his head to cup his face, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “Don’t cry anymore. Shall I take Baby home, okay?”

Tan Xueci let out a deeply aggrieved whine from his nose. Allowing He Xunye to take his hand, they walked home together.

After a brief hesitation, he ultimately couldn’t resist asking, “Husband, did you commit suicide because of an illness?”

“Not exactly,” He Xunye held his wife’s soft, delicate hand firmly within his palm, desperately wanting to lift it up and lick through every single gap between his fingers, though he prioritized answering the youth’s question first. “I simply felt there was no longer any purpose to it. Furthermore, dying actually allowed me to accomplish far more things.”

Flesh and blood were inherently fragile. Had he wished to endure back then, he could have dragged that body along for another year or two, but sustaining such an existence was entirely meaningless.

Over the years, numerous ghosts and monsters had been causing chaos, clearly indicating that someone or something was pulling the strings from behind the scenes. Upon his death, he gained the ability to traverse the underworld, allowing him to investigate what exactly was lurking down there.

As they walked, He Xunye kept kneading Tan Xueci’s hand. The man’s knuckles were large, his fingertips bearing a light layer of calluses that repeatedly rubbed against the most delicate skin between the youth’s fingers.

Despite it being a mere hand-holding gesture, the tips of Tan Xueci’s ears flushed crimson for some inexplicable reason.

“You…” Tan Xueci held his breath, his eyes brimming with a watery mist, his respiration soft and warm. “Stop kneading me like that…”

“Hmm?” The fierce ghost appeared to realize he had rubbed his wife’s hand red. It lowered its head apologetically, its cold, wet, crimson tongue slipping out to gently lick the reddened skin. “Apologies. Little Xue’s hands are simply too cold; I merely wanted to warm them up for you.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci let out a silent scream inside his mind, his face flushing crimson as a rush of blood coursed downward.

Is this dead perverted ghost ever going to stop?!

Don’t assume I can’t tell what you’re thinking.

The flesh between a person’s fingers or toes was exceptionally soft, and He Xunye would frequently fixate his gaze on those spots before leaning in to lick them. His licks were incredibly intense, and he would continuously press him with questions like, ‘Why is Little Xue so soft everywhere? Did you grow this soft because you enjoy being licked?’

He was intimately familiar with that specific look in the ghost’s eyes. Every time he witnessed it, he felt a powerful urge to slap the dead spirit, wishing he would die completely and close his mouth forever.

Tan Xueci’s face went numb, his desire to cry suddenly evaporating. He stared blankly at He Xunye and asked, “Then… did you find it?”

“No,” the fierce ghost’s gaze turned dark and eerie, appearing somewhat aggrieved by his wife’s sudden coldness. He paused, his eye sockets shadowed under the night sky as his expression turned slightly serious. “If even I cannot find it, Xiao Mie, then there most likely truly is an evil deity presence in this world.”

He simply didn’t know what that evil entity truly desired.

Did it wish for everyone to perish, converting this realm entirely into a living hell ruled by phantoms? Or did it simply derive pleasure from witnessing human suffering?

Or perhaps it sought something else entirely—no one could tell.

Tan Xueci spent the entire journey lost in thought, barely realizing He Xunye had scooped him up into his arms. It wasn’t until they returned to their bedroom and he was placed onto the bed that his cheeks flared crimson.

He recalled that as they were heading upstairs just now, the other He family members had seemingly witnessed them.

The sight of He Wuling and Xu Yuzhu leaning against one another had filled him with a trace of disgust. That pair of lunatics loved each other to the point of oblivion, likely assuming their devotion was incredibly moving.

The previous He family head hadn’t been entirely wrong; He Wuling had indeed worked diligently to save countless lives, never violating the ancestral motto of sacrificing oneself for others.

Yet he had sacrificed his own children in the process. He had done right by the outside world, but he had thoroughly failed his family.

As Tan Xueci sat kneeling upon the mattress, He Xunye retrieved a warm towel to wipe his small face. Halfway through the process, a knock sounded at the door, and He Pinglan pushed her way inside.

“…”

He Pinglan’s lips twitched slightly. Facing He Xunye, she unexpectedly found herself at a loss for words.

She understood the reason behind He Xunye’s hasty departure from life. The capital had plunged into chaos once more, and He Xunye had likely feared she would mirror the foolish sacrifices of Lian Jiche and the others. Consequently, he chose to die ahead of her.

“Here,” He Pinglan handed several bankbooks and savings cards toward He Xunye, stating, “Your wife fund.”

Glancing at Tan Xueci, who was staring back with a pair of wide, dazed eyes, she couldn’t resist reaching out to gently pat his head.

Aside from instructing her to harvest his fingernails, He Xunye had entrusted the vast majority of his savings and bank cards to her care. Because she hadn’t been certain of He Xunye’s true attitude toward Tan Xueci previously, she had withheld them until now.

He Pinglan offered an indescribable look toward He Xunye. Her brother was currently resting on one knee on the floor, meticulously wiping Tan Xueci’s hands and feet.

It truly looks like my little brother is acting as someone’s hound.

Ah, whatever. Let him be. There are plenty of wifeless men out there who would kill for such an opportunity.

He Xunye gestured for Tan Xueci to tuck the bankbooks away safely. Tan Xueci’s face turned a rosy pink; he couldn’t even begin to count the number of zeros printed on the pages. Regardless, he felt he had officially become the wealthiest little lamb in the entire world.

Sitting at the edge of the mattress, He Pinglan felt a sudden surge of resentment looking at He Xunye. She truly detested them for abandoning her one after another.

Since you all desired death so much, I simply crafted a mountain of spirit tablets for you.

Yet upon completing them, she was left with nothing but profound isolation. She had been stripped of everything, with only those tablets remaining to keep her company.

She raised her hand, intending to land a sharp smack against He Xunye’s shoulder, only for her palm to pass cleanly through his form.

He Pinglan: “…”

He Pinglan: ???

So you’re refusing to let me strike you, is that it?

When the fierce ghost chose to avoid external contact, his physical tangibility would completely dissipate. What a joke—he was a married man now; how could he allow himself to be handled by other people? That would be entirely unprincipled.

He Xunye wrapped his arms around Tan Xueci, resting his chin against his wife’s shoulder. Staring at Tan Xueci’s snowy cheek, he couldn’t resist leaning in to plant a kiss, his tone low, lazy, and utterly provocative as he murmured, “I only let Xiao Mie strike me.”

Tan Xueci covered his flushed face, nearly delivering a slap of his own.

Rolling her eyes, He Pinglan exited the room, thoroughly unable to tolerate the dead spirit’s display of pristine fidelity.

Yet as she turned back, she caught sight of the bedroom’s warm, amber lamplight. Tan Xueci was landing a few solid thuds against He Xunye’s chest, eliciting a low chuckle from the ghost. After a brief murmur of words, Tan Xueci buried his face bashfully into He Xunye’s chest, the two curling into a tight embrace.

He Pinglan’s gaze softened as she gently closed the door for them.

Though Tan Xueci had lingered within the illusion for an extended duration, not even a single night had passed in reality. Nevertheless, it was indeed exceptionally late. Blinking sleepily, he drifted off to sleep while still clutching the bankbooks tightly in his grip.

He held them with such intensity that He Xunye attempted to slide them free several times to no avail. Tan Xueci had even pressed his small face directly against the savings books, terrified someone might steal his fortune and prevent him from being a high-society little lamb.

The fierce ghost stared eerily at the bankbooks, desperately wishing to incinerate them with a burst of fire. However, burning them would merely necessitate a trip to the bank for replacement. His pale, ghastly countenance turned dark and inscrutable as he ultimately swallowed his irritation.

Tan Xueci’s eyelids remained red and swollen. Just moments ago, he had been weeping in his arms, yet now he lay sprawled out across the bed, entirely tossing his husband to the back of his mind. He even smacked his lips in his sleep, his damp, pink tongue momentarily peeking through.

He wondered how the youth usually slept during those nights at Qilian Temple. Perhaps he had slept with his little tongue poking out back then as well.

The fierce ghost’s icy, spectral breath drew closer, its tongue pressing in to lick at the youth’s lips. How could the man sleeping beside Tan Xueci’s pillow possibly resist leaning in to lick him? He likely couldn’t wait to catch every drop with his mouth.

Perhaps, just like it, that man had spent the late hours staring unblinkingly at his wife’s sleeping face before sliding his tongue straight into his wife’s mouth.

The ghost’s face turned dark and stormy. The mere thought of his wife’s tongue being licked raw and crimson by that past variant filled him with an intense urge to travel back and strangle him to death.

As Tan Xueci drifted within a hazy slumber, he felt something freezing cold tracing its way up his calf. He attempted to shift his position, yet his limbs refused to cooperate, his mind remaining thoroughly clouded.

The entity cupped his face, whispering in a low murmur, “If Xiao Mie wants to be licked by Husband, then don’t speak, okay?”

Tan Xueci made a futile effort to part his lips, though they remained firmly sealed. Following that, he caught the sound of the entity leaning over his shoulder, unleashing a raspy, low chuckle into the night—a sound that sent a shiver straight down his spine.

The entity’s icy fingertips traced gently along the bridge of his nose, across his lips, and slid all the way down toward his chest, raising a layer of goosebumps across his skin. Suddenly pinning him down beneath its weight, it roughly tore open several buttons at his collar.

“You’re so bad, Baby,” the fierce ghost’s voice was muffled as it bit into his lips, sucking them until they were deeply flushed, before continuing to talk to itself, “How can you love being licked this much? No matter, Husband will help you out.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Despite his hazy consciousness, Tan Xueci felt a powerful urge to scream, the tips of his ears burning bright red.

Yet the entity failed to realize he was actually awake. Tossing his blanket aside, it pressed its weight completely over him.

In the dead of night, the bedroom was illuminated by only a single, dim bedside lamp. A shadow stretched across the wall, displaying only Tan Xueci’s solitary silhouette rising and falling, his waist occasionally arching and twisting against the mattress.

Beside the headboard rested his late husband’s memorial photograph. It created a scene that looked as though he were a young, grieving widow who, gripped by intense loneliness in the late hours, couldn’t resist pleasuring himself right before his husband’s portrait.

Yet upon closer inspection, one could discern a faint, bizarre black shadow enveloping the youth’s body—resembling a massive black hound that had buried its head deep into his neck, demanding his submission without end.

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