At that very moment, before the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
Hu Tao was perched on the stone railing, the lanterns at the parlor's entrance casting their warm glow over the pages of Sword and Fairy 2 as she read, utterly absorbed.
Her two pale legs swayed idly in the air.
"The Ghost Realm's setting is actually quite similar to the boundary between life and death — a place where the dead linger on if they have unfinished attachments," she murmured, one brow arching as she read on.
Before long, a faint shadow crept across her pretty face.
In the pages before her, Yun Tianhe had found his father, Yun Tianqing, in the Ghost Realm.
Hu Tao looked up at the moon hanging in the sky, and was quiet for a moment.
"Live fully, and die without regret — what Fang Qiu writes is no different from what Wangsheng stands for. Every director of the Parlor, generation after generation, has let go of this world without a backward glance."
She let out a soft breath, and the shadow on her face dissolved into nothing, replaced by a faint, easy smile.
"Who'd have thought — after all my tireless influence — Fang Qiu would come to see death so clearly. Though, this life a human, the next life a demon... now that's a fresh perspective. I'll have to sit down and really hash that one out with her sometime."
Hu Tao exhaled lightly and glanced at the small cart beside her feet.
The stack of books that had once filled it to the brim was long gone — every last copy distributed.
On book distribution days, the Wangsheng staff always came to claim their copies. She'd grown used to it by now.
She thought of it as a little bonus for her employees.
Though just about every single one of them wore the most conflicted expression when they came to pick up their copy — especially the younger ones, who would dither and hesitate for ages, eating into her reading time.
She had a particular bone to pick with Old Meng on that front.
Beyond Old Meng, who had wasted an embarrassing amount of her time, plenty of other employees would add a word or two when they came to collect their books.
"Director, could you please tell Miss Fang Qiu — could she maybe not write tragedies?"
Or:
"Director, I really think you should look after Miss Fang Qiu a little more. After reading these books, I'm genuinely worried she's carrying some kind of emotional wound. I'd recommend hugging her more often."
"Never mind the author — I'm the one nearly traumatized here. Director, can I get a raise?"
Speaking of which, she couldn't help but think of Zhongli.
That man had a habit of saddling the Parlor with entirely unnecessary expenses — like the time he paid to have windwheel asters pressed onto unfired glaze and fired into porcelain.
But he never once seemed to care whether Fang Qiu wrote tragedies or comedies. All he ever cared about was whether the story itself was good.
And that reminded her of the other thing — the time he'd spent ten million Mora to acquire the poem Fang Qiu had written.
With that kind of money, Fang Qiu could have bought herself a perfectly decent house right near the Parlor.
But the moment Fang Qiu learned it was Wangsheng that had purchased the piece, she had flatly refused to accept a single Mora of it.
Just thinking about it made Hu Tao grind her teeth in frustration.
If only that poem could have been sold to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, or some other merchant — she could have fleeced one of those fat-walleted businessmen properly.
The thought made her glance up toward the lit window on the second floor of the Parlor.
As she looked up, a breeze drifted through, and the osmanthus tree at the entrance rustled softly.
"I wonder how Zhongli's getting along with the book."
Hu Tao raised a brow. She was just about to turn back to reading when two familiar figures crossed the bridge in front of the Parlor.
"Oh? That's Xingqiu, the Second Young Master of the Feiyun Commerce Guild — and that fellow with the pure yang constitution and the yin-yang balance."
Hu Tao's brow arched slightly. She snapped her book shut and bounded over toward the bridge in a few light leaps.
She'd barely drawn close when their conversation reached her ears.
"What a waste. Another trip for nothing — and still no ghosts to show for it," Chongyun said with a sigh.
At his words, Hu Tao couldn't help but burst out laughing to herself.
This guy — pure yang constitution. To any wandering spirit, he's like a full moon shining in the dark. Any ordinary ghost would bolt the moment it spotted him from a distance. How could he ever possibly see one? A fangshi who can't see spirits — pfft, no matter how many times I think about it, it never gets less funny.
While she was still muttering to herself, Xingqiu spoke up.
"Still, it wasn't a completely wasted trip — even if there were no ghosts, we ran into Miss Fang Qiu at the scene. At least now she knows our faces." He smiled.
"Hm? Fang Qiu?"
Hu Tao blinked — then her brow furrowed slightly, and she listened more carefully.
"Don't even bring that up — it was mortifying. I actually mistook Miss Fang Qiu for my young aunt," Chongyun muttered, scratching his head in embarrassment.
"Come to think of it, when we arrived, Fang Qiu seemed to be staring at that little girl, didn't she?" Xingqiu said suddenly. "Her reaction was so extreme — do you think she might have actually seen the ghost?"
"But then... why did it disappear the moment I walked over? And when I asked the little girl, she confirmed that there had been a small boy talking to her just moments before."
"Maybe Miss Fang Qiu dealt with it," Xingqiu said. "After all, it was just a petty spirit — one that kept targeting a child and kept failing to do anything. Wouldn't have taken much."
"Fair enough," Chongyun sighed. "Let's head back. I need to get reading — and in a few days I'll need to make a trip to Jueyun Karst to invite my young aunt."
Watching the two of them disappear into the distance, Hu Tao's brow slowly knit together.
"Fang Qiu... are you alright?" she murmured.
From the sound of that conversation, it was very likely Fang Qiu had encountered a wandering spirit tonight. And not just any spirit — possibly a malevolent one.
"I can't leave this alone. I'm going to Fang Qiu's place."
Hu Tao jogged back to the entrance of the Parlor, rattled off a quick set of instructions and told them where she was headed, then grabbed her Staff of Homa and ran off in the direction of Fang Qiu's house.
At that very moment, Fang Qiu hadn't even taken off her coat. She was lying on her bed, Tingyu curled against her chest.
The room was blazing with light — every lamp lit.
She held a light novel open, flipping through it restlessly. Her pretty face had gone white as a sheet. The hand turning the pages trembled faintly. Her beautiful eyes glistened, tears swimming at the edges without falling.
She couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, those two blank, hollow faces appeared.
Stiff movements. Like walking corpses.
Every time she shut her eyes, an icy chill crept up her spine — as if the boy who had vanished was standing right at the head of her bed, smiling at her with that cold, eerie grin.
Can a Vision deal physical damage to a ghost?
She'd thought about going to find Hu Tao — the funeral business, after all, was famously fearless of such things.
But it was so late. She didn't want to disturb her...
Of course, the main reason was that she'd bolted straight home without thinking, and now it was the dead of night outside, with barely a soul on the streets.
She didn't dare go out.
What if she ran into that little boy again the moment she stepped outside?
What if she opened the door and he was standing right there on the other side, smiling that horrible smile?
The thought had barely finished forming in her mind when a knock sounded at the door.
With that knock, Fang Qiu's heart skipped an entire beat.
____
Translator's note: Sorry for the delay.
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