Love Beyond the Grave

Hejia Fengyi carried a lantern as he stepped into the library of the State Preceptor's residence. The State Preceptor himself had little interest in books, but since prominent families in the Southern Capital all built libraries to flaunt their scholarly heritage, he had followed suit and erected one as well. This library wasn't constructed from the fashionable wooden framework but was instead entirely built of stone and mortar, resembling a ritual altar from afar. Inside, books were haphazardly piled in disarray—clearly, the State Preceptor had never so much as glanced at them.

Holding the lantern, he fumbled around the room until he retrieved a book, checked its title, and placed it on the third shelf of the fourth bookcase to the left. After more searching, he took out another book and placed it on the first shelf of the second bookcase to the right. After positioning seven books in this manner, a faint sound echoed through the room. The bookcases trembled slightly, dust drifting down as an entrance appeared on the floor, its stairs descending into darkness with only a flicker of light visible below.

Hejia Fengyi then blew out the lantern and descended the steps. Behind him, the secret door slowly closed. The stairs turned underground, suddenly opening into a brightly lit chamber. One hundred and fifty-nine lamps illuminated the underground hall as if it were midday. At its center stood a Yellow Register altar, though such altars were typically erected outdoors—this one, however, was hidden beneath the earth.

—The Lower Prime Yellow Register: when stars stray from their courses, when the sun and moon lose their radiance, when rains and droughts defy their seasons, when heat and cold fall into chaos, when war refuses to cease, when plagues run rampant, when famine strikes repeatedly, when the dead find no solace, when lost souls wander, when new ghosts seethe with grievances—if one can perform the rites with proper reverence, disasters may be averted, blessings bestowed upon the living, and grace extended to the underworld. From the emperor to the common folk, all may establish such an altar.

Hejia Fengyi circled the altar once before leisurely lifting an intricately carved white porcelain cover. Beneath it lay a red candle—its flame burning blue.

This was the Heart Candle of an Evil Ghost.

Red blotches immediately spread across the back of his hand, quickly crawling up to his forearm. He instinctively took a step back, turning his hand over to examine it before shaking his head with a sigh. "Ghostly energy is truly filthy."

Frowning as if utterly repulsed, he pinched the Heart Candle between his thumb and forefinger, holding it far from his body as he moved it to a nearby table and began tinkering with it.

Duan Jingyuan felt that something was off when she stepped out today. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what, but an odd sensation lingered, and her eyelids twitched incessantly.

Perhaps due to her unsettled mind, she browsed through the embroidery patterns at her usual shop but found none to her liking. Just as she was about to leave, a servant mentioned that another batch of custom-ordered patterns was stored in the backyard. Unwilling to return empty-handed, Duan Jingyuan asked to see them first, planning to negotiate with the owner if any caught her eye.

The servant grinned eagerly, ushering her and her maid toward the rear courtyard. The moment Duan Jingyuan stepped inside, a handkerchief was pressed over her nose and mouth. Amid the pungent fumes, her thoughts grew sluggish as she dimly realized—this servant was unfamiliar, and his enthusiasm had been far too excessive.It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when Duan Jingyuan woke in an unfamiliar room, her eyes dry and her head splitting with pain. She wanted to rub her temples but found herself unable to move—her hands and feet were bound, and her mouth was gagged. Turning her head, she saw her maid Biqing in the same state, eyes wide with terror and confusion as she looked around, muffled sounds escaping her gagged mouth.

The door opened, and Jingyuan looked up to see a familiar face—Wang Qi, who had been harassing her for days, swaggered in dressed in fine robes, smugly leading three men behind him.

Jingyuan immediately understood what was happening and glared at him, making incoherent noises through her gag.

"Two weak women drugged into helplessness—what could they possibly do? Tying them up so tightly is no fun. Quickly, untie Miss Duan and Biqing," Wang Qi said with a wave of his hand, his smile full of malice.

The men, who looked like servants, stepped forward to untie Jingyuan and Biqing. The moment her limbs were free, Jingyuan tried to flee, but her body was weak and limp—she couldn't even stand, let alone escape. Biqing rushed over and clung to her.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Jingyuan said, "Wang Qi! What do you think you're doing? I warn you, I'm the legitimate daughter of the Duan family. If you dare lay a finger on me, my father and brother will never let you off!"

"Of course I know that. You, Duan Jingyuan, are the Bright Pearl of the Duan family, the younger sister of General Duan, looking down on everyone. But my father is the Minister of Revenue, and our family holds a hereditary marquis title. How dare you ignore me, even snub me in front of Fang Xianye? What is Fang Xianye, anyway? A bastard with no parents, no family name—yet you went to his seat instead of mine?"

Wang Qi's voice grew sharper as he spoke, his expression twisting with rage. The more Jingyuan heard, the more frightened she became, shrinking back until her back hit the wall. Wang Qi seemed to relish her fear, crouching down to sneer, "Do you really think your father and brother can do anything to me? Once we're husband and wife in truth, for the sake of your reputation, your family will have no choice but to marry you to me. Besides, because of Duan Shunxi, my sister is still missing to this day. How will the Duan family repay this debt to the Wang family? And you still have the nerve to threaten me?"

Jingyuan's face paled, and she gritted her teeth. "No... My brother will never let you get away with this!"

Wang Qi laughed and reached out to tear at her collar, but Biqing suddenly clawed at his face, shouting, "Don't you dare touch our mistress!"

Blood welled on Wang Qi's face from the scratches, and he stumbled back in fury. "Grab her!" he roared. "Beat her senseless!"

The three servants immediately seized Biqing, who struggled like a wild animal, cursing them as "filthy scum," "beasts," and "rotten corpses." Jingyuan screamed for them to let Biqing go, trying desperately to stand but collapsing again.Bi Qing hadn't been drugged as heavily as Duan Jingyuan and still had some strength left, but it wasn't enough to resist the three men pulling at her. In the struggle, Bi Qing was flung backward, the back of her head striking the sharp corner of a cabinet with a sickening crack. The figure in pink froze for an instant before collapsing to the ground alongside the vase that had been on the cabinet. Blood gushed from the wound at the back of her head, pooling beneath her as she twitched faintly in the crimson puddle. The sharp tongue that had always been so quick with retorts now lay silent, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the young mistress she had served since childhood.

Duan Jingyuan stared in shock for a moment before bursting into loud sobs, crawling toward Bi Qing while calling her name.

The servants tried to drag Bi Qing away, but Jing Yuan clung desperately to her arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wang Qi walking toward her with an impatient expression, covering his face with one hand as he reached out with the other.

In that instant, Jing Yuan felt a despair so deep it seemed bottomless. She thought that if Wang Qi dared to touch her, she would bite him, scratch him, gouge out his eyes—do anything to make him pay dearly, even if it cost her own life.

Just as his hand was about to make contact, at the peak of her despair when she had resolved to fight him to the death, his fingers suddenly fell off.

As bizarre as it sounded, his fingers truly did detach—his index and middle fingers dropping to the floor, leaving behind two neatly severed stumps that gushed blood.

Wang Qi stood frozen in place until a crow abruptly landed on his shoulder. Only then did he let out a shrill scream, clutching his maimed hand. A dark cloud of crows surged through the window, filling every corner of the room as they pecked at the severed fingers on the ground.

Yet these crows deliberately avoided Jing Yuan and the dying Bi Qing in her arms, leaving them untouched in a circle of eerie calm.

Wang Qi's servants turned pale with terror, pulling him toward the door in a frantic attempt to escape. But when they turned around, they found a stunningly beautiful woman standing in the room. Tall and pale, with phoenix eyes accentuated by a dark mole beneath one, she wore a red quju robe and stood with her hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes were pitch black, devoid of any whites.

Noticing their movement, she raised an eyebrow slightly and said, "What's wrong? Weren't you having fun just now? Leaving so soon?"

Wang Qi pointed at her in shock. "You... the Duan family's..."

"Evil Ghost."

He Simu raised her hand, her pale, slender fingers snapping crisply in the air. Instantly, Wang Qi's three servants were decapitated, their heads rolling across the floor before being eagerly devoured by the crows.

Wang Qi screamed and collapsed, trembling so violently he wet himself, stammering pleas for mercy.

He Simu crooked a finger, and Wang Qi was hoisted into the air by his neck, flailing helplessly, unable to speak. She ignored him, stepping forward to stand before Duan Jingyuan. With genuine seriousness, she asked, "Should I kill him?"

Jing Yuan stared blankly at this girl who was both familiar and strange.

Was this He Xiaoxiao? It looked like her, yet... it clearly wasn't her. The girl before her was unnaturally pale, her veins standing out in dark purple against her skin, radiating an ominous aura... and those completely black eyes.

This resembled a deceased He Xiaoxiao.

Noticing Jing Yuan's fear, He Simu closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the ghostly energy had receded, revealing normal eyes with distinct whites and pupils.

"Should I kill him?" He Simu repeated.Duan Jingyuan hesitated, then shook her head.

He Simu nodded in understanding. "There are many ways to torment a person that are better than death."

She waved her hand, and Wang Qi, who had been suspended in mid-air, fell to the ground. He lay there, wailing, "Thank you, Immortal, for sparing my life! Thank you, Immortal!"

He Simu turned her head slightly and said, "I told you, I'm not an immortal. I'm a ghost."

"Yan Zhang," He Simu called.

From a wisp of green smoke emerged the figure of a woman, tightly wrapped in black cloth with only her eyes visible. She knelt halfway and said, "Your Majesty, Yan Zhang is here."

Yan Zhang, the Master of the Ghost Hall.

He Simu gestured with her chin toward Wang Qi, who was trembling like a sieve on the ground. "This man likes women, and the women in your hall happen to like men. Play with him—just don't go too far. Leave him alive."

Yan Zhang glanced at Wang Qi. "How far can we go? Drive him insane, render him impotent?"

"That's acceptable."

"Your servant obeys."

Hearing this exchange, Wang Qi fainted from sheer terror. He Simu turned to look at Duan Jingyuan, who was huddled in a corner with Bi Qing, staring at her with fear and confusion. In a small voice, Duan Jingyuan asked, "You... who are you?"

He Simu walked toward her, the crows obediently flying aside to make way. She replied, "He Xiaoxiao."

Duan Jingyuan shook her head, then shook it again. "No... Miss He... Miss He is human, a living person my brother likes..."

He Simu watched her quietly, saying nothing.

Suddenly, Bi Qing convulsed violently, as if rallying in her final moments, and grabbed Duan Jingyuan's sleeve. Duan Jingyuan immediately looked down at her, calling urgently, "Bi Qing... Bi Qing..."

Instinctively, Duan Jingyuan looked up at He Simu, as if to plead for help, but upon seeing her half-human, half-ghost face, she swallowed her words.

She was afraid of this He Xiaoxiao.

He Simu lowered her gaze to the pitiful girl on the brink of death. "Bi Qing, do you have any wishes?" she asked.

Tears welled in Bi Qing's eyes as she spoke haltingly, "My... my brother... he got into trouble... imprisoned... my mother is alone..."

"You want your brother freed, to care for your mother in her old age?"

"Yes..."

"Then if I rescue your brother and give your mother enough money to last a lifetime, would you let me eat you?"

At the word "eat," Duan Jingyuan clutched Bi Qing tightly in alarm, exclaiming, "No, you can't—"

"I would..." Bi Qing whispered, trembling as she reached out to He Simu and grasped the hem of her skirt.

He Simu bent down, seized Bi Qing's collar, and effortlessly lifted her. Bi Qing's feet dangled limply in the air—then blood splattered, and her head lolled to the side.

He Simu laid Bi Qing down, arranging her neatly on the ground. The wind rushed through the window, lifting He Simu's long hair and red robes. Crows perched silently on her shoulders, and Bi Qing's blood splashed across her face, making her look like a demon straight out of the Blood Lake Hell of legend.

Duan Jingyuan stared at her, dumbstruck.

He Simu crouched down, her clear, calm eyes meeting Duan Jingyuan's. "Do you have the strength to stand?" she asked.She reached out to take Duan Jingyuan's hand, but Jingyuan recoiled like a startled bird, almost violently shaking her off. He Simu's hand hung suspended in midair.

Yan Zhang remarked sharply from the side, "How insolent! To dare reject His Majesty's kindness—"

He Simu raised a hand, gesturing for silence, and Yan Zhang fell quiet at once. Simu stood, her right hand tracing a half-circle in the air. A scroll from a nearby vase flew into her grasp. Holding one end, she extended the other toward Jingyuan, looking down at her.

"If you don’t wish to touch me, use this to stand."

"Or stand on your own. But you must stand first—don’t cling to pointless pride."

Jingyuan bit her lip, hesitating as she stared at Simu. After a moment, her trembling fingers finally closed around the offered scroll. With Simu’s support, she pulled herself up from the ground, though even standing, she swayed unsteadily, gripping the scroll tightly, afraid to let go.

Simu glanced at her and smiled. "Good."