Mei Niang had been running the Ghost Lantern Inn in Shiling Village for over a hundred years. She was a headless wandering ghost, with no family to burn paper money for her to bribe the underworld wardens, and not a trace of ghostly lineage in the netherworld. Reincarnation—a prize every ghost fought tooth and nail for—was naturally out of her reach. Yet though she was poor, she refused to resign herself to being a headless ghost forever. Determined to save up enough to reincarnate one day, she came to this desolate Shiling Village and opened the Ghost Lantern.
For centuries, she had hosted all sorts of guests. Most who lodged here couldn’t even afford decent clothing. But today, seeing this man and woman walk in—both strikingly good-looking, their robes neat and clean—was a first. Especially the beautiful female cultivator: the sash at her waist alone looked worth a year’s income for the Ghost Lantern. This was clearly a lucrative business.
Mei Niang straightened the head she had placed on the counter, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the cash box and ledger, while her body swayed forward. In a syrupy voice, she asked, “Honored guests, will you be dining or lodging?”
Qu Xiangxiang was stunned. How could this innkeeper speak when her head wasn’t even attached?
Mei Niang noticed her expression and chuckled, unfazed. She raised a pale, cracked hand and pointed at the counter, saying coyly, “My head is right there.”
Qu Xiangxiang followed her finger and saw a heavily painted female ghost’s head resting on the counter. The face was ashen, utterly bloodless—clearly not the face of the living. Yet the cheeks and lips were smeared with bright red rouge, like a half-rotten pomegranate: grotesque and comical all at once. One eye was angled left, staring intently at the cash box, while the other glanced right at the two newcomers, forcing a fawning half-smile.
Qu Xiangxiang: “…”
Well, only a teeny tiny bit terrifying.
“Mu Huanzhang,” she whispered, “even if you don’t want me tagging along, couldn’t you at least pick a normal place?”
“This isn’t normal?”
Qu Xiangxiang didn’t bother to parse whether that was genuine confusion or deliberate mockery. She snapped, “A normal place means the owner’s head should be on their neck, not sitting on the counter!”
Mu Hanzhang gave the faintest, briefest laugh—not cold, not mocking, but as if genuinely amused by her words. If Qu Xiangxiang hadn’t heard it clearly, she would have thought it was her imagination.
“You laughed?” she asked in disbelief.
Expressionless, he replied, “You misheard.”
“I did not!” she insisted.
“You did.”
Mei Niang: “……”
How strange. Was this how young cultivators flirted these days? After a hundred years as a ghost, she clearly couldn’t keep up with the trends.
“Madam Innkeeper,” Mu Hanzhang adjusted his indifferent expression, bowed slightly toward the head on the counter, and asked, “Could you tell me the way to Ancient Wood Grounds?”
“Call me Mei Niang, young master.” She drew out her words, her right eye sweeping him quickly. “Ancient Wood Grounds? You intend to go there?”
Mu Hanzhang nodded.
Mei Niang, usually too focused on earning money for reincarnation to meddle in others’ affairs, found herself softening. After all, she hadn’t seen such a handsome face in over a century, and it pleased her eyes enough to lift her mood. She broke her rule and warned him: “If you wish to go, head west out of Shiling Village until you reach its end. But I advise you to wait two hours. Right now, the yin energy is at its heaviest. That place is desolate, and the evil spirits in Ancient Wood Grounds are far less amiable than I.”
Mu Hanzhang thanked her and turned to leave, but Qu Xiangxiang grabbed his sleeve.
“Qu Xiangxiang?” His tone was as impatient as ever.
She pulled out the talisman pouch her cousin Qu Weiran had given her and pressed it into his hand. “Take it. It’s for you.”
Based on Qu Xiangxiang’s understanding of Mu Hanzhang, she was certain this man would never accept anything from her.
She had no intention of giving away the talisman pouch she relied on for survival. After all, as the male lead, Mu Hanzhang could never truly be in danger. According to the original novel, his journey would go smoothly—so much so that even the demons sent to capture him only realized the item was gone after he had already left.
Everything Qu Xiangxiang did now was simply to make her earlier words seem more convincing. *A true sycophant never misses a chance to curry favor,* she thought.
Mu Hanzhang lowered his gaze to the talisman pouch she offered, staring at it so intently it seemed he might bore holes through the cloth. After a long silence, he turned his head away and stepped out of the Ghost Lantern. “Qu Xiangxiang, mind your own business.”
She had guessed right. Relieved, Qu Xiangxiang carefully tucked the pouch back into her sleeve.
Mei Niang’s right eye spun as she pressed her crimson lips together with a sigh. “Ah, youth is such a blessing. May your young gentleman return safely.”
“He will,” Qu Xiangxiang declared firmly.
“So certain?” Perhaps it was because Mei Niang was a ghost, but her tone carried a chilling undertone. “Do you even know where your young gentleman is headed?”
Of course, Qu Xiangxiang knew. Mu Hanzhang was seeking the tomb where his parents were buried together. When his demonic aura awakened, it would resonate with the tomb’s seal. The two forces would respond to each other, revealing the location of his parents’ grave and allowing him to break the seal. The relic hidden there would be the key to unlocking the two restraints within his body.
But she could never tell Mei Niang that. So instead, Qu Xiangxiang only shook her head and smiled. “I trust him.”
Mei Niang’s severed head curved into a mysterious smile. Her scarlet lips writhed open and shut several times, until suddenly she froze, eyes bulging, and spat out three blackened copper coins.
Qu Xiangxiang was startled. “…You actually keep a secret stash in your mouth?”
“This is Six-Yao Divination,” Mei Niang’s head gave her a strange look. “And you, a cultivator, don’t even know that?”
Qu Xiangxiang: “…”
Being looked down on by a severed head was truly unbearable.
Mei Niang’s body leaned against the counter. Stroking her long hair, she studied the arrangement of the three coins. “The hexagram shows…”
Qu Xiangxiang perked up, eager to hear. Mei Niang extended a pale hand and smiled. “Interpreting it only costs one third-grade spirit stone.”
Qu Xiangxiang: “…”
Nothing was more annoying than someone who stopped halfway through their words.
Though she was certain Mu Hanzhang would be fine, she was curious about this ancient divination technique she had only ever read about in novels. Without much hesitation, she paid the spirit stone. After all, her family was wealthy—descendants of a medicine sect, with more money than they could ever spend.
Mei Niang tossed the spirit stone into the cash box, then pointed at the coins. “Your young gentleman’s journey will not be so easy.”
Qu Xiangxiang froze.
“The *Guai* hexagram—it means… loss that brings gain.” Mei Niang’s right eye lifted as her lips stretched into a cryptic smile. “Listen—the rain has begun outside.”