After Qiao Yan’s death, she worked as a model citizen in the Underworld for five years.
Every year on the Ghost Festival the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month spirits were granted one chance to return to the mortal world to visit their loved ones, but this came at the cost of their accumulated merit.
She toiled relentlessly, driven by a single goal: not to miss the only opportunity each year to see her husband Wen Zhixing and their daughter Wen Qiaoyi.
“This will be the last time I go back to see them. After that, I’m moving on to reincarnation,” an aunt who had worked alongside her for five years said with a gentle smile.
“Aren’t you waiting for your husband?” Qiao Yan asked, surprised.
“No,” the aunt shook her head. “When I went back last year, he’d already remarried. My son also got married, and their baby my grandchild should be born this year. I’ll just take one quick look and then be on my way.”
She turned to Qiao Yan with earnest advice. “Xiao Yan, plan for your own future sooner rather than later. All that merit you’ve earned through hard work can secure you a wonderful family to be reborn into. Don’t foolishly hold onto it for your husband. Men… they’re all the same.”
With a sigh, the aunt turned and walked away.
A heavy unease settled in Qiao Yan’s heart this was far from the first spirit to give her such a warning.
Back when she was dying of a terminal illness, Wen Zhixing had made her a solemn promise: he would never take another partner until their daughter came of age, so their child would never be neglected or treated unfairly.
In the years since, on every Qingming Festival, her death anniversary, and the Ghost Festival, she had received the incense and paper money he burned for her along with the heartfelt pleas he whispered at her grave.
“My love, the company’s in trouble. I haven’t slept in three days. If only you were here beside me… I’d have someone to lean on. If you can hear me from above, please help me.”
“My love, Mother’s in the ICU with severe pancreatitis. It’s been two weeks… I’m so exhausted.”
“My love, the IPO failed. I don’t know what to do.”
Hearing each of these, Qiao Yan had not hesitated to spend her hard-earned merit resolving every difficulty he faced.
It never crossed her mind to save her blessings for a better rebirth for herself.
“My love, once I’ve raised our daughter to adulthood, I’ll come find you,” Wen Zhixing had said, eyes glistening with tears, voice trembling a memory that still echoed in her ears as if spoken only yesterday. “Thank you for being with me all this time, for giving me such a precious daughter. Wait for me on the road to the afterlife.”
And so she had chosen to delay her reincarnation. She would wait for him here, and together they would wait for their daughter. One day, they would be reunited not as souls passing through separate cycles, never to meet again, but as a family of three.
Yet the aunt’s words left her deeply unsettled.
Last year, she had lacked sufficient merit to make the journey, and had gone two years without seeing Wen Zhixing or their daughter. Who could say what had changed in her absence? She had seen so many spirits wait faithfully for their spouses, only to leave heartbroken for their next life, letting go of all attachment.
Pushing down her rising anxiety, Qiao Yan stood at the Gate of Ghosts, guiding spirits: sending those whose time had not yet come back to the mortal realm, and ushering those whose lives had ended toward the Road to Hades.
The day passed quickly, and the Ghost Festival arrived. Half the Underworld emptied out, spirits gathering their strength and their blessings for just one glimpse of those they loved.
Qiao Yan stood among the throng as the gate began to open until the familiar scent of incense drifted to her, followed by a voice she knew by heart:
“A-Yan, Yiyi wants a little brother. If you’re watching over me, please bless Yunbai with a son.”
Qiao Yan froze.
It had been two years since she’d heard his voice. And for the first time since her death, he had spoken another woman’s name Ji Yunbai, her best friend.
The words that followed shattered her world.
Her heart pounded in dread. The next instant, the gate swung fully open, and she raced through, determined to know the truth.
In the most exclusive villa district of Aocheng, luxury knew no bounds. Inside one palatial home, Wen Zhixing and Ji Yunbai lay tangled in passion, their breathless cries filling the room.
“Relax,” Wen Zhixing murmured afterward, lighting a cigarette. His hair was damp, his eyes heavy-lidded every inch radiating satisfaction. “This time it’ll be a son.” His hand roamed over her skin. “Every prayer I’ve ever said at Qiao Yan’s grave has been answered. This one will be too.”
“That was then,” Ji Yunbai pouted. “If she really is watching, she’d be furious to know you married me and want a son with me. Why would she ever help us?”
“If it doesn’t work,” she added, “we’ll just go the IVF route. With enough money, we can have a son whenever we want.”
Wen Zhixing kissed her gently. “All right, we’ll do as you say. I just don’t want you to go through any pain.”
From where she stood beside the bed, Qiao Yan saw everything clearly. Her face drained of color; her body shook uncontrollably. The man who had sworn never to love another until their daughter grew up was with her best friend.
Then panic struck.
He had once told her at her grave that work kept him too busy to care for Yiyi properly, so he had sent their daughter to boarding school. That was why she hadn’t seen her in the room.
“Yiyi!”
She hurried through the bedroom door and into the living area. When they were together, their home had been so much simpler just a modest three-bedroom apartment. Now she halted in the grand hallway, her breath catching.
High on the wall hung a large family portrait: Wen Zhixing, Ji Yunbai, his parents and two little girls, perhaps five or six, identical as twins, their features unmistakably his.
Twins. His daughters.
Which meant this betrayal had begun long before she died.
But where was Yiyi? Why was their daughter not in the picture? Even if she was at boarding school, surely there would be some trace of her life here.
A terrible fear took hold. She searched every room frantically, but found only one nursery clearly prepared for the twins.
“Yiyi! Where are you?” She called until her spirit ached, but no one could hear her.
Midnight was approaching. She had to return to the Underworld before then, or face being barred from ever visiting again.
She searched the entire villa no sign of her daughter anywhere.
Outside, shadows lengthened. Qiao Yan stood alone in the vast, opulent house, feeling utterly lost. The family portrait seemed to stare back at her, mocking her with every smile.