Twilight. At the villa, before an outdoor charcoal grill, the gentle woman sat rotating a grilled fish. Her eyes drifted anxiously toward the house behind her time and again. After waiting for what felt like an eternity for the person who never appeared, she finally called out softly: “Xiao Ye?”
There was no response.
Frowning, she stepped inside. “Xiao Ye?” she called louder.
The house was deathly silent. Only the echo of her own voice drifted back through the still air. She searched every room, opening every door, even crouching to check under the beds, but found no trace of Ye.
Finally, she reached the room at the very end of the corridor. She pushed the door open to a sudden gust of wind. The room’s only window was wide open, letting in the fragrant summer night breeze.
Outside, the setting sun was a sliver of red on the horizon. Then, as she watched, it dipped below the line of the earth and vanished.
Darkness rushed in.
…
Qian Luo felt her body plummeting, but the hands that had been supporting her suddenly lost their strength. Panic flared in her chest. Is she too injured? Is her spiritual power spent?
Qian Luo struggled against her lightheadedness, realizing she was terrifyingly close to the ground. In that final split second, the hands used their last ounce of strength to pull her into a tight embrace, acting as a buffer as they both slammed into the earth.
Then, the Vengeful Spirit—having finally shredded the tether to her death-site—lunged at them with a hideous shriek.
If Qian Luo wasn’t currently pinned to the ground in white-hot pain, she would have screamed in frustration. One crisis avoided, only to be met by another. The ghost’s mangled face expanded rapidly in the moonlight.
Damn it! Of all the ways to go, I’m dying at the hands of this ugly thing!
Just as the ghost’s jagged nails were about to rake across Qian Luo’s face, a black blur streaked past. With a fierce hiss, the shadow collided with the spirit.
The Vengeful Spirit, sensing the overwhelming, bone-chilling power emanating from the creature with jet-black fur and emerald eyes, recoiled in instinctive terror.
On the ground, Zhou Xiaoming stared in fright at the cat, which seemed to be radiating a primal fury. The ghost-girl tried to scramble away, driven by the same innate fear.
The cat leaped to Qian Luo’s side and, with a shimmer of air, transformed into a naked, beautiful young girl. She reached out toward Qian Luo with frantic concern—but in that moment of distraction, the Vengeful Spirit seized the opportunity and lunged back toward the now-vulnerable Xiaoming.
“Save her!” Qian Luo cried out.
The worry and relief in Ye’s eyes froze. She stared at the heavily injured Qian Luo, stunned.
“Please,” Qian Luo pleaded, “save her!”
Ye’s expression went cold. A sense of unease gnawed at her heart, and as she looked into Qian Luo’s eyes—filled with care for another—it felt as though something vital was cracking deep within her chest.
Please. Save her. Save a damn ghost…
Yet, faced with Qian Luo’s imploring gaze, Ye finally looked away. She gathered a terrifying amount of energy at her fingertips and hurled it viciously at the spirit.
The shockwave of the attack made Qian Luo jump. It was a near-suicidal move; throwing that kind of destructive power at such close range was practically a scorched-earth tactic. If Ye’s aim had been off by even an inch, Xiaoming would have been vaporized along with the spirit.
Fortunately, the strike hit home. It grazed Xiaoming’s cheek and slammed into the Vengeful Spirit, who let out a piercing wail before clutching its wound and fleeing into the night.
Qian Luo started to yell “Don’t let her get away!”, but as she turned her head, she realized Ye was standing completely nude in the moonlight. The words died in her throat. The ghost was long gone.
Ye stood there, her silhouette a perfect, ivory arc under the stars. She cast a cool, emerald glance at Qian Luo, picked up the bag she had dropped earlier, and began dressing without the slightest hint of modesty.
Under that gaze, Qian Luo felt an inexplicable sense of guilt, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She could only mutter nonsensically.
Zhou Xiaoming seemed to realize these two were far from ordinary. Having witnessed the cat’s transformation and the wounding of the Vengeful Spirit, she knew they weren’t exactly “kindly” beings.
Qian Luo staggered to her feet and rushed over to Xiaoming. “Are you hurt? Your back! Such a deep wound won’t heal on its own for days. What if you run into another spirit? Can you walk? You—”
Xiaoming instinctively pushed her hand away. She wouldn’t meet their eyes, her butterfly-wing lashes trembling in the moonlight. “…Thank you.”
Standing a short distance away, Ye let out a cold snort. “Thank?” Her emerald eyes turned toward the weakened Xiaoming, filled with pure resentment. “Do you even know who the person in front of you is? She is the most talented disciple of the Ghost-Tamer sect. She has killed more ghosts than you could ever count.”
Qian Luo winced.
Xiaoming lifted her pure, confused eyes to Qian Luo. “Ghost-Tamer?” Her voice was soft and lost, like a drifting scent.
Ye looked at Xiaoming with cruelty and disdain. “Exactly. A professional ghost killer. She’s sent thousands of your kind to their end, haven’t you, Qian Luo?”
“Enough!” Qian Luo roared, glaring at Ye. “I never intended to kill her! She saved me! She’s hurt, and I… I just want to take her back to the villa to recover, until I can send her to reincarnation…”
Ye was silenced by the roar. Her emerald eyes widened in shock as she stared at Qian Luo.
She saved you? Did I not just save you too? If I hadn’t run all this way to find you, you’d be a corpse by now. Why is it so special when she saves you, but with me, it’s just expected?
The shock vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a mask of contempt. She sneered, “In case you didn’t know, Qian Zhen is back today. She’s at the villa right now, waiting for us.”
Qian Luo froze. Her bravado evaporated instantly.
Ye crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with a sharp, mocking grin. “You haven’t forgotten what you promised her, have you?”
Qian Luo clutched her head as memories flooded back. She saw that thin, sturdy back again; heard that voice holding on through the pain. “I let the ghost go. It has nothing to do with Xiao Luo. If Master must punish… punish me.”
She remembered sobbing at her senior sister’s bedside: “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault Master broke your legs. I’ll… I’ll give you my own legs when I grow up…”
Qian Zhen had just smiled gently, stroking her head. “Silly child. Broken legs can heal. Besides, how could you give me yours?” Her smile had been bright and doting. “Just… don’t do anything stupid again, alright?”
“Ghosts are ghosts, humans are humans. It is a Ghost-Tamer’s duty to kill…”
Qian Luo had cried until she could barely breathe. “Then from now on, I’ll kill every ghost I see. I’ll never let Sister get in trouble again…”
She had sworn an oath. An oath of no mercy.
Qian Luo stood between Ye and Zhou Xiaoming, paralyzed. Finally, just as she was about to speak, Xiaoming gave a small smile—a smile full of youthful beauty but tinged with the tragedy of the moonlight. “Never mind.”
“I’ll go,” the ghost-girl whispered. “I won’t make it hard for you.”
She turned, leaning against a tree for support as she began to limp away. Qian Luo stepped forward to chase her, but Ye’s hand clamped onto her wrist with a crushing grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“That’s Zhou Xiaoming!” Qian Luo argued. “I’m investigating a case! I have to ask her how she died!”
Ye’s expression hardened. “Screw the case! We aren’t investigating. Give the money back!”
Qian Luo spun around, her eyes boring into Ye’s. “Do you really look down on me that much? Why do you have to oppose me at every turn?”
Ye blinked. “What?”
“Since we were kids, you’ve bullied me, pranked me, insulted me,” Qian Luo vented. “Now I’m just trying to solve a case and you won’t even let me do that? What did I ever do to offend you so much that you won’t leave me alone!”
A lump formed in Ye’s throat. A surge of extreme bitterness rose from her heart, momentarily stealing her voice. “I…”
A cold light flickered in Qian Luo’s eyes. “If you hadn’t framed me back then because you didn’t like me, Sister’s legs would never have been broken!”
Ye’s throat felt thick with the phantom taste of blood. Hearing Qian Luo’s words, it felt as though something in her deepest core was shattering piece by piece. Her voice was uncharacteristically panicked. “Back then… I didn’t… I wasn’t…”
I didn’t mean to.
She had known. Qian Luo had known all along. Yet for all these years, she hadn’t said a word, continuing to keep Ye by her side.
But back then, I just… I just wanted your attention so badly, I—
Pain and regret flashed through Ye’s emerald eyes, only to be instantly twisted into a retaliatory malice. When hurt, a child will often strike back with more pain. “I just couldn’t stand how useless you were. So what?”
Twilight. At the villa, before an outdoor charcoal grill, the gentle woman sat rotating a grilled fish. Her eyes drifted anxiously toward the house behind her time and again. After waiting for what felt like an eternity for the person who never appeared, she finally called out softly: “Xiao Ye?”
There was no response.
Frowning, she stepped inside. “Xiao Ye?” she called louder.
The house was deathly silent. Only the echo of her own voice drifted back through the still air. She searched every room, opening every door, even crouching to check under the beds, but found no trace of Ye.
Finally, she reached the room at the very end of the corridor. She pushed the door open to a sudden gust of wind. The room’s only window was wide open, letting in the fragrant summer night breeze.
Outside, the setting sun was a sliver of red on the horizon. Then, as she watched, it dipped below the line of the earth and vanished.
Darkness rushed in.
…
Qian Luo felt her body plummeting, but the hands that had been supporting her suddenly lost their strength. Panic flared in her chest. Is she too injured? Is her spiritual power spent?
Qian Luo struggled against her lightheadedness, realizing she was terrifyingly close to the ground. In that final split second, the hands used their last ounce of strength to pull her into a tight embrace, acting as a buffer as they both slammed into the earth.
Then, the Vengeful Spirit—having finally shredded the tether to her death-site—lunged at them with a hideous shriek.
If Qian Luo wasn’t currently pinned to the ground in white-hot pain, she would have screamed in frustration. One crisis avoided, only to be met by another. The ghost’s mangled face expanded rapidly in the moonlight.
Damn it! Of all the ways to go, I’m dying at the hands of this ugly thing!
Just as the ghost’s jagged nails were about to rake across Qian Luo’s face, a black blur streaked past. With a fierce hiss, the shadow collided with the spirit.
The Vengeful Spirit, sensing the overwhelming, bone-chilling power emanating from the creature with jet-black fur and emerald eyes, recoiled in instinctive terror.
On the ground, Zhou Xiaoming stared in fright at the cat, which seemed to be radiating a primal fury. The ghost-girl tried to scramble away, driven by the same innate fear.
The cat leaped to Qian Luo’s side and, with a shimmer of air, transformed into a naked, beautiful young girl. She reached out toward Qian Luo with frantic concern—but in that moment of distraction, the Vengeful Spirit seized the opportunity and lunged back toward the now-vulnerable Xiaoming.
“Save her!” Qian Luo cried out.
The worry and relief in Ye’s eyes froze. She stared at the heavily injured Qian Luo, stunned.
“Please,” Qian Luo pleaded, “save her!”
Ye’s expression went cold. A sense of unease gnawed at her heart, and as she looked into Qian Luo’s eyes—filled with care for another—it felt as though something vital was cracking deep within her chest.
Please. Save her. Save a damn ghost…
Yet, faced with Qian Luo’s imploring gaze, Ye finally looked away. She gathered a terrifying amount of energy at her fingertips and hurled it viciously at the spirit.
The shockwave of the attack made Qian Luo jump. It was a near-suicidal move; throwing that kind of destructive power at such close range was practically a scorched-earth tactic. If Ye’s aim had been off by even an inch, Xiaoming would have been vaporized along with the spirit.
Fortunately, the strike hit home. It grazed Xiaoming’s cheek and slammed into the Vengeful Spirit, who let out a piercing wail before clutching its wound and fleeing into the night.
Qian Luo started to yell “Don’t let her get away!”, but as she turned her head, she realized Ye was standing completely nude in the moonlight. The words died in her throat. The ghost was long gone.
Ye stood there, her silhouette a perfect, ivory arc under the stars. She cast a cool, emerald glance at Qian Luo, picked up the bag she had dropped earlier, and began dressing without the slightest hint of modesty.
Under that gaze, Qian Luo felt an inexplicable sense of guilt, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She could only mutter nonsensically.
Zhou Xiaoming seemed to realize these two were far from ordinary. Having witnessed the cat’s transformation and the wounding of the Vengeful Spirit, she knew they weren’t exactly “kindly” beings.
Qian Luo staggered to her feet and rushed over to Xiaoming. “Are you hurt? Your back! Such a deep wound won’t heal on its own for days. What if you run into another spirit? Can you walk? You—”
Xiaoming instinctively pushed her hand away. She wouldn’t meet their eyes, her butterfly-wing lashes trembling in the moonlight. “…Thank you.”
Standing a short distance away, Ye let out a cold snort. “Thank?” Her emerald eyes turned toward the weakened Xiaoming, filled with pure resentment. “Do you even know who the person in front of you is? She is the most talented disciple of the Ghost-Tamer sect. She has killed more ghosts than you could ever count.”
Qian Luo winced.
Xiaoming lifted her pure, confused eyes to Qian Luo. “Ghost-Tamer?” Her voice was soft and lost, like a drifting scent.
Ye looked at Xiaoming with cruelty and disdain. “Exactly. A professional ghost killer. She’s sent thousands of your kind to their end, haven’t you, Qian Luo?”
“Enough!” Qian Luo roared, glaring at Ye. “I never intended to kill her! She saved me! She’s hurt, and I… I just want to take her back to the villa to recover, until I can send her to reincarnation…”
Ye was silenced by the roar. Her emerald eyes widened in shock as she stared at Qian Luo.
She saved you? Did I not just save you too? If I hadn’t run all this way to find you, you’d be a corpse by now. Why is it so special when she saves you, but with me, it’s just expected?
The shock vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a mask of contempt. She sneered, “In case you didn’t know, Qian Zhen is back today. She’s at the villa right now, waiting for us.”
Qian Luo froze. Her bravado evaporated instantly.
Ye crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with a sharp, mocking grin. “You haven’t forgotten what you promised her, have you?”
Qian Luo clutched her head as memories flooded back. She saw that thin, sturdy back again; heard that voice holding on through the pain. “I let the ghost go. It has nothing to do with Xiao Luo. If Master must punish… punish me.”
She remembered sobbing at her senior sister’s bedside: “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault Master broke your legs. I’ll… I’ll give you my own legs when I grow up…”
Qian Zhen had just smiled gently, stroking her head. “Silly child. Broken legs can heal. Besides, how could you give me yours?” Her smile had been bright and doting. “Just… don’t do anything stupid again, alright?”
“Ghosts are ghosts, humans are humans. It is a Ghost-Tamer’s duty to kill…”
Qian Luo had cried until she could barely breathe. “Then from now on, I’ll kill every ghost I see. I’ll never let Sister get in trouble again…”
She had sworn an oath. An oath of no mercy.
Qian Luo stood between Ye and Zhou Xiaoming, paralyzed. Finally, just as she was about to speak, Xiaoming gave a small smile—a smile full of youthful beauty but tinged with the tragedy of the moonlight. “Never mind.”
“I’ll go,” the ghost-girl whispered. “I won’t make it hard for you.”
She turned, leaning against a tree for support as she began to limp away. Qian Luo stepped forward to chase her, but Ye’s hand clamped onto her wrist with a crushing grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“That’s Zhou Xiaoming!” Qian Luo argued. “I’m investigating a case! I have to ask her how she died!”
Ye’s expression hardened. “Screw the case! We aren’t investigating. Give the money back!”
Qian Luo spun around, her eyes boring into Ye’s. “Do you really look down on me that much? Why do you have to oppose me at every turn?”
Ye blinked. “What?”
“Since we were kids, you’ve bullied me, pranked me, insulted me,” Qian Luo vented. “Now I’m just trying to solve a case and you won’t even let me do that? What did I ever do to offend you so much that you won’t leave me alone!”
A lump formed in Ye’s throat. A surge of extreme bitterness rose from her heart, momentarily stealing her voice. “I…”
A cold light flickered in Qian Luo’s eyes. “If you hadn’t framed me back then because you didn’t like me, Sister’s legs would never have been broken!”
Ye’s throat felt thick with the phantom taste of blood. Hearing Qian Luo’s words, it felt as though something in her deepest core was shattering piece by piece. Her voice was uncharacteristically panicked. “Back then… I didn’t… I wasn’t…”
I didn’t mean to.
She had known. Qian Luo had known all along. Yet for all these years, she hadn’t said a word, continuing to keep Ye by her side.
But back then, I just… I just wanted your attention so badly, I—
Pain and regret flashed through Ye’s emerald eyes, only to be instantly twisted into a retaliatory malice. When hurt, a child will often strike back with more pain. “I just couldn’t stand how useless you were. So what?”