Flashback: Ten days ago.
In the wake of Zhou Xiaoming’s death, the entertainment industry was in an uproar. Yin Tong had just entered the small cottage where Qian Luo resided.
A lonely soul drifted through the world, utterly confused by what was happening. She watched in shock as her own essence drifted out from the high-rise building, observing the chaotic human world around her and the silent spirits passing through the night just like her.
She didn’t know she had already been dead for two days.
Zhou Xiaoming turned back, looking through an open window. Inside a freezer, she saw a beautiful girl lying peacefully, a serene smile on her face.
That person… looks just like me.
A chilling thought struck her—she was dead.
Suddenly, she realized a shadow was standing beside her. Its eyes stared at her with a hollow, triumphant intensity, like a predator finding its prey. Xiaoming began to realize this was her kind. From this day forward, she was a ghost without parents, brothers, or a home.
On the ground, a woman was staring up at her. The woman wore a sword at her waist; she looked gentle and soft, a lock of slightly curled hair drifting in the night breeze.
The unsuspecting Xiaoming drifted down and stared back. The woman gave her a thin smile. “My senior brother must have been talking about you. Poor child.”
Xiaoming stared. This woman was beautiful and possessed a soothing aura. “Can you see me?” she asked.
The woman’s smile was faint, almost dismissive. She nodded. “I’m sorry, little girl.”
Xiaoming felt a surge of panic. Why are you apologizing?
In the next instant, the woman drew her sword with a burst of malice and lunged. Xiaoming jumped back in terror. “What are you doing?!”
The woman seemed to be testing her. Seeing Xiaoming dodge, she said nothing more. This time, she put her full strength into a fierce, lethal thrust.
Xiaoming scrambled to avoid it, but she wasn’t yet used to her ethereal form. She was too slow—the blade was inches from her—
Suddenly, a sharp clang echoed. Another sword swept in, intercepting the attack.
Qian Zhen stood still, her blade held firm. She looked at the newcomer, Qian Fang, with icy eyes. “What is the meaning of this?”
Qian Fang sheathed his sword, standing tall under the moonlight with his trademark rogue-ish grin. “Zhen, give your brother some face. Let this girl go.”
Qian Zhen’s eyebrows shot up. She looked from Qian Fang to the ghost. “What did you say?”
“I’m not taking the money for this contract,” Qian Fang said. “You can have it all.”
“I don’t lack money,” Qian Zhen frowned. “What are you up to?”
Xiaoming watched the man and woman argue, instinctively trying to flee, but the man reached out and gently caught her arm. He smiled. “Little girl, if you go too far, I won’t be able to save you.”
The cold light in Qian Zhen’s eyes intensified. She seemed to suspect something, but she didn’t say it.
“Zhen,” Qian Fang continued, “just tell the client the kid is a minor and can’t be killed.”
“A day or two difference matters that much to you?”
Qian Fang pulled the girl into a protective embrace. “I think it’s necessary. If they’re that desperate, let them hire the Zhang family, right?”
Qian Zhen sheathed her sword and turned away. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” she said coldly, looking back over her shoulder. “But if you ever try to use me to play the ‘hero’ again… watch your life.”
She walked away with measured steps.
Qian Fang looked at the trembling Xiaoming and smiled warmly. “Did you know someone wanted to kill you?”
“I’m already dead,” Xiaoming whispered.
Qian Fang patted her head symbolically. “I saw the news. Your name is Zhou Xiaoming, right? Even though you didn’t like acting, you were so sincere in every scene. I really like you.”
Xiaoming’s eyes widened. “Really… truly?”
“Why would I lie? You worked so hard; of course people like you.”
Xiaoming lowered her head, silent.
“But,” Qian Fang added, “it seems you have a sister. She isn’t as pretty or as hardworking as you, yet the Zhou family treats her as the ‘perfect’ daughter and you as a little brat. It’s so sad… you’re clearly so much better.”
A hint of caution rose in Xiaoming’s heart. “What do you want?”
“I like you,” Qian Fang smiled.
Xiaoming immediately felt a wave of dislike and tried to turn away, but the memory of the woman who had just tried to kill her made her hesitate.
“Right now,” Qian Fang said, “you probably don’t understand one thing: no one in this world truly loves you. Only interest is eternal. Do you believe me?”
“No,” Xiaoming said.
“Then let me tell you a story.”
Xiaoming hesitated, then nodded.
“Once, there was a child who believed that if he worked hard, he would get what he wanted,” Qian Fang began. “He memorized everything his master taught, practiced until he bled, and managed the sect’s affairs with precision. He hoped that when the sect was passed to him, he could make it great again.”
Xiaoming was confused.
“He lived with that hope for fifteen years,” Qian Fang continued. “Until a ‘little genius’ entered the sect and ruined everything. He hated the child who stole his future, so he tried to destroy that child. But do you know what he saw?”
Xiaoming wasn’t interested; she shrunk back in fear.
Qian Fang’s eyes glinted coldly. “He saw the Master—the one who supposedly loved the genius most—personally hand that child a ‘stone’ and let her destroy herself.” He stood up straight, smiling leisurely. “That was when he realized: people don’t truly love anyone. They just choose whoever is more valuable. If you aren’t valuable, you deserve to be killed.”
Xiaoming’s throat tightened. “What are you trying to say?”
Qian Fang smiled brightly. “I’m saying that when I said I ‘liked’ you, I was lying. You are only useful to me.”
Terror washed over Xiaoming—the same terror she felt from the woman earlier. It was suffocating.
“So,” Qian Fang whispered, “you can go look for your ‘warmth’ now. But sooner or later, you’ll find it’s all fake. Only what I can give you is real. When you get tired of that ‘warmth,’ come find me.”
…
Present Day.
Zhou Xiaoming sat atop the steel beams of the bridge, smiling down at Qian Luo and Zhang Youwei.
“I won’t believe it,” Xiaoming had once thought. But then the Ghost-Tamer had held her—a shivering, broken soul—and provided warmth that felt like a fatal fragrance in the dark night.
That person had stroked her back and whispered, “It’s okay, it’s over, don’t cry…”
To the dead, that warmth was the most precious thing in existence. But then, that same person had thrust a sword into her heart and said, “Fight me fairly. If I win, I’ll send you to the afterlife.”
With that strike, something deep inside Xiaoming had shattered.
She had returned to Qian Fang and told him, “You were right. That’s why I’ve come back.”
Everything was turning cold.
“How could I let you live well?” Xiaoming said, her voice dripping with a mix of familiarity and strange malice. “I’m going to destroy you.”
Qian Luo froze. Under the full moon, the girl she remembered as quiet and bright now looked bewitching and cold.
“I’m about to scatter into nothingness,” Xiaoming smiled. “Don’t you have anything to say? At least an apology?”
“I’ve never done anything to wrong you,” Qian Luo said firmly. “Why should I apologize?”
Xiaoming laughed. “True. You don’t owe me anything. I was just being sentimental. But…”
She looked at Youwei standing beside Qian Luo. “Tell me, of these two people beside you, which one is more important?”
Qian Luo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Qian Fang only acts for profit, so his decisions are fickle and hateful,” Xiaoming said. “I had to take matters into my own hands. I have no more obsessions… everyone I hate has met a bad end. Now, there’s only you left.”
Xiaoming leaned against the steel. “Your cat is being hunted by the other world, right? And the person beside you… the drugs in her system haven’t fully worn off, have they?”
She giggled mischievously. “She is standing right on a blood array. If she steps out, it will immediately trigger the formation back at the Zhang villa. So, this Zhang family ghost-tamer has two choices: she dies, or Ye dies. How do you think the Zhang family would choose? And you?”
“Who will you choose?”