Qian Luo purposely let the person pound on the door for a good while before sauntering over to open it. She offered a beaming smile. “And what can I do for you, Miss Zhou?”
Zhou Hailing’s face was slightly flushed with embarrassment. She glared huffily at Qian Luo, then shot a commanding glance at Yin Tong as if seeking backup.
Yin Tong, however, maintained a mild expression, gazing off at the lake scenery as if the drama at the doorstep didn’t exist.
After a long silence, Zhou Hailing finally squeezed out four words: “I’m sorry, okay!”
Without her high heels, she was slightly shorter than Qian Luo. Qian Luo leaned against the doorframe, looking down at her. “Sorry for what?”
“That Zhang Youwei woman wasn’t my idea,” Zhou Hailing grumbled. “My dad hired her. I don’t even know her. I… I think she’s not as good as you anyway. She’s so mean, acting all high and mighty…”
Qian Luo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How straightforward is this girl’s mind? One moment she was belittling Qian Luo in favor of the Zhang family; the next, she was trashing the Zhangs.
Qian Luo realized that Hailing was simply a girl with her nose so high in the air that she looked down on everyone—it was just a matter of who she looked down on more.
Qian Luo rubbed her forehead with a wry smile. “Miss Zhou, do you realize that ghost-tamers need to set arrays and invoke spirits? It’s like going to war; you need a weapon. Did you want me to perform a ‘hand-to-ghost’ combat scene?”
Hailing thought about that image and realized her earlier demands were a bit childish. She lowered her voice. “…Oh.”
“Ghost-tamers are human,” Qian Luo added. “Without our tools, it’s like a ghost without resentment—we’re basically stripped of our power. Understand?”
“I… I apologize.”
Qian Luo reached out and patted the superstar on the head. “There’s a good girl.”
At this, Yin Tong turned around. “Miss Qian mentioned earlier that our second young lady didn’t die by suicide. How did you determine that?”
Qian Luo smiled at her. “For that… why don’t you go ask the Zhang family?”
BANG.
She slammed the door shut again, ignoring Hailing’s subsequent kicks and shouts.
Qian Luo clapped her hands together, looking at Ye and Qian Zhen. “Where should we go play?”
Though Ye bickered with Qian Luo constantly, she always sided with her against outsiders. She remarked lazily, “They probably don’t know that in this generation of ghost-tamers, our Xiao Luo is the only one who can truly commune with spirits.”
Qian Luo laughed. “What are you talking about? There’s also you, Great Divine Cat.”
Ye propped her feet up on a chair. “Then why aren’t you kneeling?”
Qian Zhen shook her head with a helpless smile. “A hundreds-of-years-old grandmother, yet you still act like this.”
Qian Luo and Ye, who never cared much for decorum, both dropped to one knee. Qian Luo made a show of trying to kiss Ye’s paw. “Your Holiness, please accept my humble bow…”
Ye laughed and kicked Qian Luo squarely in the chest. “Get lost!”
Qian Zhen sat nearby, quietly sipping her water and watching the two of them play. Outside, Zhou Hailing eventually gave the door one final kick and left.
Only then did Qian Zhen set her glass down, her smile fading. “Xiao Luo.”
Qian Luo stopped playing and looked up. “Yes?”
“I just heard that the Zhang family sent one of their best,” Qian Zhen said gravely. “And based on what that actress said, I know who it is: Zhang Youwei.”
“Zhang Youwei? Is she a big deal?”
Qian Zhen nodded. “The top talent of the Zhang family’s younger generation. She’s lethal with a sword—not just against ghosts, but she’s ruthless against people, too.”
Qian Luo didn’t seem to care, joking, “A sword? I thought they’d all be using guns by now, hahaha…”
Qian Zhen only sighed.
…
2.
In the early morning, two shadows moved through the dim light. Zhou Xiaoming’s body was nearly transparent, and the woman following her looked like her own shadow.
Xiaoming walked forward without looking back. “Stop following me. I won’t cooperate with you. I’m going to reincarnate properly. I’m already dead; I don’t care who killed me.”
“You care,” the woman said from behind.
“I don’t,” Xiaoming snapped.
“You care,” the woman insisted stubbornly.
Xiaoming spun around. Her clear eyes turned blood-red in an instant, filled with a terrifying, violent aura. “I SAID I DON’T CARE!”
An icy wind swirled through the morning mist, carrying the scent of blood. Instead of dispersing the fog, the air grew darker and colder. The blurry shadow trembled. “Y-Yes.”
Xiaoming realized her body was currently a paradox of burning cold. These extremes were painful for her spirit. She calmed down, her eyes returning to their quiet, sorrowful state. “I’m sorry.”
The shadow’s blurry eyes watched her in terror.
Xiaoming sighed. “Just go. Stop following me.”
Suddenly, a ray of sunlight pierced the mist. The shadow panicked and tried to pull Xiaoming away, but Xiaoming didn’t move.
The shadow hissed, “Let’s go first! Forget the deal for now! We just need to hide!”
Xiaoming found it ridiculous. Everyone who appeared to her wanted to talk about interests and deals. She felt herself being pulled along by the woman, running at high speed without feeling tired, watching the scenery blur past. They ended up in a dark basement.
Xiaoming recalled the condition the woman had proposed: “Kill a ghost-tamer and take her heart. You’ll gain immense power. The stronger the tamer, the more power you get. You could even…”
“Even what?” Xiaoming had asked.
The woman’s features had sharpened for a second, her eyes gleaming with hate. “You could take your revenge!”
Xiaoming had shuddered. Qian Luo’s face flashed in her mind—that warmth that seemed to reach across the void. If that person died, would she finally stop longing for this world?
A selfish, dark impulse surged in Xiaoming’s heart: Because I like you so much… why don’t you die with me?
Xiaoming shook herself awake from the thought and pushed the woman away. “Impossible. Forget it.” She turned to leave.
…
3.
Qian Luo was driving, Ye was in the back, and Qian Zhen was in the passenger seat playing with her phone.
Qian Zhen’s voice was loud, but the person on the other end couldn’t hear her. Her sudden shouting startled Qian Luo, who nearly swerved into another car.
The other driver stuck his head out. “Careful there, little girl!”
“Sorry!” Qian Luo yelled back.
“No worries!” he shouted.
“Goodbye!” Qian Luo waved.
“Bye!”
Ye & Qian Zhen: “…”
Ye kicked the back of Qian Luo’s seat. “What is wrong with you?”
“Driving is boring,” Qian Luo said. “Just building some community spirit.”
“If you’re bored,” Ye said, “I can fix that.”
Three minutes later, Qian Luo was wailing, “Okay, okay! I was wrong! Let go of my hair! Ow!”
“Still going to flirt while looking away from the road?” Ye asked.
“Who was flirting? That guy was fifty!”
Ye tugged her hair harder. “So you’re saying if he was thirty, you would’ve jumped him?”
“…” There is no communicating with this cat.
The car got stuck in traffic near the Zhou Group. Their planned “day trip” was going to be late. Qian Zhen kept trying to make calls, but her phone was filled with static.
“Sister, time for a new phone?” Qian Luo joked.
Qian Zhen reached out. “Luo, let me use yours.”
Qian Luo reached for her phone, but her face went white. She couldn’t find it. Ye tossed a phone from the backseat; Qian Zhen caught it.
Qian Luo sighed, looking at Ye with confusion.
“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached,” Ye muttered.
Qian Zhen dialed, but the static remained. Even Qian Luo began to notice something was wrong. Qian Zhen opened the door and stepped out of the car. After a few steps, the static vanished.
“Zhen, what’s wrong?” the voice on the phone asked clearly.
“Nothing, stay on the line,” Qian Zhen said. She stepped back toward the car, and the static returned, sharper and louder.
She beckoned Qian Luo out. They stood on the road, looking at the deadlocked traffic. There had been an accident at the intersection ahead, but the way the cars were positioned was… strange.
“The phone works fine away from the car,” Qian Zhen said. “Luo, is there something in your car?”
“Like what? A stupid cat?” Qian Luo joked. Ye glared from the window.
Qian Zhen made another call to a friend in the French police. Her face grew solemn as she spoke in French. After hanging up, she told Qian Luo, “My friend says this situation might be—”
Suddenly, a commotion broke out at the site of the accident. A man shouted, “Little girl, don’t you dare!”
They walked toward the crowd. In the center stood a girl who was impossible to miss. She was slender but lacked any “softness.” Dressed in all white, she was striking under the sun. At her waist was a sword, its hilt inlaid with gems that sparkled brilliantly.
“You hit someone,” the girl’s voice rang out. “Take responsibility.”
“Listen, kid,” a man warned. “Don’t think you can act tough just because you’re carrying a prop sword. We don’t want to hit a girl, but you’re asking for it.”
The girl narrowed her eyes. “This is a sword,” she huffed.
Qian Luo burst out laughing from the sidelines, but Qian Zhen quickly covered her mouth. “Don’t cause trouble!”
Too late. The white-clad girl’s eyes flicked toward them.
A man clutching his arm wailed, “I just pointed at you! Did you have to break my hand?”
The girl looked at him coldly. “It’s not broken. The tendons are still attached.”
Qian Luo: “…” That is the most unreasonable way of speaking I’ve ever heard.
Qian Luo thought the girl looked beautiful, but before she could say more, she felt a sharp smack to the back of her head. She turned to see Ye’s emerald eyes.
“Flirting from this distance? Really?” Ye sneered.
“I wasn’t! It was an objective observation!”
Ye crossed her arms and looked away. “The cat food Sister gave me was delicious.”
Qian Zhen smiled. “I’ll give you more later.”
Ye tilted her head. “Qian Luo’s T-shirt is actually quite pretty.”
“I’ll buy you one just like it,” Qian Zhen laughed.
Qian Luo: “…” Fine. From now on, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. Hmph.
Then, Qian Luo noticed the pattern on the girl’s sword. Her eyes widened. She grabbed her sister’s sleeve. “Sister, look at the hilt… is that…?”
Qian Zhen looked at the intricate patterns, then at the girl’s piercingly beautiful face and her white outfit—not a normal dress, but a combat-ready design with white peony embroidery and a gold silk waistband.
Ye leaned in, her pupils constricting in the sunlight. “Yep. The Zhang family of Chang’an.”
Qian Zhen stared at the girl’s proud profile and said quietly:
“Zhang Youwei.”