Ghostly shrieks pierced the air as several NPCs in ancient costumes emerged from the shadows, their high-pitched wails echoing through the room.
The five of them scattered in all directions. Without a second thought, Sheng Mian followed Shen Zhilin, the ghastly, pale faces behind them drawing closer and closer. Sheng Mian instinctively grabbed Zhilin’s forearm, a desperate move for a sense of security.
She was quickly pulled into a wooden wardrobe. The cramped space was pitch black; as soon as they were inside, Sheng Mian went silent, holding her breath. Several NPCs ran past with eerie, distorted giggles.
Sheng Mian peered warily through the slit in the door, her grip on Zhilin’s hand tightening. As the screams faded into the distance, she let out a long breath. “Safe now.”
Shen Zhilin’s face was completely hidden in the darkness, but Sheng Mian’s small, pale face was illuminated clearly by the faint light filtering through the crack. The wardrobe was extremely narrow; the two were pressed so close together that their breathing intermingled.
“Mm,” Zhilin’s voice hummed low in the confined space before drifting into Sheng Mian’s ear.
Sheng Mian seemed to snap back to her senses. She immediately let go and took a step back to maintain distance. Her back brushed against something cold and solid. She turned around to see the glowing green face of a withered old hag.
“Ah!”
Terrified, she lurched away, only to collide straight back into Shen Zhilin. The momentum sent her falling against the Alpha, her hands accidentally pressing flat against Zhilin’s soft chest.
They were pinned together. Sheng Mian’s erratic heartbeat felt like it was being transmitted directly into Zhilin’s own chest. The air was thin and the proximity was stifling; the distinct scent of each other’s skin was unavoidable.
Sheng Mian felt her fingers sink into something unusual. She instinctively gave a small squeeze, only to hear a muffled grunt from above her.
Sheng Mian blinked, realization hitting her like a thunderbolt. Horrified, she whipped her hands behind her back. “I’m so sorry!”
The sensation lingered on her palms. She twisted her fingers together behind her back, squeezing so hard it hurt.
Zhilin cleared her throat, her voice low and strained. “It’s fine.”
Sheng Mian could sense that Zhilin’s expression must be terrible. The terrifying atmosphere had vanished, replaced entirely by a suffocating awkwardness.
“Why is this bride still chasing us?” Sheng Yichen was running so much he’d forgotten to be scared; the chase sequence felt excessively long.
“It’s like she’s matching our pace,” Qin Heng noted, slowing to a walk. He looked back; sure enough, the bride NPC slowed down to walk behind them.
Yichen kept glancing back, terrified the safety distance would be broken. The bride—clad in red silk with long hair obscuring her face limped along silently. She didn’t scream or speak; she just followed.
“Look at her feet,” Qin Heng whispered. Yichen stole a quick glance. “She’s a cripple?”
“Use your eyes!” Qin Heng sighed. “Look at her feet. One of them is missing a shoe.”
Yichen looked closer. It was true. He suddenly remembered: “Wait! That’s my mission!”
“Then go for it.” Deducing that the bride just wanted her shoe back, Qin Heng found a spot to sit down.
When Yichen didn’t move for a long time, Qin Heng glanced at him. “Why haven’t you gone yet?”
The tall Alpha loomed there, muttering something under his breath like a buzzing mosquito.
“What?” Qin Heng leaned in.
“I said come with me.”
After a long pause, Qin Heng burst out laughing, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Say ‘please’.”
Yichen’s face went through several shades of inner conflict before he looked at Qin Heng with a look of “do-or-die” resignation.
Qin Heng stopped teasing just in time. “Alright, I’ll stop. Let’s go.” He led the way.
They navigated through a dilapidated front courtyard overgrown with tangled branches. A lonely well sat in the center, its depths too dark to see. Yichen picked up a pole with a magnet attached to the tip and lowered it into the well. He felt a tug.
He pulled it up, it was a skull. The second time, he fished out a book. He looked at it; it was a perpetual calendar. He set it aside. On the third try, he finally retrieved the bride’s embroidered shoe.
The bride took the shoe and drifted away into the gloom.
Yi Chi entered a room labeled “The Spirit Palanquin Chamber.” Inside sat a wedding sedan chair surrounded by four eerie paper effigies. She approached the altar and found a “Register of Life and Death.”
The dates for the bride and groom had been blacked out. Yi Chi immediately ran back to the first room and returned with the scraps of the wedding contract they’d found earlier.
The contract detailed their birth dates. Yi Chi picked up a cinnabar brush and carefully transcribed them. Suddenly, the paper effigies began to twitch. They all snapped their heads toward her, their necks tilting at unnatural angles as they stepped forward, faces fixed in crimson grins.
Yi Chi checked the dates again—March 18, 1892, and November 7, 1898. The numbers were right. As the paper men closed in, she dodged past them and sprinted out.
She ran into Sheng Mian and Shen Zhilin sitting on a bench in the hallway, neither saying a word. She noted the massive gap between them, enough for three people to sit before walking over.
“I just came from the palanquin room. That should be our final destination.”
Sheng Mian asked, “Is your task done?”
Yi Chi shook her head. “No, I’m missing a calendar prop. Have you guys seen anything like a calendar?”
Both shook their heads. Just then, Qin Heng and Sheng Yichen walked in.
“Did you guys see a calendar?”
“Oh! Yichen fished one out of the well.”
“Where is it?”
Yichen pointed. “I left it by the well.”
Sheng Mian stood up. “I’ll go with you.”
“It’s fine, I’ll go myself,” Yi Chi replied, her silhouette quickly vanishing into the darkness.
Sheng Mian sighed. “Yi Chi is so brave.”
“True,” Qin Heng agreed, casting a pointed look at a certain tall Alpha. “Braver than some Alphas I know.”
Sheng Mian let out a confused “Huh?”
Receiving a warning yet pleading look from Yichen, Qin Heng responded blandly, “Nothing.”
Noticing Zhilin seemed out of sorts, Qin Heng walked over. “What are you thinking about? You’re dazed.”
Sheng Mian felt a subtle gaze flicker toward her, making her pace around uncomfortably.
“I’m back.” Yi Chi returned quickly with the perpetual calendar. They all entered the Spirit Palanquin Chamber together.
In the center stood the sedan chair with a massive white “Double Happiness” character pasted on it. Several paper effigy NPCs stood guard. Yi Chi placed the wedding contract and the calendar on the table. Between them lay the blackened Register.
Consulting the calendar, she translated the dates into the lunar cycle: Year of Ren-Chen, Month of Gui-Mao, Day of Jia-Xu and Year of Wu-Xu, Month of Ren-Xu, Day of Bing-Chen.
As the final stroke fell, several wailing “mourning hags” with grotesque makeup suddenly dropped from the rafters, hanging upside down. They began to blow discordant notes on suona horns, hovering right above the group. Their long, coarse hair brushed against the tops of their heads.
Sheng Yichen swatted away the hair tickling his neck. He turned around to see two figures entering the doorway. “The bride and groom are here!”
A single spotlight fell from above, shielding the five of them in a beam of light. Qin Heng quickly grabbed a brush and sniffed the red ink nearby; it smelled metallic, like blood.
He gathered the ink, the brush, and the wedding contract. The contract was tossed into a brazier in front of the palanquin. Qin Heng dipped the brush into the red ink and, after a moment of thought, began to write on the floor within the beam of light.
“Chant the Matchmaker’s Curse!” Qin Heng yelled as he sat on the floor, watching the two figures draw closer. “Hurry!”
Shen Zhilin took the lead, her voice flat and steady. The others followed her lead in a haunting unison: “The funeral gong strikes at midnight’s breath; the ghost-matchmaker lights a path for death. The dowry chests are filled with whitened bone; the wedding wine is seeped in Styx alone. The living must hide, never turn your head; the puppet strings are pulled by the dead. If the palanquin cries with a sorrowful sound, burn spirit money to the smoke on the ground.”
Qin Heng’s hand moved rapidly, his pen tracing jagged lines across the floor. As the strange, crooked red runes began to take shape, he muttered a series of cryptic incantations:
“Red silk cloaks the bone; white candles light the soul. The living pay the price; the karmic debt takes hold.
One command, a thousand spirits retreat; two commands, ten thousand ghosts hide. Three commands, the red silk tears; four commands, the white bones freeze.
The heavens clear and the earth mists, dividing two worlds; the five elements reverse to suppress the Yin and Yang.
By the order of Taiyi, Savior from Suffering—the trading of lives is but a hollow delusion!”
Ear-piercing shrieks erupted. The bodies of the bride and groom twisted unnaturally, their mouths letting out agonized cries before they finally collapsed. At the feet of the paper effigies, flames flickered to life, the tongues of fire licking upward until only piles of ash remained on the floor.
The lights flickered on. Bride of the Netherworld—Complete.
As they stepped out of the shop, the sky had turned a soft, dusty gray.
“That last bit was cool,” Yi Chi said. “The drawing, the chanting—you looked like you knew what you were doing.”
“I spent the whole time memorizing that,” Qin Heng admitted. “The prompt specifically said no looking at the reference while drawing. The runes were so complicated; I almost messed up.”
“What would’ve happened if you did?”
Qin Heng shrugged. “I guess our lives would’ve been ‘traded’ for theirs.”
Sheng Mian was uncharacteristically quiet, appearing distracted ever since they left the building. Yi Chi nudged her arm. “You okay?”
“Just a bit tired.”
Qin Heng looked at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late. Let’s head home.”
Shen Zhilin and Qin Heng happened to be taking the same bus. They sprinted toward the station, catching the bus just as it was about to pull away. A taxi pulled up for the remaining three. Yi Chi waved goodbye. “I’m off! Bye, guys—text me when you get home.”
That left only the Sheng siblings. Sheng Mian pulled out her phone to call a ride, but Yichen stopped her.
“Don’t bother. The driver is nearby; he’ll be here in a minute.”
“Oh? That’s lucky,” Sheng Mian said, canceling her order.
“Uncle Zhang dropped us off and just stayed in the area to wait.”
Sheng Mian’s eyes widened. “He’s been waiting for over two hours?”
Yichen acted as if this were perfectly normal. “Yeah.”
They got into the car, but at a certain intersection, Sheng Mian spoke up. “Uncle Zhang, could you pull over for a second?” As she unbuckled her seatbelt, she added, “You guys go ahead. I have something to take care of; I’ll find my own way back in a bit.”
“I can drop the young master off and come back for you, Miss,” the driver offered.
Sheng Mian waved him off. “It’s too much trouble, Uncle Zhang. It’s fine, I’ll just grab a cab later.”
Unable to argue with her, they let her out.
Sheng Mian walked down the street until she saw the familiar sign: Fatty’s BBQ. From the side of the shop, she could see Shen Zhilin through the window. It looked like Zhilin had gone home to change; she was no longer in the white t-shirt from earlier, likely wanting to avoid getting oil stains on it.
Zhilin’s proportions were striking—long legs, a narrow waist, and lithe, capable arms. Though she looked slender, her frame wasn’t frail. She moved between the tables with effortless efficiency, but her face remained stoic. I’ve rarely ever seen her smile, Sheng Mian thought.
The shop owner’s wife, Sister-in-law, stepped out of the side door to take out the trash and spotted Sheng Mian immediately. She greeted her warmly. “You’re here for Xiao Shen, right? I’ll go call her for you.”
Sheng Mian hurriedly stopped her. “No, no need to call her! I was just passing by.” She turned and quickly walked away.
When Sister-in-law returned to the shop, she casually mentioned it to Zhilin. “I just saw that classmate of yours.” She paused. “The pretty Omega who came to eat here last time.”
Zhilin froze. She looked toward the street, but Sheng Mian’s figure was already long gone.
Sister-in-law glanced at the pitch-black sky and said with concern, “It’s already dark. It’s not very safe for an Omega to be walking around alone out there.”
The speed at which Zhilin was wiping the table slowed down.
“Why don’t you go walk her for a bit? There aren’t many customers right now anyway.”
Zhilin gave the table a final, hasty wipe and pulled off her apron. “Thanks, Sister-in-law. I’ll be right back.”
She stepped out of the shop and immediately spotted the figure walking away down the street.