Chapter Twenty-Seven: At the Moment of Emotion

Hearing Wei Qi’s heavy sigh, a chill settled in my heart. I had thought I would be able to retrieve Wang Ying’s soul, but she did not appear in the soul urn.

“Uncle Qi, what do you mean it’s over? Does that mean she can’t be found?” In my confusion, I grabbed Wei Qi’s hand, shaking it desperately.

His face was bleak as he nodded gently. “Da Chuan, fate between you two only goes this far. I’d hoped to summon Wang Ying’s soul back, but I failed. I truly did my best.”

I looked at the lifeless body lying on the bed, thinking of the short time we’d spent together, and my heart felt like it was breaking. Suddenly, I spun around and seized Wei Qi’s hand. “Uncle Qi, tell me—what price must I pay to bring Wang Ying back?”

Yet he still shook his head. “Da Chuan, Wang Ying is a good girl. I hate to see you lose her this way, but that’s reality. She really can’t be brought back.”

A sudden idea struck me. I grabbed the soul urn nearby, along with the remaining joss paper and incense, and rushed out the door. The night outside was hazy and dim; this was the countryside, and not a single streetlamp lit the way. I stumbled and faltered as I walked, calling Wang Ying’s name into the darkness.

“Wang Ying, where are you? Come home with me!”

Wei Qi followed close behind, silent, simply shadowing me. When we passed a small bridge, I felt something trip me, and before I knew it, I tumbled off the bridge. The creek wasn’t deep, but jagged black stones cut into my calves, leaving blood streaming down my legs.

Seeing me limping, Wei Qi held my arm, stopping me from going any further. He said there was no point in continuing—if her soul hadn’t dissipated, she would have returned already. I broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to believe Wang Ying had vanished from my life just like that.

I wandered outside for half the night, but found nothing. By the time I returned home, it was already late. I asked Wei Qi to get me a bottle of liquor, then tried to send him home to rest. But he stubbornly refused, insisting on staying with me. He went to the little shop to buy some dishes, and sat by my side, drinking with me. As we drank, he tried to comfort me, saying that in the end, she was a ghost and I was a living man; her leaving wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I could find a nice girl—he even mentioned Yu Fang, suggesting I could try pursuing her. I knew his words weren’t truly urging me to chase anyone; he was only trying to console me.

If it had been two days ago, I would have wished for Wang Ying to leave me quietly. Even now, I understood that we were not meant to be together: I was living, she was dead, and our relationship could never last. Yet seeing her disappear so completely left a pain in my heart that words could not express. That’s how people are, I suppose—we fail to cherish what we have, and only realize its value when it’s lost.

I said nothing, just drank greedily. I’d made up my mind: if Wang Ying was gone, so be it. Tomorrow I would take this corpse home—along with her original body—find a good place to bury them both, and then wash my hands of these dealings with the dead and the living forever.

Seeing how much I was drinking, Wei Qi must have feared for me and tried to stop me. But he couldn’t, and I felt that getting drunk would ease my pain. When he saw he couldn’t dissuade me, he simply accompanied me. In the end, we both got drunk—he had two bottles, I had one.

But drunkenness brought me no relief—if anything, it made things worse. Wei Qi was so drunk he could barely stand, mumbled a few words of advice, and staggered away. After he left, I hugged Wang Ying’s body and wept bitterly.

No matter how hard I cried, the corpse remained motionless, cold as ice.

Eventually, exhausted by tears and drink, I cradled the corpse in my arms and fell into a muddled sleep. Though I slept, my awareness lingered in a haze, as though at any moment Wang Ying would walk through the door.

“Husband, husband, save me.” As I drifted between consciousness and dreams, suddenly a voice echoed from outside.

Startled, I sat up, and clearly heard that distant, approaching call: “Da Chuan, save me…” Yes, it was Wang Ying’s voice. I recognized it instantly. Without even putting on my shoes, I grabbed the three-foot Longyuan sword beside me and leapt out of bed.

“Wang Ying, where are you? I’m coming!” I shouted, running wildly toward the sound.

Perhaps because it was the dead of night, the darkness felt even deeper. I ran out quickly, but the voice vanished. I strained my ears, listening intently, but there was only silence. Still, I knew what I’d heard—I was certain it was Wang Ying’s call, sure she was somewhere on this path.

I ran forward, retracing the route I had already taken twice, heading toward town. I was convinced I’d heard her, convinced she was somewhere along this road.

As I reached the little bridge where I’d fallen before, I suddenly noticed two blue figures under the bridge. Staring intently, my mind buzzed—I couldn’t tell if I was excited or horrified.

In the water, Wang Ying’s petite form was being dragged by the neck by a male ghost twice her height, pulling her toward the far bank.

“Wife, I’m coming!” Rage surged through me as I leapt into the water, raising the Longyuan sword and hacking at the towering ghost. With a sharp crack, one of its arms fell into the water, and the hand on Wang Ying’s throat released its grip. In a flash, the ghost vanished.

Wang Ying saw me and managed a wry smile. “Scoundrel, you took your time saving me.” Before she could finish, her body went limp and she collapsed into the water. I hurriedly scooped her up, dashed home, and placed her on the bed. This, at last, was the real Wang Ying, distinct from the body she had possessed—her true form was smaller, more delicate, with an innocence about her, while the corpse she’d borrowed was fuller and more mature.

“Wife, are you alright?” I asked, worried by her frailty.

“My love, thank you for coming to save me. The first time you and Wei Qi passed by, I saw you both, but the evil ghost covered my mouth. I wanted to call out but couldn’t. The second time you came, he still covered my mouth, and I reached out to trip you into the water, but you silly thing didn’t see me. Later, when the ghost saw the yin energy growing, he tried to drag me to his grave, wanting to make me his bride. I refused with all my strength, bit him, and tried to escape. I called out for you, but he caught me again. Luckily, you came back for me.” Wang Ying spoke weakly, smiling faintly, her cold hand gripping mine, trembling slightly.

“I’m so sorry, my love! Are you alright?” I checked her over—her clothes were still intact, no sign of violence.

Wang Ying rolled her eyes at me. “Idiot, what nonsense are you thinking? The ghost may have been evil, but he needed yin energy, not anything else. Out in the open, he wouldn’t dare. If you hadn’t come, though, who knows what might have happened. And anyway, I’m still a maiden, so don’t get any strange ideas.”

I grinned. “Wife, where’s your mind running off to? I was just teasing. I wouldn’t dare…” But even as I spoke, my drunken eyes began to wander. Her thin, wet clothes clung to her, and the outline of her dark bra was faintly visible beneath. The sight stirred something in me.

Noticing my unsettled gaze, Wang Ying struggled to sit up. “Da Chuan, I’m a ghost now—I have no body, so we can’t… you know. If you really want, I could possess her body again.” She glanced at the borrowed corpse lying beside us.

I quickly stopped her. In truth, I liked her better as she was now. “No, just stay with me like this. There’s no yang energy now anyway.” I genuinely preferred the real Wang Ying—the borrowed body was too mature for my taste.

“My love, I’m tired. And hungry.” She shifted slightly, her lips moving as if in need. Only then did I remember—hastily, I offered her my finger. Seeing her satisfied and greedy expression, I was suddenly overwhelmed by happiness.

After a while, Wang Ying released my finger from her crimson lips and slowly sat up, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Darling, I want to ask you something.”

I held her cool back. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve realized I’ve truly fallen in love with you. What should I do?” Her chin rested on my shoulder, her voice wistful.

My heart trembled. Even if she hadn’t said it, I would have confessed the same. At first, I hadn’t believed in love between the living and the dead, but after all we’d been through, I knew she meant everything to me. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear. If you don’t love me, who would you love?”

Gently, Wang Ying slipped from my arms, her tear-filled eyes shaking as she shook her head. “Da Chuan, when your second uncle first decided to betroth me to you, it was just a delaying tactic—to keep me from seeking revenge on those who wronged me. Back then, I was drawn to your blood, so I agreed to stay with you for a while. But now, I’ve truly, deeply fallen in love with you. When the evil ghost captured me under the bridge today, I wanted to die—but I dreaded never seeing you again.” As she spoke, her voice broke, and she began to sob, her cold shoulders trembling.

I drew her into my embrace again. “I’m sorry, my love. I shouldn’t have let the police take you away. From now on, we’ll never be apart.”

Wang Ying wiped her tears and pulled away once more. “No, I won’t marry you. If I did, I couldn’t bear children, and I’d have to depend on your blood to survive. If I married you, your lifespan would be cut short…”