“Where… is this? Who… are you?”
Lady Xiao Lin’s consciousness lingered. She remembered being nailed into the coffin, each nail piercing her with pain like burning fire.
The torment persisted until one day, a cool, refreshing scent reached her, soothing the scorching agony and gradually clearing her muddled mind.
Then, she appeared in this strange place, facing a white fox.
“You don’t need to know who I am. Do you remember how you died?”
The fox, sitting on a stool like a human, suddenly spoke.
Lady Xiao Lin struggled to recall. During that time, she had been dazed, unable to sleep through the night, plagued by terrifying hallucinations.
She saw that the child in her womb wasn’t human but a monstrous fish, trying to tear her apart.
Terrified, her mind blank, she somehow found a dagger and cut open her own belly.
Then…
Lady Xiao Lin clutched her head, her scream shrill.
She remembered. She died.
After death, her soul remained tethered to her body. She heard Zhao Ming say he had a child with another woman.
Her death was orchestrated, all to let his favored child return to the Zhao family legitimately.
He even had her soul sealed in the coffin, tormenting her daily.
Countless thoughts surged, and the black mist around her grew denser, her resentment nearly uncontainable.
“I remember. Zhao Ming killed me,” Lady Xiao Lin rasped, her voice thick with hatred. “They killed me, the Zhao family!”
“Then take your revenge,” Achan said, gazing at her with indifferent beastly eyes.
“Revenge? Yes, I’ll make him pay.” The resentment on Lady Xiao Lin’s face faded, revealing pitch-black eyes and a ghostly pale complexion.
“Tomorrow at the zǐ hour (11 PM to 1 AM), the incense sustaining you will fade. When it does, you’ll become a vengeful ghost. Then, right your wrongs and settle your grudges. You have only that night. At dawn, I’ll send you to the underworld.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Because you helped me too, even if you thought I was Ji Chan. Achan closed her eyes, not answering.
When she opened them, her consciousness had returned to her body, still seated in the dark room.
But Achan knew Lady Xiao Lin had been there.
And now, she was gone.
The first stick of incense had burned out. Achan lit the second. Tonight would be another sleepless night.
Lady Xiao Lin didn’t know how she appeared on the street, just as she didn’t understand why she had been in that strange place with a talking fox.
She didn’t need to think so much. She was already dead.
Her body was like mist, drifting through the darkness. The buildings grew more familiar until a vermilion gate blocked her path, its plaque bearing the words “Zhao Residence.”
On the gate, door gods had been pasted at some point.
Lady Xiao Lin hesitated, staring at the glowing door god images in her eyes, not daring to approach. Then, a clear, sharp scent enveloped her, and with that wisp of smoke, she passed through the gate.
Looking back, the door gods remained.
This was the home where she had lived for over a decade. Yet, after just a few days away, it felt entirely different.
Lady Xiao Lin drifted through the Zhao residence. She first went to the main courtyard, where the door was sealed with a strip. She passed through it, vividly recalling where she had died.
The scent of her blood still lingered.
She lingered in her room, sitting briefly at the dusty dressing table, where the bronze mirror showed nothing.
Then she went to Zhao Ming’s study.
She couldn’t read, so she rarely visited the study.
She remembered once discovering a maid there with improper intentions. Before she could act, Zhao Ming had sent the maid away.
When she asked why he didn’t keep her, he said he didn’t need a beauty to “add fragrance to his sleeves.”
Back then, Lady Xiao Lin thought no man could be better than Zhao Ming.
In the study’s inner room, she saw the man she had once deeply loved, now with another woman in his arms.
She recognized that face: Su Yao, the concubine Old Lady Zhao had once chosen for Zhao Ming, his distant cousin.
Lady Xiao Lin sat by their bedside, watching the intimate pair until dawn.
When Zhao Ming woke, he shivered, feeling a sudden chill.
“What’s wrong?” Su Yao rubbed her eyes and sat up.
She wore only a thin undergarment, her exposed skin marked with red blotches.
“Nothing. Don’t catch cold.” Zhao Ming took a robe from nearby and gently dressed her.
Su Yao stood, helping Zhao Ming into his official robes and tying his belt. They lingered affectionately by the bed before parting.
Neither noticed Lady Xiao Lin watching from the bedside.
In the past, when in a good mood, Lady Xiao Lin had also helped Zhao Ming dress, though she never tied his belt.
But she remembered how he would instinctively raise his arms, as if waiting for her to do so.
So, it was his dear cousin who had cultivated that habit.
On those days he went out with friends and didn’t return at night, was he with this woman?
Oh, and they had a child together, now living in the household.
After Zhao Ming left, Lady Xiao Lin followed Su Yao. She saw the steward personally deliver food, addressing her as “Madam.”
That steward, handpicked by Lady Xiao Lin, was a loyal dog.
After eating, Su Yao went to Huian Hall, where Old Master and Old Lady Zhao lived.
Huian Hall was lively at that hour, filled with a child’s chatter and the old couple’s laughter.
Hearing Su Yao had come to pay respects, Old Lady Zhao warmly called her in.
Lady Xiao Lin followed Su Yao, drifting into Huian Hall.
She saw her mother-in-law fondly holding Su Yao’s hand, asking if she had rested well.
When Su Yao blushed, Old Lady Zhao teased her, urging her to try for another fat grandson.
As Su Yao sat, the small boy who had been clinging to Old Lady Zhao approached, calling out, “Mother.”
“Good boy, Qi’er. Have you been diligent with your studies?”
“Yes.” Zhao Wenqi nodded eagerly. “I’ve been working hard. Father says he’ll send me to study with Master Qi soon. Master Qi has agreed.”
Lady Xiao Lin remembered Master Qi, a friend of Zhao Ming’s despite their age difference. When Zhao Wensheng was ten, she had asked Zhao Ming to send him to Master Qi, but he refused, saying Master Qi didn’t take young students.
Su Yao beamed. “Really? My Qi’er is so impressive.”
Zhao Wenqi said proudly, “Master Qi says I’m bright and sensible, far better than Father’s useless eldest son.”
Hearing her grandson mention Zhao Wensheng, Old Lady Zhao snorted. “It’s early morning, Qi’er. Don’t mention that bad luck and dirty our ears.”
“Aunt, you can’t say that outside,” Su Yao said with a smile.
“I know.” Old Lady Zhao looked at Su Yao and her son, brimming with affection. “Thank goodness we didn’t let you two stay in the household these years, or that Xiao Lin would’ve tormented you to death.”
Zhao Wenqi added in a clear voice, “Books say the wicked get what they deserve. She monopolized Father and kept our family apart, so she died a bad death.”
“Oh, my Qi’er knows so much, even ‘bad death,’ haha!” Old Lady Zhao laughed.
Su Yao tapped her son’s hand, her tone stern. “Don’t say such things again, understand?”
“I understand, Mother. Don’t be angry,” Zhao Wenqi quickly apologized. “I’ll study hard, and when I grow up and become an official, I’ll request noble titles for Grandma and Mother.”
“My dear grandson even knows about noble titles. So sensible!” Old Lady Zhao beamed, then turned to Su Yao. “Qi’er just spoke the truth. Why scare him?”
To their family, Lady Xiao Lin was a superfluous, obstructive presence whose bad death was deserved.
Standing by the table, blood-red tears slid down Lady Xiao Lin’s face, dripping silently to the floor, leaving no trace.
The day passed in a flash. Lady Xiao Lin roamed the entire Zhao residence, avoiding only Zhao Wenyue.
She remembered the words Zhao Wenyue had said before the coffin was nailed shut.
As dusk fell, the incense sustaining Lady Xiao Lin grew fainter.
Zhao Ming returned to the residence, accompanied by Xue Mingtang.
Xue Mingtang, a second-realm cultivator with vigorous vitality, should have sensed a ghost’s presence, but he didn’t notice Lady Xiao Lin nearby.
The two went to the study. Something on Xue Mingtang made her feel danger, so she kept her distance, listening faintly.
She heard them mention a forbidden vault and the Lin family, but their voices were low and fragmented, incomprehensible.
They didn’t stay long. Xue Mingtang soon left. On his way out, he met Zhao Wenyue.
Lady Xiao Lin watched from afar as Zhao Wenyue approached shyly, while Xue Mingtang’s expression betrayed a hint of annoyance.
She had never considered why Zhao Ming insisted on marrying his daughter to Xue Mingtang, or why Xue Mingtang, who clearly disliked Zhao Wenyue, agreed.
Her husband had many secrets she didn’t know.
But it didn’t matter. After tonight, there would be no secrets.
Night fell.
As time ticked by, Lady Xiao Lin felt the clarifying scent fade, her consciousness filling with anger and hatred.
She arrived outside a side room in Huian Hall. At the stroke of the zǐ hour, she entered.
A seven- or eight-year-old child slept soundly on the bed. Zhao Wenqi had his own courtyard, but Old Lady Zhao, worried about him, insisted he stay in hers.
Lady Xiao Lin hovered over this clever, venomous child, her long hair dangling by his face as she gazed at his serene sleeping expression.
What a lovable child, so young yet already thinking of his mother’s welfare.
Of course she would spare this child. Not only spare him, but let him live a long, long life.
In the next moment, her body seemed to lose control, sinking into the bed.
Zhao Wenqi, lying there, opened his eyes, his pupils pure black.
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