The matter with Lu Xingdong came to a close.

Zhu Hanlan took over the Lu family with decisive force, and young Lu Qixun became the next head of the household.

Before leaving, at Zhu Hanlan’s request, Lin Zhushui altered the feng shui layout of the Lu family’s main residence. He dismantled most of the wealth-attracting arrangements and replaced them with gentler, more balanced feng shui patterns.

Lin Zhushui warned, “Think carefully. Removing these will impact the Lu family’s fortunes.”

Zhu Hanlan smiled, saying she only wished for Lu Qixun’s safety, believing each generation had its own path. Zhou Jiayu saw her sincerity. Targeting Lu Qixun was Gan Qianping’s worst move, crossing Zhu Hanlan’s line and awakening her maternal ferocity, leading to Gan Qianping’s downfall.

Zhou Jiayu hadn’t thought deeply before, but now he realized the sudden discovery of bones in the Lu residence’s backyard was likely Zhu Hanlan’s doing. Finding Gan Qianping’s hidden burial site so quickly showed how formidable an enraged Zhu Hanlan was.

How Zhu Hanlan killed Lu Xingdong remained a mystery, likely tied to the vanishing auspicious aura around her.

Decades of accumulated merit from good deeds were lost, replaced by a faint dark energy. Using sinister arts to kill clearly came at a cost.

Lin Zhushui seemed to find Zhu Hanlan’s choice regrettable but didn’t interfere with karmic matters. At their parting, he told her Lu Qixun had a strong fate, with one hurdle in his twenties—a life-or-death crisis. The recent car accident was likely it. Having survived, as long as Lu Qixun avoided heinous acts, his life should be smooth.

Zhu Hanlan smiled, relieved. “If so, I’m at ease.”

Lin Zhushui nodded and left.

Zhu Hanlan called after him, “Mr. Lin, if you ever need help, just ask. The Lu and Zhu families owe you greatly.”

Lin Zhushui waved dismissively, saying nothing.

On the plane, Lin Zhushui asked Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong if they had questions.

Zhou Jiayu pieced it together: Lu Xingdong’s “money sores” were Gan Qianping’s work. Lin Zhushui had noted, “Only the dead get such sores,” likely realizing Lu Xingdong had consumed human flesh. Gan Qianping didn’t intend a quick death; she wanted him to see her loyalty despite his rejection by others.

Fearing Lu Qixun’s threat to her status, Gan Qianping targeted him, likely with the secretary Zhang Yao’s help.

Discovering this, Zhu Hanlan acted swiftly, killing Lu Xingdong and exposing Gan Qianping’s corpse dealings, cutting off any chance of retaliation.

Zhou Jiayu asked, “Sir, who’s Lu Xiaoxu’s real father?”

Lin Zhushui replied coolly, “Unknown. But if I’m right, he’s not blood-related to Gan Qianping either.”

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong were shocked.

“Gan Qianping likely dealt with dark arts early on,” Lin Zhushui explained. “Mishandled, they harm the body. Her infertility likely affected Zhang Yao too.”

Zhou Jiayu thought, This trade’s dangerous. Good thing he didn’t need to worry about kids.

Lin Zhushui reminded him to carry the mirror for protection.

Mentioning it, Zhou Jiayu recalled the paper figure, feeling wronged, like a creep’s target. “Sir, why’s he so fixated on me?”

Lin Zhushui said gently, “Because you look tasty.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Shen Yiqiong chimed in, “Didn’t we say you’re a walking giant ice cream? Oh, it’s winter now, so ice cream’s out. You’re a giant chicken drumstick.”

Zhou Jiayu sulked.

Shen Yiqiong patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t let you get eaten. Even as a drumstick, you should choose who takes a bite.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Due to Zhou Jiayu’s issue, Lin Zhushui soon planned a trip to Sheshan, setting departure in two days and telling them to prepare.

Hearing “prepare,” Shen Yiqiong shouted about buying sticky rice. Zhou Jiayu asked how much he’d carry this time. “At least ten jin,” Shen said. Zhou Jiayu gave his stamina a thumbs-up.

Unknowingly, Zhou Jiayu had been there half a year, from summer’s heat to the first snow.

Fluffy snowflakes fell, blanketing the yard overnight, coating trees and ground in pleasing white.

The weasel had upgraded to Zhou Jiayu’s scarf, refusing to leave even while cooking. Shen Yiqiong yanked it off, grumbling, “Your fur’s shedding everywhere. I don’t want a mouthful of it.” The weasel’s late molt, only half-done by early winter, sent fur flying, driving Shen Yiqiong nuts.

The weasel chattered angrily, arguing with Shen. He snapped, “Keep it up, and when Sir eats tonight and finds your fur, see what happens.”

At Lin Zhushui’s name, the weasel wilted, curling up on the sofa, glaring with bean-sized eyes, covering cold paws to warm them.

Seeing this, Zhou Jiayu’s heart melted. He’d always loved animals but lacked time to keep them. The weasel fulfilled a lingering wish.

That night, Lin Zhushui advised bringing warm clothes for Sheshan, a cold, remote place accessible only by train.

Zhou Jiayu asked, “Sir, can they really control paper figures?”

Lin Zhushui nodded. “The Xu clan of Sheshan was once prominent, but their lineage has thinned, and many secret techniques are lost.”

Zhou Jiayu: “Why’s their line fading?”

Lin Zhushui said lightly, “Maybe because after the founding, they couldn’t become spirits.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He glanced at the weasel on the sofa.

Noticing, the weasel’s face twisted, chattering incomprehensibly.

Lin Zhushui’s lips curved, seeming in a good mood.

On departure day, Zhou Jiayu bundled up tightly. Shen Yiqiong, claiming he wasn’t cold, lasted a minute outside before scurrying back, shivering, to grab a thick down jacket.

Zhou Jiayu teased, “Not cold, huh?”

Shen Yiqiong: “I’m not cold. I’m just too dark, lose heat too fast…”

Zhou Jiayu: “…You’d absorb heat faster too.”

Shen Yiqiong fumed, “I’m wearing it!!”

Zhou Jiayu saw pure embarrassed rage in him.

Lin Zhushui had also donned winter attire, though his version was merely a thin trench coat. Zhou Jiayu strongly suspected he wore it just to fit the season, as summer clothes likely wouldn’t faze him.

Sheshan was remote, as expected. After a flight, they boarded a green-skinned train without air conditioning. Keeping windows closed made it stifling; opening them let icy drafts pour in, chilling Zhou Jiayu to the point of feeling dazed.

Shen Yiqiong glanced at him. “You okay, Jiayu? Why’s your face so blank?”

Zhou Jiayu shivered. “I’m… f-f-fine…”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” He didn’t look fine.

Zhou Jiayu, bundled like a dumpling, contrasted sharply with the lightly dressed Lin Zhushui. As if prepared, Lin Zhushui handed him a thermos. “Drink some.”

Zhou Jiayu took a gulp, expecting plain hot water. Instead, he tasted a faint, fishy undertone, subtle and quick to fade. The warmth slid down his throat, pooling in his stomach, igniting a surge of heat that banished the nerve-numbing cold.

Shen Yiqiong gaped. “Jiayu, why’s your face so red?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…I-I’m so hot.” After drinking, warmth flooded him, his face flushed. He fumbled to remove his thick scarf.

Shen Yiqiong: “Whoa, that effective? Sir, what’s in the water? Can I try?”

Lin Zhushui: “You can’t drink it.”

Shen Yiqiong: “Huh?”

Lin Zhushui: “It’s too yang-heavy for your body to handle.”

Shen Yiqiong nodded, unbothered—he wasn’t as cold as Zhou Jiayu, just curious.

The train was nearly empty. Their carriage held only seven others: five college students and a middle-aged couple. The students, here to travel, were young and lively, loudly discussing post-disembarkation plans.

Winter darkened the sky early. By six, it was pitch-black outside. The train’s clatter on the tracks, mixed with howling wind, lulled Zhou Jiayu into a drowsy haze.

Half-asleep, he gazed at Lin Zhushui, eyes closed, long lashes casting faint shadows under dim lights. Zhou Jiayu vaguely recalled someone saying long lashes could hold matchsticks… Musing he’d try it someday, he drifted off.

“Creak… creak…” A grating sound jolted Zhou Jiayu awake. He’d dozed off slumped in the carriage. Rubbing his eyes, he mumbled, “What’s that noise?” Fully alert, he noticed Lin Zhushui, supposed to be across from him, was gone.

Shen Yiqiong, curled up nearby, was napping.

Zhou Jiayu looked up, realizing the sound came from the carriage roof—odd, like something scraping with a sharp tool.

After a moment’s thought, he shook Shen Yiqiong awake.

Shen Yiqiong stirred, groggy. “Guan’er, what’s up?”

Zhou Jiayu whispered, “Something’s up there.” He pointed at the ceiling.

“Something?” Shen Yiqiong snapped awake, listening intently. He forced a laugh. “Sounds like… someone scratching the roof with nails?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Seeing his expression, Shen Yiqiong backtracked. “Kidding! Don’t be so serious…”

Zhou Jiayu: “Brother, you know what happens to jokers in horror stories?”

Shen Yiqiong mimed zipping his lips.

The noise grew louder, piercing, waking the others. The curious students approached. “What’s that sound?”

Zhou Jiayu: “No idea.” Scanning for Lin Zhushui, he asked, “Where’s Sir?”

Shen Yiqiong shook his head. “I was asleep, didn’t notice.”

“Creak… creak…” The sound, once ignorable, now made sleep impossible.

All eyes fixed on the ceiling above Zhou Jiayu’s seat. A timid girl quavered, “What could that be?”

No one answered.

Outside, darkness cloaked the world, the wind’s howl eerily desolate. The strange noise filled the carriage, grating on Zhou Jiayu. “I’m gonna look for Sir.”

Shen Yiqiong: “Alone? I’ll go with you.”

As they prepared to move to another carriage, a girl in the group screamed, “Ahhh! A ghost!” Her shrill cry ended as she tumbled off her seat, scrambling away.

“What’s wrong?” a male friend asked, rushing over.

“Someone’s outside the window!” She trembled, face ashen. “A face pressed against the glass, with black hair—”

Zhou Jiayu looked where she pointed, seeing only endless dark.

Another girl said, “We’re on a train. How could anyone be there, Xiao Ju? You must’ve misseen.”

Furious, Xiao Ju insisted, “I didn’t! There was a face, right there!”

She huddled, refusing to near the window.

“Really?” a guy said. “That’s impossible. You probably imagined it…”

Unbelieved, Xiao Ju snapped, “Fine, say I’m wrong. But how do you explain the noise up there?”

The carriage’s mood grew heavier. A face outside could be dismissed as a hallucination, but the roof’s noise was undeniable, growing louder.

One student cracked. “Let’s not stay here. Find the train staff—they’ll know what’s up.”

Reasonable enough. Zhou Jiayu agreed, though he and Shen Yiqiong sought Lin Zhushui, not staff.

“Let’s go,” the group said, heading out. Zhou Jiayu, at the rear, paused, noticing something. “Wait… wait a second…”

“What?” The lead student turned, annoyed.

Zhou Jiayu’s voice was strained. “I thought you were five people. Why… are there six now?”

Silence fell, broken only by heavy breathing.

The leader’s face flickered with panic. “What’re you talking about? We’ve always been six.” He counted, naming each.

Zhou Jiayu desperately hoped he’d miscounted, but he distinctly recalled five. Three seats per row, their group of five left one empty for a red bag. Glancing at their seats, he saw the red bag still there.

“I… I also remember five,” the middle-aged woman spoke, clearly scared, stepping back.

“How’s there an extra one?” A girl’s voice broke, near tears. “How’s there one more?”

No one spoke.

Zhou Jiayu suggested, “Why don’t we go somewhere with more people? It might scare that thing off, and maybe it’ll disappear.”

Crowds bolster courage—a solid idea. Several nodded in agreement.

“Wait,” the group’s leader interrupted. “Haven’t you considered something?”

“What?” the girl who saw the face asked.

The leader said, “If there’s an extra one among us and we can’t tell who, how do we know the people in other carriages are human?”

Silence fell.

“What if… what if none of them are?” he added. “If we go, aren’t we…”

As they debated, Zhou Jiayu glanced at the window. His breath caught—there, on the dark glass, was a distorted face, blurry but with near-human features, framed by scattered black hair.

Words stuck in his throat. He grabbed Shen Yiqiong’s arm hard. “The window…”

Shen Yiqiong followed his gaze, saw the ghastly face, and, less composed, cursed, “What the hell!”

The face vanished instantly.

With nerves already frayed, Shen Yiqiong’s outburst nearly drove everyone mad.

“I told you I wasn’t wrong!” the girl who’d seen it cried. “There’s something outside! What do we do?”

Zhou Jiayu urged, “Calm down. Even if something’s mixed in, your belongings can’t change. Train tickets, IDs—pull them out, match them up, and we’ll find it!”

It sounded foolproof. The six students hurried to their seats, rummaging for proof of identity.

But things weren’t so simple. They soon discovered their bags with important items were gone.

All six were hit. Except for the red snack bag on the seat, their luggage had vanished.

Realizing this, their faces paled. Two girls clung to each other, sobbing, at a loss.

Shen Yiqiong proposed, “How about this? Have them hold sticky rice in their mouths, see who reacts?”

Zhou Jiayu: “Would that work?”

Shen Yiqiong: “No other way. How else do we spot the real one?”

His words sparked a memory in Zhou Jiayu. “Wait, I might have a way.” He pulled out a jade silk pouch, retrieving the ancient mirror inside.

He recalled Lin Zhushui saying the mirror revealed true forms. If something had infiltrated, it should show. He aimed it at the group, but nothing happened…

Shen Yiqiong: “Does it work?”

Zhou Jiayu frowned, then realized he hadn’t smeared blood on it. Biting his finger, he wiped blood on the mirror. “This should do it.” He turned it toward the six terrified students.

The mirror reflected them: one, two, three, four, five, six… Zhou Jiayu froze. Six again. Why? As he puzzled, he noticed something impossible—Shen Yiqiong.

Shen Yiqiong, who should’ve been beside him, was in the mirror, sitting across, searching for something, looking troubled. Blood rushed to Zhou Jiayu’s head. The figure next to him asked, “Does it work?”

Zhou Jiayu stiffened, forcing out, “Seems… useless.”

“Really?” the voice, identical to Shen Yiqiong’s, pressed. “If it’s no good, why’re you shaking?”

Zhou Jiayu said calmly, “It’s cold.”

“Cold?” it said. “Let me see the mirror.”

The voice mimicked Shen Yiqiong’s tone perfectly. Zhou Jiayu steadied himself, turning the mirror to face behind him while saying, “Guess it’s no use. Let’s find Sir.”

“Great,” the fake Shen Yiqiong agreed eagerly.

Zhou Jiayu glanced down at the mirror, seeing a stranger’s form—inhuman, with twisted features and black hair, standing beside him, urging him on.

Licking dry lips, Zhou Jiayu slipped his other hand into his pocket.

“Zhou Jiayu?” it prodded. “Let’s go find Sir, quick.”

Turning, Zhou Jiayu yanked a talisman from his pocket, slapping it on the creature’s back. “Find your ass, get lost!”

The talisman hit, and black smoke poured from its back. It shrieked, glaring at Zhou Jiayu with venom. “Zhou Jiayu—” Knowing it was exposed, it bolted toward another carriage.

Zhou Jiayu considered chasing but it was too fast, vanishing in moments.

“Damn it!” he cursed, turning to the real Shen Yiqiong, still dazed.

The remaining passengers, witnessing this, were stunned. Someone stammered, “What was that? A ghost?”

Zhou Jiayu thought, How should I know? Ignoring them, he marched to Shen Yiqiong, smacking his forehead.

Shen Yiqiong, bewildered, whined, “Why’d you hit me?”

Zhou Jiayu: “Shen Yiqiong, snap out of it! You’re no college kid! You dropped out in middle school!”

Shen Yiqiong: “…”

Zhou Jiayu raised his hand for another smack to jolt him from the illusion. Shen Yiqiong shielded his head. “I’m coming to, easy! Easy!”

Zhou Jiayu, skeptical, eyed him. “Really?”

Shen Yiqiong: “Give me five minutes!”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Exasperated, he pulled a clarity talisman he’d practiced—crudely drawn, its efficacy questionable—and stuck it on Shen Yiqiong’s forehead.

Shen Yiqiong shuddered, eyes wide with fear. “Jiayu, I’m back—what was that thing?” Somehow, he’d genuinely believed he was part of the student group. Worse, when they called him by an unfamiliar name, he’d felt it was his.

“No clue,” Zhou Jiayu said. “Nothing good. Wait, the noise above stopped…”

Everyone looked up. The scraping on the roof had ceased.

In the tense silence, a figure approached from the carriage’s end. Zhou Jiayu focused, recognizing Lin Zhushui. “Sir!”

Lin Zhushui entered slowly, holding something. As he reached a faintly lit spot, Zhou Jiayu saw it—a small, monkey-like creature, its neck gripped by Lin Zhushui. Its features were eerily human, with long black hair.

Seeing it, Zhou Jiayu recalled the face at the window and the thing posing as Shen Yiqiong.

“Mountain wraiths,” Lin Zhushui said calmly. “Seven or eight outside the carriage.”

Zhou Jiayu swallowed hard. “M-mountain wraiths? Never heard of them. Are they protected animals?”

Shen Yiqiong, standing beside him, gave him a pained look. “If they’re protected, what, you gonna call the forestry bureau?”

Zhou Jiayu, embarrassed, mumbled, “Just asking, no big deal.” He was on edge, chilled by how close he’d come to being lured away by that thing.

Lin Zhushui sighed lightly, his tone tinged with exasperation even Zhou Jiayu could sense. “These things are rare, not something most people encounter.”

Zhou Jiayu let out a small “oh.”

Lin Zhushui gave a brief rundown. Mountain wraiths were mountain-dwelling creatures, physically weak but highly intelligent, living in groups. Their hunting method was unique: they emitted a substance inducing hallucinations in prey, luring them into traps for the kill. They avoided humans but, when food was scarce, would target them.

Yet, they hadn’t expected these creatures to board this train, likely at the previous stop.

“Something’s off,” Lin Zhushui said. “It’s only early winter; they shouldn’t lack food.” He tossed the dead wraith to the floor. “I killed four. A few escaped. Stay alert.”

The passengers gazed at Lin Zhushui with awe.

The girl who’d seen the face gushed, “Master, you’re amazing!”

Lin Zhushui ignored her, beckoning Zhou Jiayu. “Come here.”

Zhou Jiayu scurried over eagerly.

“You did well,” Lin Zhushui said, handing him more talismans. “Keep these on you.”

Zhou Jiayu, floored by the praise, felt like he might burst. His hands trembled as he took the talismans. “Thank you, Sir!!!”

Lin Zhushui didn’t forget Shen Yiqiong, passing him some too. “Yours.”

Shen Yiqiong took them, thanking him.

“What about this thing?” Zhou Jiayu eyed the dead wraith at Lin Zhushui’s feet.

Lin Zhushui said calmly, “I’ll toss it somewhere later.”

With Lin Zhushui back, Zhou Jiayu felt at ease. Yawning, he curled up across from him, dozing off again.

Lin Zhushui explained more about mountain wraiths. Their illusions required a medium—sound or scent, at least one. The roof noises were made by their kin, and Shen Yiqiong had been ensnared from the start.

Half-asleep, Zhou Jiayu mumbled, “Sir, what if I hadn’t noticed and followed it?”

Lin Zhushui paused, then said softly, “Little fool, with me here, it wouldn’t touch you.” His voice was so faint Zhou Jiayu thought he’d misheard, but the softened expression under the dim light confirmed it was real.

“Thank you, Sir,” Zhou Jiayu murmured, exhausted, sinking into sleep alongside Shen Yiqiong.

The next morning, Zhou Jiayu woke to bright daylight.

Shen Yiqiong, up earlier, sat by the window. “Yesterday felt like a dream.”

Zhou Jiayu agreed, glancing at Lin Zhushui across from him. “You guys hungry? I’ll grab food… What happened to the wraith?”

Shen Yiqiong: “Sir tossed it out the window earlier.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He hadn’t expected that disposal method.

Refreshed after sleep, Zhou Jiayu mulled over last night, spotting a discrepancy. “Sir, if wraiths are just animals, why did the talisman work on it?”

Lin Zhushui hadn’t expected the question. A faint smile curved his lips, his voice low. “If I told the carriage it was something foul, how would they react?”

Zhou Jiayu blinked, caught off-guard.

“Truth isn’t always vital,” Lin Zhushui said. “Not to some. Knowing just breeds panic.” He added, “Good insight. I planned to explain after disembarking, but you figured it out.”

Praised again… Zhou Jiayu’s heart soared, though he felt shy, wondering why he’d never noticed Sir’s gentleness before.

__

Author’s Note: Zhou Jiayu is obsessed with petting the weasel.
Lin Zhushui is obsessed with petting Zhou Jiayu, who’s obsessed with petting the weasel.