The phenomena of sunrise and sunset, though superficially similar, differ significantly upon closer inspection. The sun’s rays at sunrise are sharper, more piercing, with photographs revealing distinct, linear beams of light. Sunset, by contrast, is softer, accompanied by the gentle glow of twilight clouds.

After studying the photo, Zhou Jiayu confirmed it depicted a sunset, not a sunrise.

Shen Yiqiong said, “So… this photo was taken when they entered, but that Xiao Mi lied to her fans, claiming it was taken when they left?”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “That’s likely the case.”

Shen Yiqiong frowned. “Doesn’t that mean all the young people at that event could be in danger?”

Zhou Jiayu cautioned, “It’s just a possibility…”

Shen Yiqiong sighed, “This looks tricky. I hope Xu Jian, Xu Ruwang’s master, stays careful.”

Though Shen Yiqiong and Zhou Jiayu were following the case, they had no intention of getting involved, merely wanting to satisfy their curiosity as spectators. But Shen Yiqiong’s words seemed jinxed. That afternoon, as they chatted in the courtyard, Lin Jue’s phone rang.

Lin Jue glanced at the caller ID and answered, “Hello?”

Whatever was said made her demeanor shift instantly, her smile vanishing. She fired off questions: “When did it happen? Is he in danger? Where are you now?”

The group sensed trouble, halting their conversation to focus on Lin Jue.

“Alright, we’ll head over immediately,” Lin Jue said. “Stay in the ward, don’t leave his side.” She hung up, her tone grave. “Xu Jian’s in trouble.”

Zhou Jiayu, startled, thought he misheard. “Xu Jian? Xu Ruwang’s master?”

Lin Jue confirmed, “Yes. The Xu family called. Details on the plane. I’ll book tickets; you pack. We’re leaving tonight.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded. Shen Yiqiong, wide-eyed, looked at Lin Jue. “Shibo, I’m coming too, right?”

Lin Jue shot him a glance. “Of course you’re coming. How else do we infiltrate without our little stray?”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” Why did he open his big mouth?

Lin Jue moved fast. Within an hour, everything was set. They piled into a car—only four of them, as the other senior disciples had prior commitments. Lin Zhushui was already in the front passenger seat, elbow on the window, expression tense.

Lin Jue instructed the driver to head straight to the airport, then briefed them on Xu Jian’s situation. As Xu Ruwang had told Zhou Jiayu, Xu Jian had taken an official commission to investigate the case. But the process hit walls—everyone connected to Xiao Mi clammed up, as if bewitched. Even the young people in the livestreams were hostile, treating Xu Jian like an enemy, forming an impenetrable clique, refusing to leak a word.

“What’s Xu Jian’s condition?” Lin Zhushui asked curtly.

“Xiao Mi livestreamed last night,” Lin Jue said. “Xu Jian went to the scene. When they found him, he was unconscious.”

Lin Jue frowned. “His vitals are stable, but he won’t wake. It’s like his soul’s detached, but the Xu family’s methods couldn’t summon it back.”

Xu Jian’s status in the Xu family mirrored Lin Zhushui’s in the Lin family—the most gifted, the strongest, and the current clan leader. His collapse threw the Xu family into chaos. Though rivals, Xu Jian and Lin Zhushui respected each other, friends as much as foes. Their families’ previous generation had close ties, with frequent visits.

On the way, Lin Jue reviewed the Xu family’s updates. On the plane, she briefed Lin Zhushui further. The authorities tapped Xu Jian because of several deaths sharing a pattern: unrelated individuals suddenly appeared at inexplicable locations at night, then died in accidents. Each location had been livestreamed by Xiao Mi.

If the victims were livestream participants, the police could pin it on Xiao Mi, but these young people seemed unconnected. Still, a pattern emerged—they’d all joined Xiao Mi’s fan group and played her horror games, a breakthrough that led to another maze. The police, out of their depth, contacted the Xu family through special channels.

Zhou Jiayu, surprised, said, “The authorities have these kinds of partnerships?”

“Of course,” Lin Jue replied. “You don’t know how popular your master is with them.”

Zhou Jiayu stifled a laugh, feeling a twinge of pride.

At their destination, the Xu family met them and rushed them to the hospital. In Xu Jian’s ward, Zhou Jiayu saw Xu Ruwang and the unconscious Xu Jian.

“Mr. Lin, Ms. Lin, Zhou Jiayu!” Xu Ruwang greeted, standing.

Shen Yiqiong huffed, “What about me?”

Xu Ruwang feigned shock. “Holy crap, who’s talking?”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” Was Xu Ruwang messing with him? The ward was brightly lit, and he was the most noticeable! But he kept his grumbling internal—bigger issues loomed.

Lin Zhushui quickly examined Xu Jian. He lit an incense stick, pricked his finger, and dabbed blood on Xu Jian’s forehead. The incense smoke, initially rising straight, began to sway wildly after his action, growing erratic until the stick snapped.

Lin Zhushui’s brows knitted tightly.

“Mr. Lin?” Xu Ruwang asked, tense.

“It’s not a simple soul detachment,” Lin Zhushui said.

Xu Ruwang pressed, “You mean…?”

Lin Zhushui nodded. “His soul’s been trapped.”

The room gasped. Xu Jian was so powerful—whatever trapped his soul must be formidable.

Xu Ruwang’s face darkened. He moved to kneel. “Please, Mr. Lin, save my master—”

Lin Zhushui stepped forward, steadying him. “No need for that. If I can help, I will.”

Xu Ruwang, grateful, gritted his teeth. “If you succeed, the Xu family will owe you three favors. As long as it’s not against morality, we’ll go through fire and water for you.”

Lin Zhushui raised an eyebrow. “You sure you can make that call?”

Xu Ruwang nodded firmly. “I can make it count.”

“Where was he found?” Lin Zhushui calculated the timing and said, “Take me there around 8 p.m.”

Xu Ruwang agreed.

It was still afternoon, with some time before Lin Zhushui’s requested hour. He and Xu Ruwang exchanged information, learning that Xu Jian was found in a graveyard—a chaotic, unmarked burial ground.

Shen Yiqiong pulled out his phone, scrolling through Xiao Mi’s Weibo. “She definitely visited this burial ground. It’s got to be connected to her.”

“What’s this woman’s deal?” Xu Ruwang asked.

Lin Zhushui turned to Shen Yiqiong. “Any photos of her on Weibo? Pull one up.”

Xiao Mi had plenty of photos. Shen Yiqiong picked one and handed the phone to Lin Zhushui, who studied it, his fingers brushing the screen. His frown deepened. “How many people in the photo?”

“Seven,” Shen Yiqiong answered honestly.

Lin Zhushui shook his head. Confused by the gesture, the group watched as he said, “Seven? There’s not even one.”

The statement sent chills through them.

“You mean Xiao Mi isn’t human?” Xu Ruwang asked immediately.

Lin Zhushui replied, “It’s strange. They’re like something between yin and yang—not quite human, not quite ghosts.”

This description puzzled them, but Lin Zhushui didn’t elaborate, suggesting they visit the graveyard first.

Xu Ruwang had changed since they last met—his hair had grown out, and he looked sharper, no longer resembling an ex-convict. Shen Yiqiong half-suspected he’d gotten plastic surgery. Xu Ruwang didn’t deny it, instead hitting Shen Yiqiong with, “Why’d you get darker?”

Shen Yiqiong’s face twisted, nearly lunging at him, though their size difference suggested Xu Ruwang could lift the “cute little black kid” with one hand.

They bantered lightly. Shen Yiqiong’s phone buzzed. He checked it, exclaiming, “They invited me for a second interview! Said I did well, and I might join Xiao Mi’s livestream in two days.”

“You actually infiltrated?” Lin Jue was impressed. “They didn’t suspect you?”

Shen Yiqiong grinned sheepishly. “Who can resist my honest charm?”

The group fell silent, averting their eyes.

“What’s with that reaction?” Shen Yiqiong demanded.

Xu Ruwang teased, “Honest, sure, but ‘charming’? Skip that part.”

“Shut up!” Shen Yiqiong snapped.

Despite the joking, Zhou Jiayu could tell Xu Ruwang was forcing levity—his master was in peril. Zhou Jiayu imagined Lin Zhushui in Xu Jian’s place and quickly shut down the thought, too unbearable to consider.

Xu Ruwang asked if Lin Zhushui needed anything. Lin Zhushui requested incense and red thread.

Eight o’clock arrived swiftly. Prepared, they headed to where Xu Jian was found. The graveyard, in a remote suburb, was desolate, its existence in modern society almost surreal. Xu Ruwang explained that developers had tried building there, but accidents plagued every attempt, leaving the area abandoned, with no residents nearby.

“This burial ground is a relic of ancient times,” Xu Ruwang said, having researched after Xu Jian’s incident. “A plague hit, and the dead were dumped here, wrapped in straw mats, left unburied. Over centuries, bones piled up.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “It’s not like that now, right?”

Xu Ruwang sighed. “In the early days of the People’s Republic, they cleared most exposed bones. A road was planned, but the foundation revealed endless human remains, and accidents kept happening, so they rerouted and left this place empty.”

Zhou Jiayu marveled at anyone brave enough to play paranormal games here at night. He wouldn’t even walk past it.

At the site, the area was littered with haphazard graves—some with tombstones, others mere mounds, overgrown with weeds, exuding desolation. Zhou Jiayu noticed black mist swirling around the graves. Observing closely, he realized it wasn’t random but spiraled inward, growing denser at the center.

He shared this with Lin Zhushui, who nodded, acknowledging it.

Before entering, Lin Zhushui took the red thread Xu Ruwang had brought, tying it around their ring fingers, pairing them: Lin Jue with the Xu family junior who’d greeted them, Xu Ruwang with Shen Yiqiong, and himself with Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu watched Lin Zhushui’s fingers loop the thread around his ring finger, his ears quietly heating up. The darkness hid his flush. Shen Yiqiong tried to protest, but Lin Zhushui shut him down. “What, want to pair with Lin Jue?”

Glancing at Lin Jue’s sly smile, Shen Yiqiong wilted, not keen on her teasing mid-mission. “Can’t I go with Guan’er?” he pleaded.

Lin Zhushui’s tone was flat. “You know his constitution. Can you protect him?”

Shen Yiqiong gave up. Xu Ruwang, magnanimous, said he didn’t mind Shen Yiqiong, joking that in the dark, he could pretend to be alone. Shen Yiqiong, fuming, mentally added another mark against Xu Ruwang.

Zhou Jiayu stayed composed throughout, but in brighter light, someone might’ve noticed his ears glowing like they’d been boiled.

“Let’s go,” Lin Zhushui said.

They ventured deeper into the burial ground. The soil was soft, like stepping on cotton, but the sensation unnerved Zhou Jiayu. Several times, his foot hit something hard, and he couldn’t help wondering if it was a bone.

Shen Yiqiong, carefree, strode ahead cheerfully. The others wore grim expressions.

The deeper they went, the heavier the eerie atmosphere grew. Zhou Jiayu noticed black mist enveloping them, obscuring faces, but only he seemed to see it—others showed no reaction.

In such a place, fear should’ve gripped him, but the faint sandalwood scent from Lin Zhushui calmed him. The red thread linking their fingers sparked a quiet joy, banishing his fear entirely.

As they ventured deeper, Zhou Jiayu began to understand why Lin Zhushui had tied red threads around their fingers. The closer they got to the center, the blurrier their companions’ figures became. Near the heart of the graveyard, even Lin Zhushui, standing right beside him, was barely visible.

He wasn’t the only one affected. Xu Ruwang whispered, “Shen Yiqiong, where are you?”

Shen Yiqiong, thinking Xu Ruwang was mocking his dark skin, snapped, “I’m right behind you! Keep talking nonsense, and I’ll smack you!”

Xu Ruwang pressed, “Seriously, where are you?”

Shen Yiqiong realized something was off. “Wait, I can’t see you either.”

Thankfully, Lin Zhushui’s red threads worked, confirming their partners’ presence, though all they saw was desolate emptiness, as if something veiled those nearby.

Lin Zhushui produced a small copper bell, shaking it gently. “This way.”

Guided by the bell’s chime, the group pressed forward.

Lin Zhushui seemed to be searching for something, his steps tracing an odd pattern. To Zhou Jiayu, he was nearing the black mist’s vortex. Finally, he stopped by a rough stone tablet, crouched, and ran his fingers over it, pausing a third of the way down. Curling his knuckles, he struck the tablet hard.

Crack. The seemingly solid stone shattered under Lin Zhushui’s slender fingers.

As it broke, a shrill wind howled, rushing in from all directions, its wail like a chorus of weeping ghosts, chilling the group to the bone. The wind subsided, and they could finally see each other again.

Lin Zhushui frowned.

Xu Ruwang, heart in his throat, asked, “Mr. Lin, what’s wrong?”

“Your master wasn’t trapped by someone,” Lin Zhushui said.

Xu Ruwang blinked. “Huh?”

Lin Zhushui’s tone was serious, not joking. “He doesn’t want to come back.”

The group’s faces registered disbelief. Why would Xu Jian’s soul refuse to return?

Before answers surfaced, Zhou Jiayu gasped softly, “Why’s blood seeping from the soil?”

Following his gaze, they saw blood oozing where the tablet had fallen, seeping through the black earth in layers, an ominous sight.

Lin Zhushui’s expression remained calm. Standing, he sighed lightly. “Call the police.”

As the tablet shattered, the surrounding black mist began to dissipate. Though puzzled, Xu Ruwang followed Lin Zhushui’s instructions and called the authorities.

The city had seen its share of bizarre incidents lately, keeping the police on edge. Within ten minutes of the call, officers arrived. Soon, they uncovered several fresh bodies in the dark soil.

No one expected this turn. Zhou Jiayu realized Xiao Mi had indeed livestreamed here days ago, marking another death tied to her broadcasts.

The police chief arrived, familiar with Xu Ruwang, offering him a cigarette. “How’s your master?”

Xu Ruwang shook his head silently.

The chief’s gaze shifted to Lin Zhushui’s group, hesitating before whispering to Xu Ruwang, “Another master?”

“A friend of my master’s,” Xu Ruwang confirmed.

“Oh, a friend of Master Xu! Honored!” The chief perked up, gesturing at the bodies being examined. “Master, when do you think this’ll be resolved?”

Lin Zhushui’s tone stayed cool, but his words nearly choked the group. With utter calm, he said, “Chief, I’m reporting someone for spreading feudal superstitions.”

Everyone: “…”

The chief stammered, “Huh?”

“That Xiao Mi livestream,” Lin Zhushui continued. “Shut it down.”

The chief wiped sweat from his brow, nodding in agreement.

The others looked stunned. Zhou Jiayu asked, “Sir, can we do that?”

“Why not?” Lin Zhushui replied.

It made sense. If these entities adapted to spread their influence through phones and computers, reporting and banning Xiao Mi’s livestream seemed fitting.

“Shen Yiqiong,” Lin Zhushui called suddenly.

“Yes, sir?” Shen Yiqiong responded.

“They’re interested in you, right? Infiltrate and investigate.”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” It took a moment to sink in. His face crumpled. “But, sir, I’m… kinda scared.”

Lin Zhushui’s voice softened. “Don’t worry. Zhou Jiayu can go with you.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Wait, something’s off!

Shen Yiqiong nearly cried. Zhou Jiayu accompanying him? That’d make him more scared! Zhou Jiayu’s constitution was a ghost-magnet, practically a Wi-Fi signal for spirits, attracting trouble even at home. He’d rather go alone!

---

Author’s Note:
Lin Zhushui: With the red thread, this fish is mine alone.
Zhou Jiayu gets shy.
Lin Zhushui nibbles his flushed ear tip.