Xuanmin picked one up and inspected it closely, turning it this way and that.
From the tips of the fingers on Xuanmin’s other hand, Xue Xian had a lower vantage point. Since he was also facing up, the underside of the ingot was visible to him. Written there were three characters: father, dusk, dusk.
What kind of stupid nonsense is this?
Only after some mental cursing did Xue Xian realize it wasn’t three separate characters but one: Dad. In Liu Chong’s clumsy and juvenile handwriting, the strokes of the character were too spaced out.
Having seen the ingot, Xue Xian understood Scribe Liu’s displeasure toward his son. Putting a living person’s name on this kind of ingot was no different from cursing them. However, one look at Liu Chong’s guileless face would tell you that he was merely playing.
Xue Xian soon swallowed that thought, because Xuanmin continued to pick up the ingots, and each one had writing on the bottom with childish strokes.
Trapped and bored, Xue Xian counted seven ingots in total. Two with father, dusk, dusk—Dad, and three with woman, good—Mom. Two more were completely blank.
What kind of bizarre hobby was this?
Still, as simple as Liu Chong was, he knew how to categorize things. The pile next to the door all had father, dusk, dusk written on them. Liu Chong had written these for his father, Scribe Liu. The heap by the table was for his mother. As for the ones scattered on the ground, he’d yet to write on them.
Then…what about the pile next to the bed?
Xue Xian wasn’t the only person who noticed this. After briefly examining the ingots outside the partition, Xuanmin stepped into the so-called inner chamber where the bed was located.
The moment he did, a gust of yin wind blew into Xue Xian’s face, and he sneezed.
Liu Chong was baffled. He stared at the expressionless Xuanmin for a while before looking at his hand. Liu Chong seemed unable to understand how his fingers could have sneezed.
However, neither Xuanmin nor Xue Xian paid any attention to this. They were busy being stunned by the thick smog of yin energy in the room, and their gazes fell simultaneously onto the pile of paper ingots by the bed.
With a furrowed brow, Xuanmin walked over. He picked up one of the ingots. This time, the bottom said neither Dad nor Mom. Instead, there was a large smudge of ink. It seemed he’d written something more complex than before, resulting in a smeared mess. Picking up two more, Xuanmin found them the same.
After staring at their undersides for a while, he managed to mostly make out the character: Liu.
He knew little about the Liu family, so his mind went right to Scribe Liu and his two sons after seeing it. However, judging from the smeared blot, the original writing didn’t say Liu Xue, nor did it say Liu Chong or Liu Jin.
Just as he bent down to pick up another, something rolled out of the pouch at his waist. That something uttered “Ouch!” as it tumbled right onto the heap of paper ingots. When it hit the ground, it suddenly inflated like a balloon and transformed into a whole person.
The person’s skin was deathly pale, with dark circles beneath his eyes—the picture of a weary scholar. It was none other than Jiang Shining.
He, too, had never expected to suddenly transform from a paper doll to a person.
“Huh? How did I fall out?” he asked, bewildered.
To Xue Xian’s surprise, Liu Chong wasn’t at all frightened by this extreme transformation, so he dropped his paper doll act.
“There’s too much yin energy here,” Xue Xian explained.
Ghosts loved yin energy, after all. That was why Jiang Shining was immobile during the day, when yang energy was plentiful. By contrast, Liu Chong’s room contained more yin energy than a cemetery, so this helped Jiang Shining.
Somehow, despite the oppressive yin energy, Liu Chong was alive and well. That was strange.
Jiang Shining was still puzzled. “Why didn’t you also fall out of the pouch?” he asked Xue Xian.
“Well, I’m not dead yet,” Xue Xian said irritably. “I’m not like you.”
“Why are you clinging to a paper figure if you’re not dead?”
Jiang Shining thought there had to be something very odd about this Xue fellow. If he wasn’t a ghost, then he still had a body, but if he still had a body, why leave it to live his days as a paper doll? Why do that unless there was something wrong with him?
“What’s it to you?” Xue Xian drawled from his position between Xuanmin’s fingers. “If you have the time to talk, spend it getting to your feet instead.”
After all, Jiang Shining had transformed into a whole person. He might have been sickly and thin as a reed, but he still had mass. The paper ingots couldn’t bear his weight. They had been mostly squashed, his tumble pancaking the small golden mountain into flat land.
Looking around, Jiang Shining realized what he was sitting on and quickly cupped his hands, bowing to Liu Chong in apology. “Sorry, sorry.”
Liu Chong had been frozen next to him, but he now returned to his senses. “Ah!” he cried. He unceremoniously shoved Jiang Shining aside and knelt on the ground, carefully trying to push the squashed paper ingots back into shape.
Liu Chong’s strength was far above average, so Jiang Shining was sent tumbling, his frail body unable to withstand that force. He crashed into the nearby wooden cabinet, shoving it back a few inches, until it slammed into the wall with a thud. Jiang Shining fell into a heap before awkwardly propping himself up, wanting to help Liu Chong fold paper ingots as an apology.
But as he braced himself to stand, he gasped in pain and yanked his hand away. A hole had opened in his palm, and though there was no blood, the pain pulled his face into a grimace. Paper bodies could allow drifting souls to become substantial, enabling them to walk, stand, and touch things, bringing their existence closer to that of a living person. However, this meant they were more vulnerable to injury.
“Why are there nails in the floor beneath the cabinet?” Jiang Shining complained, before he turned to whisper at Xue Xian, “Next time, well, if there’s still a next time, could you use leather instead of paper?”
“Why not just use human skin?” said Xue Xian thoughtlessly.
Jiang Shining gaped at him.
Xuanmin’s expression stayed placid, but his fingers slid over to press down on Xue Xian’s mouth, lest this troublesome thing continue spewing nonsense.
As Jiang Shining got up, he caught a glimpse of the patch of floor where he’d punctured his hand and discovered something. “Hm? How strange. There’s a piece of paper attached to the nail.”
Hearing this, Xuanmin frowned, gathered up his robe, and squatted down. The cabinet had been pushed aside, revealing a small patch of ground where something sharp and pointy jutted up. Xuanmin tore off a corner of his robe and used the white hemp to rub at it.
As the mud was wiped off, the sharp object could be identified—a copper nail with three ridges running along its body. Since it was caked with mud, the nail had been here for at least two or three years, yet it still gleamed. It was no ordinary object.