“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
Lin Jing’s palms were a little sweaty. “You said it, Shen-laoshi, not me. If I fuck you up when pulling it out, I… I… Can you sign a waiver for me first?”
Shen Wei motioned for him to lean in closer. Confused, Lin Jing did as he asked.
Right by his ear, Shen Wei murmured, “You see, I’m actually…”
What Shen Wei said shocked Lin Jing so badly that his legs turned to jelly. He nearly fell right out of the tree. No longer daring to waste a moment, he respectfully grabbed hold of the icicle embedded in Shen Wei’s chest. With a great shout, he yanked it free. There was a sound of tearing flesh as Shen Wei’s torso was dragged forward along with the icicle, only to fall back upon hitting the limit of the chains securing his limbs.
Lin Jing broke out in a sympathetic icy sweat, but Shen Wei didn’t make a sound. Once the great length of ice—a meter long—was fully removed from his chest, a powerful gout of blood followed, spraying Lin Jing’s face when he couldn’t dodge in time. Expression tight with panic, Lin Jing hurried to check on Shen Wei.
The pain of the extraction seemed to have been more than Shen Wei could bear. Hair was plastered to his forehead with cold sweat, and his gaze was empty and unfocused. Lin Jing, afraid he would faint again, reached out to pat his face but then remembered that this was the Soul-Executing Emissary. His extended hand couldn’t quite make the landing. “Shen…um, my lord? Can you hear me? Just…just hold on. I’ll try to get you down as soon as possible.”
Blood loss had left Shen Wei’s lips horribly dry and cracked. As he faded in and out of consciousness, they moved minutely. Voice faint and muffled, he called out, “Kunlun…”
“Hm? What?”
Shen Wei’s gaze seemed lost for a while longer, then suddenly snapped back into perfect focus. “My apologies… Could you, ah, hand me that icicle?”
As he spoke, the brutal wound in his chest started to heal itself, little by little. The bloody hole in his shirt was soon the only remaining sign that he’d ever been hurt at all. Lin Jing hastily hefted the huge icicle with both hands. It was made of frozen water from the Wangchuan River, which likely explained why it seemed so much more piercingly cold than normal ice.
As Lin Jing handed it over to Shen Wei, the ice melted all at once into a wisp of smoke with a bloodred tinge. In the next moment, Shen Wei swallowed it. The deep cracks in his lips closed over one by one; light returned to his eyes. And then, with a few soft clinks, the chains binding his limbs gave way.
Lin Jing leaned in close. “My lord, are you all right now? What do we do? What about the youchu from before…and that guy with the mask?”
Shen Wei laughed lightly. “Oh, him? He’s gone to investigate the scrap of Chaos that I captured. I also prepared a little surprise for him in front of the Yanluo Courts.”
Although he didn’t understand, Lin Jing still found himself shuddering. As he gave Shen Wei a sidelong look, it occurred to him that Shen-laoshi… No, that the Soul-Executing Emissary and the masked man, despite their similar appearance, were worlds apart when it came to intelligence.
Lin Jing thought of himself as pretty dumb. Shrewd, calculating people made him want to run and hide far away in case they sold him off without him even realizing while he was still helping to count the money.
Shen Wei said, “The waters of the Wangchuan River are above us. Swimming up, you’ll reach the Huangquan Road. Yunlan is most likely in the Netherworld, so let’s go find him. Start swimming and I’ll follow. But don’t mention anything about my whereabouts just yet.”
“Oh,” Lin Jing answered. He paused, but then couldn’t help asking, “Why not?”
“If I appear, this play won’t reach its conclusion, and then how would we redirect all the disaster to our enemies?”
Hearing this, Lin Jing started silently chanting scriptures. What had his boss been thinking, falling for someone who was as calculating as…as…a calculator? It was probably a mistake he’d regret forever.
Back in the Mortal Realm, it was already late at night. Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng were searching the resort with flashlights, still stumbling now and then. Chu Shuzhi wore a tiny whistle around his neck, and as the two of them walked, the whistle blew all on its own at all sorts of pitches. It could evidently attract the souls of the dead.
Chu Shuzhi felt as though, having had Guo Changcheng following him around for so long, he had become enough of a pacifist to go become a monk. All the world’s calamities had nothing to do with him. Day in and day out, he was emulating Lei Feng12—one day trying to find a runaway girl at the highway exit and searching for lost souls in the dead of night the next.
The whistle’s pitch suddenly rose, a sound similar to that of the Chinese hwamei bird. Chu Shuzhi raised a hand to stop Guo Changcheng. The two of them stood in the middle of a neglected pathway, listening as the whistle grew clearer and clearer. The notes rose and fell, the sound dragging out as though it were some kind of guiding siren.
Guo Changcheng opened his eyes wide. Thanks to the cows’ tears he’d applied, he saw a young person approaching from the end of the road, following the sound of the whistle. He was wearing a delivery company uniform and looked a little lost.
“Is that person human or a…”
“A ghost,” said Chu Shuzhi.
Guo Changcheng shivered instinctively, but the confusion on the young man’s face wiped his fear away. Instead, his heart ached a little.
Reaching them, the young person gave them a weird look, running a hand over his hair. “Sirs, why are you still out here so late? It’s so cold! You should hurry home.”
“What about you?” Chu Shuzhi countered. “You should go back soon too.”
The young man laughed. “You’re right. The guard’s already signed for the package I was delivering, and I don’t need to collect any packages today, so I can go home a bit early.”
Chu Shuzhi took a little bottle from his pocket, opened it, and held it out. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
The young man froze. The smile on his face gradually faded. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, as though suddenly coming to a realization.
“What’s your name?” asked Guo Changcheng.
The young man looked up slowly. Sounding confused, he said, “My name is… What is my name? I don’t remember.”
“I remember. I’ve seen your ID. Your name is Feng Dawei, born in 1989. You turn twenty-four this year. You have an older brother, right? I wrote it all down,” said Guo Changcheng. He took a notebook from his bag and flipped it open for Feng Dawei to see. Each missing person’s details were meticulously recorded. “Your brother said that if it turned out you were no longer among the living, he’d take care of your parents. They’re very sad right now, but they’ll be all right.”
Feng Dawei’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“Come inside,” Guo Changcheng urged. “We’ll send you off. You don’t want to be out here when the sun rises. I’ve heard sunlight isn’t good for you guys.”
Lowering his head, Feng Dawei wiped at his tears. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”
Guo Changcheng hesitated, then nodded.
“How did I die? Did someone kill me? If the murderer is caught, will we be avenged?”
Choked up, Guo Changcheng had no idea how to respond. Instead, it was Chu Shuzhi’s low voice that answered. “No evildoer can escape. Don’t worry.”
For a long while, Feng Dawei stared down at the little bottle. “But how could I just…die? I-I wasn’t done living…”
“Come in,” said Chu Shuzhi. “Let’s get you a better life in your next incarnation.”
Feng Dawei laughed bitterly. “Next life? Forget about the next life—can you take a message to my parents and brother?”
Guo Changcheng hurriedly got his notebook back out and carefully wrote “Message to Pass Along” on Feng Dawei’s page in his childish handwriting. “Go ahead.”
With a sniffle, Feng Dawei began to talk. He said a whole bunch of random, useless things, and Guo Changcheng faithfully recorded every last word. Once they were finished, he showed Feng Dawei what he’d written. The young man read his own message aloud, following along with Guo Changcheng’s finger on the page. Finally, he smiled, albeit with a little difficulty. “Okay. I can rest easy now—there’s nothing more I can do anyway. Bro, you’re a good person. Thank you.”