Mystery

While everyone else was fighting for the Emperor’s favor, I built an intelligence station in the cold palace.

Until the day he died, the Emperor never knew that the woman stirring up the hidden currents of his harem was someone whose name he could not even remember.

I died in Yongxiang Alley during my third winter there.

Not truly died-only the kind of death where your name is crossed out in vermilion ink on the registry.

They said Noble Lady Li, who had once worked in the imperial garden and was later favored by His Majesty for her beauty, had gone mad.

Because on the late Empress’s memorial day, I let my hair hang loose, went barefoot, and sang a rousing rendition of “Liangzhou Ci.”

In truth, I was not mad. I had simply calculated that the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial would pass through the imperial garden that day.

Madness was the best pass in the cold palace, and the best armor.

On the day I moved into the West Third Institute, only one lame old eunuch came to lead the way.

The weeds in the courtyard rose past my knees, and the moss on the well curb was as thick as a velvet blanket.

My roommate, Attendant Li, had been thrown in here three years ago after offending the Imperial Consort.

When she saw me arrive, she did not even lift her eyelids. She only kept rubbing a length of hemp rope in her hands, its edges worn fuzzy.

I set my only bundle down on the crumbling earthen kang.

Inside were two sets of worn palace clothes, a bald writing brush, and half a ream of yellow paper.

The paper pasted over the window lattice had a hole in it the size of a fist. The north wind poured in with a howl, carrying the faint sound of pipes and flutes from far away.

I stared at that hole, but in my heart, a sliver of light slipped through.

In a madwoman’s world, there were the fewest rules.

Here, perhaps, I could live.

I run a science-debunking channel.

I’m also a Taoist priest.

Every day, I livestream ways to expose feudal superstition for what it is.

One day, a young woman asked me to help sever a toxic romantic entanglement.

The next day, her boyfriend was dead.

I am the strongest NPC in a horror game, they call me the Ghost Bride.

I wear a Red Wedding Dress, swaying my crimson nails, wandering freely through the vast ancient mansion, unbound by the rules.

I enjoy watching the terror on the players’ faces and the screams they let out.

Until one day, a middle-aged woman saw my face clearly, neither terrified nor screaming.

She shed tears: “My dear, I am your mother.”

[BL + Infinite Flow + Supernatural + Crack + HE]

Before he died, Qiao Yu had a boyfriend. Their relationship was the kind of earth-shattering, legendary romance that everyone knew about-the type where they swore that not even the mountains crumbling or the heavens and earth merging would part them.

They survived the seven-year itch, and just as they were about to meet the parents and step into the halls of marriage, his big, handsome boyfriend suddenly vanished!

Vanished, in the literal sense. No body, no trace, nothing.

Faced with the world’s mockery, Qiao Yu continued to eat, drink, and sleep as usual. Then, a year later, he was hit by a car and died.

Qiao Yu finally believed it: flaunt your love, and you’ll die fast.

After an unknown amount of time, he woke up and suddenly became ‘Qiao Yu.’

Perhaps the reboot process was a bit glitchy, because he was inexplicably dragged into an escape live stream-the kind where people actually died.

And then… that boyfriend of his, who had been classified as a missing person, was standing right in front of him, shamelessly trying to hold his hand.

Qiao Yu: “Piss off.”

**

During a boss rampage in the Live Stream Room, Qiao Yu gouged out his own eyeball and, with a face covered in blood, scared the boss into fleeing for its life.

A hand suddenly pulled back the arrogantly laughing Qiao Yu: “Stop messing around. My heart can’t take it.”

Qiao Yu immediately popped his eyeball back in: “Then should I rub it for you?”

“Come on then. Whoever doesn’t rub it is a grandson!”

Qiao Yu: “Grandpa.”

“…Shut up!”

A mischievous S who values money over his life vs. a G who thinks everyone in the world is trash except for himself and Qiao Yu.

My younger sister gave birth to a son in the Eastern Palace.

I brought a fortune in family wealth and cartloads of rare medicinal pills with me to the palace to visit her.

The moment she saw me, she nestled into my arms and began to cry, tears falling one after another.

Her movements were intimate, her voice soft and spoiled. There was not the slightest trace of distance or unfamiliarity between us.

And yet my entire body went rigid, a chill crawling up my spine and sinking into my heart.

Because the face before me, identical to my sister’s in every way,

was not the dead woman’s skin I had sewn onto her with my own hands.

The second young lady of the Guardian General’s Residence was young, beautiful, and of noble status.

After attending a gathering of noble ladies, she suddenly hanged herself.

She left not a single word behind.

Her elder sister, Wang Ping’an, the Guardian General stationed at the border, rode back to the capital overnight.

Then, with lightning speed, she abducted the other four noble ladies who had attended the gathering-

the Grand Tutor’s daughter, the daughter of the Minister of Personnel, the legitimate daughter of the Censor-in-Chief, and the County Lady of Zhongwang Mansion-and brought them to a farmstead on the outskirts of the capital.

I, along with Yuan Nanshan, the Vice Minister of Dali Temple, was also dragged here to help uncover the truth.

Seeing me stare worriedly at the four top-ranking noble ladies, the Guardian General gave a chilling sneer.

“Master Yu, I hear your divinations are infallible, and that you can see the past and the future.”

“I want to know how my sister died!”

“If you can’t get to the bottom of it today, all of you can accompany her to the grave!”

Wait. I’m going to die too?

I’m just a fortune-teller.

A bloody, brutal murder had shaken the city.

The prostitute Yuanyang was found dead and naked on her embroidered bed, her body slashed again and again, drenched in blood.

The authorities proved utterly useless at catching the killer. They could not find so much as a single suspect.

Just as rumors were flying everywhere, a young victim came to my stall.

With the only five copper coins she had, she begged me to find Yuanyang’s murderer.

Me: “?”

But I was only a fortune-teller.

The Marquis of Ningyuan’s favored concubine had been brutally murdered.

She had been arrogant, domineering, and spoiled by his favor, making countless enemies in the marquis’s mansion.

For a time, the authorities had no idea where to begin.

So Yuan Nanshan, the Vice Minister of Dali Temple, tossed this hot potato to me.

“The Marquis of Ningyuan’s concubine came from an official family, bore him children, and held a status no lower than the Marchioness.”

“You’re a woman, so it will be more convenient for you to investigate. You must find the murderer and give the deceased justice!”

“…”

But I was only a fortune-teller.

The parents of a missing boy came to me for help. They wanted me to find their son.

But every sign pointed to the boy already being dead-while his heart was still beating.

Disciples knelt all across the mountain, crying out in unison, “We respectfully send off the Patriarch on his ascension!”

But what I saw was a silvery-white hook piercing Master’s throat, dragging him up into the clouds.

His feet had left the ground. He couldn’t make a sound.

Like a fish.

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around Master’s legs. “Let him go!”

Eldest Senior Brother struck me with his palm and sent me flying. “You madwoman! Can you bear the consequences of ruining the Patriarch’s ascension ceremony?”

Blood spilled from the corner of my mouth.

I laughed.

“Ascension? Are you all blind? That’s fishing!”