Chapter 133
Chapter 133
Qiao Yu gave up trying to escape.
The bridal sedan jostled along, accompanied by a jumble of voices outside.
“Hey, look at that. What a grand wedding procession.”
“Who holds a wedding in the middle of the night?”
“The Prince of Lanling.”
“Didn’t the Prince of Lanling die recently? Then… is this a ghost marriage?”
“Whose daughter is he marrying?”
An unknown cold wind lifted the curtain. Outside, the paper effigies stared sinisterly at the “bride” and raised eerie smiles.
“Marrying? This isn’t a marriage. He’s taking a concubine.”
“Not even the dignity of a principal wife in a ghost marriage? Who is the concubine?”
“That famous performer from the Pear Garden-Tao Zhuyue.”
“Good heavens, Tao Zhuyue? Is she… willing?”
“What difference does that make? Once the imperial decree came down, how could she refuse?”
“She may be a lowly performer, but they shouldn’t humiliate her like this. If she’s only a concubine, won’t they bury her the moment she enters the household?”
“How can commoners fight an imperial decree?”
“How pitiful…”
“How tragic…”
Qiao Yu abruptly tightened his grip on the curtain. Baseless grief rose in his chest. Belatedly, he touched his cheek.
Tears. Scalding tears…
Clang-
A gong sounded as a bridal sedan entered Luo Yunmeng’s view.
Paper effigies in festive red and green dragged out the veiled bride, forced her to the ground, and held her kneeling before the hall.
“The bride has arrived! Pay respects at the ancestral shrine! Bring forth the groom!”
A perfectly preserved corpse in wedding robes was carried in. Most horrifyingly, its face… strongly resembled Boss Qiao!
Luo Yunmeng’s eyes rolled wildly. She could not make sense of the scene.
What was happening now?
She did not know, but Shang Yan, seated among the paper effigies, stared until his eyes nearly split. His blood seemed to freeze, leaving him cold enough to tremble.
The others thought the corpse merely resembled Qiao Yu. But Qiao Yu-no, Qiao Yu had looked exactly like this while alive!
“First bow-to Heaven and Earth!”
They forced Qiao Yu’s head down, slamming it against the floor.
The impact left him dizzy, his mind scrambled and his forehead burning with pain.
Shang Yan glanced at the two undamaged memorial tablets on the altar, his gaze darkening.
“Second bow-to the honored elder!”
Bang! Another solid kowtow.
Crack. A plate shattered nearby.
Just as Qiao Yu was forced down like a puppet for the third kowtow, chaos erupted at the banquet.
A silver chain streaked past his eyes. To his shocked delight, it wrapped around… the corpse!
Before Qiao Yu could call out, a paper effigy clamped a hand over his mouth. He could only watch Shang Yan pull the corpse into his arms…
The next second, a needle trailing black thread flashed before his eyes.
Were they… going to sew his mouth shut?
No!
They could not!
Qiao Yu struggled violently, but how could the body of a sheltered ancient woman overpower two paper effigies?
Fire. Where was there fire?
He searched desperately, but not a single flame was visible. Even the white lantern overhead was unlit.
He clenched the writing brush, experiencing true fear for the first time.
No-the body was forcing him to feel afraid!
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Fine. Let them sew it shut. This was not his body. It would only hurt a little.
At the same time, Shang Yan sensed something wrong. The corpse in his arms suddenly opened its eyes and glared viciously toward the bride.
Qiao Yu’s eyes were not like that…
He might not be kind, and he could even be a little wicked, but he would never possess such venom!
Shang Yan’s gaze swept over the bride whose mouth was about to be sewn shut. The fury in his eyes instantly became almost tangible.
He flung the corpse from his arms. His chain transformed into a white folding fan, which he swung hard.
The jujube tree thrashed in the gale. The paper effigy holding the needle stumbled several steps back.
The moment he was free, Qiao Yu tore off the red veil and looked at the long-haired young man holding the fan.
Shang Yan opened his arms, waiting for Qiao Yu to throw himself into them. Instead, Qiao Yu pattered over to a table, grabbed a candle, and burned the two paper effigies who had tried to sew his mouth into ash.
“Fuck. You think I can’t fight just because this paper body is light?”
The sight of a tiny woman standing on a stool, hands on her hips as she cursed ghosts, was painful to behold. Shang Yan stopped him from setting fire to everything. “The other streamers are still seated at the banquet.”
Qiao Yu raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t they all paper effigies?”
The corpse on the floor abruptly transformed into a female ghost in blood-red bridal robes. Thick black thread stitched her mouth shut.
Strangest of all… opera singing rose again.
“Across green hills the cuckoos cry red; beyond the trailing roses, mist-soft threads drift lazily. Though peonies bloom fair, how can they claim spring after it has gone? I gaze idly as newborn swallows cut the air with bright calls and orioles pour out rounded notes.”
Her bridal robe looked soaked in blood. Drops fell with every step.
As she sang, the bamboo grove rustled and a crowd of Ghosts emerged. Every Ghost from the production crew had appeared, staring hungrily… toward the banquet.
The immobilized streamers felt their scalps crawl.
No wonder the round tables held empty plates. They were the banquet’s “food”!
The moment the first Ghost stepped forward, the rest charged like beasts released through an open gate.
We’re finished! Luo Yunmeng screamed inwardly.
I haven’t earned my doctorate or brought honor to my ancestors yet! Aaaaaah!
“Pen Spirit, Pen Spirit…”
Qiao Yu shoved the brush into Shang Yan’s hand. He had spoken only four words when force descended through it. The Pen Spirit came quickly this time, appearing behind Qiao Yu in a blink.
Her pale, scarlet-nailed hand instinctively swept across Qiao Yu’s face. “You’re hideous. Change back right now!”
Qiao Yu shuddered and returned to his original appearance.
Before he could thank her, those scarlet nails slashed toward the Bridal Ghost. “You have a death wish!”
The Bridal Ghost stepped back, entirely unafraid of the Pen Spirit’s ten razor-sharp nails, and dodged with ease. She even continued singing leisurely through her stitched mouth. “No sight can satisfy the heart’s lingering desire; all twelve pavilions admired would still be in vain. Better to return home when pleasure fades and pass the idle hours.”
True. The Pen Spirit might be a century-old ghost, but her opponent seemed even older.
Was the Bridal Ghost not only more experienced but also more resentful? Qiao Yu could not know. He had never asked about the Pen Spirit’s past.
He tilted his head at the Bridal Ghost’s mouth in confusion.
How could she sing with her lips sewn shut?
She truly loved opera.
The Pen Spirit’s competitive streak flared. Black energy rolled around her. At last, her terrifying appearance carried the proper bearing of a malicious ghost.
“I’ll give you The Peony Pavilion! I’ll give you love between human and ghost! Do you know I hate opera singers most? All that endless wailing!”
Enraged, the Pen Spirit erupted with violence, her body drowning in dense black fog.
But when Qiao Yu returned to his original appearance, the Ghosts behind him abruptly stopped. Their greedy eyes locked onto him, filled with possession and madness.
Current Charm: 77%
Qiao Yu froze, then turned and ran, cursing as he fled. “Fuck! Ren Yan, you made everything worse!”