Chapter 14: Still Alive?

Legend has it that the human body holds three flames, each representing one of the three souls: the prenatal light, the bright spirit, and the hidden essence. Collectively, they are known as the Three Bodies.

Should the Three Bodies—no, the three flames—be extinguished, a living person’s soul will depart, resulting in true death. For most, their flames burn strong; but should one flicker or die, the individual is said to be “overwhelmed by yin energy,” and will encounter a series of misfortunes—demotion, pay cuts, setbacks in their career, and so forth.

If their birth chart leans toward the yin, they may begin to witness unusual phenomena. Another legend warns: if, at midnight or on a deserted evening, you hear a stranger call your name, never turn your head. For if you do, the ghost will snuff out one of the lights upon your shoulder.

This is the so-called “man lights the fire, ghost blows out the lamp,” a rule akin to those found among the Gold-seeking Commanders.

Perhaps because he had crossed the threshold of death once, Qin Ye could, at will, clearly see the three flames burning on another’s body. Yet now, just one day apart, Wang Chenghao’s flame atop his head was about to go out.

This was no good omen. For a vibrant youth to be driven to the brink of death within a single day could only mean—this ghost was no ordinary creature!

“The worlds of yin and yang are separate; ordinary ghosts cannot affect the living,” Qin Ye said, attaching the soul-sealing orb to his backpack as an unusual charm. Arthas spoke slowly, “I once served in the mortal realm for a hundred years. The ghosts in your films—Sadako, Lady Chu, Jason—those who directly claim lives, all needed at least fifty years to gain such power.”

“The ghost in his home, I am certain, obtained the fragment of the Yama Seal no more than half a year ago. Otherwise, an ordinary mortal would have perished long ago.”

“For you, that is good news.”

Qin Ye nodded, quietly observing the soulless Wang Chenghao. As Wang’s hairs stood on end, Qin Ye asked in a faint voice, “How did you know?”

Wang Chenghao bit his lip, opened his phone, and displayed a photo before Qin Ye.

His gaze hung desperately on Qin Ye; before Qin could return the phone or speak, Wang seized his hand, voice trembling, “Before... before, I wronged you! I’ll never do it again… please… please, save me this once!”

The school’s usual braggart, towering and imposing, now had legs that could barely hold him; his lips were bitten to bleeding. Were they not in public, he’d have fallen to his knees. If classmates saw their school celebrity Wang Chenghao clinging to the unremarkable Qin Ye, face full of pleading, their jaws would drop.

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” Qin Ye said, lifting his chin.

He hadn’t finished speaking when Wang Chenghao dragged him away. “Come… you haven’t had breakfast, right? My treat! Whatever you want, I’ll pay! Forget your bike, I’ll buy you a Pinarello!”

“Pity?” In the taxi, Arthas sneered, “The sentiment of the weak.”

“Do you think I’d feel such useless emotion for someone I’ve known only two or three years?” Qin Ye gazed out the window, voice calm. “He’s little more than a passerby in my life. But since this matter has fallen on him, his help is... convenient.”

They drove straight to “First Stop,” a shop hailed by high schoolers as the “dating paradise.” The interior overflowed with anime motifs, and the place had been open for over a decade, offering affordable treats. Most importantly, it was partitioned into private booths, a favorite haunt for young couples.

As soon as they sat, Wang Chenghao eagerly handed over the menu. “Order anything you like.”

Qin Ye chose a few fried skewers and iced drinks. It was early; the snacks arrived quickly. He sipped the chilled grapefruit tea, then said, “Go on.”

His manner was natural, yet lofty.

Quite unlike his silent demeanor at school, but Wang Chenghao noticed nothing amiss, gripping his milk tea as terror filled his eyes. After several deep breaths, he managed to speak.

He quavered, “Have you noticed… I’ve been eating at school every day these past months?”

Qin Ye recalled, then nodded.

Wang Chenghao shrank into his seat, lowering his voice. “Because… the food at home is inedible! At some point… my dad took to eating raw food. At first, it was like Japanese cuisine, so I tried it too. But it got worse—grilled meat, steak, first seven-tenths done, then five, then three… finally, just barely seared!”

“Every bite was blood and raw flesh! Impossible to eat! My dad became strange, too. For the past ten days he’s reeked of strong perfume. But he never used perfume before! And… and in the last week, he’s stopped eating altogether!”

All these oddities, once dismissed as mere quirks, now surfaced in Wang Chenghao’s mind under extreme fear.

“I didn’t pay much attention at first, just felt something was wrong. Until last night… last night…” He trembled all over, clutching Qin Ye’s hand, palms clammy. “I know I locked my door, but that woman sat at my bedside at three in the morning! And after she left, she tracked a trail of bloody footprints! And… and…”

He shook violently, voice hoarse. “I… I saw her… she ate our Labrador! When I checked in the morning, the dog’s bed was empty! Empty!”

He shivered like a leaf, voice frayed. “She’s a ghost… not a person! She must be a vengeful spirit!”

Qin Ye stirred his drink gently, then interrupted, “Where’s your father?”

Wang Chenghao was bewildered.

“How’s his funeral?” Qin Ye frowned.

Wang Chenghao stared in shock. “What are you talking about?”

Qin Ye’s tone grew impatient. “Did your mother arrange your father's funeral, or did you?”

“My father’s… funeral?” Wang Chenghao’s lips quivered as he gripped Qin Ye’s hand. “Qin… Qin… Qinye… please don’t scare me…”

“My father… he’s alive and well…”

Suddenly, Qin Ye’s gaze sharpened as he looked deeply at Wang Chenghao.

The world seemed to fall silent, with only the morning breeze rustling the leaves.

Quiet.

So quiet it chilled the bones.

Sweating, Wang Chenghao pulled out his phone and immediately dialed Wang Zemins number.

“Ah Hao… Dad’s busy… mm… study hard… bye…”

The exchange was brief, but the voice was unmistakably Wang Zemin’s. Yet… it sounded odd, halting and uneven, much like someone unused to speaking.

Wang Chenghao’s lips trembled; Qin Ye’s earlier words were too unnerving. What had he meant?

He stared fixedly at Qin Ye, who continued to stir his tea as his brows knitted in thought.

This was his first time handling a supernatural case as an agent of the underworld, yet he faced such an uncanny situation.

Wang Zemin wasn’t dead?

That was impossible!

The ghost in question could never rival Lady Meng; Wang Zemin’s soul had been personally retrieved by Lady Meng at the Bridge of Bones—there could be no mistake!

So then…

Qin Ye took a deep breath. So then… who, exactly, was the father in Wang Chenghao’s home?

A living corpse? Or something else?

“I understand. Let’s go. It won’t emerge in daylight. After six tonight, meet me at my shop.”

Wang Chenghao’s Adam’s apple bobbed, chest heaving as he nodded desperately, but he didn’t leave. He gazed at Qin Ye with anxious eyes.

“Afraid to go?” Qin Ye gestured to the next booth. “Sit over there.”

“I… I won’t bother you… just don’t leave me…”

“Go!”

Wang Chenghao, resigned, gritted his teeth and left. Just then, Qin Ye suddenly pressed his hand to his chest, face pale as he slumped in his seat.

“Qin Ye, Qin Ye! What’s wrong? What happened?” Wang Chenghao nearly jumped up in fright, not realizing that his address for Qin Ye had changed.

Qin Ye said nothing. Under his palm, his heart… slowly stopped beating.

It was a sensation his body could distinctly feel: life ebbing away, moment by moment.

The world seemed to fall still, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, each beat edging closer to oblivion.

A countdown to death.

“Go…” Qin Ye said through clenched teeth, complexion ashen.

“I…” Wang Chenghao was frightened, lost.

“Get out!” Qin Ye growled, veins bulging on his forehead.

This time, Wang Chenghao grabbed his backpack and fled to the next booth. “If anything happens, call me!”

Peace returned to the booth. Qin Ye seemed to hear Arthas calling him, but the words were indistinct.

The sensation lasted a full five minutes before his heartbeat gradually resumed, color returning to his cheeks.

“Hah…” After another five minutes, he exhaled deeply and took a fierce swig of tea.

It was unbearable…

That brush with death was not one he wished to repeat.

“A final memorial,” Arthas said gravely. “The imbalance in the underworld has broken your state of neither life nor death. Your name… now appears in the Book of Life and Death. Though the underworld is destroyed, fragments of innate treasures—such as the Book—can still operate independently.”

“Otherwise, this world would be filled with immortal monsters. Such is the way of Heaven.”

Qin Ye nodded deeply. Death was knocking; his time was running out.

“Clearly, everyone in his family is implicated,” Arthas continued, cutting to the point. “What kind of issue, though, remains unclear—possession, or something else. Wang Chenghao’s father is the key. He must be dead, but now his soul is gone and his body lives. There are several possibilities.”

“I’ll teach you the first iron law for agents of the underworld among the living.”

“No matter how bizarre the case, it always traces back to the ghost’s obsession in life.”

“Every ghost harbors an obsession from their mortal days. Either violently slain, or unjustly killed; it is excessive obsession that prevents their soul from dispersing, ultimately turning them into a vengeful spirit. All abnormalities at their location, everything strange, connects intimately to their past. For a ghost instinctively repeats its obsession.”

“These details may well be the key to releasing this spirit.” She concluded with certainty, “Tonight at midnight, I’ll teach you the summoning ritual. We’ll awaken Wang Zemin’s soul, and everything will be revealed.”