Full Charm Points Attracts Dirty Things Chapter 15

“My family runs a paper effigy shop. We’re short-staffed, so I help out here.”

The pale hand withdrew behind the white curtain. The two curtains fell back into place. The candlelight cast two tall shadows onto them.

Tang Yu stood between the two figures. From above, it looked like the three of them formed a triangle. His deep blue eyes, wide with fear and shock, couldn’t bear to stay on the curtains. His pale face tilted up stiffly as he stared blankly at Li Sheng above.

The candlelight reflected in his eyes, making him look like a lost lamb, seeking shelter in the dark.

The black-and-white curtains blocked out the outside world. Tang Yu’s mind struggled to process Li Sheng’s earlier words. Suddenly, something Yan Lang had said resurfaced in his mind: “He has paper effigis on his bed. That’s not a good sign.” Only now did Tang Yu fully comprehend the warning.

He finally managed to let out a small, dazed “mm.”

That “mm” was thick with nasal tone, sounding more like a choked sob of submission.

“You’re afraid of me.” Li Sheng’s cold voice was devoid of emotion, impossible to read.

“…Hm?” Tang Yu’s dark brows rose then furrowed. He looked like a struggling student caught off guard by a teacher’s question. Instinctively, he stammered out, “I’m sorry.”

Silence followed.

Just as Tang Yu finally suppressed the physical fear that had been prickling his skin, he heard Li Sheng’s frigid voice again: “Is ‘sorry’ all you ever say?”

“You didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“If you’re unhappy, why don’t you just say it?”

“This isn’t just my dorm. It’s yours too.”

A flurry of words crashed down on Tang Yu like a hailstorm, leaving him stunned and overwhelmed. He nearly apologized again out of reflex.

“Or is it that you never wanted to live here in the first place, so you don’t even try to fix things you don’t like——”

Li Sheng suddenly fell silent mid-sentence. The cold fragrance in the air coiled tightly around Tang Yu, as if trying to seep into his bones.

“You could just leave.”

Tang Yu’s breath hitched. If it were Shen Junxing in front of him, he might have suspected he’d been followed again—after all, he had spent the whole afternoon apartment hunting.

Maybe because Li Sheng’s last sentence had come out softer, no longer rapid-fire like before, it felt like a biting winter wind had suddenly become a gentle breeze—one that carried the damp scent of melting snow.

It almost felt… like Li Sheng was grieving something.

Tang Yu blinked in confusion. He thought it must be his imagination. How could senior be feeling that way?

Still, that momentary impression pushed back the fear that had been overwhelming him, and now he was more troubled by how to respond.

If he were honest, Li Sheng was the kind of roommate Tang Yu found… acceptable.

What he liked best about Li Sheng was his cold detachment.

They lived under the same roof but barely saw each other. He was quiet. As long as they maintained a polite, distant relationship, things would be peaceful.

Tang Yu’s desire to move out wasn’t because of Li Sheng—it was because of the players.

Li Sheng’s attributes were so high that he was almost certainly a key NPC in the game. He was bound to have frequent interactions with players.

If Tang Yu continued to live with him, he risked drawing unwanted attention from the player base.

But he couldn’t tell Li Sheng any of this. He wasn’t allowed to mention anything about games or players.

“I… I don’t have any complaints about you, senior.” Tang Yu tilted his face up and carefully chose his words. His long lashes trembled, and his blue eyes were as clear as a spring. With that face, any words he spoke sounded utterly sincere. “You’re good at everything—studying, cleaning, and even making paper effigies.”

“I was just scared of the paper effigies. Not… not of you.”

Another long silence followed. Just when Tang Yu began to wonder if he’d said something wrong again, Li Sheng’s stiff voice came from above: “What’s so scary about paper effigies?”

“For weddings or funerals, joy or grief, they bring peace to the dead and comfort to the living.”

Tang Yu tilted his head slightly, listening curiously.

With a posture like that, even the most tight-lipped person would be tempted to say more.

“Someone died yesterday. They ordered a full set—clothes, food, housing, animals, everything. Even a white horse.”

“A white horse?” Tang Yu echoed.

“Men get a white horse. To ride to the heavens after death.”

Li Sheng’s words intrigued Tang Yu. He softly asked, “What about the cow?”

“Women get a cow. The cow drinks all the dirty water from her chores so she can leave this world clean.”

Tang Yu blinked quietly, his dark lashes fluttering. With his upturned face, he looked sincerely thoughtful. “When people die… do they really need all that?”

The candlelight cast the paper dolls’ shadows onto the white curtains—and Tang Yu’s shadow onto the floor. But his shadow was just a tiny patch on the ground, small and insignificant.

From above, Tang Yu looked particularly slight and fragile.

It seemed he didn’t need any paper horses or paper oxen to carry him away—just one hand was enough to lift Tang Yu up and take him away.

“Who knows,” Li Sheng said. “But the living do.”

Tang Yu was momentarily stunned by what he heard.

“Paper effigies, funeral rites—all of it exists because the living need it. That’s what gives these rituals recognition in this world.” Li Sheng’s cold tone was particularly fitting for the topic.

“…What kind of ritual?”

“After someone dies, it usually takes seven days to prepare the funeral.”

“During those seven days, there’s encoffining, the wake, notifying relatives, covering with white cloth, sealing the coffin, mourning visits, and finally the funeral procession and burial. So much trouble…”

The hospital bed was draped in layers of white curtains. Li Sheng’s icy voice, along with the candlelight, spread through those layers like falling snow from the sky, drifting down onto one’s face. “The one being buried is the dead, but what’s truly buried is the sorrow of the living.”

Tang Yu stood in place, head tilted upward, unmoving.

In his mind, a memory from many winters ago surfaced. Snow spun and fell from the sky—it was the first time he had seen snow. He had been so excited he nearly lost control, stepping onto a stool to push open the window adorned with red paper cutouts. Dressed in only thin pajamas, he leaned halfway out the window, reaching out to catch the snowflakes.

Suddenly, his father had pulled him back down. His mother, both angry and frightened, tugged his ear and scolded, “It’s New Year’s Day and you’re trying to scare your parents to death!”

That morning, he got a spanking. Back then, he thought he’d remember that beating for the rest of his life. But now, he couldn’t recall where he’d been hit, or how many times.

He only remembered they got up early that day, wore thick red clothes, went shopping for New Year’s goods, cleaned the house, put up Spring Festival couplets, worshipped the gods and ancestors, made dumplings, had a reunion dinner, set off firecrackers and fireworks, and stayed up all night.

The TV screen glowed red with festivity. The house was lit with red candles. He curled up in his mother’s arms, eyes drooping with sleep, murmuring that he didn’t want to stay up anymore, he wanted to go to bed.

His mother teased him: if little Yu didn’t stay up, he wouldn’t grow a year older.

Then I just won’t grow up.

His father said, How can that be? If you don’t grow up, when your mom and dad get old and can’t walk, who’s going to put up the couplets?

Sigh… New Year is such a hassle.

He couldn’t remember whether it was his father or mother who laughed and said, Yeah, but that’s what gives it that New Year feeling…

All those warm colors had now faded into the black-and-white curtains before his eyes.

The cold night wind blew in from the balcony, making Tang Yu shiver.

His fingers twisted together by his leg, as if that could ease the ache in his chest. Slowly, Tang Yu lowered his head. For the first time, his gaze didn’t avoid the paper effigy’s shadow behind the white curtain. “Senior… these paper effigies you mentioned—if I wanted to buy them, do you have any recommendations?”

“Do you want the full set, or a simplified version?”

Tang Yu answered without hesitation, “The full set.”

“What kind of spirit house do you want?” Li Sheng asked.

“Any kind?” Tang Yu asked softly.

“Yes,” Li Sheng said with certainty.

“I… I want a beautiful big villa.” Tang Yu’s blue eyes shifted upward to the left as he drifted into memories. “It should have a storage room. Mom always said there were too many odds and ends in the house, and it would be nice to have a dedicated room to store them. It could be in the attic, or a basement.”

“Dad wanted a big study, with an entire wall of books and a ladder, so he could climb up to get books from the highest shelf.”

“There also needs to be a mini-villa inside the big villa. I… I want to raise cats. The little cats can live in their own villa.”

“Okay.” Li Sheng didn’t ask about Tang Yu’s parents. He calmly said, “What kind of paper effigy do you want?”

“…Any kind is okay?” Tang Yu asked again.

“Yes,” Li Sheng’s tone remained cold, but not impatient.

“Then make one that looks like me.” Tang Yu said something astonishing.

“No.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Tang Yu’s head shot up. His blue eyes were burning with intensity—it was rare to see him reveal emotion so openly. Most of the time, he resembled a delicately crafted paper effigy himself. But now, a spark had landed on that paper, and the wind had blown. The thing that controlled his body was no longer still water—it was fire. “Why not?”

His voice was still light and gentle. “Burn me. Let me go down and be with them.”

“One major taboo in paper crafting is making a paper effigy for a living person,” Li Sheng said. He was well-suited to deliver such words, and his tone allowed no room for negotiation.

Upon hearing that, Tang Yu lowered his lashes, like a blue butterfly fluttering across a still, dead lake.

He was quiet for a moment before asking, “Can paper effigies not smile?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because the two paper effigies you made just now weren’t smiling.” Tang Yu said seriously, “I think going down there to accompany Mom and Dad with a cold face doesn’t seem right.”

“They can smile,” Li Sheng said. “Paper effigies are not real people. They’re created for a real person, and they die for that person too.”

“The ones I made this time… the person they’re meant to accompany doesn’t like smiling faces. So they have to look indifferent.”

When Li Sheng mentioned a smiling face, for some reason, Tang Yu thought of Shen Junxing’s ever-smiling face.

“Then I want two smiling paper effigies.”

“Alright,” said Li Sheng. “What else do you want?”

“What else?”

“Anything you want.”

Tang Yu thought for a moment. “Then a lot of paper money. I don’t know what they might want, but with plenty of money, they can buy whatever they like.”

“Okay.” Li Sheng responded briefly again.

Tang Yu stood silently in place. He didn’t speak, and neither did Li Sheng. After a while, Tang Yu suddenly said, “Senior, if these funeral rituals really work, then back when my parents died, they had nothing. Were they very sad?”

Tang Yu was very young when his parents passed away. All he remembered was that they were sent to the crematorium and turned from tall, towering figures into urns he could hold in his arms.

As he recalled these memories, there were no tears in Tang Yu’s eyes, but the sadness flowed out quietly, just like how he had drawn a red circle on the calendar today.

If Shen Junxing were here, he would cook delicious food, drag Tang Yu downstairs to feed the kittens, and say many comforting things.

But it was Li Sheng who was here. The black and white funeral drapes hung layer upon layer. On one side, a candle sparked silently, casting flickering shadows and a cool scent in the air. He merely said coldly, “There’s a lot of joss paper in my drawer. Take it and burn it.”