The moment the lights went out, Qin Yun screamed and suddenly clung to Du Ge’s arm. “What’s going on?!”
Du Ge glanced at the gray sky outside, frowned, and said in a low voice, “Probably the snowstorm knocked out the power.”
Lian Xue tried to calm everyone, “Stay calm, there’s still a fireplace inside.”
The fireplace gave off a faint circle of light, illuminating the living room sofa.
Steward Yan stood and said, “There are plenty of candles stored in the house. Please wait a moment — I’ll go get them.”
The sudden blackout hadn’t affected the two people executing the command at all.
Just before their lips touched, Jiang Luo paused. The faint scent of cologne on the ghost drifted to his nose.
He even wore cologne… Jiang Luo’s expression turned odd.
He took a quiet breath, then couldn’t help but ask, “Did you do this on purpose?”
The ghost replied calmly, “What?”
Cologne. Bathrobe.
Heavy snow and a mountain villa.
Too many coincidences layered together—it felt like a trap laid out by the malicious ghost.
But how could Chi You have known Jiang Luo would come up the mountain today?
Jiang Luo clicked his tongue and straightened up decisively. The malicious ghost, however, caught his wrist and smiled deeply. “If you’re going to say something, say it clearly.”
“Sorry, I’m just teasing you on purpose,” Jiang Luo retaliated bluntly. The two of them silently exchanged a few moves in the dark. “You clearly know what you’re doing.”
In the darkness, Lian Bing, who was sitting near the host, suddenly felt a few sharp gusts of wind. He turned his head in confusion and tentatively asked, “Senior brother? Our savior?”
Jiang Luo immediately separated from Chi You and complained, “What kind of name is ‘savior’?”
Lian Bing chuckled awkwardly, and Du Ge said, “It’s too dark by the dining table. Let’s move over by the fireplace.”
Everyone relocated to sit around the fire. The butler soon returned with candles. The mirrors reflected the firelight and candlelight, finally bringing a bit of brightness to the room. None of the young people were in the mood to keep playing games. They stared anxiously at the snowstorm outside, which still showed no signs of letting up.
The snow blew at a slant, howling like ghosts and wolves.
Chi You raised a cup of coffee and suddenly said, “Have you ever heard the story of the Yuki Onna?”
“Yuki Onna?”
The man smiled and began to tell the tale. Amid the flickering flames, the story took on a mysterious and glamorous horror.
“They say there’s a kind of monster, a Yuki Onna. Every time she appears, she brings endless snowfall—oh, just like now.” Chi You lowered his voice.
The howling storm outside seemed to echo his words.
“She travels through snowstorms, luring lost men and bringing them home. When she kisses them, they’re frozen by the ice and snow, and their souls become the food that sustains her life.”
He joked, “With a snowstorm coming on so suddenly, could there be a Yuki Onna living in this mountain too?”
Everyone burst into laughter. “You really know how to joke, sir.”
Chi You’s smile didn’t change as he took a sip of coffee.
Duanzi asked hesitantly, “Do Yuki Onna really exist?”
“The Yuki Onna is a creature from foreign folklore. We don’t really have anything like it locally,” Lian Xue said, knowledgeable as always. “But there is one fairy with similar powers, called the Snow Mountain Maiden. She’s the daughter of Emperor Zhang, the mountain god of Guangde Shrine. She always appears accompanied by heavy snow.”
“A legend’s just a legend. None of that’s real,” Qin Yun frowned. “Snow in December is completely normal. Actually, in recent years, we’ve had snow even in March and April. What kind of weather haven’t we seen by now?”
The firelight flickered on the faces of the men and women, casting vague shadows. The cold wind seemed to creep in through the doorframe, making the air feel even colder.
Lian Xue coughed a few times, her cheeks slightly red, as if she were catching a cold. “Sorry, I think I’ll go rest.”
“Forget it, let’s not play anymore,” Du Ge said. “Everyone should go to bed.”
Duanzi said hesitantly, “Then… the mirror thing at midnight… that’s canceled too, right?”
“It should’ve been canceled from the start,” Qin Yun muttered, sneaking a glance at Chi You and fixing her hair. “We’re guests in someone else’s house. How could we play that kind of game?”
Chi You: “No need to cancel.”
He looked at Jiang Luo, with teasing hidden in his tone. “If you’re scared, you can back out.”
Jiang Luo looked at him for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Happy to play along.”
Lian Xue hesitated. While regular people didn’t believe in such things, those who studied metaphysics were particularly cautious. “How about this—at midnight, we’ll come down and stay with you. It’ll feel safer with more people around. How about that?”
Duanzi nodded repeatedly. “Okay.”
Du Ge said, “Then let’s do that.”
The villa had plenty of candles stored. Each person took three before bidding each other goodnight and returning to their rooms. There weren’t enough rooms, so they paired up, two to a room. Lian Xue was the only girl, and none of the three boys could reasonably room with her, so they simply all squeezed into one room.
Once inside and with the door shut, Jiang Luo asked Lian Qiang and Lian Bing, “Do you two think the host looks familiar?”
The two shook their heads in confusion. “We’ve never seen him before.”
Jiang Luo mused, “The Lian family doesn’t leave the mountain much, right?”
“Very rarely,” they answered obediently. “Unless necessary, we never leave.”
That explains it.
Jiang Luo thought to himself—it was no wonder Chi You dared to appear in his real form so openly, without worrying that Lian Xue and the others would recognize him.
There were two beds in the room. The three of them moved the nightstand aside and pushed the beds together to make one large bed.
Lian Qiang and Lian Bing had grown up doing things themselves. They didn’t let Jiang Luo help and quickly made the bed. When they turned around, they saw Jiang Luo standing in front of the mirror that faced the bed, looking thoughtful.
Lian Qiang and Lian Bing walked over, puzzled. “Why would you put a mirror facing the bed?”
Having a mirror facing the bed is a major taboo in feng shui. Other mirror taboos include facing the bedroom door, the bathroom door, or directly facing the toilet.
Jiang Luo said, “Let’s cover the mirror with a cloth.”
Mirrors are considered yin in nature and attract yin energy. Too many mirrors at home can lead to mental fatigue and even impact health. That’s why mirror placement must be extremely careful.
When Jiang Luo said the villa’s feng shui layout was fine, he meant the nine-palace arrangement—but in terms of mirror placement, not a single one in the entire villa was positioned correctly.
But he didn’t say anything.
Although his nature was cold and indifferent, he knew to repay kindness. When he had previously scouted the villa, he’d already noted down the problematic areas. He had originally planned to wait until the host woke up to speak with him directly, but upon seeing Chi You—oh well, there was no need to say anything at all.
Jiang Luo walked around the bedroom once, nearly making Lian and Qiang take down all the mirrors, then took out an image of the Celestial Venerable of Primordial Thunder, Jiutian Yingyuan Leisheng Puhua Tianzun, from his bag and stuck it on the door.
This was the leader of the Thunder Division in the heavens, commander of the celestial generals. He wields thunder and lightning, and his image is one of the most powerful for warding off evil and disaster.
The Lian brothers had a lot of questions. “Senior Brother, why do these two mirrors also need to be covered?”
“Two mirrors should never face each other,” Jiang Luo said, then reminded them, “When you stay in hotels, sometimes the TV is placed at the foot of the bed, directly facing the headboard. At certain times, the TV also acts as a ‘mirror’. It’s best to cover it while sleeping.”
The two suddenly understood. “Senior Brother, we’ll remember that.”
Time passed quickly. In the deep of night, everyone walked out of their rooms with candles in hand.
Along the way, the mirrors reflected the candlelight they carried. Jiang Luo calmly passed by several mirrors where flames danced, then arrived on the first floor. A moment later, everyone had gathered. Jiang Luo glanced at Lian Xue’s face—it looked slightly ill. “How are you feeling?”
Lian Xue smiled and shook her head. “The butler brought me a bowl of ginger soup before bed, and I also took one of the pills our family refined. I should be fine by morning.”
“Senior Sister,” Lian Bing said with concern, “take care of your health.”
It was almost midnight. Jiang Luo and Chi You, the two “main characters,” entered the bathroom early. Led by Duanzi, the remaining seven were about to follow in when Chi You glanced at his watch—three minutes to go. He smiled toward the others at the door. “Sorry, I need to use the bathroom first.”
Before anyone could respond, he shut the door.
Lian Qiang blinked. “Hey, my Senior Brother is still in there.”
Candles were placed on either side of the mirror. Jiang Luo gave Chi You a look, then leaned against the wall.
The wall was cool. The cramped bathroom, with two tall men inside, felt even more confined. But in this kind of isolated atmosphere, neither could avoid recalling what had happened on the boat—the sensations, the memories.
The pain of being taken, and the strange, shame-inducing after-feelings that lingered in Jiang Luo’s bones and muscles, crawling over his limbs like tiny ants, aching and itching all at once.
But neither of them mentioned that room.
Jiang Luo’s expression remained unchanged. He lowered his head and lit a cigarette. After that night, even his gestures carried a mature, seductive edge. He could feel someone’s gaze tracing over him inch by inch, like a king coveting a land not yet conquered.
So aggressive—blending the feel of conquest with something almost like a caress—it made Jiang Luo’s nerves sharpen with excitement. “Aren’t you going to the bathroom?”
He bit the cigarette and reminded him. But the malicious ghost only stepped closer, boxing him between the wall and his cold body. “Even in a snowstorm, we just happen to run into each other. Student Jiang, our fate is quite extraordinary.”
Jiang Luo blew out a stream of smoke, eyes narrowing in amusement. “Teacher Chi, such a ‘coincidence’ makes it very hard not to suspect some strings were pulled behind the scenes.”
He held the cigarette, its lit tip brushing against Chi You’s throat. One slip, and it would sear an ugly mark into that pale skin. “Spit it out—what are you up to this time?”
Chi You raised an eyebrow, about to reply—when behind him, the candle flames in front of the mirror suddenly flickered violently.
Midnight.
A knock came from outside the door. “Are you done? It’s time.”
Jiang Luo snorted and pushed Chi You aside, letting the others come in.
The bathroom wasn’t large to begin with; now it was packed. People pressed against one another, with barely space to move an arm. Jiang Luo stood chest-to-back with the malicious ghost, the proximity far too suggestive.
Jiang Luo forced himself to calmly look at the mirror, though his muscles were taut and tense. He heard a low chuckle behind him and felt a few strands of hair being played with.
A vein popped on Jiang Luo’s forehead. He was about to teach the other a lesson when suddenly the candlelight in the bathroom began to flicker wildly.
This was the zi hour—the time of deepest yin. Jiang Luo looked toward the mirror and saw the reflection of their faces under the dim candlelight, all pale as the dead. The mirror’s surface seemed foggy, like mist had coated it. There was no wind in the bathroom, yet the flames danced violently, like they were about to be snuffed out.
“W-what’s happening?” Li Xiaozhan clutched Duanzi’s arm in fear.
“Get out,” Jiang Luo shouted, instinctively following the rule: if something’s wrong, run. He yelled at the person closest to the door. “Lian Qiang, open the door!”
Lian Qiang was already trying. Sweat soaked his brow. “Senior Brother, it won’t open!”
Lian Bing rushed up to help, but the door didn’t budge.
Qin Yun screamed, pointing at the mirror. “Ahhh! There’s a ghost!”
Jiang Luo instinctively looked—and saw a flash of red in the mirror.
The next second, searing pain hit him. His vision went black before he could react.
The black-haired youth fell backward, only to be caught by a pair of pale hands.
In the bathroom, everyone except the malicious ghost had collapsed.
Chi You’s expression shifted. He lifted Jiang Luo into his arms and, ignoring the others, carried him to the sofa in the living room.
“Come out.”
The lights suddenly blazed bright. Butler Yan emerged from a corner and bowed respectfully. “Master.”
Chi You looked down at Jiang Luo. The black-haired youth was completely unconscious, like a flawless porcelain doll.
His voice was cold. “What happened.”
Butler Yan pulled off his prayer beads. His deeply wrinkled face instantly turned smooth and youthful—revealing the handsome features of a Buddhist disciple. He bowed slightly. “Amitabha. Master, these people were caught in a formation. Their souls have been drawn into the mirror world.”
“I know,” said Chi You. “I remember I told you to break that formation.”
“But, Master, aren’t you curious?” Ge Wuchen’s eyes flickered slightly. He looked toward Jiang Luo, speaking with interest, “Someone deliberately set up a room here, laid out a formation inside it, and gathered these people all together. What exactly is the person behind this trying to do?”
“You and I have taken the place of two roles in this play. We can watch the progression of events without drawing attention to ourselves, see what part Jiang Luo plays in all of this… and perhaps, find out whether the person behind the scenes is the one we’ve been searching for all these years.”
“This,” Ge Wuchen continued, “is why I chose to keep the mirror formation intact.”
After finishing, he bowed deeply and straightened. But the malicious ghost still stood motionless, like a terrifying stone statue.
A bad feeling rose in Ge Wuchen’s chest.
As Chi You’s subordinate, they all knew his temperament very well. When Chi You smiled, it didn’t mean he was in a good mood. On the contrary, the deeper his smile, the higher the corners of his lips, the worse his mood likely was.
But when Chi You wore no expression at all—that was even more terrifying than his darkest smile.
It meant his killing intent had reached its limit.
Ge Wuchen’s fingers clenched tightly around his prayer beads, and he immediately tried to admit his mistake. “Master—”
But before he could finish, a dense black mist surged from behind Chi You, lashing out like claws and wrapping around Ge Wuchen’s throat. He was yanked into the air, his head slamming into the ceiling.
Another tendril of black fog took the shape of a hand and pierced through the flesh and blood of Ge Wuchen’s chest. The agony of the mist invading his body was unbearable. His eyes widened, and veins popped along his delicate neck.
The black hand hovered near his heart, loosely gripping it.
Sensing danger, his heart began to pound wildly, blood vessels swelling with each heavy beat.
“Ge Wuchen,” his master said coldly, “if this happens again, I will crush your heart.”
Bloodshot veins covered Ge Wuchen’s eyes. His teeth chattered as he forced out, “I… understand… my mistake, Master…”
The black mist dissipated, and Ge Wuchen fell heavily to the floor.
Chi You turned his head slightly to look at him, his eyes fathomless, like ice thousands of years deep. “Don’t test my attitude toward Jiang Luo again.”
Ge Wuchen knelt down with great effort. “Yes, Master. I won’t make this mistake again.”
Chi You looked back at Jiang Luo.
A moment later, a faint, restless pressure began to seep from his body, dark and heavy. “Find a way to let me enter the mirror world as well.”
“Master, it won’t be easy. The mirror world can’t withstand your power,” Ge Wuchen coughed up a mouthful of blood and said humbly, “Please give me two days.”
