Jiang Luo had to admit—Chi You was really sharp.
At first, what he said sounded odd. Lian Xue was playing the role of a maid from the Chi family—of course she would recognize Chi You. It would be strange if she didn’t. But on second thought, Jiang Luo understood that Chi You was testing him.
What he meant was that Lian Xue’s expression showed that she did know him—but not this version of him.
To think that someone so young in the mirror world could be this observant—it was no wonder people called Chi You an unparalleled genius in the occult world. Jiang Luo looked at him in a new light and said calmly, “You’re the young master of the Chi family, and she’s a maid from your household. Of course she’d recognize you.”
“That’s true,” Chi You smiled, not pursuing the matter further. “There’s a cigarette vendor on Wanbao Street.”
Nowadays, cigarettes were sold in boxes. As the rich young master, Chi You paid for the most expensive box for Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo couldn’t take his eyes off the street scenes. The mirror world’s attention to detail was so vivid, he almost felt like he’d traveled through time again.
People on the street each had their own look and stories. Children ran wild through the crowds, stray dogs hid in corners. Yellowed walls were plastered with newspapers. Amid the loud calls of vendors, there were also soft tunes from an opera house nearby.
Every smell imaginable filled the street—fishy, sour, and foul odors mingled. Everything felt vividly, undeniably real.
The cigarette vendor even threw in a matchbox. Jiang Luo stuffed both into his pocket and said to Chi You, “I want to walk around this street a bit longer.”
As he looked at everything around him, he thought—whoever pulled them into this mirror world must be deeply familiar with this era.
Maybe to add one more thing—perhaps the person behind all this isn’t very familiar with the modern world.
The Chi family and Chi You both existed in a modern setting. If the mastermind wanted them to be part of the Chi family’s story, it would’ve been much easier and more convincing to keep a modern backdrop. Yet they went to great lengths to shift everything to a near-modern era—a counterproductive choice that likely stemmed from being unable to convincingly portray modern details.
Who could meet all these conditions?
Jiang Luo was still thinking when a raindrop landed on his forehead. He looked up. The fine drizzle was becoming heavier, each drop landing on the dry ground and getting absorbed, leaving faint traces behind.
It was raining.
Vendors swiftly packed up their goods and ran off holding them in their arms. “Rain’s coming! Make way!”
Pedestrians quickened their steps and scattered in all directions. Jiang Luo looked back—they had somehow walked all the way to the end of the street, far from the Chi residence. It wouldn’t be easy to get back now—unless they wanted to get soaked.
As he was wondering what to do, Chi You suddenly grabbed his hand and yanked him into a run toward the east.
The drizzle quickly turned into larger drops. Just as they were getting thoroughly soaked, Chi You pulled Jiang Luo into a small four-sided pavilion.
The rain cast a white mist all around them. The sound of water drumming on the pavilion roof echoed. Beside the structure stood a pear blossom tree—its delicate pink-white petals were pitifully beaten down by the rain, scattered across the muddy ground.
Jiang Luo carefully placed the cigarette box and matches he had protected inside his coat onto the bench, then began patting down the water from his clothes. His front and back were thoroughly drenched—even his shoes weren’t spared.
He wrung out his hair, then turned to Chi You with a playful grin. “Young Master Chi, you’ve said you’ve had a lingering illness for years that never fully healed. But from the way you just ran, it sure doesn’t look like you’re in bad shape. That was at least a li from here, and you didn’t even lose your breath.”
Chi You replied unhurriedly, “Although my illness hasn’t fully healed, my body isn’t that weak either. Besides, in our line of work, physical fitness is crucial.”
“What line of work?”
Chi You chuckled, “You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“Our line of work, of course, is…” He smiled mysteriously, “Exorcising ghosts and performing rituals—the business of spirit mediums.”
Jiang Luo stared at him, remembering the three moles on his waist.
The young Chi You was much easier to deal with than the dangerous, deranged version he’d become later. Maybe Jiang Luo could use this opportunity to uncover the secret of the three moles.
Suddenly, Chi You said, “Tomorrow is the third day since your marriage. You’re due for the return visit.”
He had thought Jiang Luo would be happy—after all, getting out of the Chi household, even for a day, would be a rare break for someone like him. But Jiang Luo only responded indifferently, even with a touch of coldness in his expression. “Is that so.”
Chi You grew more interested. “I’ll go with you to the Jiang family. Good chance to meet my father- and mother-in-law.”
Jiang Luo sneered, “Father- and mother-in-law?”
He let out a cold laugh and said no more.
Soon, the spring rain lightened, though it showed no signs of stopping entirely. The pavilion shielded them from the rain but not from the chill wind blowing in from all sides. Jiang Luo took the chance while the rain was lighter and said, “Let’s head back now, while we can still run for it.”
Chi You had no objections. “Alright.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Luo darted out into the rain without warning, not even giving Chi You time to react. In a blink, he was already ten meters ahead.
In the tender rainfall, his silhouette gradually blurred.
Chi You looked at the rain, then at the muddy puddles on the ground. A flash of disgust passed across his face, but he still ran out after him.
Even though he had hesitated for a while before entering the rain, he quickly caught up to Jiang Luo from behind.
Chi You didn’t intend to run ahead of Jiang Luo. Instead, he followed just behind him, observing him with a mix of curiosity and scrutiny.
At first, Chi You was simply studying Jiang Luo’s bone structure, trying to figure out what was strange about him. But as the rain soaked through Jiang Luo’s clothes, the thin fabric clung to his body—his lean, tight waist and long, straight legs became more defined with each step he ran.
Chi You’s attention shifted slightly.
The young man’s charm revealed itself fully. A subtle, ambiguous allure—something a boy his age had never encountered—emerged faintly in the downpour, blooming and retreating like overripe fruit hidden in the corner. No one knew when it had grown ripe and burst with rot, but its sweet, cloying scent lingered in the air.
A man’s waist and thighs—so ordinary, nothing remarkable.
No soft curves, no delicate fragrance. Yet at this moment, they held an odd kind of sensual appeal.
Chi You paused for a second and looked away.
Ten minutes later.
The two of them, completely soaked, returned to the Chi residence and made their way through the corridor to the rooms. Jiang Luo walked side by side with Chi You, tilting his head back as he lazily lifted his dripping black hair with both hands behind his neck. Suddenly, he turned to look at Chi You. “Why were you staring at me?”
Chi You met his gaze, seeming confused himself.
But Jiang Luo felt something vaguely familiar in that look—it was an expression he had seen before, in the eyes of the adult Chi You. Jiang Luo narrowed his eyes, both suspicious and curious. He asked directly, “What were you thinking?”
Chi You finally looked away, but the corners of his lips curved. “We should take a bath, or we’ll catch a cold.”
Jiang Luo: “…”
You’re really brushing that off.
After Jiang Luo finished his bath, he didn’t see Chi You in the room. He asked a maid, “Where’s Chi You?”
The maid replied, “Young Master had something to attend to and went out. He told me to let you know he’ll be back tonight.”
Jiang Luo looked out at the gloomy, rainy sky. Out in this weather?
He frowned.
***
While Jiang Luo rested, the others who had come through the mirror and were playing the roles of servants were also slacking off.
On a rainy day, there wasn’t much work to do, and that gave people like Qin Yun a rare chance to breathe.
In the kitchen, Lian Bing and Duanzi were avoiding chores, sitting on stools by the door, bored, watching the rain fall. The kitchen steward, annoyed by their idleness, scowled and said, “You two, take this filth outside and throw it out! It’s just a bit of rain—getting paid and loafing around like this?”
Once the steward started ranting, he wouldn’t stop. Lian Bing and Duanzi had already developed a headache from him. They quickly got up, picked up the trash, and headed out into the rain.
It was only around two or three in the afternoon, but the sky was as dark as night. Lian Bing, the stronger one, tossed his bag of trash out first. When he turned to help Duanzi, the latter shook his head, soaked and miserable. “Go on back first. This bag is gross—there’s soup and sludge inside. It’s already soaked my clothes. No need to get you dirty too. I’ll manage on my own.”
Lian Bing could smell the sour stench from Duanzi and gave him a sympathetic look. “Alright, I’ll head back then.”
After Lian Bing left, Duanzi struggled to drag the trash to the door. But in the heavy rain, the bag seemed to grow heavier and heavier, and his wet hair kept falling into his eyes. At last, he heaved the bag into the trash pile—but with it, two bloody arms flew forward too.
Duanzi’s eyes snapped open wide, his face pale as a sheet, staring in horror at the pair of arms that had just been hauling trash moments ago.
So it wasn’t that the trash had gotten heavier—it was that his arms had been ripped off, losing strength bit by bit.
Duanzi trembled, mouth gaping, but no sound came out. He staggered back a step—then suddenly felt something behind him. Shivering, he turned his head slowly.
His pupils contracted.
……
Lian Bing, seeing Duanzi hadn’t returned for a long time, went out to look for him again. But there were only two candles lit in the room. He took one and walked into the darkness, its faint glow barely lighting the way. “Duanzi?”
“Duanzi? Where are you?”
He called out several times, but got no response. In the end, he had to return to the room, puzzled, and waited for Duanzi to come back. But as he waited, he dozed off.
The next morning, the maids came out to throw out the trash. The rain had finally stopped. As they chatted in low voices and tossed their trash onto the pile, someone threw a particularly heavy item that sent other bags tumbling down. One black, lumpy bag rolled to a maid’s feet. She glanced down, about to curse “d*mn bad luck”—but then her expression froze.
Stiffly, she turned her head and looked down again. The dirty puddle was faintly tinged with blood. Inside a mess of black hair was Duanzi’s severed head—his eyes rolled back, bulging from their sockets, his face locked in a look of pure terror.
The maid: “…”
“——Aaaaahhhh!!”
