After teasing Huali, Liao Si asked, “Where’s master?”
“Upstairs,” Ge Wuchen replied, “but you’d better not bother him. He’s resting right now.”
Liao Si shrugged helplessly and sat down at another computer beside Ge Wuchen. “Looks like my timing’s not great. I even skipped the boring New Year’s Eve dinner hoping to meet master early so he could turn Qi Ye’s body into my new body.”
Huali said, “You said before that Qi Ye’s body suits master well, but only so-so for you.”
Liao Si opened the game as well. “His body really suits master — so well it’s almost unbelievable. His spirit seems born just for master. I dare say if master used Qi Ye’s body, it would be a perfect fit.”
He coughed twice. “But since master already has the body of the deity statue, he doesn’t need Qi Ye’s body anymore. That’s why I have my eye on it.”
The previous round of the game ended with no winner. Ge Wuchen hadn’t killed “Qingfeng Daoren” enough yet, so he invited the other to join the next round, adding a taunt that angered the other enough to continue playing: “But Qi Ye belongs to the Qi family, a famous young genius in the metaphysical world. Even if the Qi family falls, it wouldn’t be convenient for you to impersonate him. How do you plan to get back to Old Liao’s family in Xiangxi? How will you use your corpse-driving technique?”
Liao Si finally stopped coughing after a while and said carelessly, “There’s always a way to solve those problems. But the most important thing is, my body is about to give out.”
Huali paused and looked sideways at him.
Liao Si sat in his computer chair, wearing thick clothes — even thicker than Ge Wuchen’s monk robes. But despite being bundled up like a ball, his frail body couldn’t be hidden. He looked even thinner than in summer, his life force visibly fading away. Maybe in a year, or two, Liao Si could die.
The computer’s eerie blue light illuminated the stubbornness in Liao Si’s eyes. “You know my dream, right?”
“I’m the last inheritor of corpse-driving in the Liao family. If I die, the corpse-driving technique of the Old Liao family will be lost,” Liao Si said. “I grew up sleeping with corpses, eating with corpses. I studied for twenty years — corpse oil soaked into my bones, my whole body smells of the dead. I’m skilled at corpse-driving and have the same talent for it as my ancestors. But I’ve never driven a corpse because my body can’t endure such a journey.”
He said, “I really want to try corpse-driving… I want to take that journey badly.”
Huali turned his head. “You will.”
Liao Si chuckled twice and looked around oddly. “Hey, where’s Teng Bi?”
Ge Wuchen said, “He went to deliver some things for master.”
The next round of the game had already started inside the computer.
Jiang Luo played a few rounds with them, then the three tossed down their controllers and returned to making dumplings.
Making dumplings was also a matter of talent. In just a short while, Ye Xun and Wenren’s dumplings were beautiful and plump — up to standard. The others’ dumplings either had too much filling or looked dry and shriveled. After making enough, everyone was sweating profusely.
While cooking, Jiang Luo only chose those with nimble hands and feet to help; others were not allowed into the kitchen.
Inside the kitchen, Cyril obediently handed scallions to Jiang Luo. After Jiang Luo took them, Cyril quietly leaned toward his ear and said, “Jiang, do you know about Hei Wuchang?”
Jiang Luo looked up in surprise. Did Cyril already know he was Bai Wuchang?
Cyril didn’t see his expression and lowered his head to say, “When I was abroad, one night a strange person stood by my bed and called me to wake up, telling me to come back to work. He said he was too busy, that I was irresponsible for leaving without permission, that I wouldn’t get annual leave, and so on. He scared me.”
Especially hearing “no annual leave,” Cyril didn’t know why, but felt terrified.
Jiang Luo chuckled, “Oh really?”
Had Brother Hei been so overwhelmed at work that he went overseas to find Cyril?
Cyril nodded repeatedly and said puzzledly, “That person wore a tall hat and carried a mourning stick, just like the legendary Hei Wuchang.”
Jiang Luo was now sure it was Hei Wuchang but didn’t reveal it, instead smiling with narrowed eyes. “Cyril, there’s a saying: ‘What you think by day, you dream by night.’ Maybe you’ve been thinking about successfully summoning the god every day, so you dreamt of Hei Wuchang coming to you?”
Cyril thought for a moment. “So maybe the Hei Wuchang I saw was just a dream?”
Jiang Luo neither confirmed nor denied. “Next time you see him, you can try touching him to see if he’s real or if you’re dreaming.”
Cyril suddenly understood. “Okay.”
Jiang Luo busied himself in the kitchen for a while. When he stepped out, he saw that snow had begun to fall outside.
He stood quietly watching for a moment, then walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
The ground was already covered with a thin layer of snow. On this New Year’s Eve day, no one could be seen outside. This was Jiang Luo’s first New Year in this world—everything was peaceful, quiet, and warm.
He opened the window, caught a snowflake on his palm, watching it melt into water, then smiled and closed the window again.
Before the time-travel, the most New Years Jiang Luo ever spent was by himself. The food was just a bit better than usual. The most common thing was that he’d order too much via delivery and couldn’t finish it all, watching the Spring Festival Gala on TV as the meat dishes on the coffee table congealed into greasy lumps. It wasn’t lonely, nor pitiable — just a holiday to rest, but without much of a festive New Year feeling.
Unexpectedly, after traveling through time, he ended up spending New Year with so many people.
Jiang Luo’s mouth curved into a smile. Just as he was about to turn away from the window, he paused. “Hmm?”
Hearing his voice, Lu Youyi walked over curiously. “What’s up?”
Looking outside, Lu Youyi also quietly gasped in surprise. Outside the window, several black crows were flying while carrying a bag.
“In this weather, why are there crows?” Lu Youyi said in disbelief. “Are they… delivering something?”
The crows’ blood-red eyes fixed straight on Jiang Luo, and he instantly knew whose doing this was. He looked the crows over carefully, locked eyes with them a few seconds, then slowly opened the window and reached out toward them.
But the crows dodged his hand and flew down into a small thicket below the apartment.
Jiang Luo sneered coldly and withdrew his hand. “Feigning retreat to lure the prey.”
Lu Youyi scratched his head, full of curiosity. “Jiang Luo, want to go check it out?”
Jiang Luo said ruthlessly, “No.”
Lu Youyi scratched his head and ran out the door, “I’ll go check! Maybe Santa Claus sent new year’s gifts by crow!”
Jiang Luo didn’t have time to stop him, so he stayed by the window watching. Soon, he saw Lu Youyi leave the apartment and run toward the woods.
Lu Youyi wrapped in a padded coat looked around and successfully spotted the crows perched high in a tree branch. He smiled foolishly. “Brother Bird, are you here to deliver New Year gifts?”
The crows cawed twice and disdainfully spread their wings, flying away.
Lu Youyi was baffled. He circled the tree and found the bag the crows had been carrying behind the trunk.
He grabbed the bag and saw the characters “Jiang Luo” written on the lower left corner.
Oh, this gift was for Jiang Luo.
When Lu Youyi came back, still wearing his cotton slippers, he was shivering from the cold. Holding the bag, he was about to return when suddenly a branch overhead cracked, and something red fell and hit his head. Startled, Lu Youyi’s eyes were immediately covered tightly.
He quickly pulled down the covering and found it was a red scarf.
Was this also a gift for Jiang Luo? Why wasn’t it with the bag?
Lu Youyi looked confused. He glanced around but saw no one, then hesitated and took the scarf as he headed back.
Just as he reached the apartment door, Lu Youyi inexplicably turned back and looked toward the woods.
Snow was falling thick and fast, and aside from his own footprints behind him, the path was silent.
Snow had settled lightly on his head and shoulders. He stared for a while, sneezed twice, then slowly went inside.
He didn’t know what he was looking at, but after seeing it, his heart felt empty and uneasy.
Strange.
He sniffed and hurried into the apartment.
The cold wind blew. Moments later, a short-haired man emerged from the woods.
The man was silent, holding a large sword, quietly watching the nearby apartment building.
He wore modern clothes but had a very special aura — the chilling presence of an ancient general.
“Strange,” Teng Bi said lightly, touching his chest. “So even the living dead… yearn for the New Year?”
Do they also feel loss and sadness?
He stood quietly for a while. The snow and wind grew heavier. The living dead’s ears could hear the laughter of families reunited inside and the various smells of humans.
The sky darkened slowly. When Teng Bi came back to himself, he found a thick layer of snow covering him. At a glance, he looked like a snowman.
Teng Bi moved, causing the snow to fall off with a rustle. He took one last look at the familiar building, then turned and left.
