At noon, Wenren Lian and Kuang Zheng arrived at the hospital.
People who studied metaphysics seemed to have a special kind of energy within them—their physical resilience was much better than ordinary people. The wound on Lu Youyi’s head was already starting to heal and, with one more day of rest, he’d be ready to go home.
The wound itself wasn’t the big deal—his hairstyle was.
To facilitate the stitches, the doctor had shaved the area around the wound. But leaving only a patch made it look like alopecia, so Lu Youyi had no choice but to despairingly ask the doctor to shave his whole head.
To show his sympathy for the wounded, Wenren Lian brought Lu Youyi two hats—one was a plain baseball cap, the other came with a fake hair attachment.
“You can wear whichever you like,” Wenren Lian said sincerely, staring at Lu Youyi’s smooth, egg-like head. “They say only true good-looking guys can pull off the bald look. Lu Youyi, your head is really round.”
Lu Youyi said gloomily, “If you hadn’t laughed while saying that, I might have believed you.”
Jiang Luo couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Then Wenren Lian turned to him with a dye kit in hand. “Didn’t you want to dye that white strand of hair black?”
“…Right,” Jiang Luo suddenly remembered. “I almost forgot about that.”
He sat down in front of Wenren Lian, who skillfully opened the dye kit. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it look completely natural.”
Jiang Luo lifted the strand of white hair by his ear and looked at it. “I didn’t originally need to dye it.”
Wenren Lian didn’t comment. Jiang Luo had never told them the reason behind the white streak, so they hadn’t asked further.
“But I think this white streak actually looks pretty good,” Wenren Lian added.
He took the strand of hair from Jiang Luo’s hand. Jiang Luo’s hair had always been smooth as silk—just one touch could make someone addicted. Wenren Lian fondly said, “But Qi Ye told me you don’t like this strand of white hair.”
Jiang Luo stepped on the stool leg, his long legs bent. He thought for a moment. “I think I really did say that.”
Wenren Lian smiled. After finishing combing Jiang Luo’s hair, he asked casually, “What happened to your mouth?”
Jiang Luo reflexively touched his lips. Even though he had applied medicine, it hadn’t fully healed. He almost let a dark expression slip, but at the critical moment, he remembered Wenren Lian was standing behind him and managed to hold it in. “Take a guess?”
Wenren Lian wasn’t Ye Xun or Lu Youyi, and Jiang Luo hadn’t yet figured out how to tell him.
“I guess—” Wenren Lian stretched the word out, lazily saying, “You got bitten by someone.”
D*mn it.
Jiang Luo’s teeth ground together, then a light bulb went off in his head. His cheeks flushed slightly red, and he coughed awkwardly before saying, embarrassed, “Mm.”
Wenren Lian’s fingertips paused.
Jiang Luo turned back and lowered his voice. “Wenren, if anyone asks, help me cover it up. Don’t tell my master. If he finds out I’m still hanging around with Chi You, it’ll be a disaster.”
So it was Chi You. Wenren Lian’s smile didn’t change, and he reassured him, “I won’t. Don’t worry.”
But internally, his alarm bells were ringing.
They hadn’t heard Chi You’s name from Jiang Luo in a long time. Wenren Lian had thought Jiang Luo was slowly recovering from the grief of losing his lover—but unexpectedly, they were still in contact. Still kissing.
What the h*ll was Chi You thinking?
Did he not understand what would happen if he kept luring a human into a relationship with a fierce ghost like this? What kind of ending Jiang Luo would face?
Jiang Luo had already attempted suicide once because of him—driven a car into a river. How much deeper did Chi You want him to fall?
Wenren Lian not only decided he had to inform Feng Li—he also immediately strengthened his resolve to match Jiang Luo with Qi Ye instead.
He said offhandedly, “Speaking of which, Qi Ye hasn’t come back to school once since you all went on that mission.”
Jiang Luo’s attention was indeed diverted. He said thoughtfully, “Really?”
Wenren Lian said, “The teacher called the Qi family, but they said they’re still busy and need more time before sending Qi Ye back. Their tone was very polite. After all, school classes aren’t that important for Qi Ye—the Qi family can teach him a lot more than the school can.”
Jiang Luo smiled faintly, but it was without much warmth.
He didn’t quite believe that.
The Qi family keeping Qi Ye at home until the mission was over felt more like a precaution—if something happened to Jiang Luo’s group, they didn’t want Qi Ye getting dragged into it.
As for whether Qi Ye knew his family had acted during the mission… Jiang Luo recalled Qi Ye’s awkward expression and leaned toward the belief that he didn’t.
By now, Jiang Luo was completely certain that the illusionary trap they encountered on the mission had been the Qi family’s doing.
Chi You had been part of it too—he had played a role.
He must have known both the Qi and Chi families planned to act against Jiang Luo’s team, and when the illusion began, he took the chance to join in and work it to his own ends.
But one strange thing remained—who had actually broken the illusion?
Jiang Luo set the question aside and went to wash the dye from his hair.
The strand of white hair quickly turned black. Jiang Luo’s hair had always been thick and glossy; although the dyed section wasn’t as shiny as his natural color, once mixed in, it was impossible to tell the difference.
He tied his dried hair back and put on a baseball cap. “I’m heading out to buy some duck neck.”
Since he’d just trended online, Jiang Luo took precautions—he put on a mask, kept his head down, and with his high ponytail peeking out from the back of his cap, he left the hospital discreetly.
Jiang Luo took a cab to the filming site of Next Stop, Idol and got the director to give him last night’s dormitory surveillance footage.
Electricity from the first to fifth floors had been cut off by Ye Xun, but the sixth floor still had power. Jiang Luo watched the remaining footage with a serious expression.
Human eyes could be fooled by illusions—but not security cameras. The sixth floor wasn’t where the trainees stayed, so there were only cameras at both ends of the hallway. The two surveillance videos went dark at the end. Before they did, Jiang Luo watched them repeatedly and finally caught something strange.
He hit pause and zoomed in to the max. In the corner near the stairwell, a thumb-sized blade hilt flashed briefly in the bottom right of the frame.
It was Dead Ghost’s blade.
Jiang Luo stood up and looked at the scene with a blank expression.
Why had Dead Ghost gone to the sixth floor?
At that time, none of them were on that floor.
The director asked cautiously, “Master, would you like to see any others?”
“No need,” Jiang Luo said. “Director, copy this video for me—and make sure you delete the rest afterward.”
Jiang Luo left with the video, then went out to buy some pork jerky, duck neck, and chicken bites, along with a whole watermelon, and brought them back to the hospital.
The others came over to help with the bags. Jiang Luo sat on the armrest of the sofa, taking off his mask and hat. “Dead Ghost, you’re not eating?”
Teng Bi hesitated for a moment, then picked up a slice of watermelon and bit into it.
The sweet, cool flesh melted in his mouth. He devoured it in a few bites. Jiang Luo asked, “How is it?”
Delicious.
But Teng Bi only said, “Not bad.”
Jiang Luo didn’t press further and laid back on the sofa to rest.
The next day at noon, Lu Youyi was discharged. As they went downstairs to catch a cab, they brought Dead Ghost along—since he had nowhere else to go, they took him back to school with them.
Lu Youyi sighed. “I remember the last one we brought back was a headless ghost.”
“That headless ghost is doing quite well now,” Wenren Lian shrugged. “It even chats with the dean about hair care all the time.”
Jiang Luo thought he’d misheard. “The dean has hair?”
Wenren Lian whispered, “The dean has a beard.”
After a week apart, Jiang Luo finally returned to school. He went back to his room, gave it a good cleaning, and bought some cooking utensils. At 6 p.m., he received an invitation delivered by a teacher.
“What’s this?” Jiang Luo took it and looked it over.
The teacher said, “An invitation to a banquet from the Qi family.”
Jiang Luo became interested, his smile faint and unreadable. “Did everyone get one?”
“Only those who made it to the third round of the national competition got invitations. Consider it a celebration banquet for you all. In previous years, it was hosted by other families—this year it’s the Qi family’s turn. By then, the most promising young talents in the metaphysics world will gather at the Qi estate. You could even call it a disguised matchmaking event,” the teacher joked. “Jiang Luo, don’t let anyone poach you off to another school.”
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow. “Teacher, when did the invitation arrive?”
“About an hour ago,” the teacher said. “Quite the coincidence, huh? You just returned, and it shows up.”
Jiang Luo chuckled and bid the teacher farewell.
Alone, he examined the invitation carefully.
The banquet was set for two days later. Luckily, his lips should be fully healed by then.
The rest of the invitation was standard.
Jiang Luo opened his wardrobe.
Inside were a few sets of formal wear. He randomly pulled one out and tried it on—it fit well. A fitted all-black suit emphasized his slim waist and long legs, making him look tall and striking.
Since it fit, he didn’t see the need to buy a new one.
Two days passed in a flash. Jiang Luo managed to catch up with all his classmates—except Cyril.
On the morning of the banquet, he had just returned from a run when Cyril stumbled into the dorm looking dazed and weak-limbed, with dark circles under his eyes and lips pale as paper.
The dorm manager shook his head at the sight of him. “Little Cyril, you really…”
Cyril opened his exhausted eyes, gaze unfocused, looking thoroughly worn out. “Huh?”
With his tousled blond curls, he looked so weathered that Jiang Luo almost didn’t recognize him. He cautiously asked, “Cyril?”
Cyril looked at him blankly for a while before slowly reacting, “Jiang, you’re back?”
“I’ve been back for two days…” Jiang Luo said. “Why haven’t I seen you around?”
“It was the weekend. I’ve been sleeping,” Cyril yawned, his spirit slightly revived but still listless. “I’m so tired.”
Jiang Luo asked, “You haven’t slept properly at all lately?”
Cyril thought about it, uncertain. “I think I’ve slept… but also maybe not… and for some reason, as soon as night falls, I get scared. I want it to stay daytime forever.”
He gave a shiver.
Jiang Luo remembered—Cyril didn’t recall walking the path of the dead at night.
He clapped a heavy hand on Cyril’s shoulder. But seeing Cyril like this, he seriously started worrying if the guy might drop dead from exhaustion.
Getting dragged out every night for unpaid labor… No wonder his subconscious had developed a fear of the dark.
Jiang Luo thought he should have a word with Hei Wuchang.
After saying goodbye to Cyril, Jiang Luo returned to his room for a shower.
They had to leave for the Qi family at ten sharp. The schedule suggested they’d be spending the whole day there. Jiang Luo cleaned himself thoroughly, dried his hair under a robe, and picked up the suit he had set aside earlier.
As he buttoned up his shirt, his peripheral vision caught sight of something above the suit jacket—a set of suit accessories.
A pair of ruby cufflinks, a ruby rose brooch, and a pair of ruby stud earrings.
Jiang Luo froze for a moment, then bent down. His black hair fell around his shoulders as he picked up the accessories.
They were unmistakably familiar. He’d seen them on Chi You before.
Jiang Luo’s lips curled coldly.
He had only gone out for an hour-long run. The door had been locked—no one else could’ve gotten in.
No one alive, anyway. But ghosts could.
Chi You had left these for him. What was that supposed to mean?
Jiang Luo’s gaze swept coldly over the jewelry. Gracefully, he walked to the trash can, opened his hand, and dropped the ruby accessories in without hesitation.
No mercy.
“Pieces were not bad— what a waste,” he said, lips curling like a disdainful king. “I hate wearing things that someone else has worn.”
Jiang Luo picked up his jacket and stepped out.
Most of the others were already ready, all dressed in formalwear. Even Wenren Lian had traded her usual long dress for a suit and was cheerfully chatting with Kuang Zheng.
On occasions like this, Lu Youyi couldn’t wear his usual hat, so he sensibly wore a wig. Once everyone had gathered, he said, “I borrowed a few cars from my parents. Let’s go.”
Of course, Lu Youyi’s cars were luxury vehicles. Jiang Luo rushed to the driver’s seat—he’d never driven anything this expensive before.
The dean joined them as their official supervisor. The Qi family banquet was being held in a villa in the mountains. By the time they arrived at the foot of the mountain, a line of luxury cars was already parked there.
Those who made a name for themselves in the metaphysics world never lacked money. Just looking at the Qi family’s estate—purchasing not only the villa but practically the entire mountain it sat on—was proof enough.
After getting out of the car, someone from the Qi family led them to the entrance of the villa. At the gate, there were designated staff checking invitations using verification lights.
The whole process was meticulous yet courteous. As they stepped inside, not far away, Qi Ye—who had been barely managing to entertain guests with visible impatience—froze for a moment upon seeing them. He quickly strode over, glanced at the students behind the dean, and greeted the dean first: “Hello, Dean.”
Dean Xu chuckled warmly, “Qi Ye, I haven’t seen you in a week.”
Qi Ye pressed his lips together. “I’ll be back at school on Monday.”
Dean Xu nodded and handed Jiang Luo’s group over to Qi Ye before heading off to catch up with old friends.
Qi Ye looked at Jiang Luo. “You three are alright?”
A flicker passed through Jiang Luo’s eyes as he asked in return, “What could’ve possibly happened to us?”
“It’s best if you’re fine,” Qi Ye snorted. “But if any of you got hurt just because I wasn’t on that mission, then that’d really make you guys pathetic.”
Looks like Qi Ye genuinely didn’t know what the Qi family had done.
Jiang Luo smiled, “You’ve been at home all week?”
Qi Ye nodded, irritation flashing across his face. “They won’t even let me leave the house.”
As they spoke, a group of people came walking over. They had also participated in the third round but ended up gaining nothing. Among them were even direct descendants of the six major families.
Feng Li wouldn’t attend such childish gatherings, so these people were acting a bit brazen. The looks they gave Jiang Luo—the first-place winner—carried thinly veiled hostility and jealousy.
“So, you’re Jiang Luo? The one who took the Yuan Tian Bead?”
Jiang Luo’s companions immediately gathered around him. Lu Youyi spoke up bluntly, “What do you want?”
The leader of the group was a pockmarked-faced guy. He scoffed, “You won first place in the previous competition—we’re not convinced. Before the contest, we’d never even heard of you, and then out of nowhere, this dark horse appears. We watched the videos of the matches, but only the first two rounds were shown. Those two we can grudgingly accept, but the third round? No one knows how you cleared it. We’ve had this frustration bottled up. Now that we’ve seen you, we want a rematch.”
Though they were openly hostile, at least they were being upfront. Jiang Luo didn’t get angry. “And how do you want to compete?”
The pockmarked guy’s eyes darted around, and after some murmuring with his group for a while, he puffed out his chest and declared, “It’s a celebration banquet today, so let’s not go all out with real combat. The Qi family already prepared a bunch of activities for us. Let’s compare cultivation-of-mind skills and luck-based perception.”
Jiang Luo’s eyelid twitched. “Luck-based perception?”
He knew what “cultivation-of-mind” referred to—things like calligraphy, painting, chanting scriptures, drawing talismans, or at worst, playing music and composing.
People studying metaphysics were expected to cultivate traits like calmness and steadiness. To develop those, both the schools and the six families encouraged hobbies that nurtured one’s temperament.
Feng Li had trained Jiang Luo by making him endlessly write talismans.
But “luck”?
As someone with abysmally bad luck, Jiang Luo had a very bad feeling.
His companions, clearly well aware of his constitution, all showed equally awkward expressions—ones of quiet dread.
They were fine with any other type of challenge. But if it was about luck… they might as well go home and sleep it off.
Qi Ye clicked his tongue and explained, “The banquet doesn’t start until tonight. You were invited early to get to know each other and build camaraderie. We’ve got all sorts of things set up—mountain roads for racing, horse tracks, stone gambling, board games… So when they say ‘compare luck,’ it’s really just gambling.”
The pockmarked guy protested, “How can you call it gambling? Take horse racing—if you’ve got sharp eyes, you can tell which horse will win. That proves your natural ability. And if you’ve got good luck, well, that’s a kind of strength too.”
Qi Ye let out a derisive laugh and turned to Jiang Luo, “His name’s Li Cheng. He’s got some skill in gambling. Want to take him on?”
Li Cheng fumed, “Of course we’re competing. No way I’m swallowing this anger.”
Jiang Luo’s companions actually tried to dissuade him. “Forget it, forget it, don’t compete. You win, okay? Let’s say you win already.”
But this only enraged the other group even more. A tall, lanky guy among them even got red-eyed and yelled, “What’s that supposed to mean? You looking down on us?!”
The shouting gave Jiang Luo a headache. He took a deep breath. “…Fine. Let’s compete.”
Then he asked, “What’s the first round?”
“‘Steadiness,’” Li Cheng said, looking around before setting his eyes on a grand piano to the side of the hall. “Let’s use that piano. We’ll place glass marbles on the keys while playing. Whoever has the most marbles stay on the keys wins.”
Jiang Luo wanted to refuse—he couldn’t play the piano.
But before he could speak, Qi Ye’s father burst out laughing and walked over. “What a great idea! I’ll watch from the side and act as your judge, how about that?”
Qi Ye frowned. “Dad, you—”
“Come now,” Father Qi patted his son’s shoulder. “It’s a rare day for everyone to relax. Don’t overthink it—just treat it as making friends.”
Then he turned to Jiang Luo with a smile, “Jiang Luo, I happen to know your former master, Chen Pi! He’s told me quite a few things about you recently. I remember you used to practice focus using this method, didn’t you?”
Jiang Luo paused, then slowly smiled. “That was when I was a kid.”
In the original body’s memory, there was indeed a time when he trained with the piano, but it was mostly following along with the crowd—years spent idling in the practice room, faking effort just to pass time.
He had never taken it seriously, so there was no way Chen Pi would actually remember something like that.
The Qi family had probably already dug through every detail of his background.
But the original Jiang Luo was thoroughly mediocre. Even though he was jealous of Chi You, he had no one to confide in. He didn’t have the habit of recording his thoughts online, and the most he’d done was curse Chi You a few times at school, which Lu Youyi happened to overhear. Jiang Luo wasn’t too worried that his lies would be exposed.
He had once considered whether the Chi family wanted to kill him because they knew he had killed Chi You. But Chi You and the Chi family had clearly been at odds, so the moment that thought came up, he tossed it aside.
And thinking deeper, the Chi and Qi families showed no signs of knowing he had used forbidden arts to harm Chi You.
The Qi family had investigated him thoroughly, probably found nothing, and now they were testing him.
Why had the previously unremarkable “Jiang Luo” suddenly become so outstanding?
A dramatic change in personality, discovering hidden talents through hard work — that could be explained as “struck hard by the death of a loved one,” or “a prodigal son turning over a new leaf.” But if he couldn’t even play the piano anymore, something he supposedly used to be able to do, how would he explain that?
But honestly, Jiang Luo felt that even if the original version of him were here, he still wouldn’t be able to play a full piece.
Not that Mr. Qi would believe that.
Mr. Qi said, “No worries, this is just about cultivating the self, not technical skill. As long as your mind is steady, that’s the standard.”
Since things had reached this point, Jiang Luo simply smiled. In his mind, he desperately tried to recall the sheet music and piano keys the original body might have seen as a child. “Then I’ll do my best.”
He walked toward the piano, one step at a time, slow and graceful. On the surface he looked calm, buying himself time, but the original body had never taken to these quiet, sitting-still kinds of disciplines. Even with his best effort, nothing came to mind.
Jiang Luo had now reached the piano. He sat down slowly, already planning how to end this performance without raising suspicion.
He lightly tapped a few keys, as if testing the sound. The piano’s low, mellow tones rang out, with a faint lingering echo, like something from the deep sea.
A servant brought a small bottle of glass marbles and poured them onto the piano keys.
The moment they fell, one or two nearly rolled right off. Jiang Luo thought, How are you even supposed to play like this?
Even the best pianist—how could they keep the marbles from falling?
He cleared his throat and was just about to say he’d give up when suddenly, another pair of hands covered his own.
No one else could see this pair. Under everyone’s gaze, like a slimy venomous snake, they slithered over Jiang Luo’s hands. Cold as death, those long fingers slid over the backs of his hands, causing a wave of goosebumps, and then slipped sensually between his fingers.
A chill climbed up Jiang Luo’s spine, making his scalp tingle.
Someone chuckled lightly near his ear.
The next moment, those ghostly hands brought Jiang Luo’s hands to life, dancing across the keys.
