I failed to react for a moment, staring at her somewhat pale face, and suddenly froze.
Good heavens, she wasn't human—she was a ghost!
People living in this society are constrained by numerous rules and boundaries: legal bottom lines, propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame.
When relatively clear-headed, most people control their words and actions, avoiding anything too outrageous.
But she was different.
Let's just call her a ghost for now, because she has existed for far too long, and I have no idea what kind of entity she is now.
She is not bound by social laws, benevolence, righteousness, or moral codes. She can do whatever she wants on a whim, or even kill someone simply for the fun of it, without any reason at all.
When I saw her last time, the reason I was later able to speak to her calmly and even make tea for her—the source of my confidence—was not just because I subjectively believed she harbored no ill intentions toward me.
More importantly, from an objective standpoint, she made me believe that there were things in this world capable of restraining her, which subconsciously engraved the perception that "I have the ability to protect myself."
Indeed, this perception gave me a great deal of courage.
If my father hadn't appeared so suddenly tonight, and if I hadn't inquisitively asked that question, perhaps she would have maintained that state of being "restrainable."
Yet I wasn't as terrified now, still because of the thought that "if she wanted to harm me, I would have been dead long ago."
Seeing that I didn't speak, she continued, "If, upon our first meeting, you had discovered that there were no objects in this world capable of restraining ghosts, I'm afraid you wouldn't have been able to sit and converse with me all night."
I gave an awkward smile, the heart that had been hanging in my throat finally dropping back into place. This young girl—no, this elderly lady—really knew how to tend to someone's emotions.
"Then why did you tell me this time?"
"You are a straightforward and candid person, so I must treat you with equal candor."
"If you hadn't asked, I wouldn't have spoken. But since you did ask, to conceal anything further would be a sign of disrespect toward you."
Having confirmed that she truly wouldn't do anything outrageous to me, my mind was quickly reoccupied by curiosity.
So I asked again, "Were you unafraid of these things from the very beginning, or did you only become fearless after existing for a long time?"
This question was crucial—crucial to the extent that it might completely overturn my understanding.
Yet, in truth, I already had the answer in my heart; I only asked to confirm whether my guess was correct.
She took a sip of tea and said, "Originally, I was very afraid of these things. It was only after encountering certain opportunities later on that I became fearless in the face of such objects."
As she spoke, she walked over to me, bent down, and dragged out the box I used to store those magical artifacts. Because of the awkward angle, a few magazines were pulled out along with it.
When I saw this, it was a disaster—wasn't this going to ruin the image I had built in her mind?
So I hurriedly used my foot to kick those magazines under the bed, then pretended to help her pull the box to cover up my actions.
She, however, didn't mind at all. She merely pursed her lips in a smile and said, "You needn't conceal it; this is only human nature. As long as one is upright, harbors no sordid thoughts, commits no illicit deeds, and maintains a clear conscience, that is enough."
Despite her words, I still felt somewhat embarrassed, so I steered the topic back to her fortuitous encounters.
She gently stroked the magical artifacts, knitted her brows slightly, then looked up at me and pointed at the teacup on the table.
Naturally, I understood her meaning. I eagerly hurried over to pour another cup, then returned to continue listening to her story.
Later on, when the eldest son saw that she had died of poison, he lost interest and ordered his subordinates to wrap the family hastily in straw mats and abandon their corpses in the wilderness.
Soon, several ghost guards holding chains came and hooked their souls, leading them down to the Underworld.
Hearing this, I excitedly interrupted her, "Holy crap, this—this—this, the Underworld actually exists!"
She glanced at me and shook her head, saying, "You wouldn't want to go to a place like that in this lifetime."
The so-called Underworld was not filled with ghostly auras and towering bloodlust as people stereotypically imagined.
According to her, after the ghost guards led them a certain distance, the surrounding scenery gradually grew desolate.
It was a lifeless desolation; the sky was forever a hazy gray, and the ground resembled a barren wilderness, where occasional small clusters of plants could be seen, equally hazy and gray, as if the entire world lacked color.
They hadn't walked long before they were brought to a place resembling a government yamen, a massive area with only a few ghost guards handling official business.
Then a ghost guard arrived and shouted that court was in session.
The main hall was pitifully dreary; the door pillars and the high dais didn't even have a plaque.
A Judge of Hell dressed in Ming dynasty official robes sat upon the high dais, loudly chanting their names and birth dates. After confirming that the wrong ghosts hadn't been arrested, the trial began.
The Judge stated who had what allotted lifespan, whose lifespan had now reached its end, what their conduct had been like during their lifetime, which level of hell they should enter, what punishments they must endure for how many years, and which path they would enter once their sentence was served.
There was a very interesting detail here: the family that had adopted her should have reached the end of their lifespan half a year prior, but because adopting her was an act of great merit, half a year of life had been added to each of their lifespans.
In truth, they had adopted her because a fortune-teller had said their son was short-lived and nearing the end of his destiny, so the family intended to use her for a ghost marriage.
She only remembered that when the Judge revealed this matter, the whole family dropped to their knees in unison, crying out for the Judge to spare them.
The Judge gave a light cough, and instant silence fell upon the hall.
He continued, stating that their family's conduct had been thus and so, and that this girl was a chance bestowed by the heavens to make amends and repent. Yet, stubborn and unyielding as they were, this calamity was destined in their fate; they had only to wash away their sins in this hell and accumulate blessings diligently in their next life.
With that, he struck the gavel, and several ghost guards dragged the family away, leaving only her kneeling in the hall.
The Judge put down the gavel, turned a page, and then told her that despite the chaotic times, her destiny was an eighty-year lifespan.
Since her lifespan had not yet ended and her death was by suicide, the Underworld would not accept her and sent her to be detained in the City of Wrongful Deaths until her natural lifespan reached its end.
Hearing this, she dropped to her knees with a thud, crying out that although that family's lifespan had reached its end, the murderer who killed her was still at large and had yet to be brought to justice.
She demanded to know whether the Underworld was not a place of fairness and strict justice; since it spoke of heavenly retribution and karmic cycles, why was the murderer still walking free?
The Judge struck the gavel, angrily rebuking her for showing contempt for the Underworld. Yet, having finished his angry rebuke, he slumped right back down and leisurely declared, "Heavenly secrets must not be leaked; go to the City of Wrongful Deaths and settle in peacefully, for everything has its destined course."
Things having reached this point, she knew she could not defy the decree and had no choice but to let the ghost guards escort her to the City of Wrongful Deaths.