“This Zhong Cheng situation is way too bizarre,” Tie Niu said gravely, his tone edged with alarm. “No matter how you slice it, the Ghost Emperor’s behind this. Her Majesty isn’t happy you’re calling off the engagement. Push further, and real trouble’s coming.”
Back then, Zhong Cheng would’ve brushed it off as feudal superstition. But after everything he’d witnessed? Tie Niu’s warning no longer sounded like fearmongering—it made chilling sense.
Truth was, Zhong Cheng was scared too. A knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. Yet if he did nothing—if he left the portrait intact, kept the engagement—he’d remain trapped in this dread forever.
Hesitation only invites chaos. He had to end this. He refused to believe things were *that* supernatural.
*No spirits allowed after 1949!* he chanted inwardly. *It’s all fake. Just my mind playing tricks.* The mantra steadied his nerves.
*Broad daylight. Clear sky. Ghosts and monsters? Illusions. Begone.*
Ignoring Tie Niu’s warning, Zhong Cheng tucked the portrait under his arm and strode forward.
Rustle… rustle…
Faint whispers slithered from every corner of the Ancient Shrine—just like yesterday. A clear warning: *Do not break the engagement.*
Outside, clouds swallowed the setting sun. The shrine’s interior dimmed instantly, thick with eerie chill. Even the air grew colder. A cold gust swept through, raising goosebumps.
Straight out of a horror flick—only missing the soundtrack.
“Zhong Cheng, look…” Tie Niu gulped, eyes darting nervously.
“Damn it!” Zhong Cheng cursed. Clutching the portrait, he bolted for the exit like a football player charging the end zone. *No thinking. Just go.*
Clatter! Clatter!
Roof tiles rained down. Thanks to yesterday’s lesson, he was ready. A flashy dodge sidestepped the falling debris. He shielded himself with the portrait, pushed off hard, and vaulted cleanly over the threshold.
Landing was rough—he’d overshot. Ignoring the dirt, he rolled once to absorb the impact. Safe. Out.
Clatter.
Before he could spring up, another tile slammed down beside him. *Not safe here.* “Back up! Back up!” he muttered, scrambling farther.
Twenty meters from the Ancient Shrine, certain danger had passed, Zhong Cheng finally halted. He exhaled. Glancing back, the shrine seemed to twist into a grotesque, sneering face—staring right at him. Terrifying.
He blinked. Looked again. Just a crumbling old building.
His mind reeled. This defied all logic—shattering his materialist worldview. He forced the thought down. *Don’t think. Thinking makes it real.*
“Oof… this old ox is wrecked,” Tie Niu groaned. He’d escaped too—but somehow face-planted *outside* the shrine, on flat ground. Mountain-raised Tie Niu never tripped like this. Unless… nerves made him stumble?
He was baffled. He’d crossed the threshold carefully. Yet on solid ground, something *grabbed* his ankle—a fleeting, hand-like grip.
Gulp…
Chills shot down his spine. He stopped thinking, scrambled away on hands and knees. A trickle of blood dripped from his bumped nose. Pathetic.
(He’d shielded his phone with his body—it survived, still live-streaming. Professionalism? Top-tier. Chat exploded with worried comments and flying gifts.)
“You okay?” Zhong Cheng asked.
“Do I *look* okay?” Tie Niu winced, tears welling, nose swollen. Even hurting, he flashed a shaky thumbs-up to the camera.
Zhong Cheng gathered mugwort leaves nearby, crushed three sprigs with a clean stone, and pressed the paste to Tie Niu’s nose. Childhood mountain scrapes taught him this trick.
The bleeding slowed. Pain eased.
Zhong Cheng retrieved the portrait, eyes locked on it.
“Tearing it again won’t work. It’ll just reset,” Tie Niu said.
“This time? Burn it,” Zhong Cheng replied, a cold smirk curling his lips.
Tie Niu almost said: *Just accept the Ghost Emperor’s will.* But he knew Zhong Cheng—stubborn, bold beyond reason. He silently prayed his childhood friend’s luck held.
They gathered dry leaves, lit them. Dusk deepened as clouds swallowed the sun. Flames roared, casting dim yellow light across their faces, stretching long shadows behind them.
Zhong Cheng watched the burning portrait like it hid a demon ready to leap free. Tense. Alert.
Tie Niu glanced at him. Firelight carved Zhong Cheng’s face into something dark, unfamiliar. A faint, icy smile played on his lips—not quite human. Tie Niu shrank back. *Has he snapped? Please, no…*
Then—Zhong Cheng’s shadow *moved*.
At first, Tie Niu blamed flickering flames. But the fire was steady. The shadow writhed violently… then *stood up*. Alive.
It turned. Grinned wide. Waved slowly at Tie Niu.
Tie Niu’s blood ran cold.
“MOMMY!”
“What’s wrong?” Zhong Cheng turned, confused by Tie Niu’s frozen horror. No answer—just a trembling finger pointing behind him.
*Something’s back there?* Zhong Cheng swallowed hard, glanced back. Nothing. Relief flickered. *Is he faking it? Fishing for gifts?*
“MOMMY, DON’T COME CLOSER!”
As Zhong Cheng stepped nearer, Tie Niu scrambled back—tripped—and landed hard on his butt.
