Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Fox Spirit

Ding!

A sudden twist.

The screen flickered with a haze of night, where a tall, spectral figure clothed entirely in white staggered along a shadowy path, wailing the name of Lian Suo. It was none other than White Impermanence!

Suddenly, the camera zoomed in with a bang!

The white figure gripped a mourning staff, donned a tall white hat, with hair disheveled and a face twisted in a ghastly grimace. From his mouth dangled a crimson tongue, three feet long and glistening with wet blood, swaying with every movement of his body. It was truly the soul-reaping White Impermanence, terrifying beyond words.

Cui Yue’s eyes widened in shock and suspicion. The sight of White Impermanence instantly reminded him of the hanged ghost that had possessed Lü Datong, the father of Lü Ergou—it too had a tongue just as long and red, sending chills down one’s spine.

The monsters in books and the demons in shadows may startle at first glance, but when night grows deep and quiet, and one contemplates them in silence, the imagination runs wild. It feels as if, at any moment, the specter will leap out, causing heart to pound and breath to quicken. The real terror is not the ghosts in stories, but the fear that resides deep within our own hearts.

For reasons he could not explain, Cui Yue’s expression grew tense as he watched. When White Impermanence’s ghostly banner fell towards the screen, he could almost feel a chill cutting past his ears, the pressure around him mounting as though it was about to descend upon his own head.

Startled, Cui Yue nearly leaped up. The sensation was so vivid, so real—it was truly horrifying.

At that very moment, the sound of weeping ghosts echoed in his ears.

"Lian Suo... Lian Suo... Lian Suo, come out. Come out."

Suddenly, a faint glimmer shot past his ear like a cold star, streaking straight toward White Impermanence on the screen. At the same time, the film’s plot reached the scene where the protagonist, Yang Yuwei’s friend, drew his bow and loosed an arrow. The cold arrow struck White Impermanence squarely on the back of the head.

The ghostly being froze in place, the wailing abruptly cut off.

With a boom, White Impermanence exploded from the feet up, dissolving into a massive plume of white smoke.

On the screen, White Impermanence dissipated into a wisp of smoke. People surged forward. When the smoke finally cleared, only a long white robe and the ghostly banner lay on the ground.

The crowd gazed in astonishment, craning to see. As they peered more closely, the heap of clothing suddenly vanished into nothingness, leaving behind only a puddle of corpse oil.

This scene in the movie depicted the scholar Yang Yuwei’s midnight encounter with the wronged spirit Lian Suo. The two exchanged poems and played the zither, grew fond of one another, but their love was doomed—humans and ghosts could not remain together. White Impermanence, trying to forcibly claim Lian Suo as his concubine, was ultimately defeated by Yang Yuwei and his companions.

As the image of White Impermanence faded from the screen, Cui Yue at once felt the pressure lift, the chill wind vanish, and everything returned to normal. How strange! Just moments before, he could have sworn the ghostly banner was about to fall on his head—why such an uncanny sensation?

Restless, Cui Yue glanced sideways. Zhang Hao and Da Zhuang, his two careless friends, were still watching intently, grinning and joking, oblivious to any oddity, their cigarette butts scattered across the floor.

Perhaps I’m just nervous, too tense, lost in my own mind, Cui Yue tried to reassure himself, quietly wiping the sweat from his nose.

His heart skipped a beat as his gaze flicked upward. The young man in the white shirt was still sitting with arms crossed, the tip of his fountain pen pointed at the screen. Strangely, in the dim and flickering light, the pen’s tip glinted with a cold brilliance, flashing again and again in the darkness.

A faint smile played at the corners of the young man’s mouth. He adjusted his spectacles with a leisurely hand, watching the screen with a look of amused interest.

Suddenly, the young man’s expression shifted, as if sensing someone watching him. He turned his head, locking eyes with Cui Yue, his gaze sharp as a blade.

Their eyes met, and Cui Yue’s heart jolted. He quickly averted his gaze, pretending to look elsewhere.

The young man in the white shirt watched Cui Yue’s retreating figure, brow furrowing slightly. His lips moved, muttering something under his breath.

Cui Yue now regretted agreeing to watch “The Haunted Studio.” He had finally started sleeping well these past few nights, but now the ghost of Huang Juan was bound to haunt his mind again. Tonight, there would be no sleep.

On the screen, Yang Yuwei was still unable to unite with the resurrected Lian Suo and, defeated, set off for the capital to take the imperial exams.

Cui Yue stared blankly at the unfolding plot, his mind adrift, his thoughts wandering far from the film, lost in a haze of idle fancy. He didn't know how much time had passed.

He watched as the fox spirit Jiao Na came to Yang Yuwei’s rescue. Dressed in a violet silk skirt, her silhouette was graceful, her fragrant shoulders exposed beneath the gauzy fabric. Her cloud-like hair was pinned with a golden hairpin shaped like a phoenix and crane, and when she turned to face the audience, her skin was as pale as snow, her pretty face lively and clever, her sparkling eyes full of mischief and beauty, her smile bewitching.

Why did she look so familiar?

No, that’s not right. Suddenly, a chill ran through Cui Yue. Wasn’t this... wasn’t this the very woman he’d seen earlier in the video hall?

He rubbed his eyes, forcing them wide, and studied the woman on the screen. No mistake about it—she was the very same, the beautiful fox spirit Jiao Na was the image of that stunning woman from before. The only difference was the modern, fashionable attire of the woman in the audience, and the ancient violet robes of the spirit on screen.

The revelation left Cui Yue dazed and speechless for a long moment.

Jiao Na, the fox spirit, smiled subtly, her expression uncannily like that of the woman from the hall. Her eyes, upturned at the corners, were captivating; when she called out “husband,” Cui Yue felt his whole body go numb.

But to Cui Yue, it seemed as if the woman on the screen was not speaking to Yang Yuwei at all. Her gaze pierced straight through him, as if she addressed Cui Yue himself. The faint fragrance she exuded seemed to hover just beneath his nose.

Jiao Na slipped off her robe, exposing her delicate back, loosely wrapped in a silken coverlet as she reclined on the couch. Her skin was flawless, her eyes sultry, her lips parted in another enchanting “husband," pouring all her allure into that single word.

Cui Yue’s mind exploded. This time he saw it clearly—her lines were not directed at Yang Yuwei; in her eyes, he saw his own reflection!

Before he could cry out, he felt his whole body go limp, his eyelids drooping, his consciousness fading. He felt himself float slowly from his seat, swaying gently toward the screen.

All he could see was that dazzling woman; his mind reeling, all he wanted was to reach out and draw her into his arms, to let her scent envelop his heart.

On the screen, Jiao Na looked directly at him, smiling, her lips curling gently as she opened her arms, as if to welcome Cui Yue into her embrace. The look in her eyes seemed to ignite a fire deep within him.

Just as Cui Yue was about to surrender himself entirely and fall forever into her tender world—