She flung open the first door, fumbling for the switch. The light didn’t come on, and the room was pitch black, reeking faintly of blood.
No one was inside—just that fresh, metallic scent.
The second door—empty.
The third—still nothing.
Everyone was gone. The boiler operator, Uncle Qi; the cleaning lady, Auntie Pang; even the ever-present ghosts were nowhere to be seen.
The sprawling funeral parlor, built into the hillside, seemed utterly deserted—except for her.
And that ever-lingering, nauseating scent of fresh blood.
For the first time in her nineteen years, Ban Xia felt true fear.
“Dad!”
Her cry was sharp and desperate, echoing coldly beneath the sterile lights.
No response.
Everyone was missing, including the man who had raised her for nineteen years.
A gust of cold wind swept past her, carrying with it a surge of that sickeningly strong scent of blood.
She turned around instinctively.
In the distance, a pale, moonlit figure moved. It darted down the far end of the hallway with a soft “whoosh,” vanishing into the darkness.
Ban Xia gave chase with all her strength and, as she hoped, caught up with the shadow.
The figure—or rather, the ghost—only had one leg and couldn’t run fast. Cornered, it finally took refuge in a public restroom, trembling as it wedged itself under a sink.
It was none other than the little ghost who had died in a car accident—the one Ban Xia often forced to jump rope despite his fear. Nicknamed “Wang Xiao Dan” (Little Coward Wang), his courage was no greater than a rabbit's.
Seeing him, Ban Xia’s own courage soared. She raised her voice, now three pitches higher: “Wang Xiao Dan, I’ll count to three. Come out now!”
Wang Xiao Dan clung tightly to the pipes under the sink, trembling so violently that the entire basin shook. His voice quivered as he stammered, “I… I… I don’t dare look… They… They all went to see it. It’s all blood… so much blood… Mama, I’m scared!”
Ban Xia felt her heart leap into her throat. She crouched down, staring straight at him. “What did you see? What blood? Whose blood? Where is my dad?!”
“Grandpa… Ban…” Wang Xiao Dan repeated the name several times, voice barely above a whisper. “I saw him. Qin-ge was holding him… holding him in his arms, and one of his legs…”
But before he could finish, his fear overwhelmed him, and his ghostly eyes rolled back as he fainted.
Ban Xia was desperate. She grabbed him and tried everything to wake him, but no matter what she did, the timid ghost wouldn’t stir.
His half-finished sentence echoed in the empty restroom:
Being held in Qin-ge’s arms…
One leg…
Ban Xia clutched her head, crouching lower and lower. The world seemed to go silent, leaving only those words echoing relentlessly in her mind.
Qin Yue—the ghost boyfriend with slanted brows and a melancholy smile—filled her thoughts. She had to find him.
She must.
No matter what.
She had to find him.
Even now, as Ban Xia recalled that moment of obsession, it felt as though the memory reached out like an invisible hand, awakening all her dormant potential.
Focusing her mind on a single point, she could sense it again—just like that day. A powerful scent of blood overwhelmed her senses, and faintly, she saw a bloodstained robe…
“Pear trees, in the south, near a lotus pond!” she blurted out, her innate ability guiding her thoughts. Ban Xia stood abruptly, the vision clear in her mind. “The cursed ghost is in the south. There must be a pear orchard there—and a lotus pond!”
Her confidence in her gift was unwavering as she turned to her companions. “Do you know of any pear orchards in the southern part of the town? One with a lotus pond?”
For the third time that day, Ban Xia grabbed a passerby and repeated her question.
Leaning against the wall, Xuan Ye folded his arms, his expression visibly weary.
After hearing yet another “I don’t know,” Ban Xia returned to him, dejected. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.
Xuan Ye shook his head, but then added, “We need to stop by a weapons shop.”
“A weapon? For what?”
“If you see my pupils turn blood-red, I need you to knock me out immediately.”
His tone was calm and steady, as if discussing the weather. Supporting himself against the wall, he slowly walked away.
The weapon they purchased was a black-sheathed sword—ordinary and inexpensive, costing only a couple of silver taels.
Ban Xia unsheathed the sword and raised it, pointing it toward Xuan Ye. “I don’t think this cheap blade will knock you out.”
Xuan Ye, now leaning against a mud wall at the edge of the street, smiled faintly. “As long as my pupils aren’t red, I can still control myself. I won’t resist.”
He straightened and began walking along the cobblestone road.
“Hey,” Ban Xia called after him. “Do you even know where the pear orchard is? Didn’t they say this whole town is full of pear orchards, stretching across the hills?”
“There’s only one small hill to the south of the town. We’ll start there.”
“And how exactly do you plan to search the whole mountain in your current condition?”
“We won’t need to search it all.” Xuan Ye’s pace quickened. “An orchard producing such cursed pears will be warded off by a boundary. I’ll sense it.”
“Here. This is the place.”
It was dusk when Xuan Ye finally stopped, pointing to a misty grove ahead.
Ban Xia squinted. Before them lay an ordinary pear orchard. Branches heavy with blossoms exuded a faint fragrance.
“I’ll cut through his barrier,” Xuan Ye said gently, drawing an invisible circle in the air with his right hand. “Wait here. If I’m not back in an hour, don’t wait.”
He exhaled deeply and leaned closer, his face inches from hers. “What color are my pupils now?”
Ban Xia bit her lip, noticing the fine sweat on his brow. “If… I mean, if your pupils turn red, what happens?”
“I’ll lose control. My mind will be his.”
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