Chapter Forty-Six Entering the House

A lock of hair fell into my hand, and a wave of intense sorrow rose abruptly from the depths of my heart. In an instant, tears streamed down my face once more.

Clutching the hair tightly, I realized it was not as brittle as the one Old Master Wang had shown me in that wooden box; instead, it felt as though it had just been cut from the head. I recalled the day Old Master Wang took me into the small room and revealed the hair in the box, his every movement especially cautious.

Afterward, when he saw me cry, his attitude shifted subtly. He asked if I remembered anything, then began speaking to me about my mother. At the time, all I wanted was for him to return with me to Baihu Village; the mention of my mother made me instinctively overlook the matter of the hair.

I looked at Chanshu in confusion, biting my lip as I murmured, “Who are you? What am I supposed to remember?”

Chanshu had just confronted me—why was I afraid of her, why now? The thought came easily: perhaps I had known her once, and once had no fear. Coupled with Old Master Wang’s questions, I wondered—had I really known Chanshu? But why couldn’t I recall a thing, not a single memory?

Chanshu slowly approached, reaching out to gently cradle my face in her hands. Our eyes met; she seemed about to speak, but a flicker of pain crossed her features, as if something was stirring beneath her pale skin.

“I... cannot tell you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Yet she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to my lips.

“She has emerged, and she wants to kill you. The man just now took away the talisman sealing her corpse. I can no longer protect you as often as before. You must go inside and help me do something—only then can I stay by your side.”

She gazed at me deeply, her eyes filled with both longing and agony.

“I won’t harm you. You don’t have to believe me, but I’ve waited so long, and if I keep waiting, she may not let me wait any longer.”

For reasons I could not explain, her words pierced my heart with even greater pain.

A sudden thought struck me: perhaps Granny Li believed Chanshu to be the second soul of the Ghost Woman. She knew something about my mother. Unable to resolve the trouble in Baihu Village, she must have recounted my family’s situation to Old Master Wang after seeking him out—perhaps even mentioning that I was entwined with Chanshu.

Old Master Wang, who recognized Chanshu, had tested me with the hair, but asked no further questions—perhaps he thought the time was not yet right.

Once more, my instincts told me Chanshu would not kill me, nor was she the second soul of the Ghost Woman. Old Master Wang surely knew who she truly was. There must be a special connection between us.

Regret flooded me for not pressing Old Master Wang for answers. But at this moment, with Chanshu’s urgent words, I had no time to seek him out.

“Go,” she said softly. “Be wary of ‘her.’ Be cautious of anyone who tries to come near you. If you return to Baihu Village and retrieve that hairpin, it can still save you once.”

With these murmured words, Chanshu turned away. In the blink of an eye, her figure reached the doorway. This time, the black brick walls remained unchanged; she stepped onto the chilling ground, her body shuddering as though even she could not withstand the cold.

A dark mist swirled around her feet, as if trying to consume her. Her departing back made my heart ache all the more.

Clutching my chest, a sudden thought surged forth: Am I still a man? Hesitant and indecisive—Chanshu had protected me so many times. If she truly were the Ghost Woman’s second soul and meant me harm, why would she have saved me just now? If the Ghost Woman wanted me inside this courtyard, why not simply drag me in herself?

Chanshu said the Ghost Woman had emerged, and she could not protect me any longer. Was the Ghost Woman’s murderous intent toward me because Chanshu wanted me to enter the courtyard?

I thought of how, after Wang Bing entered, the Ghost Woman was released. My heart pounded faster.

The Ghost Woman had been confined by my mother’s power; she could not escape. Chanshu, too, must have been under some sort of constraint.

Her white figure was about to vanish through the courtyard gate. Gritting my teeth, I untied the rope holding the chicken, dropped the butcher’s knife, and hurried after Chanshu.

As soon as my feet touched the jet-black bricks, a chill surged through me. Chanshu’s body trembled; she turned back to ask softly, “Why? Aren’t you afraid of me? Why did you come in?”

I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I don’t know. Something inside told me to come, and a man ought to be decisive. You’ve saved me so many times; I should save you, if only once.”

A look of despair that had colored Chanshu’s face now gave way to a smile that brought warmth to my heart.

“Come with me,” she said.

My certainty grew—all along, I had not been mistaken. Chanshu would never harm me; Granny Li was simply too cautious.

The yard was pitch black, the cold beneath my feet creeping upward, as if it possessed a will of its own, tugging at my body. A few steps carried us across the courtyard to the dark house. The low eaves and black tiles seemed poised to collapse at any moment.

“If only you had entered before that man, things would have been much simpler,” Chanshu murmured, a hint of reproach in her tone.

Embarrassed, I felt as if I had made a grave error.

Chanshu pushed open the door, and I followed her inside.

A ghastly green glow filled the room. The furnishings, all wood, spoke of another era. The floor was spotless, the tables and chairs free of dust.

Only then did I notice that, unlike ordinary homes, which faced south to welcome the sunlight, this house faced north—ensuring no sunlight could ever reach inside. At sunset, a fleeting ray might enter, but darkness soon followed.

On the right wall, an open door revealed a room bathed in an even more sinister green light—like the open maw of a demon, sending shivers down my spine.

“Her corpse is inside,” Chanshu whispered.

“That man earlier came to steal something. He wanted to kill you but touched the Ghost Woman’s knife instead, giving her a chance to escape with a sliver of her soul. I, too, am now suppressed,” Chanshu said softly.

My heart thudded. I had another question but hesitated to voice it. After a moment, I asked, “All those people driven mad in the Wang household—was that your doing?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” Chanshu replied.

As she finished speaking, we reached the innermost part of the house. There were no other rooms; apart from the Ghost Woman’s inner chamber, no other doors existed.

The light inside was so dim the green glow seemed to block my sight. When we reached the very back, the scene before my eyes filled me with horror.

On the black wall hung a figure in white, head bowed, long hair shrouding her face. Her white gown was tinged with gray. Black nails pierced her wrists, ankles, and chest. The blood had long since dried; only at the wounds was there any trace of scab.

My horror turned to anguish—a pain so deep it felt as though my heart and soul were being torn apart.

“That is my corpse,” Chanshu murmured. “I sought out those men only to see if any of them were you. You can pull these nails out, but none of them were you.”

One of the nails had been pried loose, but now it was embedded deeper than before. Chanshu shuddered, her strength fading.

“I only managed to loosen one nail, but could not remove any more. That is why a fragment of my soul can emerge. The seven Soul-Death Nails pin down my seven souls. Now that the Ghost Woman is awake, she will drive them in again, and I will never be able to leave.”

Her voice was barely a whisper.

I could not bear the pain in my heart; tears flowed freely, and I felt an overwhelming urge to save her.

Taking a deep breath, I strode forward, gripped the loosened nail, and yanked it with all my might.

The nail shifted slightly, but I felt a bone-chilling cold envelop my entire body. The icy air within the Ghost Woman’s house seemed to transform into countless hands, violently pushing me away.