Chapter 1: Who Is She?

The night lay like a pool of thick black ink, so deep it seemed impossible to stir. There was no moon, no stars, only the occasional glimmer of distant lights, flickering like fireflies. Darkness had swallowed the clamor of day and the splendor of the world. A soft breeze stirred, leaves rustling in the trees. Inside a small house on the mountainside, a dim lamp glowed. On the table within stood a statue of a woman, exquisitely carved, so lifelike it might have breathed, yet her garments were strange, and no one could tell from which dynasty she came.

A young man, dressed in clothing similar to that of the statue, held an object of peculiar design. His arm swayed lightly, producing a sound like a bell. With his eyes closed, he stepped through a strange pattern, murmuring without pause, as though chanting an incantation. All around him were symbols that flashed and hissed softly, eerie and uncanny.

Suddenly, he lurched, and the smoothness of his movements faltered. A man standing not far away hurried over. Shorter in stature, his voice was hoarse and broken. “Did it work?”

“Just as it was about to finish, it was interrupted,” the young man said after a moment of silence. “Is this method really effective?”

“Hmph. The way I found to break it could never fail.” With a trace of sarcasm, the hoarse voice gave a cold laugh. “Whether it works or not, we’ll know once we try. If it fails, we do it again.”

“If we do it again, she may not be able to endure it.” The young man seemed to show a hint of pity.

“Hmph. If she can’t endure it, then she can go report to the underworld.” The answer was cruel and merciless, chilling the very air. Outside the window, the wind swept silently past and drifted away into the distance.

In Anping City, within the prestigious Junjue Villa District not far from the city center, a breeze lifted the gauzy curtains. Through the weak lamplight, the room could be faintly seen.

On the bed lay a girl with long hair spread over the pink sheets, her brows elegant, her face delicate and flawless, yet her forehead was tightly furrowed. Beads of sweat slid down from her temples, dampening the fine hair by her ears. Her slender fingers clutched the blanket tightly, as though she were trapped in a nightmare.

In the boundless darkness, thick mist covered everything. An old voice, accompanied by a soft, sinister ringing, wandered relentlessly around her. “Soul, return! Why linger in the four corners of the earth instead of by your lord’s side?”

Again and again it drew nearer, until it suddenly rang beside her ear. A chill brushed her cheek. She steadied herself and cried sharply, “Who is it? Stop pretending to be a ghost and come out!”

The world fell instantly silent, so desolate it made the heart quake. After a long while, a figure emerged from the depths of the fog and walked slowly toward her. Wherever it passed, the mist dispersed completely. When she finally made out the face before her, she froze, blurting out, “Who are you?”

At that moment, her parents, the Chu family couple, heard her cry from the next room and rushed over in haste. Seeing their daughter pale and drenched in sweat, they hurriedly called, “Tongtong, Tongtong!”

The disturbance at her ear pulled her from the dream. She slowly opened her eyes, and before she could even gather her thoughts, she was drawn into a warm embrace.

“Tongtong, you’ve finally woken up. You scared Mother to death!” The woman before her was middle-aged, yet still beautiful, her eyes wet with tears and heartbreakingly lovely. Behind her stood a middle-aged man, tall and strikingly handsome, looking at them with tender concern.

The woman’s boneless fingers stroked her face as she coaxed her softly, “Tongtong had a nightmare, didn’t she? Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. Mother is here.” But tears continued to fall uncontrollably.

“Xiyue, fifteen years have already passed. Let’s keep waiting a little longer,” the man said gently, trying to comfort the tearful woman.

In those vacant eyes, a faint light flickered. Her pupils moved slightly as she whispered, “Mother!”

Yao Xiyue was overjoyed. “Guiyun, Tongtong called me Mother. She’s calling me!”

“Yes, she’s calling you.” They had waited fifteen years for that one word. Chu Guiyun, afraid of frightening her, asked carefully, “Tongtong?”

But their daughter said nothing more. Her expression remained unchanged. It felt as though a basin of ice water had been poured into her heart, the chill surging sharply. “Tong—” She was about to say something else when Chu Guiyun stopped her, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Xiyue, it’s late. Let Tongtong sleep well. Perhaps tomorrow—”

Yao Xiyue let go of the embrace, helped her lie down, and tucked the blanket around her. She dimmed the bedside lamp and whispered by her ear, “Tongtong, be good and sleep. Mother is in the next room. If you need anything, call me, all right?”

She said nothing, merely staring in a daze. Then she closed her eyes. A soft sigh drifted by her ear. “Guiyun, let’s go.”

When the footsteps gradually faded and finally disappeared, the girl on the bed opened her eyes. They shone brilliantly, and her rosy lips parted slightly.

“Who am I?”