Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 171: One Hundred and Eight

The color of the red T-shirt exploded outward. Crimson hues swept through space, and the hospital room transformed in an instant.

Sunlight shone brightly outside the window, and there was now a caregiver in Fang Xiu’s room. The caregiver looked to be in their forties, brisk and competent, clearly a seasoned professional.

Nurse Cai happened to be present too. She greeted the officer who had just entered. “Mr. Yuan.”

Compared to the previous scene, Officer Yuan’s features hadn’t changed much, but his hair had turned mostly white, and he looked at least ten years older. He carried a grocery bag and a bouquet in one hand, and a four-inch birthday cake in the other. His casual clothes were steeped in the smell of cigarette smoke.

Taped to the side of the cake box was a small packet containing candles shaped like the numbers “1” and “4”.

“The child’s condition is unstable. He can’t eat cake,” Nurse Cai reminded him gently.

Officer Yuan nodded.

Nurse Cai smiled kindly.

Anyone with eyes could tell this wasn’t really about whether he could eat cake. Fang Xiu could only survive through a feeding tube.

But Officer Yuan wasn’t the type to cause trouble, and that reassured her.

Yuan Ye came to visit Fang Xiu nearly every day. He had spent a long time at the hospital looking for a reliable caregiver. Given Fang Xiu’s condition, the monthly salary was over ten thousand, but Yuan Ye agreed immediately—so long as the caregiver carefully maintained the boy’s muscles and joints to keep his body as healthy as possible.

He knew there was no hope, but he still refused to give up. As for the large expense—

“That’s money his parents left him. It should be used where it counts,” Officer Yuan had once said.

Now, he carefully replaced the flowers by Fang Xiu’s bed and inserted the candles into the cake.

“For safety, I won’t light them.”

Yuan Ye looked at the sleeping face of the young Fang Xiu. “Make a wish quietly in your heart. It won’t come true if you say it out loud.”

“Okay.”

The young Fang Xiu’s soul stood quietly in the corner of the room.

But none of the living could see or hear him.

“The cake will be shared later with your caregiver and Nurse Cai.” Yuan Ye said, “I don’t like this stuff. It’s way too sweet. But if you wake up today, I’ll eat a slice with you.”

“Okay,” the young Fang Xiu whispered.

“I got you some new clothes.”

Yuan Ye expertly pulled a red T-shirt from the shopping bag.

“I bought one for you and one for your brother as New Year’s gifts. Festive, right? Your brother took his with him. Yours is worn out by now.”

“Kids grow fast. Uncle bought you a new one. It’ll fit perfectly when you wake up. I’ll get you a new one every birthday… If you think this gift is boring, then hurry up and wake up, and I’ll let you pick something else.”

Fang Xiu’s soul said nothing. He looked at the red T-shirt hanging on the wall for a moment but didn’t respond.

Officer Yuan had never talked this much before. It had always been Auntie Qin who liked to chatter.

These days, Officer Yuan had become the talkative one, even though no one ever replied to him.

After his monologue, Officer Yuan sat quietly at the bedside for a long time. He stared at the pale hospital room as if wrapped in air saturated with the smell of medicine, solidified like amber.

Eventually, he opened his mouth again. “Child, this wasn’t your fault, you know? Don’t refuse to wake up because of it.”

“It was my fault. If I’d been home then…”

Mid-sentence, he exhaled sharply and wiped his face hard with both hands.

“You’re the only child I have left, Fang Xiu.”

“Hey, you can’t become a ghost now,” said the ghost of an old man, grinning beside the young Fang Xiu. “That dad of yours really loves you. No way you’ll die unjustly now.”

“Not like my unfilial son, who only brought me to the hospital when I was about to croak. Tch.”

The young Fang Xiu lowered his eyes as if he didn’t hear.

After becoming a soul, he’d even forgotten how to cry.

The ghost leaned in closer. “Hey kid, look at you, not quite human, not quite ghost. Pathetic. Stop forcing it. Just accept your fate.”

“Your soul’s still tied to your body, but just barely. If you let go, your dad will finally be free. Over ten thousand a month for a caregiver, come on.”

“Get lost, you old bastard!”

A female ghost dropped from the ceiling, landing right on the old man’s head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just hungry for your karma. Wants to feed off you!”

“You ruined my setup!”

“Yeah, like good-looking souls show up here often. Shameless trying to scam a kid!”

Fang Xiu stared blankly as the two ghosts fought.

His soul looked even less alive than either of them.

He was used to ghosts bickering by now. Most of their obsessions were weak and would soon fade anyway.

He had turned fourteen. He’d been in the hospital for nearly a year.

His soul couldn’t stray far from his body and couldn’t leave the hospital. The view outside the window was always the same. Even when he wandered, he could only see patients and hospital rooms.

He could no longer go to school or read properly. The only things he could still see were glowing phone screens and the occasional tablet used by inpatients.

…Everything had become fragments.

In the dead of night, the knocking sound echoed endlessly in his mind. He saw the fog of Xushan, his mother washing dishes, and New Year fireworks outside the window.

Instead of fading, his hatred had grown like a snowball, on the verge of driving him insane.

He knew that the Guishan cult leader Zhuang Chongyue had fled abroad, that the remaining cultists were being hunted down like rats, and that many of them weren’t even core members, but just deluded fanatics.

The ones who ruined his life weren’t the masterminds, just the ones who were used.

His hatred had metastasized like cancer, with nowhere to go.

The young Fang Xiu stood before the delicate cake and touched the frosting, his fingers slipping through the sugary cream without resistance.

The next second, everything went dark.

He opened his eyes and saw the ground standing upright.

It took a few seconds for him to realize he was lying on the ground, his right cheek pressed against the dirt.

He heard faint, intermittent suona music nearby. It was impossible to tell if it was for a joyful occasion or mourning. The air was cold and dark, and a circle of red lanterns swayed gently in the distance.

Fang Xiu was wearing his brand-new birthday present, the bright red T-shirt.

The scene shimmered and wavered like a dream, as if it might vanish at any moment.

But anyone who knew the truth would immediately recognize this place. This was the Disaster Relief Tower. Fourteen was the minimum age for a sacrifice to enter the ritual.

A’Shou grounded her teeth hard. Bai Shuangying looked at Fang Xiu with some surprise. Fang Xiu gave his ghost a small wink, looking a little smug.

“That’s impossible.” Cen Ling’s voice finally faltered. “There are rules between the living and the dead. A sacrifice can only be summoned once, because—”

“Because contact with an E infects the soul with yin energy. A soul tainted with too much yin will cause the body to age faster or run into spirits in broad daylight,” A’Shou said coldly. “Even after purification with soul-restoring springs, the damage remains. If someone participates more than once, their body will barely function.”

“Fang Xiu, your body was already weak, and your soul is constantly affected by spirits. I can understand if you don’t care about side effects.”

A’Shou turned to him, lifting her veil to reveal her furrowed brow.

“…But how did you participate multiple times?”

“That’s thanks to you, A’Shou Jie.”

Fang Xiu reached a hand toward her. “I forgot, but you really don’t remember?”

“Remember?”

“Help me out, Bai Shuangying.” Fang Xiu nudged his ghost with his elbow.

“My soul’s too weak. The Underworld tossed me around like a toy. But A’Shou Jie is one of the strongest ghost immortals. Her memory must be more stable… With your yin energy, maybe you can recover a little.”

Bai Shuangying looked at Fang Xiu, then at A’Shou, and made a resolute hum of agreement.

He reached out and held Fang Xiu’s hand, extending it toward her.

A’Shou hesitated for a moment, then gently placed her fingers over theirs. In that moment, a surge of yin energy rushed into her body. It felt like a block of ice had been crammed into her mind, bringing with it a pain like frostbite to the brain.

Like sand blowing across the surface, colors and fragments suddenly filled her memory.

The scattered pieces floated and merged like puzzle pieces, fitting together on their own.

Carried through Fang Xiu’s hand by Bai Shuangying’s yin aura, the memory was faithfully restored by the Immortal Encounter E—

“How interesting. A child this young passed the eighth ritual.”

A’Shou looked down at young Fang Xiu, dressed in a red T-shirt.

“Child, make your wish.”

Compared to the numb expression he had in the hospital, the young Fang Xiu now looked much more alive. His fists were clenched, and three trigram symbols were glowing faintly on his arms.

He lifted his head high and looked at A’Shou with eyes full of hope.

“I want the Guishan Sect to be completely destroyed. I want Zhuang Chongyue and all his loyal followers dead. The more miserable, the better!”

The young Fang Xiu shouted with a strong voice, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

A’Shou did a quick calculation. “No.”

Fang Xiu froze.

Then, his shock turned into blazing rage. “Why not? Why can’t I? Didn’t you say I could wish for anything?!”

“I have a blood feud with the Guishan Sect. It’s part of my karma!”

“The Guishan Sect’s leader Zhuang Chongyue and his top aides are mostly abroad.”

A’Shou spoke with cold authority. “The Underworld has no interest in intervening in matters beyond national borders. If you only wanted the sect’s domestic operatives dead, the Underworld could grant that.”

This time, Fang Xiu was silent for much longer.

His anger faded, replaced by deep pain. “What’s the point if those leaders overseas are still alive? Even if the ones here die, they’ll rebuild everything from abroad…”

A’Shou repeated, “The Underworld has no interest in intervening in matters beyond national borders.”

“What’s wrong with killing evil people? You’re supposed to be gods—you can do it, can’t you?”

Fang Xiu’s eyes were red. “I’ve held on this long, and this is the kind of cheap bait I get…”

He swallowed hard and twisted the hem of his red T-shirt tightly, trying not to let the tears fall.

A’Shou sighed softly. “Child, just because we can doesn’t mean we should. The same goes for the world of the living. The living don’t declare war on foreign nations just because a criminal escapes there.”

“I’ve read your file, Fang Xiu. You’re still so young. Rather than clinging to the past, why not wish for your own recovery?”

The boy covered his eyes. A’Shou thought he was about to cry, but instead, she heard two cold, bitter laughs.

“Recover, and then what?”

“What?”

“Recover, and then worry every day that some lunatic will knock on my door and kill me and my family.”

“Recover, and live with Uncle Yuan. Even if he can accept me, I can’t face him. I just can’t.”

“Recover, and even if I change my name and grow up overseas, I still won’t be able to touch those wealthy bastards. Before I can even figure out how to get revenge, they’ll be living out their days in comfort and die peacefully.”

“…So what’s the point of recovering?”

Fang Xiu’s face was deathly pale, and his words were chillingly calm.

They flowed too smoothly, not as if he was reacting on impulse, but as if he had been repeating them in his head endlessly.

“A’Shou Jie, I’m not clinging to the past… To me, my life is already over.” He spoke slowly and clearly, each word soaked in blood.

A’Shou had seen plenty of wish-makers break down or argue irrationally. She remained composed as Fang Xiu finished. “You still need to make a wish. Telling me all this won’t change anything.”

“Child, do you know what the most important thing in a negotiation is?”

Fang Xiu: “I…”

“Leverage.” A’Shou cut him off. “I know you’re in pain. I know you’ve fought hard. I know your life has been tragic. But in the eyes of the living and the dead, that means nothing.”

“In the end, you have no leverage. The Underworld won’t make an exception for you.”

Fang Xiu gritted his teeth and pressed his hand over the three trigrams on his arm, speechless.

“According to the rules, those anomalies will also be sealed.”

“To be fair, they are indeed tied to your karma. You could use your wish to keep them. But in your current physical state, they’re useless anyway.”

A’Shou saw through him easily and said with a kind of merciless clarity, “…Alright. If you can’t make a wish now, you can take a few more hours to think.”

Fang Xiu remained there, unmoving, for a full hour. He stood like a statue, his hand never leaving his arm.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t just stalling. He seemed to be genuinely thinking hard, his gaze alternating between his arm and the Disaster Relief Tower.

The despair on his face slowly faded, replaced by something more complex, more deeply rooted.

“I’ve decided.”

At last, the young Fang Xiu forced a stiff smile.

“These anomalies can’t be used in the outside world, but they’re still part of my karma, right?”

“Yes,” A’Shou replied, puzzled.

“As long as it’s tied to karma, my wish can bend some minor rules, right?”

“Yes.”

“The Underworld doesn’t intervene in foreign affairs, but with enough leverage, it can, right?”

“…Yes.”

“My wish is: let me enter the ritual again.”

Fang Xiu said, “Let me participate in the ritual one more time.”

Now it was A’Shou’s turn to fall silent.

When she finally spoke, her voice was colder than before. “I don’t know what you’re planning, kid. But let me make one thing clear—technically, you can wish for that. But rituals are secrets shared by both the yin and yang world. No matter what, the Underworld will erase your memory of the Disaster Relief Tower.”

“When you return, you’ll remember nothing. You’ll have no advantage.”

Fang Xiu didn’t hesitate. “No problem.”

Then he let out a little “ah” and pointed at A’Shou.

“Next time I come back, I don’t want you to remember me either. Just to be clear, my wish is—”

He narrowed his eyes, his smile growing eerie.

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

A’Shou agreed.

What a strange child, she thought.

He was most likely going to die in the next ritual. Even if he survived by sheer luck, he would probably make a different wish next time.

High above, Cen Ling clicked his tongue. “So how many times have you entered the ritual now?”

He looked at A’Shou, only to find her staring at Fang Xiu in stunned silence. Her veil had been lifted, and she looked utterly shocked.

Fang Xiu stuck out his tongue at her and helpfully inserted his own memory—

What followed was a nightmare-like loop.

The boy in red stood before A’Shou, again repeating the same conversation about revenge and his wish, then falling into contemplation.

At the end of each wish:

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

In the hospital, ghosts gathered around Fang Xiu.

“Ah, his soul’s back again.”

“This kid’s karma is so heavy. Smells amazing.”

……

Disaster Relief Tower.

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

Hospital.

“Hmm, he was gone a bit longer this time. Let’s remember that for him.”

“I told him about my husband who poisoned me—he died for real. So weird!”

……

Disaster Relief Tower.

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

Hospital.

“Maybe our Xiao Fang should start a business. Every time he vanishes, someone he talked to ends up dead.”

“Not all of them, though.”

“What do you know! It’s karma!”

……

Disaster Relief Tower.

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

Hospital.

“Fang Xiu’s karma is building up too fast…”

“No idea what he’s doing out there. He never remembers anything when he comes back.”

“Start keeping a list of people to kill! Lots of ghosts are lining up for their turn!”

……

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

…

……

…………

Eight rituals in the Underworld, spaced nearly a month apart.

Target collection, seven days in the living world.

And so, with seven days between each, the never-ending ritual loop continued.

The boy in the red T-shirt, still visibly youthful, gradually became the young man in red.

The pain faded.

The despair faded.

The rage faded.

No one knew exactly when, but eventually, only his smile remained.

He always wore the perfectly fitting red T-shirt.

“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”

At the end of his last wish, Fang Xiu waved cheerfully to A’Shou, his black eyes peeking out from beneath his messy hair.

In the hospital room, Fang Xiu’s soul reappeared silently.

He didn’t waste time reminiscing. He skillfully checked the condition of his body on the bed.

Good. The yin energy was holding well.

He didn’t need to remember much.

He only knew that his body was becoming an E of unprecedented magnitude, so massive that no ghost dared draw near to repair it.

All the evil spirits told him the same thing: the stronger the E, the more the Underworld desired it.

It was rumored that the Underworld was suppressing a terrifying apocalyptic evil, one that required an endless supply of E’s.

Fang Xiu knew he could never become a ghost.

So, if he could become the strongest E in existence, he could use the Underworld to do what he never could—kill those he could never reach.

“How many times has this happened?” Fang Xiu turned to ask the ghosts surrounding him.

The waiting ghosts exchanged glances and replied in unison, “The one hundred and seventh time.”

“This is your one hundred and seventh ‘disappearance’,” they said enthusiastically.

The memory ended. The scene froze.

Hovering in the air, Fang Xiu turned and smiled at A’Shou.

He extended his left arm. The eight red trigrams from the current ritual obediently rose into view. But then more trigrams began to emerge from deeper within his skin.

These were sealed by the Underworld, dull black and lifeless, completely unlike the crimson ones.

They emerged in the hundreds, densely covering every inch of Fang Xiu’s body.

…From afar, the countless trigrams looked like strange, sinister markings. And the Fang Xiu, who bore them, resembled an entirely unknown kind of evil spirit.

“This is the one hundred and eighth time we’ve met, A’Shou Jie,” Fang Xiu said with a smile. “This is my one hundred and eighth ritual.”

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The author has something to say:

The reason why the tabby cat is a tabby cat… (.

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Kinky Thoughts:

One thing that Nian Zhong has gotten better at over each novel is the cohesion of everything coming together at the end (not that she was ever bad at it in the first place. Stray has one of the best connecting plot points and it was her first.).

But this… This one gives me chills (in all the best ways).

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