After Being Forced into Marriage with My Paranoid Dead Husband - Chapter 13

“Father, my mother and my younger sister.”

As soon as Qing Wenxu opened his mouth, Qing Congnan cut him off in a neither light nor heavy tone.

“Wenxu!” Qing Congnan gave him a deep, meaningful look. “Your younger brother has been wronged; as an elder brother, be more magnanimous. Besides, I am still the head of the Qing family.”

Though unconvinced, Qing Wenxu dared not say anything more. He responded in a reluctant manner, “This son understands.”

“Good.” Qing Congnan smiled, then turned to look at Qing Wenlin beside him. “Wenlin feels the same way, right?”

Qing Wenlin pressed his lips together. Naturally, he couldn’t say otherwise, so he merely nodded and said, “Father is right. Third Brother has spent many years away from home and I imagine he has suffered a great deal. It is indeed time to compensate him.”

This concubine-born second young master always knew how to make his words sound pleasant and appropriate.

Nodding in satisfaction, Qing Congnan stated, “Alright, let’s go inside.”

Qing Ling glanced at Shang Zhangheng, who was swaggering along right beside him. Eagerness was practically written all over the ghost’s face; he looked genuinely thrilled about whatever was buried beneath the ancestral hall.

Though he had no idea what the Qing family was plotting, Qing Ling figured that with Shang Zhangheng around, their plans were bound to end up like fetching water with a bamboo basket, completely empty.

Unrushed, Shang Zhangheng followed Qing Ling into the main hall in a casual, unbothered manner.

Rows upon rows of spirit tablets were placed inside the hall. Qing Congnan stepped forward personally to light the oil lamps on the altar table. As the sacrificial offerings were carried into the hall one crate at a time, seven crates in total, each roughly the size capable of holding a sheep, with their edges meticulously sealed using wax, it remained impossible to tell what was inside.

Without opening any of the crates, they were simply stacked in front of the kneeling mats before the servants withdrew in succession.

Finding nothing unusual about it, the members of the Qing family knelt and offered incense in an orderly fashion: first the elders, then the juniors, and finally it was Qing Ling’s turn. After Qing Ling finished kneeling and offering incense, Qing Congnan spoke in a loud voice: “Qing Ling, a son of the Qing family, has returned today to the main residence, his name entered into the ancestral genealogy. With this incense offering, we inform and pray to our predecessors and ancestors to shelter their descendants. Present the genealogy book.”

Expressionless, Qing Wenxu presented the tray bearing the genealogy book, brush, and inkstone.

Watching his name being inscribed beneath Madam Qing-Shen, Qing Ling noted that only the primary mistress of the household was qualified to enter the genealogy, and even then, she bore only her husband’s surname without a personal given name. Meanwhile, Qing Wenlin’s name was entered directly beneath Qing Congnan’s, with no mention whatsoever of his birth mother.

After putting away the genealogy book, Qing Congnan began chanting the sacrificial text.

“In the Xinyou year, midsummer in the month of Ruibin. Receiving the grace and favor of our ancestors.”

It was nothing more than words of praise and remembrance. Qing Ling didn’t pay much attention, his gaze sweeping casually over the stacked wooden crates. Although this was his first time attending an ancestor-worship ceremony, stacking the Qing family’s offerings without even opening the crates felt somewhat lacking in sincerity.

By the time Qing Congnan finished his long-winded, grandiose speech, Shang Zhangheng was already leaning against Qing Ling, idly and listlessly toying with the lock of hair resting against his chest.

Qing Congnan instructed, “Today we will temporarily stay at the ancestral hall, observe a day of vegetarian fasting, and return to the residence tomorrow. Everyone, go make your preparations.”

“I hope we can return to the residence safe and sound tomorrow,” Qing Unlike his brother, Qing Conglan was a refined-looking middle-aged man, quite unlike the plump Qing Congnan. However, his words were clearly rather unpleasant to hear.

His wife, Zhao Yun, standing beside him, swayed like a willow in the wind. Lowering her gaze, she said softly, “Master, let’s go.”

Qing Conglan’s gaze swept over Qing Ling, his brows furrowing in an expression resembling either disgust or wariness. With a cold snort, he led Zhao Yun toward the backyard.

“You should go as well,” Qing Congnan said, turning his head to look at Qing Ling. “Stay behind; your father has something to tell you.”

Once everyone else had departed, Qing Congnan abruptly revealed a fatigued expression and heaved a deep sigh.

“Qing Ling…” He paused with a hesitant, half-spoken expression, sighed deeply once more, and then said, “In previous years, we simply returned home immediately after paying respects at the ancestor-worship ceremony. The reason it is like this this year is entirely because the estate has not been peaceful. As you know, your elder sister… she too was killed by an evil spirit, and last night your mother and her dowry maid also met with a tragic end!”

Not only do I know, but I watched with my own eyes as Shen Qiuxin was murdered by a ghost, Qing Ling thought to himself.

“Staying here will make it safe?” Qing Ling asked.

Seeing that he remained completely unmoved, Qing Congnan choked for a moment before nodding. “That’s right. In the past, our Qing family’s ancestors also produced fangshi skilled in sorcery; it’s a pity that by now, none of the younger generation possess the talent to study sorcery. This ancestral hall has formations left behind by our ancestors to protect it, so I imagine, it should be able to fend them off to some extent.”

At this point, his tone shifted, and he smiled bitterly. “Yet this is no long-term solution either. I’m afraid only the one by your side can resolve this crisis.”

Qing Ling glanced at Shang Zhangheng, who was currently inspecting the “sacrificial offerings,” and replied thoughtfully, “I can try, but I need to know: what is going on with my fate and physical body? He told me that I have no yang fire.”

Using the evil spirit as a bargaining chip, Qing Ling noticed that Qing Congnan clearly hesitated, but ultimately nodded. “It was when your mother was in labor; she breathed her last before she even had a chance to give birth to you. At the time, we all thought it would be a double tragedy where both mother and child would perish, but… but none of us expected her to give birth posthumously after death. Your grandfather said back then that a posthumously born child is fated for absolute doom and lacks yang fire, which is why this marriage was arranged for you.”

Upon hearing this, Qing Ling remained silent for a long time. His expression didn’t shift much as he simply uttered a single sentence: “I understand.”

Hearing this, Shang Zhangheng turned his head back, catching the cold, dark undertone surging beneath the calm surface of the young man’s brows and eyes, much like a blazing flame burning beneath a layer of ice: though hidden, it scorched intensely.

When he returned to the world of the living, he hadn’t been entirely clear-headed, and had forcefully shared a bed with his young wife. In Shang Zhangheng’s view, this wasn’t much of a big deal; the youth was his wife to begin with, so taking him was only natural. But now, he increasingly found Qing Ling fascinating.

Although somewhat timid at heart, the youth was truly ruthless and clever.

Upon arriving in the backyard, Qing Ling looked back at the main house where the spirit tablets were placed, his gaze heavy and dark, resembling overcast clouds blocking the sun.

“Qing Ling.” Shang Zhangheng leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Did you forget something?”

Qing Ling withdrew his gaze. “What?”

The handsome young man possessed refined, delicate features. Even with his cold demeanor, he resembled snow-covered pine branches.

Shang Zhangheng genuinely liked this face; he looked naturally well-behaved, and even when displaying indifference, he resembled a fluffy little creature, so weak and small that getting angry only made him look utterly adorable.

“Back in the carriage,” Shang Zhangheng unhurriedly reminded him, “you were told to beg your husband to help you teach him a lesson. The task has been taken care of, but you still haven’t begged me yet.”

With a pair of ink-black eyes, Qing Ling stared quietly at him before spitting out a single line: “Even if I don’t beg you, you wouldn’t let the Qing family go anyway.”

The subtext was clear: even if I did beg you, you wouldn’t let me off either.

Qing Ling possessed a bit of backbone, though not an excessive amount. He really had begged Shang Zhangheng before, more than once, yet Shang Zhangheng had never let him off.

Without another word, Qing Ling turned on his heel and walked away, ignoring him entirely.

Left standing in place, Shang Zhangheng curled his fingers to stroke his chin, letting out a silent chuckle.

This little thing, being too smart wasn’t always a good thing either.