After Being Forced into Marriage with My Paranoid Dead Husband - Chapter 7

The Qing residence was vast; a three-courtyard estate that had been expanded with numerous smaller courtyards built right within its grounds.

Qing Ling lived in the rear western courtyard, flanked to the north by the rear annex rooms, to the east by the servants’ side rooms, and only further ahead lay the living quarters of the other masters of the Qing household.

Having figured out a bit of the layout today, Qing Ling realized that Qing Congnan truly did not care much for him as a son, leading to the logical deduction that fetching him out of Dragon-Slaying Mountain was done for a distinct profit in short, with ill intentions.

Another question arose.

What were they plotting after?

Plotting,

Lost in thought, Qing Ling raised his eyes and locked gazes with a pair of pitch-black, ink-like eyes.

“You!” Qing Ling turned pale, catching his breath as he finally snapped, unable to endure it any longer, “Can you make some sort of noise before you show up next time?”

Changheng, dressed in inky-black grave-shrouds, stood opposite him, resting both hands on the table as he quietly stared at him. Upon hearing this, he tilted his head slightly, a bewildered smile surfacing on his face as he reached out and snapped his fingers.

Immediately afterwards, the tables, chairs, window lattices, and even the bronze mirror inside the room began to vibrate, clattering against one another to produce a cacophony of ringing sounds.

Qing Ling: “…”

With a blank expression, Qing Ling said, “Never mind, forget it.”

The room instantly quieted down.

Changheng’s actions upon manifesting this time were far more humanlike. He seemed to be rapidly reverting to his living self, the previously churning hostility and resentment in his eyes subdued by a large margin. It wasn’t the first time Qing Ling had laid eyes on this face, but every single time, he couldn’t help feeling that this fierce ghost possessed truly exceptional features.

Broad shoulders and long legs, sword-like brows and starry eyes, with a refined bone structure.

He was still very young when he died. Judging by the regulations of the burial garments he wore, he didn’t resemble someone from an ordinary wealthy family, but rather looked more like a marquis or a prince. Yet who on earth could have been buried beneath the sunless depths of Dragon-Slaying Mountain?

Changheng, Changheng this was his name.

“Will someone die today as well?” Qing Ling asked.

Changheng sat to the side as naturally as a living person. In life, he must have been a man of strict upbringing and decorum; as he sat, his spine remained as straight as a pine. Hearing Qing Ling’s question, a bizarre smile welled up in his expression, blending an eerie evilness into his otherwise handsome face.

“Who do you think will die?” Changheng countered.

So someone was indeed going to die tonight.

Without answering, Qing Ling asked instead, “Did you kill those people?”

After all, Changheng had consistently harbored an inexplicable hostility toward the Qing family. Especially during those past few days when he was as ferocious as a mountain beast, Qing Ling had more than once thought he was going to be killed on the couch in some utterly humiliating manner.

With such deep resentment, and knowing about the ancient tomb beneath Dragon-Slaying Mountain, could the Qing family have dug up this person’s grave? Or perhaps stolen something from inside that shouldn’t have been touched?

“No.” Changheng smiled once more, brimming with malice. “Want to know how she died?”

A flicker stirred within Qing Ling’s heart.

He was never going to get the truth about the Qing family’s shady dealings out of them directly, and Changheng certainly had no intention of telling him. Using Qing Yuxiu’s death as a starting point to investigate might actually prove to be a viable path. Furthermore, Qing Ling vaguely sensed that while he and the Qing clan weren’t particularly close, from Changheng’s perspective, he still carried the surname Qing, placing him squarely on Changheng’s list of objects of loathing.

When it concerned his own life, he could not afford a single ounce of carelessness.

“I do,” Qing Ling answered quite candidly.

“Wait, then.” Changheng tilted his head, gazing out through the propped-open window as if waiting for a good show to begin. “Wait for nightfall.”

Qing Ling remained silent.

At a certain fleeting moment, he caught something other than mere hostility in the fierce ghost’s eyes—resembling the mountain peaks half-veiled by misty clouds on an early spring morning at Dragon-Slaying Mountain, standing tall amidst the passage of time, desolate, ancient, and eternal. Those were things Qing Ling had never witnessed nor could truly comprehend.

After all, for the past eighteen years, he had lived solely within his own tiny, confined world.

Ever since she returned to her courtyard, Shen Qiuxin had the lingering sensation that someone was staring at her.

Perhaps she was simply overthinking things, but she could distinctly feel it someone was watching her, every second of every minute. That gaze was cold and vicious, seemingly laden with monstrous resentment, making one’s hair stand on end.

What was most terrifying was that she fundamentally could not figure out where that gaze was coming from.

The corpse of her tragically slain daughter was laid out in her own private chambers, temporarily serving as a mourning hall. Having been pampered and spoiled since childhood, the deceased eldest young miss of the Qing household had received almost no preparations for her mourning hall; it was exceptionally crude.

Ever since Qing Ling was fetched back, the concubine-born son hadn’t made a single ripple, but her own pair of children had been intensely dissatisfied. Just yesterday, Shen Qiuxin had been discussing with her daughter how to drive away that ominous, cursed wretch; who would have anticipated that today her daughter had already become a chilling corpse, dying by… that exact sort of method.

She didn’t even possess the courage to go take a look at her daughter, forced to cower inside her own room. Despite it being a bright, sunny day, Shen Qiuxin still felt bone-chillingly cold, as though surrounded by an inescapable, infiltrating chill, while every single object in the room appeared bizarre and unreal when caught in her line of sight.

This was a very strange sensation.

People are perpetually prone to association; when gazing into a mirror or at a teacup, would the reflection staring back really be one’s own face? Or what exactly might be hidden inside a cabinet box now? Upon pulling open the wardrobe, would one be greeted by blood-soaked internal organs and raw flesh?

Right now, whatever Shen Qiuxin looked at seemed capable of leaping out with something terrifying perhaps mutilated, incomplete limbs, or a ferocious, grimacing ghost face.

“Madam.”

A voice called out from outside the door.

To Shen Qiuxin’s ears, however, it sounded like a resentful, low wail, startling her into a shrill shriek: “Ah!!”

Jumping up in a panicked rush, Shen Qiuxin knocked over and shattered an entire set of tea wares, even sending her stool crashing down behind her as she stumbled backward several paces in sheer panic, her face deathly pale and drenched in cold sweat.

“Y-you…” Shen Qiuxin stuttered through multiple attempts before finally managing to ask, “Who are you?”

The maid outside was also startled, pushing the door open to reveal Cuijin, the personal maid who had accompanied Shen Qiuxin into marriage from her maiden family.

“Madam, what is wrong with you? This servant is Cuijin,” Cuijin stepped forward with a worried expression.

Only then did Shen Qiuxin recognize who it was. Letting out a breath of relief, she used a handkerchief to wipe away her cold sweat and said weakly, “Cuijin… I feel as though someone is watching me. Did you sense it? In our courtyard… it feels like there is an invisible person here.”

“Madam, please do not overthink things,” Cuijin comforted her. “This servant came precisely to inform you that someone has arrived at the front courtyard claiming to be able to exorcise ghosts and subdue spirits. Would you like to go take a look? She came seeking us out on her own accord, and the Master has already welcomed her into the front hall.”

Shen Qiuxin’s eyes lit up, and she nodded repeatedly. “Right, right, right! If we can’t deal with that wretch, we’ll find a master! It must be some unclean thing that wretch brought back with him. Come, let us hurry over and see!”

.

Entering through the main gate and passing the front courtyard brought one to the guest reception hall. The master whom Qing Congnan had welcomed through the doors was currently seated in a chair, leisurely sipping tea.

It was a young maiden dressed in the attire of a pugilist wanderer, wearing purple garments, her hair simply secured with a single hairpin, and a coiled long whip tucked at her waist. She possessed fair and delicate, pretty features.

“Lady Zhu, you have had your tea; please take your leave.” Although courteous, Qing Congnan was far from warm, practically issuing an eviction notice.

Offering a cup of tea was a gesture of non-offense; inviting someone out was a warning not to meddle in other people’s affairs.

Yet the moment his voice fell, he was interrupted by Shen Qiuxin rushing over: “Wait! Wait!”

The young maiden’s gaze locked onto Shen Qiuxin, who clearly registered the realization that this was the master invited into the estate. Just as she wanted to step forward, the maiden had already put down her teacup and stood up.

“I merely came in to take a look,” the maiden said with a curved-brow smile. “This estate of yours is overflowing with malevolence, and as for this Madam here—your jialing palace between your brows is darkened with black qi, and your nose displays slanted lines that are fine, sharp, and blood-red in hue. Before today is out, you are bound to face a fatal disaster, entangled in the threads of karma with the aggrieved party coming right to your door to collect their debt. In my view, this calamity facing your entire family is completely inescapable. As for me, I see no reason to waste my time farewell.”

“You…” Shen Qiuxin’s complexion turned even paler, and just as she tried to detain her, the maiden had already briskly walked away.

“Master.” Shen Qiuxin turned her gaze to Qing Congnan. “Master, that wretched spawn has only just returned, and she shows up immediately. We might as well send him away, or simply nip the trouble in the bud… Didn’t you all say back then that she wouldn’t amount to anything?!”

Qing Congnan remained silent, his expression slowly darkening as he shook his head.

“Even if she has returned, Qing Ling cannot be touched,” Qing Congnan stared deeply at Shen Qiuxin. “Having schemed for so many years, only when that entity accepts Qing Ling as an offering, and provided Qing Ling remains alive, will the Qing clan have a way out. If we can prompt the one following Qing Ling to intervene, this matter might yet be resolved; and failing that, there is still… Tomorrow is the ancestor worship ceremony; have Wenze make proper preparations.”

Shen Qiuxin hurriedly said, “But Master, Xiuer has already met with disaster! And that young woman just now said that before today is out I am bound to face a fatal disaster what are we to do?”

Qing Congnan comforted her, “She is merely a young girl who likely picked up idle gossip somewhere and came trying to profit off us. Living humans possess radiant yang fire that repels ghosts and evil; Xiuer was only vulnerable because she was physically weak since childhood why else did no one else in the estate have any issues? If those evil entities truly possessed that kind of capability, our entire family would have perished last night!”

Thinking it made sense, Shen Qiuxin was indeed pacified, though the vague, lingering sense of being watched never truly dissipated.