After Being Forced into Marriage with My Paranoid Dead Husband - Chapter 8

After nightfall, the entire Qing residence appeared ghostly and ominous, with lamplight utterly failing to dispel the bizarre atmosphere.

Having newly arrived, Qing Ling possessed little silver and had only two maidservants to attend to him. Within the estate, he could be described as completely blind and deaf to outside news. Fortunately, Changheng proved to be as good as his word: the moment the fading sunset was swallowed by the encroaching night, the fierce ghost materialized, dressed in his shroud-like grave vestments.

Qing Ling knew that an exorcist maiden had arrived earlier in the day, openly declaring that the Qing clan was suffering retribution and that the primary mistress would not survive the day. Yet as for Qing Yuxiu’s actual cause of death, it remained entirely impossible to pry out; the servants all clamped their mouths shut on the matter, presumably because Qing Congnan had issued a strict gag order.

“Are we heading out now?” Qing Ling asked.

Aside from the initial days when this fierce ghost loved to frighten people and stubbornly insisted on dragging him into bed, Changheng’s attitude wasn’t overly malicious. Hearing the question, he merely nodded. “Let’s go.”

Changheng walked straight through doors, but Qing Ling had to dutifully open and close them himself. Yet by the time he stepped out of his courtyard, the two maidservants within it acted as though they couldn’t see him at all, each busy with their own tasks.

Qing Ling surmised this was the handiwork of the fierce ghost.

Qing Yuxiu was scheduled to be hastily buried tomorrow, but today the Qing residence was still bustling with preparations for the ancestral worship at the clan shrine it seemed the eldest young miss’s funeral took far less priority than ancestor worship. Even after nightfall, servants hurried back and forth on errands, yet not a single person crossing paths with Qing Ling noticed his existence.

Accompanied by Changheng, he crossed the courtyards toward the primary quarters in the front. Naturally, the master and mistress of the primary branch resided together, though at the moment only Shen Qiuxin and her personal companion maid were present.

Emboldened by the fact that no one could see them, Qing Ling followed Changheng openly into the courtyard, where he heard Shen Qiuxin’s visibly panicked voice from inside the room: “Cuijin, go! Go look outside again! Someone is watching me—there is definitely someone watching me!”

Standing right there in the courtyard, Qing Ling watched as the maidservant he had seen earlier pushed the door open, peered outside, and then returned with a helpless sigh.

“Madam, please do not overthink things. This servant checked—there is absolutely no one outside.”

“No… no, Cuijin, there really is. Believe me, she has returned! She must have returned! That wretch brought her back!”

Qing Ling glanced at Changheng from where he stood in the courtyard.

The only thing he had brought back was this evil entity, yet Changheng had already stated that Qing Yuxiu was not killed by him.

It wasn’t that Qing Ling placed blind trust in Changheng; rather, he possessed a relatively clear sense of self-awareness. First, Qing Ling genuinely feared death, which was why he would rather endure being violated by an evil entity than figure out a way to survive; second, snapping Qing Ling’s neck would be effortless for Changheng what reason did he have to lie to him?

Thus, he ultimately concluded that Changheng had zero need to deceive someone he could manipulate at will.

Furthermore, Qing Ling didn’t care much for these people of the Qing clan anyway; whether they lived or died had nothing to do with him.

He had originally intended to investigate Qing Yuxiu’s corpse, but he hadn’t expected Changheng to bring him directly to Shen Qiuxin. The implication was self-evident: the person slated to die tonight was none other than her, and Qing Ling would get to witness the entire spectacle firsthand.

Changheng strode forward once more.

And yanked open the door.

A startled shriek burst from Shen Qiuxin inside the room, accompanied by Cuijin’s frantic, soothing words. Without changing expression, Changheng turned back to Qing Ling and remarked, “Let’s go.”

Counting on the fact that he was invisible, Qing Ling followed close behind Changheng into the room. Strangely enough, he didn’t bother closing the door behind them, yet the two women inside made no move to exit either. Upon taking in the scene within the room, the newly entered Qing Ling instantly stiffened, a strong urge to back right out rising within him.

Cuijin was supporting a trembling, unsteady Shen Qiuxin, turning in circles around a square table while the two of them muttered incessantly.

“Madam, do not be afraid. We’ll go find the Master; with so many people in the estate, we will be safe.”

“Right, right… let’s hurry, let’s go.”

Their behavior was already exceedingly bizarre, but what broke Qing Ling out in a full sweat of panic was a shadow on the floor a somewhat translucent figure, lying completely naked on the ground with its exposed limbs contorted into unnatural, cruel angles. Over half of its skin was missing, exposing raw, blood-red flesh, while its matted, ink-black hair hung in damp disarray.

Qing Ling stood frozen right at the doorway. Seeming to sense their gaze, that heap of remains on the floor slowly lifted its head, revealing a pale, delicate face with turbid eyes that appeared numb, vacant, and horrifying.

Qing Ling recognized that expression as the look in a person’s eyes after death; he had witnessed it once before, right when Steward Yu Bo passed away.

It hoisted itself up using those broken, twisted, blood-drenched legs in a thoroughly grotesque posture. Only then did Qing Ling notice that its blood-smeared abdomen had been slashed wide open, with internal organs dangling against its torso. If this was its appearance at the moment of death, it must have perished in utterly agonizing misery.

Qing Ling simply could not summon any spare fragments of pity; he was consumed entirely by terror, for those hollow, unfocused eyes seemed to be drifting toward him.

Suddenly, a figure stepped forward, completely blocking Qing Ling’s line of sight.

Changheng placed himself squarely in front of Qing Ling, his expression unfriendly as he stated coldly, “This is not something you are permitted to covet.”

“H-he…” The female ghost forced out dry, reluctant syllables. “He is… mine…”

Instantly, Changheng resembled an enraged wolf king whose territory had been encroached upon and challenged. Ominous black mist abruptly billowed around his frame, his tall, straight figure standing firmly as a barrier before Qing Ling as he sneered with bone-chilling hostility, “Ignorant creature courting death.”

Changheng’s murderous aura far surpassed that of the female ghost; the chilling, substantive black fog writhed and stretched outward menacingly.

Though somewhat sluggish in reaction, the female ghost still possessed the primal instinct to seek fortune and avoid disaster. Shrinking back in a mix of reluctance and terror, she finally resumed her previous posture, slumping back down onto the floor in a half-dead heap.

Shen Qiuxin and her maid were still spinning in circles around the table, occasionally exchanging frantic remarks, completely oblivious to the events that had just transpired inside the room.

Hiding behind Changheng, Qing Ling fought off his tremors and rasped out in a low voice, “Thank you.”

No matter what atrocities this fierce ghost had committed against him, this protection was entirely genuine.

Changheng paused as well. The swirling black mist dissipated completely, and he turned around to look at Qing Ling, whose face was drained of all color in sheer terror.

This was his legally wedded, bound wife. His instinct was to kill him, to drag him away with him.

Qing Ling sensed a momentary complexity in Changheng’s gaze as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he simply lowered his eyelids and stated indifferently, “That half-baked father of yours didn’t lie about one thing: your mortal shell and soul are naturally born to serve as the Supreme Medicine.”

The Supreme Medicine.

Qing Ling remained silent.

Ever since this fierce ghost had entangled him, Qing Ling had realized he seemed exceptionally favored by various malevolent entities. Though he didn’t know precisely what a “Supreme Medicine” entailed, he could easily deduce it meant a supreme tonic that caused ghosts and evil spirits to flock to him like moths to a flame.

“So…” Recalling tales from strange anomaly volumes about evil spirits feeding on the vital essence of living mortals, Qing Ling raised his eyes to study Changheng. “Is the reason you insisted on doing… that with me also because I am the Supreme Medicine?”

Changheng’s expression remained unchanged. After a brief silence, the corners of his lips curved upward with playful amusement.

“Consider it that way.”