After Ghost Marriage with My Arch-Rival - Chapter 2

The third day of the third lunar month—the Ghost Festival. A day of great misfortune.

Liu Xiangyi was getting married.

To a ghost.

On the night of the ceremony, a sinister wind howled, sounding like the collective wails of a thousand vengeful spirits sobbing in the dead of night.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Gust after icy gust battered the glass panes, sounding as if a thousand hands were scrambling to break into the room.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The pounding grew more frantic, louder by the second. Liu Xiangyi’s left eyelid began to twitch uncontrollably.

Was a twitching left eye for wealth or for disaster? He couldn’t remember.

Before he could figure it out, a final BANG sent the window flying open. A blast of frigid air rushed in. Liu Xiangyi squinted against the wind, and when he opened his eyes again, he witnessed a truly bizarre sight.

The white funeral banners and the “Ji” (Libation/Offering) character hanging in the center of the hall remained perfectly still. The wreaths on the floor didn’t budge an inch.

However, the red “Double Happiness” stickers on the windows and the red carpet leading from the entrance were all sucked out of the room by the wind. Even the pair of ceremonial wedding candles on the altar were snuffed out in an instant.

The funeral hall was plunged into pitch-black darkness.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

That’s just uncalled for.

Did this wind have eyes? It had specifically targeted and blown away every single item he’d prepared for the wedding!

But it didn’t matter. It was just a formality. He could complete this marriage without the “Happiness” stickers.

Liu Xiangyi shut the window tight and flicked his lighter to relight the wedding candles. The eerie red glow flickered back to life, casting a slanted light across the portrait on the altar.

The young man in the photo had narrow, elegant phoenix eyes. The slight upturn at the corners of his eyes gave him a casual, lingering air of arrogance that felt entirely out of place in a somber funeral portrait.

Zhong Qinhuai had been dead for seven days. Today was his First Seven—the night his soul was supposed to return.

Even now, Liu Xiangyi couldn’t describe how he felt. It was too complicated. His heart felt like it had been shredded by a typhoon. But for a rival, seven days of mourning was respectful enough; any more would be overstepping.

Liu Xiangyi composed himself. He lowered his gaze from the portrait to the smartphone resting on the altar.

The day after Zhong Qinhuai died, Liu Xiangyi had received a call from the police station: “Your number was the only one saved in the deceased’s phone. Come pick it up.”

He had planned to just keep it in storage, but his second brother—a practicing Taoist priest told him that for the ghost marriage to work, he had to burn something of his own along with an item of the deceased.

Below the altar, a brazier filled with charcoal crackled and glowed.

Liu Xiangyi took a pair of scissors and snipped a small lock of his hair, placed it in a small transparent bag, and set it next to the phone.

With the preparations complete, he looked at the funeral portrait and let his lips curl into a smirk.

“President Zhong, you spent your whole life making things difficult for me. Surely helping me out with this small favor after you’re dead isn’t too much to ask?”

He paused, then let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Forget it. It’s a waste of breath to ask. Nobody asks the ghost if they’re willing during a ghost marriage anyway. The living make the rules; the dead just have to take it.”

The moment the words left his mouth, his own phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket: an unknown number. He answered without thinking.

The next second, a lazy, familiar voice drifted through the line.

“President Liu, deciding on a ghost marriage behind my back, isn’t that a bit impolite?”

Liu Xiangyi froze.

That sarcastic tone, that drawling cadence—it was definitely Zhong Qinhuai.

But the guy was dead!

With today’s technology, faking this would be easy. AI voice synthesis could fool anyone. He just didn’t know where this scammer had gotten enough of Zhong Qinhuai’s voice samples.

Liu Xiangyi’s eyes darkened. When he was angry, he tended to smile, but his grin was now thick with mockery.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never been a believer in the supernatural. Playing ‘ghost’ in front of me isn’t going to work.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a chuckle.

“Since President Liu believes in science so much, you’d better hold onto your phone tightly.”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Suddenly, a faint sound erupted inside the hall. It sounded like a mouse trapped inside a bag of chips, gnawing its way out bit by bit.

Skritch, skritch.

The sound was jarring in the silence. It was so clear that the hair on Liu Xiangyi’s arms stood on end. He scanned the room. Aside from the small pool of light near the altar candles, the hall was a void of shadows.

The scratching continued. Where was it coming from?

He searched the room until he came to a sudden halt. The sound, it felt like it was right next to him.

In fact, it was coming from the phone he was clutching in his hand!

His blood ran cold. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and looked down.

The phone screen was being torn open from the inside. Something was trying to crawl out.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

I need to drop this thing now!

Just as he moved to throw it, a loud CRACK echoed—the screen had completely shattered.

The next instant, his wrist was seized in a tight grip!

Liu Xiangyi’s entire body went rigid.

So cold.

It felt like a snake had coiled around his wrist—one that had just crawled out of a swamp, leaving a trail of damp, freezing moisture. The sensation was oily, frigid, and utterly wrong.

Liu Xiangyi didn’t dare move. Not an inch. After several seconds, he forced himself to look down.

To his horror, he saw a hand.

It was pale and slender, with faint, ghostly blue veins visible beneath the skin. It was as delicate and beautiful as fine porcelain.

But this hand was reaching out from the screen of his phone. That was terrifying. What was even more terrifying was that Liu Xiangyi had secretly admired this very hand more than once.

He knew it better than anyone. This was Zhong Qinhuai’s hand.

Liu Xiangyi’s hand began to shake.

As if sensing his fear, the hand gripping him suddenly dissolved into a plume of black mist and vanished back into the phone.

Then, a chuckle drifted out of the speakers.

“If President Liu still doesn’t believe it, would you like me to perform something even less scientific for you?”

Liu Xiangyi finally snapped. “Aren’t you dead?”

I’m the one who buried him! I organized the funeral! I even picked the portrait! He’s as dead as it gets!

“So, is President Liu scared?” The voice in the phone turned teasing. “Does this mean you’re prepared to lose to me in a contest of courage?”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Unbelievable! Had they really reached this level of “involution”? Was this guy really trying to out-compete him even from the grave?

The voice continued leisurely. “Ah, I forgot. I already won our race at the cliff. So, in terms of guts, you’ve already lost.”

You did win. But you also died.

Thinking back to that race still made Liu Xiangyi’s heart race with lingering fear. That kid was a lunatic! And Liu Xiangyi felt like he was about to join him in lunacy.

He reached up and pinched his own cheek. Hard. It hurt.

Not a hallucination?

He was doomed. The 24 years he had spent as a firm materialist were currently being blown away by that same sinister wind.

Liu Xiangyi closed his eyes, forcing his chaotic thoughts down. Ghost or not, I’m getting married tonight!

When he opened his eyes, he was calm again. He didn’t waste another word. He tossed his own phone aside, grabbed Zhong Qinhuai’s phone and the lock of hair, and hurled them into the brazier!

The phone tumbled toward the coals.

But just as the flames were about to lick the casing, the phone stopped mid-air. It was as if someone had hit a pause button. Then, it floated away from the fire.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Without a word, he lunged for it, but the phone seemed to have eyes. It dodged his grasp and drifted toward the balcony of the hall.

“What’s wrong, President Zhong? Too chicken to marry me?” Liu Xiangyi smiled as he stalked toward the phone. “Since you mentioned ‘guts’ earlier.”

He was close now—barely a meter away. The phone drifted out a bit further, hovering just past the balcony railing. Liu Xiangyi calculated the distance; if he reached out, he could grab it.

He took another step forward. “Does this mean you’re the one losing the contest of courage?”

Now!

Without waiting for an answer, Liu Xiangyi lunged and snatched the phone out of the air.

Got it!

But before he could celebrate, a sickening CRACK rang out. The balcony railing had snapped.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

It was only then that the realization hit him. In his frantic attempt to snatch the phone, he had shifted his entire weight onto the balcony railing.

The second the railing snapped, he went over the edge.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

The funeral hall was on the 24th floor of the skyscraper!

The wind shrieked in his ears as he felt his body plummet through the air. In the chaos of the fall, his grip loosened, and the phone he had just managed to grab slipped away, falling into the void alongside him.

It’s over.

Not only was he failing to complete the ghost marriage tonight, but he was also going to die right here. A cold dread spread from the pit of his stomach, and Liu Xiangyi instinctively squeezed his eyes shut.

A moment later, the falling sensation abruptly stopped. The roar of the wind vanished.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

It was cold. So cold that he snapped his eyes open, only to find himself cradled in someone’s arms. He looked up and found himself staring into a pair of narrow phoenix eyes.

The corners of those eyes quirked upward. “So, President Liu wants to challenge me to a contest of guts?”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

He immediately had a very bad feeling. The next second, the hands around his waist let go.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

This lunatic! Liu Xiangyi cursed inwardly as he began to fall again.

A few seconds later—SPLASH.

Water erupted everywhere as Liu Xiangyi crashed into the skyscraper’s ground-floor swimming pool.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

His heart, which had been lodged in his throat, finally settled back into his chest. Thank god. The height hadn’t been enough to kill him on impact.

He broke the surface, gasping for air, and immediately spotted Zhong Qinhuai. The ghost was standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at him from his superior vantage point.

His appearance hadn’t changed much since he was alive, though his skin looked significantly paler. He was already “cold-white” to begin with, but bathed in the moonlight, he looked like a statue carved from white marble by a master artist.

The 24-story building behind him cast a massive, looming shadow, framing him like a spectral phantom. He radiated a chilling, eerie energy.

Only now did the reality of the situation truly sink in: This kid really has become a ghost.

But his birth chart was a perfect match. Even if he was a ghost, Liu Xiangyi would just have to grit his teeth and push through with the wedding!

A sharp glint flashed in Liu Xiangyi’s eyes. He swam toward the edge of the pool, rested his arms on the tiles, and looked up at Zhong Qinhuai with a provocative smile.

“President Zhong has tested my courage. Now, what about yours? Do you have the guts to enter a ghost marriage with me?”

He noticed a subtle, momentary shift in Zhong Qinhuai’s expression.

“Is President Zhong afraid?” Liu Xiangyi pressed his advantage. “I might not have won the race at the cliff last time, but that doesn’t mean I lost. Everyone is afraid of something. For instance, I’m afraid of dying. And you, are you afraid of being married to me?”

He began the countdown in his head again.

Three.

Two.

Before he reached “one,” he was satisfied to hear Zhong Qinhuai speak.

“What was it that President Liu said during that magazine interview again? You said you were ‘career-oriented’ and had no plans to date or marry.”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

As if anticipating Liu Xiangyi’s “selective memory,” Zhong Qinhuai sat down on a poolside lounge chair and added lazily, “March 24, 2018. At 8:23 PM and 15 seconds. That was the exact moment the media interview started.”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

2018? That was years ago!

Zhong Qinhuai looked quite smug about it. “It seems that in the department of memory, President Liu has lost to me once again.”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

“So,” Zhong Qinhuai’s tone was airy, but his sharp phoenix eyes were locked onto Liu Xiangyi. “What is your goal in suddenly wanting to marry me—a dead man?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Because a Taoist priest told me I won’t live past 25 otherwise, and you happen to be my cosmic birthday twin. The truth sounded absolutely ridiculous out loud.

Seeing Liu Xiangyi’s silence, Zhong Qinhuai seemed convinced he had guessed correctly. A slight curve touched his lips. “President Liu, when it comes to knowing one’s opponent, you’ve lost yet again.”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

That insufferable, smug tone!

Liu Xiangyi pushed himself up and vaulted out of the pool with practiced grace. Now, it was his turn to look down at Zhong Qinhuai.

“If you know me so well, President Zhong, then you should know that there is nothing Liu Xiangyi wants that he doesn’t get.”

Their eyes met, and for a few seconds, the silent night felt like it was exploding with a wordless, high-stakes battle. After a moment, Zhong Qinhuai’s lips curled into a slow smile as he held up a phone.

Liu Xiangyi’s heart sank. It was Zhong Qinhuai’s phone, the one he had dropped during the fall.

Zhong Qinhuai waved the device. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Without this, how do you plan to marry me?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Liu Xiangyi said with a thin, threatening smile. “Just try to be a well-behaved ghost.”

Zhong Qinhuai let out an unreadable chuckle. “I’ve heard of ghosts haunting humans, but never a human trying to intimidate a ghost. President Liu, aren’t you being a bit disrespectful to the deceased?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Business first.

Liu Xiangyi stopped the bickering and turned to leave. He dripped his way back to the funeral hall, where the charcoal in the brazier was still glowing.

He opened his left hand. Resting in his palm was a lollipop.

That brat had loved these things since they were kids; his pockets were always stuffed with them. Apparently, he hadn’t outgrown the habit in adulthood. While he was being held by Zhong Qinhuai earlier, Liu Xiangyi had stealthily swiped one from his pocket.

Liu Xiangyi twirled the candy, his dark brows arching. This was his proof, evidence that he knew his rival just as well.

He placed the lollipop next to the lock of his own hair. He hesitated for a heartbeat. He had thought the ghost marriage was just a harmless ritual to appease his grandmother. But after seeing a ghost hand crawl out of a phone and seeing the “man” himself, he wondered: Is this marriage going to be legally binding in the afterlife?

He called his second brother, the Taoist priest, and recounted the night’s events. Liu Yanchi’s response was boisterous: “After the ceremony, the two of you are officially bound. He’ll be at your beck and call!”

There’s an upside like that?

Then he was definitely going to put that ghost to work!

Without another word, Liu Xiangyi tossed both items into the fire.