After Ghost Marriage with My Arch-Rival - Chapter 3

The next morning, Liu Xiangyi woke to find something new on his wrist: a thin red thread. It was faint, shimmering in and out of sight, but it remained firmly looped around his skin.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Memories of the previous night in the funeral hall rushed back. So, the ghost marriage actually worked?

He scanned the room. The hall looked like any ordinary funeral setup, save for the shattered balcony railing—a stark reminder that last night hadn’t been a dream.

It was early. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, dancing across the shimmering surface of the pool below. This hall wasn’t in a funeral home; it was located on the top floor of the Liu Corporation headquarters—the 24th floor.

Before last night, this had been the CEO’s office.

His second brother, Liu Yanchi, had claimed that the building sat on the best Feng Shui spot in all of Liu City. Because this was the 24th floor, Yanchi insisted the funeral hall be set here for the ghost marriage to take. The office included a private lounge where Liu Xiangyi usually slept when he worked late.

Last night was no exception. After a quick wash and a five-minute breakfast of bread from his lounge stash, it was exactly 9:00 AM. The employees began trickling into the building for the workday.

Liu Xiangyi squeezed in a morning briefing. He had a contract signing scheduled for 10:00 AM, but a glance at his watch showed 10:01 AM.

He wouldn’t wait.

He stepped out of the conference room and took the elevator to the lobby. As the doors opened, a middle-aged man came charging through the entrance.

“I’m so sorry, President Liu! I’m late!”

The man jogged toward him but was promptly intercepted by security. He struggled against the guards, shouting toward Liu Xiangyi, “President Liu! Signing will only take a few minutes! Give me just a few minutes of your time!”

Liu Xiangyi stopped. He turned and offered a polite, practiced smile.

The man’s eyes lit up with hope until Liu Xiangyi spoke. “I’m sorry. My time is precious. You can’t afford it.”

With that, he turned and continued toward the exit.

Perhaps it was the politeness of the smile that made the man—a certain CEO Zhang think there was still a chance. He dropped to his knees, wailing at Liu Xiangyi’s retreating back. “President Liu! This contract is vital to my company! I have elders and children to support!”

Liu Xiangyi didn’t even look back. His posture was straight, his pace crisp. He left without a hint of hesitation.

CEO Zhang snapped. He scrambled to his feet and began screaming at Liu Xiangyi’s shadow. “Who the hell do you think you are? So what if you’re rich? You’re nothing but a short-lived ghost anyway!”

The employees passing through the lobby stiffened, their expressions turning awkward. They all knew the rumor.

It was said the Liu family was cursed. No matter how much wealth they amassed enough to have the city renamed “Liu City”—not a single descendant could live past the age of twenty-five. This top-tier wealthy family was a “Tragic Dynasty,” sitting on a mountain of gold they had no time to enjoy.

CEO Zhang’s bitterness found balance in this thought. He shouted louder for the crowd to hear, “No wonder he’s in such a rush! He’s only got a few years left to live!”

The voice carried so far that even the secretary could still hear it as they reached the car. He looked back nervously before catching up to Liu Xiangyi. “President Liu, that man is unreasonable! To be late for such a major signing and then blame us? Should I have security ban him from the premises?”

“No need.” Liu Xiangyi raised a hand, cutting him off. “People like him aren’t worth my time.”

He didn’t even slow his pace. CEO Zhang was right about one thing: he was in a hurry. Every minute was a resource he couldn’t afford to waste. Even as his secretary drove him toward the Qingfeng Temple, he spent the time reviewing company documents.

“President Liu, we’ve arrived at Qingfeng Temple.”

Qingfeng Temple was the most famous metaphysical landmark in Liu City, and it was where his second brother, Liu Yanchi, practiced as a Taoist priest.

Liu Xiangyi navigated the grounds with practiced ease. Just as he reached the alchemy lab, a muffled BANG erupted from within.

He pushed the door open to find a cauldron that had clearly exploded. The young man by the furnace had reacted quickly, leaping a safe distance away. Seeing Liu Xiangyi, he crouched down and began rummaging through the soot and shards, eventually fishing out several large, forest-green pills.

“Third Brother! You’ve come at the perfect time!” Liu Yanchi beckoned him over. “Your brother has spent forty-nine days of blood, sweat, and tears to finally refine these Longevity Pills!”

He held them out. “Try one! If you eat these every day, you might actually make it past twenty-five!”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

He glanced at the pills. They were square, and a truly unsettling shade of green.

“I’ll pass,” Liu Xiangyi said with a gentle smile. He sat in a nearby chair and raised his wrist to show Yanchi the red thread. “Does this mean the ghost marriage is officially done?”

Yanchi nodded. “It’s done!”

Liu Xiangyi breathed a sigh of relief. “So, can we live past twenty-five now?”

Yanchi shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Last night was just the first step. It bound the two of you so that the Yin and Yang energies between you can be exchanged. Master told me that our ancestors must have done something truly wicked to get us cursed. Our family is born with an ‘Extreme Yang’ constitution. Our bodies carry too much Yang energy; that’s why things go wrong.”

Liu Xiangyi thought of his grandfather. He had never met the man, but his grandmother said he suffered from insomnia just like him. One night at 4:00 AM, he had gone for a walk by the river, lost his footing, and drowned.

“You need to absorb the ghost’s Yin energy. If you can achieve a balance of Yin and Yang, the curse will be broken, and we’ll finally live past twenty-five.”

It sounded simple enough. But then came the million-dollar question.

Liu Xiangyi: “How do I ‘absorb’ Yin energy?”

Yanchi pointed a finger toward the TV. Aside from the furnace, the lab had a flat-screen TV for Yanchi to watch while he worked. Currently, a romance drama was playing, showing the lead couple locked in a passionate kiss.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

I have to do THAT with Zhong Qinhuai?

Liu Xiangyi’s gaze drifted back to the green pills in Yanchi’s hand. His brother’s bizarre alchemy was terrifying, but kissing Zhong Qinhuai was a horror of a different caliber.

Without another word, Liu Xiangyi snatched the green pills from Yanchi’s palm. “I’ll stick with your Longevity Pills. Maybe these will work instead.”

He made a move to swallow them all at once, but Yanchi frantically held him back.

“Third Brother! While my pills are a masterpiece of the metaphysical world, my cultivation is still shallow. I can’t guarantee they’ll work. But this ghost marriage is different!”

He snatched the pills back. “This marriage and the birth chart matching were handled by Master himself. His methods never fail.”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

The Master Yanchi spoke of was a legend in the field. The old priest had once said this ghost marriage was the only hope for the Liu family. Liu Xiangyi used to dismiss it as superstition, but after seeing Zhong Qinhuai’s ghost last night, he had to admit the world was weirder than he thought.

Yanchi lowered his voice. “Third Brother, our eldest brother turns twenty-five in three months. Which means.”

Liu Xiangyi’s expression darkened. According to the curse, their eldest brother had, at most, three months left to live. Just like their father, who died the day before his 25th birthday.

Liu Xiangyi’s eyes grew cold, then he raised his wrist, the red thread catching the light. He smiled. “Don’t worry, Second Brother. It’s just absorbing some Yin energy, right? I can get it done in a month.”

To anyone else, “handling” a ghost who happened to be your lifelong rival within a month sounded impossible. But Liu Xiangyi was a man of his word. In everything he did, his timing was as precise as a stopwatch.

Yanchi squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll keep refining my pills. We’ll attack from both sides—we’ll get Eldest Brother past twenty-five for sure!”

Liu Xiangyi glanced at the pills again. He had tried them before; they usually resulted in nosebleeds or feverish heat. They weren’t reliable.

He’d stick to absorbing Yin energy. It was, at the very least, safer than his brother’s cooking.

Which brought up a major problem: How could he absorb Yin energy without that brat noticing?

Liu Xiangyi pondered this while remaining a dedicated workaholic. It wasn’t until 10:00 PM, after a long meeting with a client, that he finally drove away from their office.

As his car rounded a secluded riverside road, he suddenly realized the steering wheel was no longer responding.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

He tried to wrench the wheel, but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how much strength he used. Thinking fast, he slammed on the brakes.

The brakes were dead.

He watched helplessly as the car, guided by an invisible force, drove straight toward the wide expanse of the river ahead.

With the water fast approaching, Liu Xiangyi decided to bail. He frantically mashed the button to lower the window, but the glass remained stubbornly shut.

I’ve truly met a ghost this time!

The car veered off the road. Just as Liu Xiangyi braced himself to sink into the river, the vehicle jerked to a violent halt.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

In the dead of the night by the riverbank, a terrifying scene unfolded: a yellow Bentley hung precariously over the edge. The front half of the car was suspended in mid-air above the surging dark currents. A gust of chilling wind blew past, making the car wobble.

He didn’t dare move. Not even a muscle.

Liu Xiangyi had the distinct, terrifying illusion that if he even tilted his head, the balance would shift and the car would plunge into the depths.

“Is President Liu satisfied with this choice of death?”

A ghostly voice drifted from behind.

The backseat!

Liu Xiangyi didn’t dare turn around for fear of tipping the car. He could only slowly look up and steal a glance through the rearview mirror.

The interior lights were off, revealing only a dark silhouette in the back. The figure had an elbow propped on the window ledge, chin resting in his palm. His dark sleeve had slid back, revealing a pale wrist.

There was something new on that wrist.

A red thread.

Exactly like his own.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

He felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt.

Zhong Qinhuai sat in the back, head tilted slightly, watching Liu Xiangyi with leisurely interest. “I’ve always been an understanding person. If President Liu doesn’t like the idea of drowning in a river, you’re free to pick a location more to your liking.”

Liu Xiangyi cleared his throat. This kid had clearly figured out that he’d been unilaterally married off last night.

Anger was a rational response. Liu Xiangyi understood that, but he was damned if he was going to show weakness in front of Zhong Qinhuai! He forced himself to stay calm.

“I know you can kill me whenever you want, President Zhong. But even the most powerful ghost isn’t omnipotent. Perhaps you have a use for me? For example, I could help you choose a burial site.”

Through the mirror, he saw Zhong Qinhuai let out a lazy chuckle. “That works out perfectly. While you’re at it, President Liu, why don’t you pick out a spot for yourself, too?”

The implication was clear: even after he was buried, he wasn’t letting Liu Xiangyi off the hook.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

But a delay was a delay.

The next day, following Zhong Qinhuai’s wishes, Liu Xiangyi drove to a place called Mist Mountain. He had looked it up beforehand; Mist Mountain was on the outskirts of Liu City, and at its base sat a village called Zhong Family Village.

When he found the village chief to discuss the burial, the old man’s face went pale at the mention of Zhong Qinhuai.

“Absolutely not! That boy’s Yin energy is too heavy. Burying him in Mist Mountain will bring bad luck. Who would dare go into the mountains to plant vegetables or dig for bamboo shoots after that?”

Liu Xiangyi offered a thin smile. “Name a price, Chief. How much for a spot on the mountain?”

The chief waved his hands frantically. “It’s not about the money! You don’t understand—that boy’s mother died in labor before he was even born! He crawled out of her on his own. The elders say he’s a ‘Ghost Child’.”

Liu Xiangyi’s smile didn’t waver. “Is one million enough?”

The chief’s gaze flickered with hesitation, but he pushed back. “No, a ‘Ghost Child’ is truly cursed. His grandmother died just a few years after raising him, and the aunt’s family who took him in went mad! If he’s buried here, the Feng Shui of the whole village will rot!”

Liu Xiangyi adjusted his sunglasses. “How about five million?”

Village Chief: “…”

Once the burial details were settled, Liu Xiangyi hired a crew from the village—pallbearers, suona players, and even professional mourners. It was a grand procession. At sunset, Zhong Qinhuai was given a lavish burial right next to the graves of his mother and grandmother.

After the villagers left, Liu Xiangyi stood alone before the tombstone.

An uncharacteristic thought crossed his mind: Zhong Qinhuai’s phone. His own number was the only one saved on it. What had the police said? His relatives were either dead or insane; there was no family left to claim his effects.

A distant memory flashed through his mind.

It was shortly after starting elementary school. He had gone to the equipment room to get a ball when he saw a fight. More accurately, five or six boys were cornering one child and beating him with brooms.

But the victim wasn’t a pushover. He fought back against all of them, eventually sending the group running out of the room, crying and dropping their brooms.

As Liu Xiangyi moved to enter, the boys grabbed him, shouting over each other:

“Don’t go near him! My mom said he’s a Ghost Child! You’ll get cursed if you get close!”

“Yeah! I’m from Zhong Village, I can prove it! Everyone there knows!”

“Being in the same school as him is bad luck! We’re trying to kick him out, want to help?”

Back then, the young Liu Xiangyi had tilted his chin up. “A bunch of cowards. Little Xiangyi isn’t afraid.”

But his steps faltered when he stepped inside. He hadn’t expected the boy in the corner to be so badly beaten. His fair face was black and blue, and a streak of blood ran down his temple.

How pitiful.

Driven by some inexplicable impulse, he walked toward him. The boy’s eyes instantly sharpened with suspicion; his body tensed, and his fists clenched.

Just as the boy looked ready to strike, Liu Xiangyi pulled a lollipop from his pocket and held it out. “Want it? It’s super sweet!”

When the boy just stared, frozen, Liu Xiangyi huffed. “What, are you a coward too? Scared of a lollipop?”

A gust of wind snapped Liu Xiangyi back to reality. It was freezing. Was this the ‘sinister wind’ again?

As if on cue, Zhong Qinhuai appeared. He stepped out of the nearby woods, silent as a shadow. He was already sucking on a lollipop.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Hmph. Even though he had been nice during their first meeting, even giving him candy, this brat had targeted him ever since, watching him like an enemy every single day.

Liu Xiangyi still didn’t understand. “President Zhong, exactly how did I offend you?”

“Didn’t you ask that last time?” Zhong Qinhuai strolled over and stopped beside him, drawing out his words. “I won last time, so you missed your chance to hear the answer. What a shame.”

That smug tone!

Liu Xiangyi took a deep breath. Fine, no more bickering. He had a goal.

“President Zhong,” Liu Xiangyi said with a smile. “Speaking of ‘guts,’ I lost to you in the race. But do you have the courage to compete with me one more time?”

Zhong Qinhuai glanced at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “In what?”

“Do you dare to sleep in the same bed as me?”

The instant the words left his mouth, he saw Zhong Qinhuai’s expression flicker. Liu Xiangyi arched an eyebrow. “What? Is President Zhong scared?”

Zhong Qinhuai’s lips slowly curled into a smirk.

Liu Xiangyi knew that look too well. This kid was about to stir up trouble!

Sure enough, Zhong Qinhuai snapped his fingers. A blast of icy wind forced Liu Xiangyi to squint. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a bedroom.

In the center of the room sat a coffin. It was wide—plenty of room for two.

“President Liu,” Zhong Qinhuai said leisurely. “We ghosts only sleep in coffins. Do you have the guts to lie down in here with me?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

This guy is a born overachiever. Even as a ghost, he had to one-up the competition. And now, he had insanely raised the stakes.