After Ghost Marriage with My Arch-Rival - Chapter 4

There were no lights on in the bedroom. Heavy curtains were drawn tight, allowing only a few slivers of moonlight to leak through the gaps and fall across the massive coffin.

The coffin was crafted from dark red sandalwood, its lid etched with intricate, swirling patterns. It sat in the pitch-black room like a dormant Great Beast waiting to be awakened, a sight that would make anyone’s skin crawl.

Liu Xiangyi didn’t know why there was a giant coffin in the middle of a bedroom, and frankly, he was too afraid to ask.

He could only force a look of calm as he performed a quick sweep of the room: the window seat, the wardrobe, the bathroom. He even spotted a jar of colorful lollipops on the desk. Surprised, he glanced at Zhong Qinhuai.

“President Zhong, shouldn’t ghosts in the Underworld live in graveyards or out in the wilderness? This setup is a bit too human, isn’t it?”

Zhong Qinhuai leaned against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow with a smirk. “Does President Liu want to sleep in those places? I can certainly make that happen. High thrills, guaranteed horror.”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Since he was already by the window, Liu Xiangyi pulled the curtains open. Whoosh! The view outside instantly became clear.

They were halfway up a mountain!

The moon was full tonight, its light washing over a vast, dark forest. Looking down the slope, he could see the distant, flickering lights of Zhong Family Village, twinkling like a reflected galaxy in the dark.

Liu Xiangyi realized where he was. During the burial today, he’d heard that the villagers kicked Zhong Qinhuai and his grandmother out because they considered his birth “unlucky.” They had lived on the mountainside ever since. This must be the house.

“Well? Does President Liu have the guts to sleep here?”

Liu Xiangyi composed himself and turned around. “It’s just a coffin. Why wouldn’t I? However, since I’m staying the night, it’s only reasonable that I go back and grab a few things first, right?”

Zhong Qinhuai smiled and snapped his fingers.

The door to the guest room directly opposite the master bedroom creaked open. Liu Xiangyi looked inside and gasped. The layout was identical to his own living room!

He walked in—the pale green walls, the exact placement of the dining table and sofa, even the pork floss bread he’d bought two days ago was sitting on the coffee table.

It wasn’t just “identical.” This was his home.

He wandered through his bedroom, study, bathroom, and kitchen. He finally understood: like a “magic portal” in a movie, the guest room door connected Zhong Qinhuai’s villa on one side and his own on the other.

Zhong Qinhuai leaned against his own bedroom door, separated from Liu Xiangyi’s home by only a narrow hallway. “So, President Liu, is ten minutes enough?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

This is beyond ridiculous! Do you get these powers automatically when you die?

After washing up, Liu Xiangyi retreated to his study to work for a while—mostly to calm his nerves.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three crisp raps hit the study door. Zhong Qinhuai stood there in a relaxed posture, a half-smile playing on his lips. “President Liu, isn’t it time we went to bed?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

The atmosphere in the master bedroom was eerie. Zhong Qinhuai stood by the coffin with his arms crossed, a playful glint in his eyes. “I forgot to ask, when President Liu said ‘sleep together,’ what exactly did you have in mind?”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “President Zhong, our relationship determines the method. Given our current standing, the ‘stay on your own side and don’t touch me’ method is the most appropriate.”

Zhong Qinhuai arched an eyebrow. Liu Xiangyi knew that look all too well. Fearing the man would say something like, “Are you too scared to try the other methods?” Liu Xiangyi immediately shoved the coffin lid aside.

The heavy sandalwood made a deep, resonant sound as it slid.

Vroom.

It sounded like the low groan of a thousand-year-old monster. Liu Xiangyi’s heart skipped a beat. To prove his courage, he was the first to climb in.

To his surprise, there was a thick mattress beneath the sheets. It was so soft he almost felt like he was in his own bed. He settled on one side, leaving half the space free, then patted the empty spot and flashed a provocative smile. “Does President Zhong dare to sleep with me?”

Zhong Qinhuai’s lips curled. With a flick of his hand, the lights died and the curtains zipped shut automatically. The room plunged into darkness.

The mattress dipped. Zhong Qinhuai had lied down.

Liu Xiangyi’s body went rigid. This was the first time in his life he had shared a bed with someone, and the awkwardness was immediate. This guy is such a try-hard! He’s actually willing to lie next to his rival just to win a point.

Liu Xiangyi stole a glance. Zhong Qinhuai was tall and long-limbed; he seemed to stretch from the head of the coffin to the foot. His presence was overwhelming.

Liu Xiangyi decided to close his eyes and fake sleep.

The room was silent, so silent it felt wrong. After a moment of closed-eyed pondering, Liu Xiangyi’s eyes snapped open.

He couldn’t hear Zhong Qinhuai breathing. Not even a whisper.

He turned his head slightly. The man’s chest wasn’t moving. His entire body was motionless. Just like a corpse.

Well, he was a corpse.

With his eyes closed and hands folded neatly over his stomach, his peaceful, stationary posture looked exactly like someone in a morgue. The only thing missing was a white sheet over his head.

Liu Xiangyi took a breath. A scent drifted into his nose—a deep, ancient fragrance reminiscent of a high monk chanting sutras. It was the sandalwood of the coffin. But mixed in was a sharp chill. This icy aura radiated from the man beside him like an invisible web, slowly enveloping him.

He felt like he was suffocating. Liu Xiangyi sat up abruptly.

A ghostly chuckle drifted from the darkness beside him. “What’s wrong? Is President Liu giving up already?”

Liu Xiangyi coughed. “I’m getting something.”

He fetched his earphones and lied back down. It was 1:00 AM, and he wasn’t remotely sleepy. As was his habit, he popped his earbuds in. Soon, the gentle, elderly voice of a narrator filled his ears: “What tea is best for your health in the spring? Let this old doctor explain.”

He was listening idly when, suddenly, his right earbud was plucked away.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

He turned to see Zhong Qinhuai tucking the stolen earbud into his own left ear.

Liu Xiangyi: “Where are your manners, President Zhong?”

Zhong Qinhuai’s lazy voice floated through the dark. “President Liu, we’re married now. If you won’t even share an earbud, it’s very easy to end up in a divorce.”

Liu Xiangyi was momentarily incensed, but then a thought struck him. The doctor’s voice was soothing and slow—perfect for sleep. If it could put Zhong Qinhuai under, he could get on with his real mission.

A flash of cunning crossed Liu Xiangyi’s eyes. “President Zhong, care for another wager?”

“On what?”

“Let’s see who falls asleep first.”

Zhong Qinhuai drawled, “President Liu, anyone who spends time as a ghost knows that we don’t sleep at night.”

“Doesn’t that make the challenge even better?” Liu Xiangyi countered. “Or is President Zhong simply too chicken to try?”

The chilly voice drifted back again. “And why the sudden competitive streak, President Liu? What’s the goal?”

Still nursing his grudge from the car race, Liu Xiangyi threw the man’s own words back at him: “Do you really want to know? Beat me and I’ll tell you. So do you dare to bet?”

After a few seconds of silence, a low voice vibrated in the dark, carrying a hint of a smile that sounded strangely enough almost tender.

“I bet.”

Liu Xiangyi’s lips curled. Perfect. Now he just had to be patient.

As the “old doctor” droned on about spring wellness, Liu Xiangyi stared at the ceiling. Because of the curse, the Liu family suffered from “Excessive Yang,” which caused chronic insomnia. His own constitution was extreme; he was always brimming with restless energy. He usually didn’t feel sleepy until the small hours of the morning, which was why he used health podcasts as a sedative.

When the long program finally ended, Liu Xiangyi’s mind began to stir. It’s been three hours. He has to be out by now.

He cautiously turned his head. It was pitch black, so he couldn’t be sure. He propped himself up on one elbow to look down only to slam right into a pair of eyes as dark as ink.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

The guy’s eyes were wide open. Clear. Alert. Not a trace of sleepiness.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Awkward.

His mind raced for a second before he reached out and plucked the earbud from Zhong Qinhuai’s ear with forced nonchalance. “The show’s over.”

Zhong Qinhuai turned his head to look at him, watching with genuine amusement. “So, President Liu isn’t asleep yet? Are you sure you can win like this?”

“You aren’t asleep either, are you?”

Liu Xiangyi lied back down but could feel the man’s gaze pinned on him. When he was alive, he stared like an enemy; now that he was dead, there was an added layer of damp, chilly intensity—like wet seagrass in a swamp wrapping around Liu Xiangyi’s body.

Repressing the subtle discomfort, Liu Xiangyi said, “President Zhong, you’ve only been a ghost for a few days. Have you already forgotten how to be a person?”

He added a hint of a probe: “Can ghosts really stay awake all night?”

The “I hope you fall asleep” look in Liu Xiangyi’s eyes was so transparent that Zhong Qinhuai let out an unreadable scoff.

“Ghosts are like that. But to win, don’t worry, President Liu, I will definitely fall asleep before you.”

Satisfied, Liu Xiangyi reached out and firmly manually straightened Zhong Qinhuai’s head.

Fortunately, Zhong Qinhuai was surprisingly cooperative. If Liu Xiangyi wanted him to stare at the ceiling, he stared at the ceiling, no longer turning back to eye him like a predator.

Liu Xiangyi lay there for a long time, until the sound of a drizzling spring rain began to patter against the window.

The sound was highly hypnotic.

He didn’t know how long this rain had been falling; it felt as if it had been a hundred years, as if all the rain for eight lifetimes was being spent at once. This kid is so competitive; he’ll do anything not to lose to me, Liu Xiangyi thought.

During that race, he was willing to throw his life away just to win.

Surely, he’s asleep by now?

Liu Xiangyi rose again in silence. He looked down and saw that the other man’s eyes were finally closed.

He let out a silent sigh of relief.

But at the thought of the “Yin-absorption” method, he hesitated. After a grueling round of mental preparation, he slowly leaned in.

Hovering directly over Zhong Qinhuai.

Liu Xiangyi took a deep breath.

He lowered his head.

Bit by bit.

He was close—so close!

Just as he was a fist’s width away from Zhong Qinhuai’s lips, the ghost seemed to sense something. Snap. His eyes flew open.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

Zhong Qinhuai: “…”

The two stared at each other in the dark.

It was the ultimate “awkward silence.”

Liu Xiangyi rubbed his nose and rose with forced composure, kneeling on the mattress. “President Zhong, even though you’re a ghost now, don’t forget how to be a human.”

He amused himself with his own words, then calmly pulled half the quilt over and tucked it around Zhong Qinhuai. With a sudden shift in tone, he said, “Anyway, it started raining. I was afraid you’d be cold, so I’m sharing half with you.

You’re welcome.”

Zhong Qinhuai’s eyes remained fixed on Liu Xiangyi. After a few beats, his lips curved into a faint arc. “Is that so?”

Liu Xiangyi lay back down, emboldened by his own sheer gall. He threw the man’s earlier jab back at him: “President Zhong, being so suspicious of a gentleman’s motives is a very easy way to get a divorce.”

Without waiting for a response, Liu Xiangyi checked his phone. 4:00 AM! He turned back, his smile carrying a heavy layer of threat: “President Zhong, why on earth are you still awake? Are you trying to lose to me?”

In the darkness, Zhong Qinhuai’s nonchalant voice rose: “From where I’m sitting, President Liu doesn’t look like he wants to win either.”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Back to playing dead!

He lay there until even a chronic insomniac like himself felt the heavy tug of drowsiness. His eyelids were like lead. Just as they were about to shut, Liu Xiangyi manually pried them open with his fingers.

I can’t sleep! I still have a mission!

He stealthily checked his phone. 5:00 AM!

Now he has to be asleep.

Mindful of the two previous failures, Liu Xiangyi was extra cautious this time. After rising, he tested the waters with a whispered breath: “President Zhong?”

No response. Excellent.

Next, he gave a tiny nudge. The moment his skin brushed Zhong Qinhuai’s arm, a chill ran through him.

Still no reaction. Perfect!

Certain the man was truly under, Liu Xiangyi leaned down, inching closer. When he was only a finger’s width away from those lips, he took a deep breath.

He closed his eyes.

And gently pressed down.

He made contact with two thin, soft surfaces.

It was so cold. It felt like a snowflake had drifted onto his lips.

Liu Xiangyi held the position, and very quickly, he felt the difference. Strands of icy air began to seep from the gaps of Zhong Qinhuai’s lips, flowing directly into his own.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

It was like running a marathon in the sweltering heat of summer, feeling like your body was about to explode, only to be suddenly submerged in a freezing mountain spring.

Every pore in his body opened up in relief. It was incredibly cool and refreshing.

So, this is ‘Yin energy’?

Terrified of waking him, Liu Xiangyi only held the kiss for two or three seconds before sliding back to his side of the coffin.

He didn’t notice that the moment his head hit the pillow, the man beside him slowly opened his eyes.