The Beauty with Terrible Luck Falls in Love with a Ghost - Chapter 29

Zuo Lihua rubbed her eyes, doubting what she saw.

…So, the reason you weren’t here was because you were captured?

Zuo Lihua was deeply troubled, her features scrunched into a knot. What should she do? How could she save her?

She crouched silently, hiding the sandalwood incense in the corner of the moon gate wall, ensuring no flicker of light escaped.

Just as the clouds veiled the moon once more, the monks suddenly began chanting sutras, their faint, astringent, and incomprehensible tones echoing like the wails of hell.

A wave of dizziness washed over her, and sensing danger, Zuo Lihua immediately covered her ears.

“Thud, thud….”

Behind her came the sound of heavy objects hitting the ground, one after another, so close that the earth trembled with each impact.

There was something behind her!

Zuo Lihua’s pupils contracted sharply as she whipped her head around.

Behind her, a crowd had gathered, men and women, some barely clothed, others in nightgowns, their hair disheveled. Their expressions were wooden, their eyes vacant and unfocused. As the chanting continued, they fell one by one, like a string of dominoes, collapsing into a long line.

They were the guests.

Zuo Lihua felt a flicker of doubt. Were there really this many pilgrims staying overnight at Yinshan Temple?

Just then, clusters of orange flames appeared behind them, shrinking into small spheres that rose and drifted into the palm of the great Buddha. The path was illuminated, revealing the statue that had appeared benevolent during the day, with half-closed eyes and a compassionate expression. Now, its eyes were wide with fury, its mouth stretched almost to its ears, both grotesque and terrifying.

Zuo Lihua stared in shock.

Suddenly, the Buddha’s eyes shifted, lifting to meet her gaze.

A chill shot up from Zuo Lihua’s feet. By the time she realized it, all the monks had turned their heads, their dull gray eyes fixed intently on her.

She tried to step back but found the pilgrims rising to their feet. In an instant, she became the center of attention, surrounded on all sides with no escape.

Normally, Zuo Lihua would tremble in fear when faced with danger, but in life-or-death moments, she could quickly regain her composure.

She glanced up at Han Hai’er and was surprised to find Han Hai’er staring back at her. Her azure-blue eyes were as dark as the night, heavy with mist, as if she had long anticipated Zuo Lihua’s presence. Her lips parted, forming a silent syllable.

[Sandalwood.]

As if reading her mind, Zuo Lihua understood. Steadying herself, she held the incense carefully and retreated step by step until her back pressed against the wall.

With her movement, the encircling crowd drew closer.

Three meters.

They slowly entered the glow of the flames, their faces illuminated, pale as paper, lips crimson as if all the blood in their bodies had been drained and painted onto their mouths.

Two meters.

The flames flickered wildly, flaring and dimming with a sizzling sound, as if burning something unseen. At the same time, the pilgrims halted, refusing to advance further.

One meter.

Zuo Lihua curled into a ball, bringing the sandalwood incense closer to herself. The bald monks drew nearer, the flames shifting from blue to fiery red, and the blood in the dish rapidly diminished by half.

Half a meter.

The flames swelled like a blooming rose, the blood nearly dried up, and the monks stopped in their tracks, unable to move forward.

But Zuo Lihua knew this was merely delaying the inevitable. The blood in the dish was visibly depleting, and once it burned out completely, the monks and pilgrims would swarm her, tearing her to pieces.

For now, all she could do was pray that Han Hai’er would act swiftly.

But Zuo Lihua had no idea what she intended to do.

Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest, thrumming against her eardrums. As her blood seemed to slowly drain away, Zuo Lihua’s mind went completely blank. The only thing left in the world was the sandalwood incense in her hand, she would have gladly used her own blood to keep it burning if she could.

The incense plate dried up, the flame gradually shrank, and then it went out, clean and final.

Han Hai’er, the one she had always relied on, did not come.

A chill ran through Zuo Lihua’s entire body, and everything seemed to slow down.

She watched helplessly as the monks and worshippers rushed toward her, like hungry vultures finally spotting fresh carrion.

As if all her strength had been drained, Zuo Lihua let go.

A monk’s hand reached out and touched her.

Clatter. The plate fell to the ground.

In despair, Zuo Lihua closed her eyes.

Just then, flames suddenly erupted, burning through the air with a series of sharp, crackling sounds. In the blink of an eye, they coiled around the monk at the front, and the next moment, he was engulfed in fire, crackling and blazing.

Zuo Lihua’s eyes snapped open.

She found herself encircled by a ring of crimson flames, the origin of which was the shattered incense plate.

She was saved…

Overwhelmed with relief, Zuo Lihua’s legs gave way, and she knelt on the ground.

She was nearly crying with joy, in fact, she did burst into tears, laughing and weeping as she slowly calmed from the emotional rollercoaster of near death.

The flames rose high, blocking her view. She couldn’t see outside, only hearing a series of explosive sounds, guessing that Han Hai’er might be doing something.

When only the morning star remained in the sky, a figure appeared outside the flames.

Zuo Lihua stared blankly as the figure grew larger, passing through the flames and appearing before her.

“Done crying? Let’s go.” Han Hai’er stood before her, dressed in neat clothes, her hair perfectly in place, and calmly extended a hand.

Zuo Lihua was stunned for a moment before reaching out to grasp it.

The moment their hands touched, the flames vanished.

The monks and worshippers from before were all gone. The surroundings were empty, with only Han Hai’er remaining.

“What… what happened…” Zuo Lihua spoke, only to realize her voice was hoarse and still carried a faint sob.

“Just an unorthodox temple,” Han Hai’er said lightly, as though she hadn’t been the one tied up.

Zuo Lihua pouted and asked, “How unorthodox?”

Han Hai’er smiled slightly and opened her other hand to show her what she held.

Zuo Lihua was taken aback and accepted it.

It was a wooden plaque inscribed with Zuo Lihua’s name. The plaque had strange, dark patterns. She turned it over and saw her birth date and time engraved on the back. At the top of the plaque was a hole, seemingly for threading a cord.

“This one is mine.” Han Hai’er took out another identical plaque and handed it to Zuo Lihua. “They were originally tied together, but the red thread accidentally broke. Find another one and tie them up again.”

[Han Hai’er, born at 7–9 a.m., June 6, 1998]

Zuo Lihua exclaimed in surprise, “Our birthdays are exactly the same! We were born in the same year, same month, same day!”

Han Hai’er replied calmly, “Yes.”

Zuo Lihua was at a loss for words. “What a coincidence… No, why were our birth plaques together? Who put them here? Were they just hanging in the temple?”

“Is it strange? You’re my offering, it’s understandable that you’d be special, right?”

Zuo Lihua looked confused. “Is that so… Where was it hanging? I don’t remember Yinshan Temple having a wishing pond.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know. They’re inside the statue’s belly, ghosts formed from the resentment of bandits who died violent deaths. They grow their power through the curses and malice of others’ wishes…” Halfway through the explanation, the tone turned disdainful and venomous. “They’re terribly cowardly, usually staying hidden. I couldn’t catch them no matter how hard I tried. It took me so much effort, and I even had to think! Do you know how unreasonable that is for a ghost with no brain cells?”

So, she was caught to lure out that ghost?

Zuo Lihua turned to look back. In the solemn main hall, the statue was gone, leaving only a pile of scattered stone blocks. Some of the stone surfaces were polished smooth, with scattered wooden plaques lying about.

“Stop looking. It’s time to go.”

“Oh.” Zuo Lihua turned around and after a moment asked, “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“Now? Has the ghost left?”

Han Hai’er sighed as if in resignation. “Probably not.” After all, ghosts could be so persistent.

Zuo Lihua was stunned. “Then you…?”

“I’m going to confront her, strike while the iron is hot.”

Zuo Lihua understood then. After devouring the great Buddha and increasing her power, she wanted to swallow that ghost too.

Was the great Buddha really that powerful? If it was, why was it so cowardly, not daring to come out unless Han Hai’er was caught off guard?

She scratched her head and gave up thinking.

Though the ascent had been difficult, the descent was quick. Before long, the human and ghost arrived at the parking lot at the foot of the mountain.

Just as Zuo Lihua was about to take out her keys, a chilling aura swept over her. Her hand paused, and she instinctively looked in the direction it came from.

A fierce ghost, dark as condensed ink, was dancing wildly as it approached from not far away. Its figure flickered erratically, like a skipping disc.

“We don’t need to go back and look for it,” Zuo Lihua said.

Han Hai’er stared at the ghost and responded indifferently, “Mm.”

Zuo Lihua held back for a moment but couldn’t resist asking, “Are you confident?”

Han Hai’er replied, “She’s very strong.”

Zuo Lihua looked at her in disbelief. “Huh?”

Han Hai’er turned her face toward Zuo Lihua, her icy expression suddenly breaking into a smile. “If I ate you right now, my confidence would increase to ten out of ten.”