It was cold.
In the speeding car as they fled, Yang Siguang hunched his shoulders and curled deeper into the seat.
Aunt Qiao had scheduled the ritual for exactly twelve noon, claiming that this was when the yin energy would be at its peak. The strong yin energy, she said, would help ensure the ritual’s success.
Thus, when Yang Siguang and Li Bo escaped, the sunlight outside was dazzlingly bright.
Yet, even though the sunlight was blindingly white, it seemed to have lost all its warmth.
In the height of summer, Yang Siguang found himself shivering so much in the car, with the heater turned on full blast, that his teeth were chattering audibly. The chill felt as if it was seeping out from the very marrow of his bones, effortlessly consuming his entire body. He was certain he wasn’t the only one suffering from this bone-deep cold—Li Bo, sitting in the driver’s seat, had a face that was pale and frozen as if carved from stone.
“Don’t be afraid—”
Even now, the man was still trying to comfort the young man beside him.
But any words at this moment felt hollow. The car had been driving for what seemed like an eternity. Yang Siguang almost felt as though they had been trapped in the vehicle for several hours.
Yet, despite how long they had been driving, the car, which should have already reached the city by now, remained on a barren, featureless road devoid of any landmarks or signs.
The half-worn, half-new road stretched straight into the farthest reaches of the horizon, flanked by dirty, dusty yellow earth and scattered clumps of wild grass.
Occasionally, a few mud-brick houses incongruous with the modern era appeared by the roadside. Their brick walls were partially collapsed, their ridged roofs tilted precariously, and their faded, decaying walls were painted with vibrant, freshly written red slogans.
Yang Siguang couldn’t help but glance at the slogans a few times, only to find the words jumbled and nonsensical, as though forcibly pieced together. No matter how hard he tried to decipher them, their meaning eluded him.
Of course, he didn’t dare to stare for long. He quickly noticed something unsettling—through the dark doorways of these nearly ruined houses, there were indistinct shadows inside. Those shadows crouched silently behind the doors, watching the only moving vehicle on the road.
This was definitely not right.
Even someone as slow-witted as Yang Siguang could realize that. As the car’s fuel gauge dropped bar by bar, their situation showed no signs of improvement.
They were still trapped on this endless road, encountering no people, no vehicles, no signs. The only thing that changed was the number of those strange houses along the roadside.
There were more of them now.
And more people inside.
Some of them had even leaned most of their bodies out of the doorways.
Their clothes were bright and cheap, glaringly out of place.
Their faces were as white as paper. No, they were paper.
Those pale, grayish-white faces bore crudely drawn black eyes, with two crimson smudges on their cheekbones.
Yet, despite the casual strokes forming those eyes, they exuded an indescribable sense of realism.
The paper figures stared at the speeding car, at the pale-faced people inside.
Even after the car drove far ahead, the oppressive feeling of being watched didn’t dissipate.
Someone was watching them.
Yang Siguang thought.
His fingers dug unconsciously into his palms, yet he felt no pain.
It was those paper figures… No, no, that wasn’t it. Yang Siguang shivered violently, the hairs on his back standing on end.
He suddenly realized that the intense sensation of being watched wasn’t just coming from the eerie paper figures outside the car window.
It was coming from inside the car.
From the back seat.
Yes, why hadn’t he noticed it before?
Why did the empty back seat feel… so cramped?
*
Yang Siguang clenched his teeth involuntarily. He instinctively wanted to turn his head to check the back seat, to confirm the situation.
But as soon as he tilted his head, Li Bo’s stern voice barked at him.
“Don’t look—”
The man spoke firmly.
Even though the car supposedly only had two people (or rather, two living people), his voice was deliberately low.
“When I was injured before, I consulted many masters,” Li Bo said, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, the knuckles turning white.
“None of them could do anything about the ghostly energy infecting my wound. Many were frauds. But there was one thing they all agreed on—ghosts and humans have always existed in separate worlds. They can’t truly harm the living in this world. The only thing they can do is influence your perception through illusions, using your fear and panic to slowly pull your unstable soul into their realm.”
“So don’t look, don’t believe, and don’t respond to them. That’s the only way to stay safe.”
Hearing this, Yang Siguang’s face turned pale.
He immediately straightened his head and refrained from looking at the back seat. At last, he understood why Li Bo’s expression had been so grim.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, Li Bo had likely already seen the back seat through the rearview mirror.
It must have been hard for him to stay calm while driving for so long.
As for Yang Siguang, he didn’t even dare to imagine what might be crammed into their back seat right now.
Otherwise, why would it feel so cramped, so cold, so oppressive, and so hateful?
*
Yang Siguang didn’t know what Aunt Qiao had done to him, but he was certain that some sort of “passage” had been opened—he was being pulled into the ghosts’ world.
And the Mirror Spirit?
Was it here now?
Yang Siguang couldn’t be sure, nor did he dare to think about it.
He only knew that the sounds coming from the back seat were growing louder and clearer. Those restless, icy, and putrid hands occasionally reached out from the back, lightly brushing against his trembling shoulders.
*
At some point, the bleak, crooked, and unsightly buildings along the road had become so dense that they filled the entire area.
And the once-wide road seemed to narrow further.
It had grown so narrow that Yang Siguang could clearly see the many paper figures’ ghastly faces peering from the crooked windows of those buildings.
Their pitch-black eyes seemed to press against the car windows, staring straight at him.
Occasionally, under the eaves, he could see headless paper figures swaying slightly in the wind.
*
Were these also illusions created by the ghosts to scare him?
No, there was another possibility. Yang Siguang’s heartbeat quickened. Perhaps, without even realizing it, he had already entered that other world.
But if that were true, then the “Li Bo” sitting beside him, with his grave expression and genuine concern—was he really Li Bo?
The moment Yang Siguang thought this, the car suddenly braked sharply. His body lurched forward violently, and the seatbelt snapped taut across his chest, causing a dull, painful thud.
Yang Siguang had already been on high alert due to the eerie circumstances, and the sudden jolt of the car braking startled him even further.
“Li Bo?”
When he raised his head, he finally understood why Li Bo had slammed on the brakes so urgently.
In fact, even Yang Siguang himself couldn’t help but swallow hard when he looked at the building ahead.
They had been driving for so long—long enough to reach a neighboring city.
Yet, the structure now standing before them was none other than the old Li family mansion.
Yang Siguang began to doubt his own eyes.
The Li family mansion was too famous.
So famous that even someone like Yang Siguang, a complete outsider, could instantly recognize its elegant and intricate design, tinged with a faint Southeast Asian style.
And Yang Siguang was certain of one thing: based on the scenery they had passed earlier, the direction they had been driving in should not have led to the Li family mansion.
But reality was clear—they were back.
The malicious spirits had brought them back.
The pale, glaring sunlight poured down onto the building in front of them, draining all color from the world.
Even though it was daytime, the interior of the mansion was brightly lit.
Faint music and the murmur of a crowd drifted on the wind.
It was as if, while Li Bo and Yang Siguang had been desperately fleeing for their lives, the Li family mansion had been hosting a cheerful banquet.
What was even stranger was that, the moment Li Bo stopped the car, dark silhouettes began to emerge from the depths of the mansion’s windows.
People.
Countless people.
So many people were standing by the windows.
They were too far away for Yang Siguang to make out their faces, but he could feel their sticky, focused gazes.
A shiver ran through Yang Siguang’s entire body.
“Damn it, it’s a ghostly trap!”
At the same time, Li Bo cursed under his breath.
He slammed the steering wheel in frustration, and the car let out a long honk. The man’s display of anger and fear was so genuine that it made Yang Siguang feel a twinge of guilt for having doubted him earlier.
Then, he watched as Li Bo yanked the gearshift and began reversing the car.
The vehicle quickly backed away from the mansion, but at the same time, the car’s reverse radar emitted a sharp, piercing alarm.
The central console’s screen lit up with dense red warnings, all indicating obstacles in the reversing path.
But Yang Siguang clearly remembered that the road they had just traveled was completely empty—so empty that even the air felt half-dead with desolation.
Yang Siguang hadn’t seen a single figure.
So what the hell was the radar detecting?
As if responding to Yang Siguang’s silent curses and questions, a sudden “smack” echoed. A clear handprint appeared on the car window beside him.
The car’s exterior had been coated with a thin layer of frost due to the cold interior temperature.
Now, one ghostly handprint after another began overlapping on the frosted glass.
The malicious spirits outside were like cats toying with mice, meticulously and gleefully tormenting their prey.
Li Bo had no time to waste on anything else.
His thin lips pressed into a sharp line, and without hesitation, he reversed the car and drove in the opposite direction.
But this time, he only managed to drive a few meters before the vehicle came to a complete stop.
Yang Siguang saw it again…
Surrounded by lush greenery and flowers, the luxurious and classically decorated Li family mansion now stood directly before them once more.
The wind scattered white funeral paper and red paper cutouts shaped like the character for “happiness,” swirling them into tiny tornadoes.
The veins on the back of Li Bo’s hand bulged.
His lips drooped slightly as he reached for the gearshift again, seemingly preparing to reverse and try another direction.
But before he could act, Yang Siguang’s hand landed on his.
“No, it’s no use… We can’t escape.”
Yang Siguang murmured.
“It wants us to go inside.”
Li Bo replied, his voice hoarse, “I know.”
“That’s why I don’t want you to go in.”
