Chapter 6

    After the harrowing encounter with the woman wielding a red umbrella on a rainy day, Mingzhe’s life returned to a state of peaceful monotony, almost dull in its tranquility.

    He routinely inspected the lanterns located in the four inner courtyards, but their flames continued to burn brightly, unwaveringly steady. Mingzhe couldn’t help but think these lanterns would be difficult to extinguish, contrary to his previous worries.

    Yet, there was something odd about the lanterns. If they weren’t extinguishing on their own, someone must have been secretly refilling the lantern oil in his stead, and the oil supply in the inner courtyards had not diminished in the slightest.

    Alternatively, it could be that the flames of these lanterns had never gone out, and the reminder to inspect them daily was perhaps a precaution. If someone failed to oversee the lanterns, a sudden extinguishment might bring about misfortune.

    Mingzhe had previously witnessed rain falling selectively over certain areas of the palace. Considering that a single ignition could keep the lanterns burning for an entire month, it wasn’t entirely implausible.

    This, of course, was mere conjecture, as he continued his daily inspections, trying to ascertain the exact interval for refueling the lanterns.

    The northern courtyard, in particular, warranted extra caution. It housed two ponds where Mingzhe had once seen a twisted figure of a woman crawl into. On his subsequent visit, he had been fortunate with his timing, avoiding both the mysterious rain and the woman with her grotesque form.

    During late-night, if there was no rain, the red-umbrella woman wouldn’t appear.

    Gradually, bizarre occurrences began piling up, one after another, adding complexity to Mingzhe’s otherwise serene life. Despite not feeling fear, he had to admit these incidents were growing increasingly cumbersome.

    One certainty remained: whether it was the enigmatic rain around the northern courtyard or the perpetual gloom of the Wang’s palace that seemed on the brink of a downpour,

    The word rain had an undeniable connection to this place.

    Xinxin undertook the task of thoroughly cleaning the consort’s courtyard. Every last sprout of the Si Xuan flowers had been uprooted, and new flowers planted in their place.

    But no matter how fast-growing the flowers and grass were supposed to be, the new plants—apart from the Si Xuan flowers—refused to sprout. After three failed attempts, Xinxin conceded, leaving the area outside the consort’s courtyard barren.

    As for Mingzhe, his contribution leaned more towards complicating matters.

    His days passed aimlessly; whenever he took a midday nap, Guo Yuexiang would inevitably drag him into strange dreams. At first, he could tolerate it, but as time went on, his patience began to wane.

    If you want to invite someone into your dreams, by all means, go ahead. But at the very least, could you provide some clue about the destination you’re summoning them to? Being left entirely in the dark like this is far too bewildering.

    Guo Yuexiang’s death was already a tragedy, but to add insult to injury, his body was desecrated and dismembered. That alone would have weakened his spirit significantly. To make matters worse, it seemed his soul was sealed within an intricate stratagem set up in the Shin Wang’s palace.

    No wonder his manifestation could only take the form of a single hand—a hand incapable of committing any truly malevolent acts apart from instilling fear in others.

    The mastermind behind this scheme must have been exceedingly cautious, seeking to exploit this Shin Wang while ensuring his spirit lacked the strength to seek vengeance. This problem had now fallen onto him. Even attempting to communicate with the prince to gain some clarity had proven difficult.

    He’d spent countless hours pondering the situation, and every time he thought he’d reached an insight, his mind drifted to peculiar rumors—specifically, the Emperor of Zhongwang allegedly failing to recover all the pieces of Shin Wang’s body. The only confirmed recovery, according to these rumors, was his left hand. Speculation about the number of missing pieces varied.

    Some said four, others five. As for him, he was inclined to believe there were seven.

    In his dreams, Shin Wang’s entire body bore the marks of dismemberment—his arms, both legs, and around his neck all showed evidence of severance.

    Dressed in a bloodstained wedding robe, Guo Yuexiang was confined in what he assumed to be a basement room. Scarlet threads crisscrossed the space, forming a symbolic connection of auspicious destiny, while talismans were plastered across the walls and surfaces.

    The five pieces of body—the arms, legs, and head—likely anchor the stratagem. The torso, on the other hand, remained unaccounted for, and its location was unknown. The most vital piece must be the heart, which might serve as the core of the grand stratagem and could be the most difficult to retrieve.

    As for the purpose behind this grotesque and vile stratagem? He had absolutely no desire to know. A demonic stratagem constructed at the expense of a hero with immense virtuous merit was assuredly not a force for good. At the very least, he’s confident the heavens would never approve.

    "Xinxin, I’m going out for a bit."

    One late afternoon, after carefully timing his departure to avoid the rain in the northern courtyard, Mingzhe stretched lazily, and turned to the snow hare steward.

    Xinxin, currently free of duties, glanced at him, its gaze questioning whether he required a companion. But Mingzhe shook his head—he intended to venture out alone.

    Speaking of daily sustenance, he had no complaints. Despite the inhospitable surroundings, the kitchen remain perpetually stocked. Fresh meat and vegetables were replaced or replenished daily, just like the fruits and incense that was always replaced and reignited.

    Mingzhe didn’t know who was responsible for maintaining all these matters, but as long as everything seemed to be going in a positive direction, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

    “Guo Yuexiang’s left hand, let’s go.”

    After their second encounter, the first thing his nominal husband, Guo Yuexiang, had said to him was to repeatedly emphasize his own name. He insisted that he had a proper name and wouldn’t tolerate being casually referred to as ghostly left hand or little ghost hand. Such nicknames were disrespectful to someone of his stature as Shin Wang.

    Mingzhe acquiesced without fuss. He hadn’t expected a ghost to be so easily offended, taking every slight personally and even throwing tantrums.

    From that day on, he decided to call him by, Guo Yuexiang’s left hand, instead.

    Having now been addressed with his full name, Guo Yuexiang had no room to sulk. Though puzzled as to why his name had become so lengthy, he begrudgingly accepted it. After all, if he protested further, who knew how much longer his name might grow under his nominal wife’s creative whims?

    Their destination today was the northern inner courtyard. Mingzhe had visited the area countless times in the past, but today would be different. He wasn’t going inside alone this time—he was dragging Guo Yuexiang’s left hand along with him.

    Naturally, the hand resisted. It struggled and squirmed to no avail, its feeble attempts at escape pitiable. Once again, Guo Yuexiang’s left hand was no match for Mingzhe’s will.

    By this point, Guo Yuexiang was so weak that it was almost pitiful, making it seem as though it wanted to retreat into a corner and sulk in despair…

    What piqued Mingzhe’s curiosity the most about this place was the intense fragrance of incense that permeated the northern inner courtyard.

    Normally, the four inner courtyards were served as shrines to honor heroic spirits, but the northern courtyard was the only one where the scent of incense was particularly strong.

    After ensuring the ceiling was free of anything—or anyone—suspiciously spying on him, Mingzhe approached the statue of Shin Wang. Reaching out, he carefully lifted the fragile lantern that rested on it and carried it to the safest location he could find.

    Then, Mingzhe spread his elegant hand, conjuring an ice hammer. With a deliberate motion, he raised the hammer and brought it crashing down directly on the statue’s base.