[Dimensional teleportation complete.]
[Current instance: Fengmen Ghost Village.]
[Background: 1936, Western Hunan.]
[Identity implanted: Chen Xiuyuan, the eldest son of the Chen family, and his newlywed wife, Shen.]
[Main quest: Survive for seven days and break the curse of the Chen family's "extinction."]
...The wind was damp and cold.
Like a cold snake's tongue, it snaked up her ankles, creeping into her bones.
When Shen Qingqiu opened her eyes, she found herself sitting in a swaying red sedan chair.
The sedan chair curtain was made of heavy red silk, embroidered with intricate "囍" (double happiness) characters in gold thread, but in the dim light, the gold thread had an old, dark hue, and the red silk was a purplish-red, like a pool of long-congealed blood.
She looked down at her attire.
She wore a pale white indigo cheongsam, over which was a brocade shawl trimmed with rabbit fur. On her wrist hung the Reincarnation Wristwatch, now disguised as a jade bracelet.
In her hand, she clutched a red veil tightly.
"Young Madam, we've arrived." A high-pitched, hoarse voice, as if choked with phlegm, called from outside the sedan chair.
The curtain was lifted by a pale, withered hand.
The hand's nails were extremely long, painted with bright red nail polish, glaringly bright in the pale moonlight.
Shen Qingqiu did not immediately alight from the sedan chair.
Her golden eyes, peering through the lifted corner, quickly scanned the world outside.
This was an ancient village shrouded in thick fog.
The flagstone path was wet, flanked by towering gable walls. White lanterns hung at the entrances of every house, except for the imposing, deep mansion directly in front, where two enormous red lanterns hung.
The contrast between red and white was ominous.
A terrible omen.
"Young Madam? Get out of the sedan chair, the young master is waiting for you."
The owner of the withered hand—a matchmaker with thick white powder on her face and two patches of ruddy cheeks—was grinning at her.
Her smile was stiff, the corners of her mouth stretching to her ears, revealing a set of pitch-black teeth.
Shen Qingqiu glanced at her indifferently.
In the **[Overclocking Vision]**, this matchmaker wasn't human at all.
She was a paper effigy. What flowed within her wasn't blood, but black, deathly energy.
"I can walk myself."
Shen Qingqiu avoided the matchmaker's outstretched hand and gracefully stepped out of the sedan chair.
The moment her feet touched the ground, a warm, broad hand reached out and firmly grasped hers.
"Qingqiu." A familiar voice, reassuringly magnetic.
Shen Qingqiu looked up.
She saw Seventeen standing beside her.
He changed out of his modern trench coat and into a black long gown from the Republican era, with a matching mandarin jacket over it. His silver hair was tied up with a jade hairpin, revealing his smooth, full forehead.
His signature right arm, adorned with a star pattern, was now gloved with a black leather glove to fit the era, making him look like a refined young master who had returned from studying abroad, albeit injured.
But the chill in his eyes was colder than the surrounding eerie wind.
"Here…" Seventeen whispered in her ear, lowering his head slightly.
"No living people."
In his **[Abyss Soul Crystal]** vision, the entire village was gray.
The villagers standing at the door "watching the show," the musicians banging drums and gongs—all were lifeless, devoid of warmth or heartbeat.
"I know." Shen Qingqiu grasped his hand in return, her fingertips gently hooking against his palm.
"Since we're here, let's make the best of it."
"Since they want to put on a show, then we'll play along... with them in this 'Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio'."
...The Chen Family Mansion.
The vermilion gates were wide open, the threshold extremely high, as if a boundary separating the living and the dead.
"The eldest young master is back! The eldest young mistress has entered!"
The matchmaker's shrill voice pierced the deathly silence of the night.
There were no celebratory firecrackers.
Instead, there was a mournful, high-pitched suona horn, carrying an eerie chill.
The melody sounded like both a wedding procession and... a funeral procession.
Shen Qingqiu, arm in arm with Seventeen, stepped over the brazier (which burned not charcoal, but paper money).
The two entered the main hall.
The hall was filled with densely packed memorial tablets.
And seated in a grand armchair was an old woman dressed in a purple sandalwood funeral robe.
She was too old; the skin on her face sagged and layered on her chin, her eyelids drooping, obscuring her eyes. She twirled a string of prayer beads made from polished white bone in her hand.
This was the Chen family's matriarch, Old Madam Chen.
"Grandson Xiuyuan, along with his new wife Shen, pays respects to Grandmother." Seventeen, following the script provided by the system, bowed slightly.
His movements were precise yet stiff, an AI's attempt to imitate human etiquette.
Old Madam Chen remained silent.
Her drooping eyelids slowly lifted a crack, revealing a pair of cloudy, yellowish, cat-like, vertical pupils.
Her gaze bypassed Shen Qingqiu, fixing fixedly on Seventeen.
That look was greedy, slick, as if she were looking at a fine…sacrificial meat.
"Good…good…" The old woman's voice was like two pieces of rotten wood rubbing together.
"It's good you're back... This body is so strong... so strong..."
She reached out her withered, twig-like hand, wanting to touch Seventeen's hand.
Seventeen instinctively wanted to dodge, or even snap the ghostly hand in two.
But he restrained himself.
Because Shen Qingqiu's fingers gently pressed on his waist.
The old woman's icy fingers touched the back of Seventeen's hand.
She was feeling his bones.
"At the height of Yin... a pure Yang body... wondrous... wondrous indeed..."
She murmured to herself, her smile growing increasingly eerie.
"Then... what about the bride?"
Seventeen spoke coldly, subtly withdrawing her hand and pulling Shen Qingqiu in front of her.
The old woman then seemed to have just noticed Shen Qingqiu, her cloudy eyes darting around.
"The bride... is good too."
"Although her fate is a bit weak, she's... quite popular."
Popular?
Shen Qingqiu sneered inwardly.
She's eyeing her life force, planning to feed it to ghosts, isn't she?
"Guards, escort the young master and mistress to their bridal chamber." The old lady waved her hand.
"Tonight is an auspicious night, get some rest... don't miss the appointed time."
...The so-called "bridal chamber" was located at the deepest part of the mansion.
It was a locked, detached building called **"Locking Spring Garden"**.
Pushing open the door, a musty, musty smell mixed with a strong scent of rouge hit her.
Red candles burned brightly inside, illuminating the walls.
A huge canopy bed occupied half the room. The bed curtains were scarlet, embroidered with a hundred children and a thousand grandchildren, but in the flickering candlelight, the faces of the children looked like they were crying.
Most eerie of all.
There was no "double happiness" character at the head of the bed.
Instead, there were two sets of neatly folded...funeral clothes.
The man's was navy blue, the woman's was bright red.
"Mother, this place is so scary."
A childish voice echoed in Shen Qingqiu's mind.
A tiny point of light flew out from the soul crystal on Seventeen's chest—it was Ah Ling.
He dared not reveal himself, only shrinking into a ball within their shared consciousness.
"The magnetic field here is chaotic, filled with negative energy waves."
"And... there seems to be something under the bed."
"Shh." Shen Qingqiu closed the door, casually placing an invisible **[Logic Shield]** on it.
She walked to the table and picked up the pair of dragon and phoenix red candles.
The candle wax was as red as blood.
"Seventeen, it seems the Chen family doesn't want us to consummate our marriage."
Shen Qingqiu pointed to the two sets of funeral clothes.
"They're preparing to bury us directly." Seventeen removed his leather gloves, revealing a mechanical hand that shimmered with starlight.
He walked to the bed and lifted the bed frame with one hand.
"Ah—!" A short scream.
Under the bed frame, there were no demons or monsters.
Only a paper effigy bound hand and foot, its mouth stuffed with a rag.
The paper figure was incredibly lifelike, its features bearing a striking resemblance to Shen Qingqiu's. Its body was covered in red birth dates and times, and seven long nails were driven into its chest.
[System Notification: Key Item Found—Substitute Paper Figure.]
[Curse Analysis: This is a 'life-exchange' ritual.]
Shen Qingqiu picked up the paper figure and removed the gag from its mouth.
Although made of paper, the paper figure gasped for breath like a living person, blood tears streaming from its eyes.
"Help...help me..." the paper figure uttered weakly.
"I am...the previous...young mistress..."
"What?" Seventeen frowned deeply.
"The Chen family...has no living members..." the paper figure wept, its voice broken and fragmented.
"Chen Xiuyuan is long dead...they are...marrying a ghost son..."
"They want your body...to bring the ghost young master back to life..."
"And you..." The paper figure looked at Shen Qingqiu, its eyes filled with pity and fear.
"You are... a sacrifice."
"Blood offering used to appease that vengeful ghost."
"I see." Shen Qingqiu wasn't afraid; instead, a look of sudden realization dawned on her.
"No wonder that old woman kept staring at Seventeen."
"So she was after my man's body."
She turned to look at Seventeen.
Seventeen stood beside the red candles, the light outlining his tall figure and handsome profile.
In any dimension, this face and these divine bones were indeed the most coveted possessions, coveted by both ghosts and gods.
"Seventeen." Shen Qingqiu walked over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and clung to him.
"Someone wants to take you to be their ghost groom."
"What will you do?" Seventeen lowered his head, a savage red light flashing in his purple eyes.
He extended his star-like right hand, gently stroking her back.
"I'm already yours."
"Who dares to take me..." Clang—! Clang—! In the distance, the night watchman's gong suddenly sounded.
It was the third watch of the night.
Immediately afterwards, the chilling sound of the suona horn rang out again.
This time, the sound was right outside the door.
Whoosh— The window was blown open by a cold wind.
The courtyard was now filled with a dense mass of "people."
They wore Qing Dynasty official robes or Republic of China long gowns, their faces deathly pale, carrying white lanterns.
And in the very center.
A huge, pitch-black coffin was being carried by eight paper effigies, approaching "Locking Spring Garden" step by step.
The coffin lid wasn't fully closed.
A withered, hairy hand reached out from the crack in the coffin.
A cold, greedy voice echoed in the night air:
"My body... my body... give me back..."
That was the real "Chen Xiuyuan."
A zombie king who had been dead for ten years but had become powerful.
"They're here." Shen Qingqiu released Seventeen and turned to look out the window.
She didn't dodge; instead, she walked to the dressing table, picked up a red lipstick, and slowly applied it to her lips.
"Trying to steal the bride?"
She pursed her blood-red lips, her golden eyes shining brightly in the darkness.
"Seventeen, open the door."
"Tonight, I'll teach these wandering ghosts a lesson…"
She ripped off her brocade shawl, revealing a modified red battle robe (cheongsam) embroidered with spider lilies.
"What is… a ghost marriage?"
"If we're going to get married, let's get married… until our souls are scattered." Seventeen walked to the door.
He put his black leather glove back on, shielding his eyes from the starlight.
But an invisible force field, powerful enough to crush space, had already gathered around him.
Creak— The door opened.
Facing the courtyard full of vengeful ghosts and the approaching black coffin.
Seventeen stood at the doorway, his body like an iron tower, his face like a demon.
He turned slightly to the side, making an invitation gesture that was extremely gentlemanly, yet brimming with mockery.
"My mistress said,"
"Those who want to die... please come in."