Chapter Thirty-Nine: Little Nangong Xi

For the remaining two days, I stayed at home, occasionally practicing martial arts or simply sleeping. With nothing much to do, I even found myself missing the Ghost King's game.

At last, the two hard days passed. On the final night, just as I was about to go to bed, the long-unheard ringtone sounded from my phone.

“Classmates, I hope you’ve rested well? Remember to come to school at eight o’clock tomorrow.”

I stuck out my tongue, set an alarm, and turned over to sleep.

It was summer, and since I was afraid of the heat, I often slept with the window open at night. A cool breeze drifted over me, accompanied by the faint sound of paper slipping to the floor.

Paper...?

Something felt off.

I squinted toward the window but saw nothing unusual. Pretending to sleep, my alert eyes scanned every corner of the room.

Then I noticed a figure, distinctly feminine, standing with her back to me by the wardrobe.

Perhaps because of a lingering paranoia since the Ghost King appeared, I had taken to keeping my weapon under my pillow. Maybe that was one lesson the Ghost King had taught me.

Back to the matter at hand—I kept my eyes on the girl, while my hand silently drew the Snow Blade from beneath my pillow.

From head to toe, she looked young, dressed in tattered robes, and I noticed her feet hovered above the ground. That alone confirmed she was a wandering spirit.

Since her back was to me, I couldn’t see her face, but a chill of terror swept over me, making me tremble.

I stopped pretending to sleep. With a swift motion, I sprang from the bed, summoning the Snow Blade. The room, already cold from the presence of a spirit, turned icy with the addition of my blade’s aura—a stark contrast to the summer heat.

I leveled the tip of my blade at her, which made her flinch in fear.

She let out a frightened cry and shrank into the corner, finally squatting on the ground, pleading, “Spare me, master Daoist! I didn’t mean to come in... I’ll leave right now... please spare me.”

For reasons I couldn’t explain, her words made me hesitate.

Still holding the blade toward her, I asked, “What’s your name? Why are you here?”

She glanced timidly at me, but seeing the blade, quickly lowered her head.

Only then did I see her clearly: petite, not even one meter sixty, with delicate eyes brimming with tears. In short, she was beautiful.

She looked at me again, still shaken, and replied, “My name is Nangong Xi. After I died last year, I was caught by a family of Daoists who forced me to be their servant. I was beaten every day... This is my sixth escape...”

With that, she began to weep with grievance.

“Why not reincarnate instead?”

I’d only ever heard of reincarnation on TV—they say that after death, one travels the Three-Life Path to be reborn. I hadn’t expected to say it myself one day.

She replied, “My body was sealed by that Daoist family with a spell. I can’t enter the underworld...”

I nodded lightly, already considering how to handle her.

I stood and walked to the wardrobe.

Nangong Xi, thinking I meant to silence her, trembled even harder, head buried in her arms.

“I’m not a bad person, nor am I a Daoist master. My name is Lin Yao. I’m sparing you because I pity you,” I said, searching the wardrobe for clothes.

“You can stay here, but I’m busy and may not have time to look after you. If I get the chance, I’ll help you reclaim your body so you can move on.”

I pulled out a white T-shirt and a pair of cropped pants.

I couldn’t help but wonder what my parents would think if they returned to find I’d taken in a wandering spirit. My life was busy enough as it was—the Ghost King alone was more than I could handle. I truly didn’t have the time for her.

Moreover, while I said I’d help her retrieve her body, if the family who captured her were powerful Daoists, I’d likely be outmatched.

Everything would have to be planned carefully.

I tossed the clothes to Nangong Xi, who now seemed much calmer, blinking at me with those large eyes.

“Go change, then take a shower.”

Afterward, I showed her around my home.

The place was small, but I wanted her to know not to enter my parents’ room.

She listened obediently, nodding at everything I said, answering every question.

Only when she entered the bathroom did I sit on the living room sofa and light a cigarette.

From our brief conversation, I’d learned her story. She was the daughter of a modest family, a year younger than me, killed in a car accident. Though not as tragic as a TV drama, it still left a mark on me.

It was only eleven at night, but I couldn’t sleep.

With nothing else to do, I started practicing martial arts in my room to pass the time.

“Are you... practicing?”

Halfway through, Nangong Xi emerged from the bathroom in the clothes I’d given her. I had to admit—she was truly beautiful.

“Just something to do,” I replied without turning.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” she said.

I paused and turned to look at her. She gazed at me with those big eyes, a faint smile on her lips.

“Why not take the bed?” I suggested, pointing to my room.

“No, the sofa is fine. Really,” she insisted, settling onto it. “It’s comfortable. Don’t worry about me.”

I watched her, feeling a pang of sympathy. Helping her reclaim her body became a more urgent goal.

“You should rest early. Go on.”

She lay down on the sofa. I noticed that, even as a spirit, her body still bore unhealed wounds—a pitiful sight.

With a deep sigh, I fetched a blanket and gently covered her.

“Thank you...” she murmured.

Without responding, I turned back to my room.

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep until after two in the morning, when I finally drifted off. For some reason, I slept more soundly than I had in days.

Morning came in the blink of an eye—it was seven o’clock. I assumed Nangong Xi was still asleep, but to my surprise, she’d already made breakfast and was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Did you... make breakfast?” I asked, scratching my head awkwardly.

“Oh, you’re up. Come eat. There’s not much left in the house, so I just made some rice porridge.”

Indeed, since my parents left, I’d either eaten out or subsisted on instant noodles. It had been ages since I’d had a proper meal.