Chapter Seventeen: Hou Kui

The image that haunted his mind left Ledong utterly sleepless.

He hurriedly unlocked his phone, his finger hovering over a video. The half-loaded photo of a bald man sent chills down his spine.

“Old Cai… living under the same roof as a murderer?”

This thought pierced Ledong’s mind like an ice pick. He suddenly sprang out of bed, the sudden movement startling Xiao Zhang across the room.

“Brother Ledong?” Xiao Zhang looked up in confusion, his eyes glancing discreetly at Ledong’s phone screen.

“Nothing…” Ledong forced a calm wave of his hand, pulling out a cigarette to place between his lips, but his trembling fingers couldn’t light it.

If that bald man was truly the wanted criminal, and if Master Zhao had deliberately arranged for him to share a room with Cai Kun…

Ledong’s throat tightened, the cigarette tip crushed between his teeth.

Could Master Zhao be an accomplice?

He thought this silently, but soon dismissed it, recalling Master Zhao’s half-baked demeanor—it hardly seemed like he was in cahoots.

If not him, then…

Ledong gazed out at the moonlight before shifting his eyes to the ceiling, a bold suspicion forming in his mind.

Butler Ma!

Excited, Ledong stood up and closed his eyes, recalling everything from before. This recollection revealed subtle irregularities.

Whether it was Master Zhao’s interview, the ghost marriage, or the room assignments, Butler Ma seemed to intervene at critical moments, with Master Zhao seemingly taking orders from him. This aligned with his and Cai Kun’s suspicions—Master Zhao was Butler Ma’s man.

If so, then the blame for the tragic fate of Hu Dawei and his wife, projected onto him and Cai Kun, could only have been orchestrated by Butler Ma. This also implied that Butler Ma was the murderer!

“I never expected he’d stoop to such methods,” Ledong muttered, biting down on his cigarette, increasingly convinced the source lay within Butler Ma’s quarters.

Yet another vexing question plagued him—if Butler Ma possessed the ability to exorcise ghosts, why shift the blame onto Ledong and Cai Kun? And why hire a fake Taoist to deceive Boss Hu into relocating the graves? Why involve a murderer?

“Could it be that Butler Ma wants to…” Ledong stubbed out the unlit cigarette, a terrifying possibility flashing through his mind—a man betrayed in love, lurking by his enemy’s side for decades, orchestrating this entire scheme solely to gain Boss Hu’s trust and then hire a killer!

Though he couldn’t fathom why Butler Ma would transfer the vengeful spirits onto them, Ledong was certain this cunning old man harbored other motives.

This thought made him restless. He glanced out the window; the moonlight cast the villa in a ghastly pale glow, resembling a colossal tombstone.

Seeing Ledong’s agitated state, Xiao Zhang shook his head and went back to pretend sleeping.

“No, this place is too complicated. I have to find the source and leave quickly,” Ledong whispered to himself, eyeing the still Xiao Zhang before quietly rising and tiptoeing to the door.

His immediate priority was to warn Cai Kun to be wary of that bald man.

Descending to the first floor, midnight moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the living room brightly. Ledong crept to the west guest room, pressing his ear against the wooden door, only to hear a sudden “clang”—the sound of a chair toppling.

“Old Cai!” Ledong called out urgently, pounding on the door, “Are you alright?”

No response.

His heart pounded painfully. He stepped back two paces and slammed his shoulder hard against the door. On his second attempt, the door suddenly swung open from inside, and Ledong stumbled forward, falling into a heavy embrace.

“Damn you!” Cai Kun staggered back, surprised. “What the hell’s going on?”

Ledong struggled to steady himself. The scene before him froze him in place—the bald man sat cross-legged by the small tea table, several bottles of Niulan Mountain liquor scattered around.

The bald man scratched his shiny scalp with a sly smile, wearing a confused expression. What shocked Ledong most was the pristine scalp—no birthmarks in sight.

“This brother here is…” the bald man rasped, his voice rough like sandpaper.

“Ah, this is my buddy Ledong,” Kun slung an arm around Ledong’s shoulder, secretly squeezing him hard but smiling brightly, “Dongzi, this is Hou Kuihou. He had an accident working on a construction site before and came here to relocate graves to make some money for medical bills.”

Ledong forced a smile but couldn’t help glancing at Hou Kuihou’s head. Under the light, the scalp gleamed oily and smooth, utterly free of marks.

“By the way, Dongzi, what brings you here so late?” Cai Kun leaned in closely, feigning warmth, but whispered rapidly into Ledong’s ear, “What’s up? Something wrong?”

Ledong shook his head, lowering his voice, “I’ll tell you during the day.” Then he raised his tone, “Nothing much, just couldn’t sleep and came to have a smoke.”

Hou Kuihou chuckled heartily, lifting a half-full bottle of Niulan Mountain, “Perfect timing. Shall we have a drink?”

“No, no, you guys go ahead,” Ledong waved his hand and stepped back, signaling Cai Kun with his eyes. Kun caught on and sent him off, laughter and chatter resuming inside the room.

Sighing in relief, Ledong returned to the second-floor corridor. As he opened his door, he instinctively glanced at Xiao Zhang—who faced the wall, sound asleep, the screen of his phone just now going dark.

Ledong lay back down, staring at the ceiling, piecing together the day’s clues: the vengeful spirits of Hu Dawei and his wife appearing at unknown times, Butler Ma’s past with Mrs. Hu, the sudden appearance of a wanted criminal, and the strangely misplaced linear birthmark…

“Unless…” a terrifying thought struck him, “that birthmark is fake?”

A chill ran through him.

If Hou Kuihou truly was the wanted man, deliberately disguising himself to infiltrate…

Ledong pulled out his phone to double-check the news, but the trusted source still showed a glaring red cross.

“Damn it!” He cursed, shoving the phone under his pillow. Hours of contemplation brought sudden exhaustion; his eyelids grew heavy…

In a haze, Ledong felt a weight pressing down on him, as if someone was riding on his chest.

He struggled to open his eyes but couldn’t even move a finger. The paralysis of sleep paralysis gripped him in terror. He tried to scream but could only manage faint “huffing” sounds.

“Dawei…” a female voice whispered beside his ear, cold fingers brushing his cheek, “You’re burning up…”

Ledong’s eyeballs darted wildly beneath his closed lids, finally forcing a narrow slit open.

By moonlight, he saw Su Juanjuan perched astride his thigh, dressed in a blood-red wedding gown, her head bowed shamelessly. Her rotting flesh glowed a ghastly bluish-purple under the moonlight.

“Won’t you take this off?” the ghost’s voice suddenly became coquettish as her bony fingers reached toward Ledong’s chest.

Only then did he realize the talisman given by Ma Wenwen was wrapped over his heart. But the once yellowed paper was now charred and curled at the edges, scorched by fierce flames.

As the ghost’s fingertip touched the talisman, a sizzling sound erupted, and a foul stench of burning decay filled the air. Yet she seemed unfazed by the pain, stubbornly trying to peel off the talisman.

Ledong watched helplessly as the paper burned away, desperate to scream.

“Shhh—” the ghost’s cracked lips brushed his earlobe, “Once it’s completely burnt, we can be together forever…”