"Fu Niang lives as a human by day and a ghost by night, locked within this residence."
"Fu Niang is within this residence. This residence contains a ghost formation, preventing outsiders from entering. Only blood relatives can pass through smoothly; otherwise, they will be attacked by her. For years, dozens have met unfortunate ends."
"In this life, I failed her, but she never failed me. Let the misunderstandings between us dissipate like smoke and clouds."
"After thirty years, she can forget me, marry another, and experience the joys and sorrows of life. Yet, for my sake, she suffers daily. I do not want her to suffer anymore."
"Please, sir, ensure this letter reaches her. I still wish to see her one last time, but I cannot." The young man stood outside the gate, longing to enter and see her.
"I understand."
"We who have died should have vanished. Yet, we appear in this world as spirits. I fear this has something to do with that Eastern demon. Mr. Chen, please be cautious of the Eastern demon."
The young man's body gradually turned to dust, leaving behind only the yellowed envelope that should have been sent decades ago.
What is despair?
A gentle breeze, a bright sun, yet no smile.
Can you be more specific?
Embracing from the left, embracing from the right, yet devoid of desire.
Can you be even more specific?
Not having you—
Is there a solution?
Chen Jiuyang carefully put away the letter, tidied his clothes, and slowly walked with the old man to the door of the small residence. He gently knocked and said softly,
"Is this the home of Su Hang Fu Niang? I was entrusted by a former acquaintance to deliver a letter to your esteemed household."
"The sender is Wang Juyuan."
Creak—
The gate opened.
Within the residence, a torrent of ghostly energy surged.
At the entrance stood a woman in a bride's red attire, her hair disheveled, her face unseen, emanating a dense ghostly aura.
Before her, Lu Qingrao and Xu Qingji lay on the ground, severely wounded, with a pool of crimson blood before them.
The scene was eerily silent.
"Fu'er, you are truly alive, you are truly alive!"
The old man, upon seeing her, burst into tears and shouted.
He recognized the red wedding dress; it was one his daughter had sewn herself, stitch by stitch. Sixty years ago, she had jumped into the river wearing this very dress.
He lunged towards his daughter.
Xu Qingji's expression shifted drastically: "Chen Jiuyang, stop him! If she absorbs more life force, her power will grow, and we will all die!"
Chen Jiuyang shook his head and said,
"I have a doubt. When one person makes a decision that affects more than just themselves, is it for the other person's good, or is it merely their own stubborn insistence?"
"..."
The woman in red, without hesitation, raised her pale ghostly hand and grabbed forward as the old man lunged at her.
Her hand plunged into the old man's chest.
The old man seemed to feel no pain, his face filled with a sense of release:
"Fu'er, Father has finally seen you again."
"You look just as you did before, but Father has grown old."
The woman in red trembled slightly, as if regaining a sliver of lucidity:
"Why did you come?"
The old man's voice choked with emotion: "Fu'er, it was Father's fault."
"Father wronged you back then. If Father had agreed to you then, it wouldn't be like this now. Wuwuwuwu, it was Father's fault..."
The old man's cries were filled with painful self-reproach and regret.
This was his daughter; she had never wronged him. He was the one who was wrong.
He was wrong to have easily betrothed her to the powerful and wealthy back then.
If he could, he would have wanted to see his daughter marry the man she loved, but he had bowed to power and influence then, leading to this outcome.
If he could do it all over again, he would surely agree to his daughter's wishes. What did losing his official position and family matter?
The woman in red's voice trembled slightly: "What use is your apology now?"
"It's useful, it's still useful..." The old man's life force was rapidly fading, but his eyes, no longer clouded, grew brighter:
"Fu'er, Wang Juyuan will not return. But you are still alive. If you continue like this, you will completely transform into a vengeful spirit! There is no such thing as the dead returning to life! That Eastern demon is deceiving you! Performing the legendary Taishan Prefecture Lord Sacrifice is simply a lie!"
The woman in red's malevolent and ghostly aura surged. She withdrew her hand from the old man's body and roared, "There is! What do you know!"
"My husband's body already has enough yang energy. If I persist for a while longer, he will be resurrected and marry me!"
The old man coughed blood: "Fu'er, his jade coffin has been opened, his body has turned to ashes, there is no longer any possibility..."
"Boom!"
A dark thunderclap struck the sky.
"Ah!"
Fu Niang let out a piercing scream: "You're lying to me! You must be lying to me!"
Her ghostly energy condensed again. Lu Qingrao and Xu Qingji, lying on the ground, turned pale.
The old man let out a tragic, wry smile: "Fu'er, have I ever lied to you in all these years?"
Fu Niang stumbled back three steps. The ghostly energy around her suddenly faltered, revealing her face. Her eyes were red, and tears welled within them.
She lived as a human by day and a ghost by night, suffering for sixty years, all to resurrect the husband who had never married her.
It was over...
Looking at the old man coughing blood and smiling sadly.
Looking at Fu Niang's despairing eyes.
Chen Jiuyang could no longer remain calm. He stepped forward and sighed softly, "Miss Fu, Wang Juyuan appeared to me in a dream, entrusting me to deliver this final letter to his wife—"
He took out the yellowed, old envelope.
He opened the envelope, and the letter inside flew into the air. Chen Jiuyang infused a part of his soul into it and performed the Divine Will technique, just as he had once used a single letter to intimidate Xi Butui.
With his soul infused into the envelope, a phantom image of a young man appeared.
The phantom was Wang Juyuan in his living appearance. He was wrapped in blood-stained gauze, his right hand trembling as he held the brush with difficulty:
"To my wife, Fu Niang:
The wind is cool at the edge of the sky, the reeds are lush.
You always said I was a bit pedantic, and you didn't like classical prose. Let's dispense with it this time.
Ever since I learned that my family proposed to you and sent a matchmaker, I have looked in your direction every night.
I wish to return soon to welcome you into my home.
However, I must break my promise.
All memories of you, I hold them firmly in my heart.
I ran towards the direction where you were. I ran for a long time, hoping to reach you and marry you.
But I can no longer run.
I'm sorry, I can no longer run.
I have already sent a letter to my family informing them that I have decided to divorce my wife."
At this point, the phantom Wang Juyuan wiped away tears that had appeared at the corner of his eyes and continued writing.
"Regarding our matters, it is not Mr. Fu's fault. He told me that if I wished to marry you, he would naturally agree, as long as I could gain military achievements on the battlefield, which would make those powerful figures in Su Hang back down and not resort to underhanded tactics to trouble you and me.
Alas, I can no longer do so.
I know your stubborn nature, but I want to tell you.
I wish to see you happy. Su Hang has countless talented scholars; I hope you will find another person with whom you can share a harmonious life and live a happy and fulfilling life.
Forget me in your memories.
As for us, shall we meet again in the next life?
In this life, I failed you, and you never failed me. I am sorry.
Consider today's farewell as our parting. Let us each live well from now on.
Your former husband, Wang Juyuan.
Final words."