Chapter Sixteen: Exorcising the Ghostly Fetus

“Wife, aren’t you supposed to stay inside during the day? It’s not good for you to be out like this.” I quickly changed the topic, hoping she wouldn’t catch the scent of Yufang on me.

“I drank your blood. Gradually, I’ve gained some Yang energy, and my resistance to it has strengthened. So appearing briefly isn’t a problem anymore.” Wang Ying emerged from the bathroom, explaining as she walked. Watching her, I couldn’t help but compare her to the ghost in the red dress, and found myself looking at her a few more times. Wang Ying was beautiful, her allure tinged with a ghostly charm that made her even more captivating. People say seductive women are like enchantresses, and perhaps that’s what they mean.

Her explanation made things clear. Damn! Why should I be afraid of her? My blood exposed the true form of the little red ghost, and my three-foot Longyuan sword left her powerless. Why should I fear her?

“Is that so? You’d still be better off staying in the soul urn,” I said, raising my voice a little, feeling more confident.

“Da Chuan, there’s a peculiar scent on you,” Wang Ying sniffed, stepping closer.

“What scent? You’re imagining things.” Even with my Longyuan sword backing me up, I still couldn’t relax; Wang Ying exerted an invisible pressure on me, making me uneasy, as if I really had cheated and been caught by my wife.

“The scent of ghosts.” Wang Ying frowned, looking quite serious.

I felt relieved. As a walker, it was perfectly normal to carry the scent of ghosts; as long as it wasn’t Yufang's, that was all that mattered. This ghost woman liked to stir up trouble for no reason—I genuinely didn’t want to provoke her. “Wife, I went ghost hunting last night, but unfortunately she got away.”

“You have ghost energy on you, and it’s harmful to your body. Let me help you get rid of it.” Wang Ying spoke as she grabbed my arm and pushed me onto the bed.

This ghost woman really knew a lot! She even understood ghost energy—the traces left by spirits, pure Yin, genuinely harmful to humans. If someone accumulates too much Yin energy, they become vulnerable to illness and may eventually die from it. That’s why, after my uncle and I performed marriages for spirits, my mother would always use fire to cleanse me.

Now Wang Ying wanted to rid me of ghost energy, and I felt genuinely touched. It seemed even ghost women had moments of tenderness.

I lay on the bed as Wang Ying straddled me, her full hips pressing against me. Her cool, delicate fingers slipped my clothes off and gently traced down my back. Honestly, it felt quite comfortable; I wondered what she did when she was alive. One thing was certain—she was skilled and dexterous.

Her hands moved back and forth over me, her hips rubbing against mine, and in that instant, I felt an inexplicable urge.

“Wife, you’re so good to me.” Stirred by her touch, my thoughts began to wander.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not being good to you; I’m just worried your blood might get contaminated.” Wang Ying let out a cold laugh, instantly dousing my warmth like a bucket of cold water.

As disappointment washed over me, Wang Ying’s body suddenly trembled and then collapsed beside me, completely unconscious. Alarmed, I scrambled up. What happened? Can ghosts faint?

Wang Ying lay on the bed, her face pale, lips devoid of color. I was terrified—though she wasn't always kind to me, I owed her; my wrongdoing had made her treat me poorly, but we shared a connection, and I couldn’t just ignore her. Yet, I had no idea what to do. Her hand was icy cold, as was her body.

Did she need me to perform artificial respiration? I touched her nostrils—no breath. Looking at her delicate brows and pale face, sadness welled up in me. How could this be? Was she about to dissipate? Just moments ago she seemed fine; how could she suddenly be gone?

What should I do? What can I do?

As I stood helplessly, Wang Ying’s lips moved slightly, like a child seeking milk. A glimmer of hope sparked within me, and I hurriedly bit my right middle finger, gently placing it in her mouth.

Wang Ying kept her eyes closed, sucking greedily, and though she didn’t open her eyes, I felt much calmer—she must be alright. Yet part of me was conflicted; if this ghost woman vanished, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Then I wouldn’t have to spend every day with a ghost and could pursue a wife I truly liked.

Alas, she had recovered, and all I could do was indulge the thought.

“Wang Dachuan, you bastard, you nearly killed me just now!” Wang Ying, her face now flushed, sat up angrily.

I was dumbfounded. I’d saved her, and yet she still treated me this way. It was true what they said—ghosts are cold and unfeeling. “Wife, how am I a bastard? How did I almost kill you?” I felt utterly wronged.

“Just now, I was removing your ghost energy, but suddenly your back surged with Yang energy. You’re of pure Yin constitution, so releasing such strong Yang—clearly intentional—nearly scattered my soul.” Wang Ying pouted, looking aggrieved.

Afraid she’d keep nagging or pinch me, I quickly explained. I really hadn’t meant to; perhaps Wang Ying was just exhausted or unwell, and she soon retreated to rest in the soul urn.

Once she was inside, I relaxed a bit, lay down, and slept until dusk. Wei Qi’s other two assistants had woken up and were packing tools. Tonight they planned to help Shang Xiaoyun abort the ghost fetus. I was intrigued and wanted to join Wei Qi, but then thought of Yufang—would she still come to pick me up?

As darkness fell, Yufang really did come. In her eyes, I might be a capable man—perhaps one who could communicate with spirits and catch ghosts.

Seeing Yufang arrive, Wei Qi pulled me aside. “Kid, you’ve got some moves! Already hooked up?”

I quickly denied it. There’s no way; Yufang is a policewoman, with a good career, looks, genuine abilities, and a promising future. With her qualifications, she could easily find a wealthy, handsome man; I’m nowhere near her league. I’d never considered anything between us. Now my uncle had arranged a ghost wife for me, and serving her well was enough. So I told Wei Qi about Yufang asking me to accompany her at night.

Wei Qi frowned and advised me not to go with her tonight. Instead, he wanted me to help at Shang Xiaoyun’s house to remove the ghost fetus. I told him I was just a walker, clueless about the work of Yin-Yang masters—what good could I do?

Wei Qi said that while I didn’t yet understand Yin-Yang techniques, I had natural advantages. My blood was pure Yin, which had unique properties—it could distinguish good from evil ghosts. Benevolent spirits could be sustained by my blood, but malicious ones, those with ill intent, feared it; my blood could annihilate them. Most importantly, my three-foot Longyuan sword was a rare treasure in the spiritual world, and with it, ordinary spirits had nothing to fear.

His explanation made everything clear—why Wang Ying could drink my blood unharmed, while the little red ghost’s face became rotten after just a splash. So Wang Ying, despite her domineering and unreasonable ways, was actually a good ghost. I remembered how she’d made demands early on, asking me to kill Li Jun and Zhao Dongsheng, which didn’t seem very kind, but by Wei Qi’s logic, she was indeed a benign spirit. I felt a bit muddled.

Wei Qi’s request was one I couldn’t refuse. Though he wasn’t my master, he was my guide, and I’d learn from him in the future. Despite being about the same age, he was still my elder, so I had to listen. I explained the situation to Yufang. She was easygoing, saying she wouldn’t go home either, and decided to join us in exorcising Shang Xiaoyun’s ghost fetus.

Wei Qi pulled me aside again. “Kid, you didn’t believe me, did you? See? She’s devoted to you. Don’t let her down.”

I knew Wei Qi was only teasing, and that Yufang had made her decision out of fear of going home. Still, his words stirred something in me—I felt a vague, inexplicable affection for Yufang.

Jokes aside, Wei Qi was a capable man. He advised me to talk with Yufang and try to find out who had placed the two paper ghosts in Shang Xiaoyun’s husband’s coffin. If the culprit wasn’t found, it could affect Shang Xiaoyun for the rest of her life. When he spoke, I sensed Wei Qi’s worry; every time he mentioned Shang Xiaoyun, his eyes sparkled. Suddenly, I realized he was interested in the widowed Shang Xiaoyun.

“Uncle Qi, do you like Sister Yun?” I teased.

Wei Qi shot me a glare. “What do you know, kid? Where’s all this talk of liking?” With that, he slipped away, but seeing his flushed face, I knew I was right.

That night, we gathered at Shang Xiaoyun’s house. It was almost comical—just days ago, Shang Xiaoyun was slender, but now she was cradling a swollen belly, as if pregnant for months.

Seeing us arrive, Shang Xiaoyun was both embarrassed and relieved. Embarrassed by her unexpected pregnancy, relieved that we were here and she no longer had to be afraid.

She brewed tea for us, then blushing, asked Wei Qi if he could help her abort. Wei Qi replied that a ghost fetus wasn’t human and should be removed during the dead of night, when Yin energy was strongest; otherwise, it might become a monstrous hybrid of even greater malice.

Wei Qi pulled me and Shang Xiaoyun aside. “Sister Yun, how’s your relationship with your husband?”

Shang Xiaoyun looked puzzled. “Master Wei, what do you mean?”

“No particular meaning. I just want to catch your husband’s ghost before removing the ghost fetus. If I don’t, he might interfere and stop us from completing the abortion.”

A look of helpless affection crossed Shang Xiaoyun’s face. “Master Wei, whether our relationship is good or bad, the fact that he got me pregnant as a ghost shows he doesn’t care about me at all! He’s tormenting me, hurting me. You said after seven days I’d die in childbirth, didn’t you?” Shang Xiaoyun spoke tenderly, tears falling.

She was right. If a man truly cared for his wife, he should let go after death, not haunt her like this. Making a widow pregnant—it’s one thing for us to know it’s a ghost fetus, but outsiders would assume she was irresponsible.

Wei Qi nodded. “Sister Yun, I know what to do. If I catch him and disperse his spirit, there’ll be no need for a ghost marriage.”

As he spoke, his assistant Ye Zi came in from outside and whispered in Wei Qi’s ear, “Brother Qi, he’s here.”

Wei Qi’s squinted eyes flashed, and he stood up, heading outside. I understood Ye Zi’s meaning—Shang Xiaoyun’s husband’s spirit had appeared again—so I hurried after him.

The night outside was eerie, the lights flickering with the wind, casting mottled shadows. Through the shifting light, I saw nothing. Where was the ghost? Where could it be?