Chapter Five: Not a Dream

“Kill someone? Who?” I was bewildered. What on earth did this ghostly woman want?

“Originally, there were four people I needed dead. Now, if you help me kill three, that’ll suffice. Do this for me and I’ll do anything you ask,” Wang Ying said, moving closer and settling beside me. Her presence radiated a chilling cold.

Whether three or four, the thought was shocking. My second uncle had warned that Wang Ying carried a fierce, violent energy; at first, I hadn’t believed him, but now, it seemed I had no choice but to accept the truth.

“Who are they? And why?” Of course, I wouldn’t kill for her, but I needed to understand what was happening.

“The first is Chen Kai, the man I hate most. When I went out for a night run, he kept chasing me, driving me to jump into the river and end my life,” Wang Ying’s face was full of sorrow, her eyes rimmed red. Her words made it clear—this was the cause of her death.

I hesitated, suggesting I could help her file a report, but to kill for her was out of the question. When I asked for the second name, she uttered Zhao Dongsheng’s.

Kill Zhao Dongsheng? Why? I couldn’t fathom her reasoning.

“That bastard betrayed me. I was in the morgue, and he snuck me out, treating me as merchandise and selling me off. Tell me, doesn’t he deserve death?” Wang Ying declared with righteous fervor.

No wonder that guy always had such a supply of bodies—it turned out he was scavenging them from hospital morgues. Compared to grave robbing, that’s even more brazen. His actions were shameful but perhaps not deserving of death. I replied, “Wang Ying, killing him seems a bit much. Who’s the third?”

“Li Jun, Li Xiang’s uncle—the one who bought my corpse from Zhao Dongsheng.” Wang Ying’s anger had yet to subside. Her fury was understandable; she’d died unjustly, then been sold and traded with no explanation—who wouldn’t be bitter?

Still, to kill for this seemed like an overreaction. “Wang Ying, isn’t this reason insufficient?”

“What do you mean, insufficient? He looked at my chest—he deserves to die!” Wang Ying nearly stunned me into silence. I never expected this ghostly woman to cite such a motive. I remembered that night: Li Jun and I had gone to Zhao Dongsheng to pick up goods. We did glance at her chest, but only to confirm her identity. There was no ulterior motive, certainly not from Li Jun, who nearly died of fright at the time. No sinister thoughts, no inappropriate intentions.

Hearing all this left me speechless. Aside from Chen Kai, none of them deserved death. Even for Chen Kai, what he did wasn’t a capital crime—he merely followed her, no substantial offense. If I killed him, I’d be the murderer. “Wang Ying, if I killed them, I’d be guilty of murder myself.”

“Even better—a capital crime. Now that we’re married, you know. Today at noon, your second uncle held a wedding ceremony for us. Look, this is the wedding dress he prepared for me,” Wang Ying stood, gesturing at her red attire.

I was speechless. It seemed there was no escaping this ghost bride. I studied Wang Ying—she truly had a certain beauty: charming eyes, graceful brows, lovely lips, and a slender neck that made my heart itch.

“Originally, I meant to kill you too, since you looked at my chest. But now, since I’ve married you, it doesn’t matter,” Wang Ying pouted, looking both aggrieved and enchanting.

“Wang Ying, the two of us… we’re just not suitable. I’m human, you’re a ghost…” Despite her beauty, I truly didn’t want to marry her. After all, she was a ghost, not a person, and even the basics of married life wouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t try to wriggle out of it. Your second uncle has already married me to you. You must take responsibility—not just as a husband, but also by helping me take revenge.” She squeezed my waist, and her seductive manner made me want to throw her onto the bed. But reason prevailed; if I did, I’d soon become a ghost myself.

“Wang Ying, I… I…” I wanted to say I really couldn’t help her take revenge, but I could report it to the police.

“Wang Dachuan, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I didn’t want to marry you either, but there was no choice. It was arranged by your second uncle. He’s a medium, able to bridge the worlds of the living and the dead. And you released my spirit fetus, allowing me to take shape, and I now live off your blood. That’s why I agreed to marry you. Otherwise… pfft!” Wang Ying looked both spoiled and proud. “And stop calling me Wang Ying. I’m your wife—call me something more affectionate from now on.”

At this moment, I felt despair, wanting to cry out loud. Oh, second uncle—perhaps I’m not your own blood, after all! How could you foist such a bride upon me?

“Wang Ying—no, wife—we’re really not right for each other. How can we dissolve this marriage?” I wasn’t out of my mind; I just didn’t want this ghostly woman around. I wanted a real woman, someone I could love and marry for real.

“You think I want to cling to you? Let me be clear. Just now, when I tried to get you into bed, I was teasing you. Look at you—your face is like a turtle and a toad. I’m hardly interested. Here’s the deal: within three years, help me kill the ones I named, and I’ll leave you, dissolve the marriage. You go your way, I’ll go mine.” Wang Ying gave me a disdainful glance.

Her words left me feeling oddly disappointed. Am I really that bad? Do I have a turtle-toad face? But she’s a ghost, so I shouldn’t take it to heart. I replied, “That’s best. That’s best.”

“All right, that’s settled. From now on, I’ll always be by your side. Where you go, I go; where you sleep, I sleep. But don’t worry—I have no interest in you. I’m with you to get revenge, to drink your blood. Nothing else. So relax. Now, I need to rest. I’ll lie in the soul urn. One last warning: don’t throw me out. If you toss me and the soul urn, I’ll strangle you.” With that, her figure trembled and vanished.

I sat dumbfounded, tumbling off the bed. Outside, dawn was already breaking. I wiped my face—soaked with sweat.

What was this? It felt so real. Was it all just a dream, a fleeting fantasy?

I sat there on the floor, glancing at the bed—Wei Qi hadn’t returned yet. Recalling the dream, it was vivid, as if real. In the dream, Wang Ying said she would hide in the soul urn as she vanished. Could the porcelain bottle my second uncle gave me be a soul urn? I’d heard about soul urns from others in the trade—usually possessed by Taoist priests or those who bridge the living and the dead, used to store spirits: sometimes to nurture, sometimes to imprison. Sacred objects, not meant for ordinary people. Could the little bottle my second uncle gave me really be a soul urn?

Doubtful, I grabbed the bottle and opened it. Aside from a silver needle, there was nothing inside. I checked the inner wall carefully—smooth and clean, nothing at all.

“Wang Ying, Wang Ying.” I called, but the bottle lay silently in my hand, unmoving. It seemed it really was just a dream.

“Wife, wife.” Suddenly, I had an idea and spoke gently. Still, the bottle didn’t move. I smiled bitterly and felt relieved—it was only a dream. Nothing to do with Wang Ying or a wife. Thank goodness it was a dream; if it were real, I’d have trouble. Where would I find Chen Kai? How could I kill anyone?

Suddenly, there was a frantic knock at the door. I jumped up to open it and saw Wei Qi standing there, lugging a stiff cloth bag. No need to ask, it was surely a corpse.

Wei Qi tossed the body onto the floor, grabbed a cup and drank, then said, “Damn, it’s weird. From Sanlitun to the Wei family’s vegetable garden is only ten kilometers, but I walked all night and still got lost at the door. Now I understand what it means to be lost—someone cast a ghost ward. Blocked my vision.”

My briefly eased mind was tense again. A ghost ward? In my dream, Wang Ying had mentioned this. She said, when I wanted to get intimate but worried Wei Qi would return, she used a ghost ward; even if Wei Qi arrived at the door, he couldn’t find the house.

Ah! Could it have been more than a dream? My heart sank.