Chapter Sixty-One: Live Broadcast

Gripping that box of condoms in my hand, I felt an overwhelming nervousness. To be honest, I didn’t even know how to use them! The moment I pushed open the door, my heart felt as if it would leap out of my chest. Was I really going to go through with this? And if I did, what would come next?

I hesitated in the doorway, only to hear a faint sobbing from inside the room. My heart lurched—what had happened? Had someone bullied Wang Ying while I was out?

Without another thought, I hurried into the room.

Wang Ying was sitting on the sofa, clutching a tissue, her tears streaming down like rain upon blossoms. A pang of sorrow twisted in my chest as I rushed to hold her. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did someone bully you?” I was furious—if anyone had dared hurt her, I’d fight them to the end.

When Wang Ying saw me, she turned away, showing me her delicate back, which trembled ever so slightly with her heartbreak.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” I asked, fearing something terrible had happened in my absence. “Tell me—did someone hurt you? I swear I’ll make them pay.”

She turned abruptly at my words, tears glistening on her pale, flushed cheeks. “If someone bullied me, would you really make them pay?” she asked, her voice trembling.

I nodded. I meant every word. She only had seven days left—if anyone hurt her, I wouldn’t rest until they answered for it.

“It’s you! You’re the one who bullied me, Wang Dachuan!” she cried, her small fists raining down harmlessly on my chest.

“How could I ever bear to hurt you?” I was bewildered, not understanding at all.

“It’s you, always you! You’re such a bad man—why didn’t you tell me the truth? I told you my dream was real, but you insisted it was just a dream… You’re such a bad man, Wang Dachuan!” Wang Ying sobbed, suddenly flinging herself into my arms, her tears soaking my shoulder.

Then I understood—she’d learned the truth about herself. But who had told her? Could it have been Shangguan Wan’er? I’d asked her to keep Wang Ying company, but forgot to tell her not to say anything. It seemed she’d let it slip after all. Still, perhaps it was for the best. Sooner or later, Wang Ying had to know.

As she wept in my arms, my own emotions churned wildly. In that moment, an idea took root in my mind: I would refine an elixir—Blood Linglong. If I could give her one pill each week, wouldn’t that grant her a long life? But a day had already passed; only six remained. Whether I could find the recipe and create the elixir in that time was another matter entirely.

From the time of the First Emperor, when he sent Xu Fu eastward in search of the elixir of immortality, all of China had sought such a remedy, yet none had succeeded. Could I possibly succeed where all others had failed? Sighing, I resolved to take things one step at a time.

I held Wang Ying close, letting her release her feelings in my embrace. I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was quietly shed tears with her. As a man, how could I not wish she could stay with me, alive, for a lifetime?

After a long while, her sobbing subsided. She pulled away, her reddened eyes shining as she looked at me. “Dachuan, I’m sorry. I lost control. I’m not afraid of dying—I just feel like I owe you so much. Wan’er told me everything.”

My heart ached, my eyes stinging once more. “Sweetheart, why are you saying this? We’re family—whether you’re human or ghost, I just want you by my side.”

She nodded. “Shangguan Wan’er told me not just about us but also helped reconnect my three souls and seven spirits. I really am alive again—the soul is whole, and all my memories have returned. After these seven days, I’ll treat you well. But while I’m alive, you have to love me with all your heart.” Tears washed her face clean, making her look even more delicate and lovely, her eyes slightly swollen from crying. I couldn’t help but hold her tightly once more. “My love, I’ve made up my mind. Even if these seven days pass, I’m not afraid. From today, I’ll search for the recipe of Blood Linglong—whatever it takes, I’ll find a way to make you immortal.”

Wang Ying laughed through her tears. “Dachuan, Blood Linglong is an ancient relic. This is the age of science now. The more advanced technology becomes, the more obsolete the old arts—alchemy and divination—become. It’s impossible to refine Blood Linglong again. I’m already grateful that it brought my soul back to life. All I ask is that you protect my soul in the future. That way, I can stay with you forever. And just think—when you’re eighty, I’ll still be twenty!”

Her laughter eased my heart. She didn’t seem to mind whether she was reborn or not, but for me, it mattered deeply. To be honest, I still preferred the living Wang Ying—full of warmth, emotion, cleverness, and charm. I had to find a way to bring her back to life.

Still, she had a point. Blood Linglong was created two thousand years ago, and the alchemist who made it was killed by Zi’ang’s brother. Finding that recipe now would be harder than reaching the heavens.

She was right about something else, too—the more primitive the era, the greater humanity’s supernatural abilities. Science has replaced old ways; hospitals have taken the place of shamans, pharmaceutical factories have replaced alchemists. Who still believes in immortality now? Even the legendary Zhang Sanfeng only lived a little over two hundred years.

But Blood Linglong’s effects were real. It truly brought Wang Ying back after months of death. Whether it could grant immortality, I couldn’t say, but all I wanted was for her to live happily, even if it meant giving her a pill each week.

So, I had to find the recipe for Blood Linglong.

“Honey, what’s this poking me?” As I held her, lost in thought, Wang Ying turned to me, grabbing my hand and taking the box of condoms. She glanced at it, and her face flushed bright red. “You scoundrel, is this all you think about?”

I blushed too. “Wife, I am your husband after all.”

Her lively eyes sparkled. “Husband, now that all my memories are back, I realize we’re not truly married—at least not in the human world. Your second uncle only married me to you to calm my anger. If you really want me, I’ll give myself to you. I’m a traditional woman—once you have me, I’ll be yours for life. Are you willing?”

Of course I was. I’d seen her as a ghost, and she’d treated me better than any living woman. Whether she was human or spirit, I wanted to be with her. “Honey, don’t say that. A ghost marriage is still a marriage. My second uncle already said the vows—we’re not escaping this.”

Wang Ying took a deep breath. “Dachuan, I used to hate the person who chased me down on that night run. But now, I find I don’t hate him at all. It’s only after dying that I realized you’re the one most worthy of my love. I want to cling to you for the rest of my life, and you’re not allowed to abandon me.” Her words were both earnest and full of deep affection.

“Honey, how could you think such things? I can’t love you enough,” I said, pulling her into my arms again. She nestled against my chest, her hair fragrant and intoxicating, and I whispered in her ear, “Darling, I want to use up this whole box of condoms with you.”

“No!” she protested.

I was stunned. What now? Had she changed her mind again? “Darling, we’re already married…”

“Exactly! Since we’re married, why use condoms? Isn’t it just like scratching an itch through a boot?” Wang Ying’s cheeks blushed even brighter. “It’s my first time with you. Why use a condom?”

My heart leaped with joy, and I quickly swept her into my arms and headed for the bed.

“Wait, not like this,” she whispered, her arms around my neck.

“What is it now?” I was almost desperate; I’d lived nearly twenty years, and I was finally about to become a real man.

“Wan’er is over there. If she sees us, it’ll be so embarrassing. Do you really want a live audience?” Wang Ying’s arms tightened around my neck, her slightly swollen eyes dreamy. She pointed to the soul urn in the corner.

I staggered in embarrassment, my face burning. Good grief—did that mean Wan’er had heard our entire conversation?