There’s a saying everyone has heard: "When you spot one cockroach in your home, it means there are already ten thousand lurking unseen."
Shu Fu, of course, had heard it too. As a hygiene-conscious modern southerner, she had always been highly vigilant against cockroach infestations.
But this was the first time she’d witnessed the principle: "When you find one bone in the forest, you’ll soon discover the remaining hundred or so."
Yes, all hundred-plus bones belonged to the same person—and each time, they were deliberately revealed by their owner, a young woman in white.
Sometimes, she’d hang rib cages and sternums from tree branches, letting them sway in the wind like duck carcasses displayed at a shopfront.
Sometimes, she’d bury leg bones in the grass, pretending to trip and eliciting a crisp snap underfoot.
Sometimes, she’d plant forearm bones elbow-deep in the silt of a stream, so when someone scooped water, pale, slender fingers would hook onto their sleeve and emerge with them.
...
And so it went. The ghost girl made no effort to hide her antics from Shu Fu, pulling one absurd stunt after another until Shu Fu was utterly dumbfounded.
Sure, a corpse was just an empty shell—no soul, no sensations. Concepts like "respect for the dead" were constructs of the living. But this was the first time Shu Fu had seen someone take such enthusiastic delight in playing with their own bones!
Just what kind of hardcore ghost was this?!
Shu Fu prided herself on being an unshakable badass, but even she had to concede defeat here, offering the white-clad girl a respectful salute in silent admiration: Damn, you’re impressive.
The ghost girl modestly returned the gesture, as if to say, Oh, it’s nothing.
Shu Fu: "..."
This ghost has manners?!
At this point, even a blind person could tell the ghost bore no hostility toward Shu Fu—if anything, she seemed oddly affectionate. Whether it was due to the Tong Family or Jiang Ruoshui’s innate protagonist aura was unclear.
As for the group of reckless youngsters blundering into the forest, the ghost harbored no murderous intent. She merely tormented them (with her own bones), scaring the weaker ones half to death—screams and wails harmonizing with snot and tears.
Meanwhile, she observed from the shadows, occasionally stifling giggles. That was all.
Naturally, Liu Ruyi and Jiang Xuesheng noticed everything Shu Fu did. Jiang Xuesheng remained impassive, while Liu Ruyi struggled to suppress his laughter, trembling like a willow in the breeze. His delicate demeanor sent the infatuated youths into a frenzy of concern, fussing over him like doting attendants.
Shu Fu’s reaction?
Old man on subway staring at phone.jpg
...
Setting that aside, Shu Fu spent the journey sharp-eyed and sharp-eared, casually fishing for information. Within fifteen minutes, she’d pieced together the teenagers’ backgrounds.
The leader, "Young Master Bai," was named Bai Tian—fittingly white (pale) and sweet (naïve), with a generous side of stupid. His parents might as well have been prophets, foreseeing their son’s future eighteen years in advance and gifting him this tailor-made name.
The Bai Family was a middling clan—nowhere near the Jiang or Qi Families, but slightly better off than the declining Tong Family. As the saying goes, "Among the blind, the one-eyed man is king." In Qingcheng, the Bais had just enough clout to pass as notable.
Bai Tian’s talents were mediocre, but his family’s resources—poured into him as their sole heir—artificially inflated him into a "promising young talent." Within a hundred-mile radius, aside from the Jiang and Qi scions, he was considered the most accomplished—though most of that "accomplishment" was his parents’ doing.
To his credit, Young Master Bai wasn’t malicious—just chronically overpraised, convinced he was a once-in-a-generation genius destined to lead the masses.
So, on one hand, he saw himself as extraordinary, treating his teammates as lackeys. On the other, he genuinely believed in their monster-hunting mission, too guileless to suspect their insincerity. Even when they smirked behind his back or mocked him as a "useful idiot," he remained oblivious, marching proudly at the front—serving as both vanguard and cannon fodder.
In summary:
The landlord’s clueless son...
Shu Fu massaged her temples with a sigh.
His naivety was almost painful to witness, stirring an involuntary urge to protect him. The saying "Fools have fortune" probably existed because their stupidity invoked others’ pity.
As she turned away, she noticed the ghost girl mirroring her gesture, palm to forehead. Their eyes met—human and spirit sharing a silent moment of mutual exasperation.
Even the ghost couldn’t take Bai Tian’s sweetness anymore.
...
Meanwhile, the nervous boys rambled to calm their nerves, and Shu Fu—starved for intel—eavesdropped eagerly.
One youth ventured, "Brother Bai, I heard your mother is arranging a match with Second Miss Jiang. Is it true?"
Another cut in, "Wait, I heard it’s Qi Xinlei, Third Master Qi’s daughter!"
A third, clueless but eager to flatter, added, "Only maidens from the Jiang or Qi Families could match someone like you. With Patriarch Qi in seclusion, Third Master Qi practically rules the clan. What a splendid match—congratulations!"
Shu Fu mused: No wonder Qi Xinlei’s so arrogant—she’s got a powerful dad.
But Bai Tian himself seemed disinterested, stiffly replying, "Enough. I’m no status-obsessed vulgarian. If I take a partner, it must be love at first sight."
His ears pinked as he stole a glance at Liu Ruyi.
Shu Fu: "Huh???"
What’s this?!
This poor guy! His potential brides are both villainesses, and his crush is a straight man!
Before she could intervene, another boy sighed, "Brother Bai, you’re blessed yet blind. Second Miss Jiang is gentle and refined—many young masters dream of wedding her."
"Miss Yuwei from the Qi family is quite lovely too. When I see her, I’m reminded of a rainy alley in Jiangnan, where a girl as delicate as a crape myrtle lingers..."
"Oh? I prefer Qi Xinlei, personally."
A slightly older boy mused dreamily, "I’ve seen her a few times. That Miss Qi is lively and charming, passionate as fire. Dual cultivation with her must be quite... exhilarating."
He finished with a squinted grin and two lewd chuckles.
Shu Fu was so caught off guard by the sudden vulgarity that she stumbled, instinctively grabbing Jiang Xuesheng’s robe to steady herself.
"Fellow cultivator, are you alright?"
Jiang Xuesheng, ever composed, remained unruffled, as if hearing such crude talk was no different from listening to scripture. Not even an eyebrow twitched. "Young people speak without restraint. Pay it no mind."
"No, it’s not that I’m shy," Shu Fu muttered under her breath. "I just find it a bit... nauseating."
Realizing her words might be misinterpreted, she rubbed her temples and clarified, "Not that dual cultivation itself is nauseating. It’s his attitude..."
"I understand." Jiang Xuesheng nodded casually, his tone almost indifferent. "So-called 'sweet nothings' only count when spoken by a lover. Hearing them from an unrelated bystander is indeed nauseating."
Shu Fu: "..."
I’ve never heard sweet nothings, but you, sir, are certainly skilled at spouting nonsense.
As if determined to outdo himself, Jiang Xuesheng paused thoughtfully before adding with nonchalance, "Actually, there’s no need to dwell on it. Some people will never have the chance for dual cultivation in their lifetime, preserving their primal yang until their demise. All they can do is indulge in youthful fantasies. When you think about it, it’s rather pitiable."
The remark was untranslatable—rendered into modern language, it would sound downright vicious.
Shu Fu nearly choked, coughing violently as she hissed through gritted teeth, "Fellow cultivator, there are children present!"
Jiang Xuesheng: "My apologies. A slip of the tongue."
Shu Fu: "Apologies accepted, though this is the first time I’ve seen someone so unapologetic about a 'slip of the tongue.'"
Jiang Xuesheng: "Sincerity lends conviction. Calling it a 'slip' is merely courtesy. Don’t take it to heart."
Shu Fu: "Cough cough cough!!!"
Over the course of their journey, Shu Fu had begun to realize something: at first glance, Liu Ruyi shone brilliantly while Jiang Xuesheng faded into the background—a classic "flower and green leaves" dynamic. But in truth, the opposite was the case. When Liu Ruyi addressed Jiang Xuesheng as "Sir," it wasn’t just a casual formality.
Jiang Xuesheng’s most striking quality was that he seemed utterly unremarkable.
He was courteous and gentle to everyone, yet carried an air of unhurried ease, as if everything passed before his eyes but never touched his heart. He appeared to see through everything yet chose never to expose it, observing from a distance with a detached, almost magnanimous indifference.
Liu Ruyi was radiant as peach blossoms (if one could describe a man as such), his thorns sharp and unmistakable.
Jiang Xuesheng, however, was smooth and polished, without a single edge—seemingly a pushover. But in reality... a man who could casually remark about "70% mortality rate" or "lifelong celibacy" was clearly far from "good-tempered." In fact, he was diabolical enough to make his ancestors’ graves smoke.
Hypocritical. Utterly hypocritical.
Yet unlike most hypocrites, Jiang Xuesheng’s brand of hypocrisy wasn’t loathsome—just exasperating, amusing, and even a little entertaining.
Shu Fu, realizing she couldn’t outwit him and fearing she’d be led astray, instinctively edged away, falling into step beside Liu Ruyi instead.
Liu Ruyi gave her a knowing smile. "Sir’s words are quite venomous, aren’t they? That’s just how he is. Even his surface-level politeness took a hundred years to cultivate—just to avoid drawing too much attention. He claims I’m the one with a sharp tongue, but compared to him, I’m still an amateur."
Shu Fu: "You mean... he spent a century learning how to insult people politely?"
Liu Ruyi feigned surprise. "You think that was polite? How kind of you! In my opinion, he can barely hold back for three sentences before the claws come out."
Shu Fu: "..."
Frankly, she agreed.
Curious, she ventured another question. "Liu Ruyi, why do you call him 'Sir'? Is there a big age gap between you?"
"Not exactly," Liu Ruyi replied offhandedly. "Sir is actually quite young—just three to five times my age."
"Times."
Shu Fu repeated flatly.
Liu Ruyi nodded. "Yes, three to five times."
Not years. Times.
This was a first for Shu Fu.
Liu Ruyi continued, "As for why I call him 'Sir,' it’s because he mentored me for a time, teaching me many things."
Shu Fu: "Such as?"
Liu Ruyi: "Such as how to insult people politely."
"..."
After a long silence, Shu Fu deadpanned, "I see. Truly a profound and intricate art."
Birds of a feather flock together. The ancients didn’t lie.
