Chapter Fifty-Seven: Weeping for the Wedding (27)

"Is it absolutely necessary to choose?" Su Man halted, fixing her gaze intently on Miao Sheng, her hand behind her back already gripping the dagger. "I have no intention of dying right now." So she would fight with everything she had.

But he hadn't intended to harm her before—why now? What had changed?

Hearing her stubborn words, Miao Sheng rubbed his forehead and laughed softly. "This is really troublesome..."

He seemed to sink into memories, his entire demeanor wrapped in an inexplicable gentleness. "In some ways, you really resemble her."

Su Man parted her lips, wanting to ask if he meant his wife. Yet, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a homeless woman furtively watching them from not far away.

Apparently noticing Su Man's gaze, the woman stealthily moved behind a wall, but perhaps realizing the futility of her act, she peeked out and smiled at Su Man.

So the question on her lips changed. "Has your wife always stayed by your side?"

She watched Miao Sheng's expression closely and found genuine confusion there—mixed with a hint of excitement and incredulity, all suppressed as he tried to appear composed. "Why do you ask? Have you seen Shu Yi?"

"Well, you’re very much alike. Shu Yi must have liked you too..." Miao Sheng was so agitated as he spoke that his hands shook.

Shu Yi? She had thought his wife was Mei Lun.

Su Man looked at Miao Sheng, who awaited her answer with hope in his eyes, and felt a fleeting pity for him. At the same time, she discarded her earlier suspicion that his wife was still alive. Perhaps he hadn’t resurrected her after all—or perhaps he had tried and failed.

Despite her doubts, she stubbornly took out the sketches she’d drawn earlier and flipped to the portrait of the homeless woman. "Is this your Shu Yi?"

Miao Sheng glanced at the drawing, and the light in his eyes dimmed instantly. He mocked himself, "What am I still fantasizing about? Everyone knows Shu Yi is already dead."

Su Man had given him hope, only to push him deeper into despair.

She noticed the coldness in his expression but could do nothing about it. She couldn’t conjure Shu Yi for him, yet something still felt off.

If that woman wasn’t Shu Yi, who was she? Mei Lun? But why would Mei Lun follow her?

As she pondered, a sudden suffocating force gripped her throat.

She struggled to raise her head, only to see Miao Sheng enveloped in darkness, the shadows flickering irregularly as if reflecting his turbulent mood. His hands moved, tightening the sensation around her neck.

Seizing the last vestiges of consciousness, she swiftly flung the dagger in her hand. It pierced the black mist surrounding Miao Sheng, not harming him but forcing him to let go.

Su Man took advantage of this, rolling quickly across the ground. Her sketchbook slipped from her arms and fell to the floor.

She didn’t bother retrieving it; instead, she summoned the dagger and prepared to make her escape.

If she could fight, she would. But if the contest was hopeless, only a fool would persist. Besides, she had no desire to clash with Miao Sheng now—she wanted to ask the homeless woman who she truly was.

The dagger, already tamed by her earlier, could be summoned at will. Yet halfway to her grasp, it was caught by Miao Sheng.

The darkness around him dissipated, revealing his true face.

A livid complexion, bulging eyes, a long tongue protruding from his mouth—he looked nothing like the refined gentleman she’d seen before. It was clear he had died by hanging, and judging by his appearance, he must be a vengeful spirit.

Yet this visage lasted only a second before he reverted to his normal, human form.

He ignored her entirely, staring fixedly at the sketchbook on the ground, his eyes reddening. "Shu Yi..."

His voice choked with emotion as he crouched and cradled the sketchbook, as if embracing a long-lost beloved.

Su Man paused, catching a glimpse of the portrait—a woman in a coffin, the one she’d drawn, marked by a mole on her nose.

Weighing the risks and benefits swiftly, she chose not to flee. Instead, she told Miao Sheng, "She’s in the ancestral hall. There’s a room with a coffin inside..."

If Miao Sheng could retrieve the coffin, perhaps it would unravel many clues. She herself dared not enter again, sensing that another attempt would mean certain death.

Unexpectedly, Miao Sheng interrupted her. "I know. I know you’ve been inside."

Su Man was genuinely surprised. He knew Shu Yi was there? And yet he feigned deep affection—was it for her benefit? Did even vengeful spirits care about appearances? Despite her racing thoughts, her expression remained unchanged. Seeing his sentimental face, she couldn’t help but jab, "So what are you trying to say now? Are you just moved by yourself?"

Self-pity was the most contemptible.

She no longer feared Miao Sheng attacking her. If he wanted to, so be it—she’d missed her chance to escape, and it was her own fault for misjudging him. She’d accept the consequences as a lesson bought with her own life.

Yet, Miao Sheng did not react with anger as expected. He said softly, "Shu Yi is dead."

"So?" She had known that already; there was no need for him to repeat it.

"Shu Yi is a vengeful spirit. When she died, she truly died. That is her, but also not her. What remains there is only an empty shell left behind by the village chief’s dark magic."

Su Man said, "…Fine, perhaps I deserved your reproach for saying those things."

She was human, after all, and had her own prejudices. But she was willing to acknowledge her mistakes, even to a vengeful spirit. "Pretend I never said it, or curse me if you want. I won’t protest."

Then she added, "If you want to kill me for it, though, I’ll have to reconsider."

She had a resurrection card, but it was best not to use it unless absolutely necessary—who knew what future circumstances might require it?

Miao Sheng was silent for two seconds before speaking. "Aside from earlier, I never truly wanted you dead."

"Then what about your talk of choosing a way to die?"

"I was just trying to scare you, then get you to help me with something."

"Did your brain die with your body? If you wanted cooperation, why not say so directly? All this nonsense nearly got me killed. You really do deserve it."

Miao Sheng apologized. Su Man was about to vent further, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the homeless woman again. She turned to Miao Sheng, her voice earnest. "Do you recognize that vengeful spirit over there?"

Contrary to her expectations, Miao Sheng shook his head blankly. "There’s no vengeful spirit over there."

If there were, he’d have sensed it long ago.