Chapter 141 She Might Not Come

Chapter 141 She Might Not Come

A Chan awoke to a quiet courtyard. Chen Hui was still asleep, but Boss Lü was already dressed and emerged from her room.

“Boss Lü, why are you up so early?”

Lv Ruhui looked at her and replied, “It’s already the hour of Si, not early at all. I was thinking of going back to check on my own house, lest the heavy snow seals the door and I can’t get in.”

Her residence was in Yongping Ward, not far from here. However, after her divorce, she had dismissed all her maidservants, so the house was empty.

“Leaving in such a hurry? Why not have breakfast first?” A Chan urged.

Lv Ruhui politely declined, “I shouldn’t impose.”

“Alright, then take some dumplings with you. You can cook them later at home.” Having lived as a human for a year, A Chan was now quite adept at social graces.

This time, Lv Ruhui did not refuse.

The night before, they had wrapped many dumplings together. The uncooked ones had been left outside to freeze. A Chan found a food box, filled it with a plate of frozen raw dumplings, and handed it to Lv Ruhui.

Lv Ruhui accepted it with a smile and thanked her.

As she saw Boss Lü off, the thick snow outside was evident. Standing at the doorstep, Lv Ruhui said to A Chan, “Thank you for your hospitality last night, Miss Ji. I spent a delightful New Year’s.”

“Boss Lü, there’s no need for such formalities. Hui Niang and I were also very happy to have you.” A Chan’s tone was sincere; she never stood on ceremony in such matters.

Lv Ruhui smiled at this. “Miss Ji, no need to see me off. We’ll meet again when the shop opens on the fifth day of the new year.”

“Alright, see you then. Travel safely.”

Lv Ruhui waved at her before turning and heading toward the opposite side of the street.

On the first day of the new year, the streets were already bustling with pedestrians. A Chan watched Lv Ruhui’s figure as she walked slowly, still clad in the same brightly colored, gilded dress from the day before. Against the snowy ground, she looked like a flower blooming in winter.

After seeing Boss Lü off, A Chan returned inside and only then noticed something amiss.

Hui Niang was usually the earliest to rise—why hadn’t she woken up even after Boss Lü had left?

A Chan went to check on her. Chen Hui lay flat on the spacious bed, covered by a quilt, still sound asleep.

Her chest rose and fell slightly, her breathing light. Though this was a simulated state, at least it wouldn’t frighten anyone.

A Chan approached and gently nudged Chen Hui, but there was no response.

She sat by the bed for a while longer, confirming that Chen Hui’s condition wasn’t due to any physical problem. In fact, her state resembled how she had been back in Xiling.

At this thought, A Chan suddenly understood. The night before, they had eaten an entire dragon carp, with Hui Niang consuming most of it. Dragon carp were bred from dragon’s blood and flesh, and Hui Niang’s transformation into a living corpse was also linked to dragon blood. It made sense that the dragon carp would have a significant effect on her.

Moreover, she had previously drunk a fair amount of monster blood. Given how much time had passed, it was about time for her to advance. The dragon carp from last night must have been the catalyst for her advancement.

With this realization, A Chan was no longer worried. However, it seemed Hui Niang might be asleep for quite some time.

Soon, it was the fifth day of the first lunar month. The surrounding shops, having chosen an auspicious hour, set off firecrackers and officially reopened for business.

Hui Niang was still deep in slumber, so A Chan decided not to join the festivities and postponed reopening her own shop for a few more days.

On this street, the only other shop that remained closed was the antique store next door.

When they had parted on New Year’s Day, Boss Lü had said they would meet again on the fifth. Yet, she failed to appear as promised.

After running into Liu Xiangze at the Lü residence before the new year, Lv Ruhui never expected to see him again at her doorstep.

She heard the knocking and his voice—he said he had something to tell her.

But at that moment, Lv Ruhui offered no reply to the person outside. With great difficulty, she retreated inside, lay down on the bed, covered herself with the quilt, and drank the stone paste.

The agonizing pain subsided, and she felt her body grow cold inch by inch, gradually losing sensation.

When that numbness reached her heart, she suddenly realized with crystal clarity: today, she might not recover.

She wasn’t particularly frightened. She had long prepared herself for the possibility of never waking up again. In fact, over the past few days, she had even drafted a new will.

Yet, she still felt regret, as if there were many things left undone.

The food box and plate in the kitchen hadn’t been returned to Miss Ji. She hadn’t gotten to see Hui Niang and tell her how delicious the dumplings they’d made together on New Year’s Eve were. She hadn’t returned to the Lü residence to expose Lv Ruxin’s true nature and show her parents their youngest daughter’s deceit. Nor had she opened the door to tell Liu Xiangze to get as far away from her as possible…

A wave of sleepiness washed over her. Slowly, Lv Ruhui closed her eyes—and never opened them again.

At some point, the knocking outside ceased. The person standing at her door left, leaving only two lines of footprints behind.

Every day after that, A Chan would check the neighboring shop when she stepped out. By the tenth day, Boss Lü still hadn’t come.

In her heart, A Chan knew—she might never come again.

Humans were always so fragile. An inadvertent farewell could mean never seeing each other again.

That afternoon, A Chan took a short nap and woke up near the end of the You hour. Both inside and outside, everything was completely dark.

She lit the candles in the room, then remembered the pair of lanterns outside the main gate remained unlit.

Entering the shop, she first lit the candles inside before retrieving two others and venturing out.

A Chan lowered the lanterns by the door, replaced the candles, and lit them before hoisting the lanterns back into place.

Soon, the pair of lanterns cast their glow, illuminating the path in front of the shop.

Content, A Chan was about to close the door when suddenly, one of the lanterns’ candles went out.

She paused, looking up at the lantern that had gone out before lowering her gaze. Beneath the darkened lantern, a figure had appeared.

A Chan naturally recognized this figure—it was Boss Lü, whom she hadn’t seen in ten days.

At this moment, Boss Lü looked much the same as before, though her form was somewhat faint. Clearly, what now stood before her was only a ghost.

Boss Lü remained motionless, so A Chan also stayed silent, standing inside the doorway and watching her.

By general belief, ordinary people who died rarely turned into ghosts unless they harbored profound resentments. Boss Lü’s expression was calm, and she didn’t seem to have suffered a tortured death—so why had she become a ghost?

After a long while, Boss Lü finally looked up at A Chan and opened her mouth: “Miss Ji… how… why am I here?”

Her voice held a note of confusion and unease. Compared to A Chan, she seemed more like the one who had been startled.

“Boss Lü, do you remember what happened?”

What happened?

Lv Ruhui delved into her memory. She remembered…

“I remember… I died.”

Hearing her mention her own death without any resentment arising in her spirit, A Chan felt relieved and asked, “On which day did you pass away?”

“On the fourth day of the first lunar month,” Lv Ruhui replied, her speech growing smoother, no longer as stiff as before, gradually resembling her living self.

She continued, “That day, my former husband came to see me out of nowhere, but I was suddenly taken ill. I lay back in bed and drank the stone paste. By then, I already felt I might not recover, and after that, I lost consciousness completely.”

“Seven days have passed already,” A Chan sighed. “Today is your night of return. It must be because your heart was burdened with strong ties that you regained awareness.”

“Attachments? But there’s no one worth my attachment.” Scenes from her life flickered like a magic lantern, stirring her emotions, if only faintly, but nothing more.

“Then, before you died, did you have any regrets or unfulfilled desires?” A Chan asked.

Ordinary people often harbor regrets before death, but such passing feelings alone are rarely enough to turn into ghosts.

A Chan pondered, suspecting it might be related to the stone paste or the dragon carp. In any case, Lv Ruhui’s spirit had gained some power after death, sustaining her consciousness on this night of return—a strange stroke of fate.

A Chan’s words left Lv Ruhui silent. After a long pause, she whispered, “Don’t laugh at me, but I was filled with resentment before I died. In life, I thought I’d ignore those people and quietly walk my final path. But at the moment of death, I regretted it—regretted not confronting them to the end.”

A Chan listened quietly.

Lv Ruhui went on, “I once loved my former husband deeply, but he was my younger sister’s betrothed. Later, when I heard our father wouldn’t let her marry him, I forced Father to agree and took her place in the marriage. I thought, given time, we’d develop feelings, and he’d come to love me as I loved him.”

“Did he not?”

“I don’t know,” Lv Ruhui said with a faint twist of her lips. “If not, was over a decade all a lie? But if he did, why didn’t he believe me when I told him I’d been framed by my foster son? Why wouldn’t he explain when I confronted him about secretly meeting my sister, instead accusing me of slandering them?”

“Do you resent him?”

“I suppose I do.”

“Anyone else?” A Chan asked softly.

“My parents. They never believed me either,” Lv Ruhui murmured. “When I divorced, they blamed me. When I said my sister deliberately was carrying on with my former husband, they accused me of fabricating stories and only scolded me. Yet when I was little, they taught me to always speak the truth. I did, but they wouldn’t believe me.”

After speaking, Lv Ruhui noticed A Chan listening intently and gave a small smile. “These trivial family matters must bore you, don’t they?”

A young woman like you usually had no interest in such things.

A Chan shook her head. “Being falsely accused and denied justice is no small matter.”

She asked Lv Ruhui, “They treated you so unfairly. Do you want revenge?”

“Do I want revenge…?” Lv Ruhui fell silent for a long time, her spirit wavering slightly.

She resented them—for denying her peace even in death, for treating her with such cruelty till the end. Of course, she wanted revenge!

“Isn’t your return to this world due to your unfulfilled desires? Why not set things right this time, so you can pass on peacefully?”

“But I’m already dead,” Lv Ruhui’s voice grew quieter. “No one can see me, and I can’t enter their homes.”

A Chan waited for her to finish before saying, “I have an incense that can grant spirits great power, allowing them to do anything they wished in life.”

Lv Ruhui’s gaze shot to A Chan.

“I also make a ritual candle that lets you appear before others as you did in life,” she continued, watching Lv Ruhui. “Which do you want?”

“Either is possible?” Lv Ruhui asked.

“Either.”

Instead of choosing immediately, Lv Ruhui asked, “Why are you helping me?”

A Chan didn’t hesitate. “Because of Hui Niang. You were her friend. I want you to pass on peacefully.”

Lv Ruhui smiled. “I’ll take the second option.”

“Are you sure?” A Chan was surprised. Though ghosts were born from the dead, their temperaments were unstable—otherwise, they wouldn’t so easily become vengeful spirits.

To others, Lv Ruhui’s suffering might seem like mere family squabbles, and even she thought so. But those burdens, piled one after another—how could an ordinary person endure them? Especially when her life was already ending.

A Chan had expected her to prefer swift vengeance.

Lv Ruhui shook her head. “My parents raised me and never withheld from me what was due. They weren’t bad people—just unkind to me. The same goes for Liu Xiangze. I know he never wronged me. So, no matter how much I resent them, I won’t harm them bodily. Just seeing them is enough.”

A Chan couldn’t help reminding her, “You only have this one chance. Are you certain?”

Lv Ruhui nodded. “Thank you, Miss Ji.”

“Very well.” Since Boss Lü had made her choice, A Chan wouldn’t interfere. “Tomorrow night, when the lanterns light up, wait for me here. I’ll light the candle to manifest your form.”