The Actor 03

"Do you remember how I protected you even after my arm was broken?"

"Do you remember my blood dripping onto your face? I wanted to wipe it away, but I couldn’t move."

Fang Xiuyun's lips trembled slightly, yet the words she spoke were, "An eye for an eye only ends in endless vengeance."

Fang Zhiyi laughed. He raised his hand, flicked his water sleeve dramatically, and addressed the stunned onlookers: "Did you all see that? I died for her, and now she’s preaching about letting go of vengeance? Hahaha..."

He turned back to Fang Xiuyun: "Turns out the cruelest one wasn’t Old Man Ma—he only killed me. But you, Fang Xiuyun—no, Ma Xiuyun—you used my blood to cultivate this saintly facade of yours. Impressive!"

Fang Xiuyun’s pupils shrank as she frantically waved her hands. "No, that’s not true! I did it for everyone’s sake!"

Just as Fang Zhiyi was contemplating how to deal with her, a sharp reprimand rang out from behind: "Audacious wraith! Cease your violence!"

"Here we go again," Fang Zhiyi sighed in resignation before promptly vanishing into thin air.

Watching Fang Zhiyi dissolve into a shadowy blur, both Ma Xiuyun and the Taoist priest He Wei were left dumbfounded.

"Brother Zhiyi... was he driven away?" Ma Xiuyun ventured hesitantly.

He Wei wasn’t entirely sure either. "I... suppose so?" He had encountered vengeful spirits before—ones that refused to relent until their goals were met—but this was the first time he’d seen one flee at first sight.

The scene descended into chaos as He Wei performed rites to guide the deceased to the afterlife.

Fate worked in strange ways. Convinced that Ma Xiuyun harbored genuine kindness, He Wei decided to teach her Taoist arts. When Squire Ma learned of this, he saw value in her and formally acknowledged her as his daughter.

Everything was unfolding according to the original script.

The only wildcard was Fang Zhiyi.

"Host, why did you run so far?"

"Obviously because I can’t win. Why waste time?"

"But isn’t fleeing outright a bit... humiliating?" Little Hei didn’t understand.

Fang Zhiyi spoke with grave patience: "Listen, Little Hei. When you know your opponent is stronger, you run if you can. Never fight a battle you’re not certain to win—unless you’re feeling exceptionally lucky."

"Certain? How certain?"

"One hundred percent."

"Not even ninety?"

"Ninety? You’ve got a death wish? Whether it’s one percent or ninety-nine, in my eyes, it’s always fifty-fifty—either you win or you lose. Got it?"

Little Hei nodded, though only half-comprehending.

"So where to now?"

Fang Zhiyi glanced at it. "Time for you to shine. Go on—scout ahead!"

A woman in red sat weeping at the bridge’s edge. It was deep into the night, and the streets were empty. After a long while, a tofu peddler passed by, hoping to secure a good spot in the city for his morning sales. As he crossed the stone bridge, he heard the woman’s sobs.

The peddler’s hair stood on end, but he mustered his courage and approached. "Miss? Why are you out here so late?"

The woman covered her face. "Wuwu... my parents sold me."

The peddler sighed. Selling children, especially daughters, was common these days—many families raised girls solely for profit. "Don’t take it too hard. Go home, alright?"

"Please... help me up." She extended a pale, delicate hand.

Hesitant but obliging, the peddler reached out. The moment their hands touched, the woman’s fingers suddenly twisted into claws, lunging for his wrist—only to grasp empty air.

The woman blinked in confusion before looking up. Half her face was rotted away, as if smashed apart, while the remaining half hinted at her former beauty.

She now floated midair, face-to-face with a man in heavy opera makeup.

Below, the peddler shrieked: "Ghost! A ghost!" The moment he’d reached out, the woman had vanished. This had to be the vengeful spirit rumored to haunt these parts, preying on passersby.

Terrified but practical, the peddler didn’t abandon his tofu baskets—his family’s livelihood for days to come. Losing them would be worse than encountering a ghost.

The two spirits hovered, locked in a silent standoff. Finally, the woman in red spoke: "Meddling actor. Aren’t you afraid of karma?"

Fang Zhiyi watched the peddler disappear into the distance before replying, "Did he wrong you?"

The ghost shook her head. "No."

"Oh? Then why try to kill him?"

She sneered. "Do ghosts need a reason? The resentment clinging to you outweighs mine tenfold. Who are you to play the righteous one?"

Fang Zhiyi didn’t deny it. Instead, he feigned a sigh—despite having no breath to exhale.

"Can’t reason with you, can’t talk sense into you. What a pain."

Before the ghost could react, Fang Zhiyi’s fist, wreathed in bone-chilling malice, slammed into her face. The blow carried such concentrated hatred that she screamed—a sensation she hadn’t felt since becoming a ghost.

She couldn’t fathom why a fellow spirit would attack her, nor had she known ghosts could physically harm each other.

But she was no match for this operatic specter.

Between strikes, Fang Zhiyi even found time to tell Little Hei a joke: "This was just an experiment, but it reminds me of something funny."

Little Hei tilted its head. "What?"

"I became a ghost, so I started haunting people. I killed so many... they all became ghosts too. Then they beat me up. Hurt like hell."

Little Hei earnestly corrected him: "But Host, the people you killed didn’t become ghosts. From what I’ve observed, lingering in the mortal realm requires unresolved grievances, deep resentment, or—"

"You’re no fun," Fang Zhiyi cut it off.

By now, the female ghost was covering her head and begging: "Mercy, sir! I yield!" Though she couldn’t be injured or killed, Fang Zhiyi’s blows were agonizing.

He stopped. "Now, let’s hear your story."

The ghost reverted to her human appearance, trembling as she bowed. "My name is Xiulian."

Xiulian’s life had been tragic. Her father was an opium addict, her mother weak-willed. When Butcher Zheng came with a marriage proposal, her father didn’t hesitate—he sold her for ten silver dollars.

But Xiulian didn’t want to marry Butcher Zheng. She’d secretly loved the village peddler, who sweet-talked her into bed with promises of raising money for a proper proposal. Yet on her wedding day, he never came.

Butcher Zheng discovered she wasn’t a virgin. Enraged, he beat her on their wedding night, then stormed to her family to demand his money back.

Her opium-ravaged father came to beat her too, while her mother stood by and watched.