The Female Ghost Nie Xiaoqian

Not long after, An Yang took out another bottle of Wuliangye and tossed it to Yan Chixia, joining him in a drink.

Putting other matters aside, modern brewing techniques far surpass those of ancient times, especially distilled spirits. Not only are they clear and transparent—far superior to the murky wines of old—but their alcohol content is high and their aroma rich, utterly incomparable to so-called "watery wine."

Yan Chixia was a true drunkard. If he could resist the temptation of fine food, fine wine was his absolute weakness. He hugged the bottle and began to drink.

The fifty-plus-proof liquor was a bit much even for Yan Chixia's tolerance. As he grew tipsy, his bond with An Yang quickly warmed, but An Yang dared not let him drink too much, fearing he wouldn't wake if a crisis struck at night.

An Yang asked casually, "Brother Yan, how long have you been at Lanruo Temple?"

Yan Chixia, unsuspecting, thought for a moment and said, "Counting it up, fourteen days. Tomorrow makes half a month. I wonder if that madman Xia Hou has caught up yet."

An Yang's eyes sharpened. Half a month tomorrow—that meant Ning Caichen would arrive then, and so would Xia Hou, as Yan Chixia had mentioned.

Yan Chixia, hiccupping from the wine, said, "An Yang, what kind of wine is this? It's even better than the Tribute Wine I stole when I worked for the court!"

An Yang replied, "Home-brewed. If Brother Yan likes it, I'll haul a cartload over for you when I get back!"

Yan Chixia laughed. "Good! Hahaha! To be honest, I have an agreement with the demons here: I only kill evil men. If they kill a single good person, I'll wipe them out. You look dignified and noble, so you must not be a bad sort. As long as you can resist temptation, the demons won't dare kill you!"

An Yang curled his lip, thinking that warning hadn't seemed to work before. When the moment came, the Thousand-Year Tree Demon would show no mercy—it would still eat people when it had to.

That night, he took his bundle and climbed the rotting stairs to the upper floor.

Soon he would see a ghost for the first time in his life, and his heart was a little uneasy. Nie Xiaoqian must be stunning—how would she compare to the one in the movies?

He pushed open the door, raised his oil lamp, and held his phone up like a mirror.

Sure enough, through the phone screen, he saw a white figure flash behind him. The door slowly creaked open, revealing a pale, ethereally beautiful face, calmly watching him. Her disheveled hair blew across her features in the wind, lending her a tragic beauty that made one want to protect her.

"Her spirit is somewhat like Wang Zuxian's portrayal, but clearly more beautiful. Maybe the difference is that she's a real female ghost, while Wang Zuxian is human."

"No wonder so many people in this desolate wilderness would risk everything for her, only to have their essence drained by the tree demon."

The white figure drifted away soundlessly, and the door closed without a whisper.

An Yang's heart pounded, unsettled, but he pretended to see nothing. He hung the painting he'd bought on the wall, found a mat in the corner, spread it on the floor, and sat cross-legged, ignoring the bloodstains.

Having seen such a tragic beauty as Nie Xiaoqian, his fear subsided somewhat, and he gradually calmed down. Still, he kept his eyes open, afraid to fall asleep.

Near midnight, a gust of wind blew, and his door suddenly swung wide open. Beyond it was the scene of another room, brightly lit with flickering candlelight, smoke curling, sheer curtains hanging. In a large wooden tub sat an extraordinarily beautiful woman, gently scooping water with a gourd ladle to wash her pale arm.

Skin white as snow, flesh like congealed fat, bright eyes and white teeth, a captivating glance—a peerless beauty indeed.

An Yang glanced over. The tub was covered in red rose petals, hiding the faint peaks beneath. He paused, then stood and walked toward the door.

Nie Xiaoqian half-covered her face, feigning shyness as she watched him, yet radiating a seductive allure.

An Yang kept his eyes straight ahead, stopped at the door, gently closed it, and acted as if he'd seen nothing, closing his eyes again.

Nie Xiaoqian was stunned. Then she waved her hand, and the tub and candles vanished. A white robe flew from afar, wrapping around her perfect form.

No sooner had An Yang closed his eyes than a soft knock came at the door. He opened his eyes and said calmly, "It's unlocked."

The door creaked open, and a woman in white entered, her expression pitiful. Just as in the movie with Ning Caichen, she threw herself onto An Yang, saying, "Young master, I'm so scared!"

An Yang felt her soft, weightless form against him, the curves of her body rising and falling, a faint fragrance in the air. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and said flatly, "Miss, don't panic. What are you afraid of?"

Nie Xiaoqian looked up at him with tearful eyes. "Young master, in this desolate wilderness, I dare not sleep alone."

An Yang gently pushed her away. "Since you know this place is desolate, miss, why come here at all?"

Nie Xiaoqian paused, her eyes shifting, her expression turning sorrowful. "Ah! My parents and I were passing through when we met bandits. They killed my parents, and I only escaped under their desperate cover, fleeing into this ruined temple in the night. But I hear wolves howling, the wind moaning through the doors and windows—I'm even more frightened!"

She spoke with such sincerity, her face bearing an unfeigned grief, that if An Yang hadn't known the story, he might have believed her.

It was true that Nie Xiaoqian and her parents had passed through and met bandits, but she had been the first to die. Her parents hadn't sacrificed themselves to save her, nor had she fled into the temple. They had merely buried her ashes beneath an old tree. Now she was just a lonely ghost controlled by the Thousand-Year Tree Demon.

Thinking this, An Yang sighed. "Miss, I see that Lanruo Temple is surrounded by wilderness and thorny woods. It must not have been easy for you to cross the forest to get here!"

Nie Xiaoqian quickly looked up at him, her eyes glistening as if with tears, and said sweetly, "Yes, young master. Tonight, you must take pity on me."

An Yang glanced down and continued, "But miss, if you crossed a forest full of thorns, why is your clothing so neat, your white flowing dress spotless?"

Nie Xiaoqian froze, her expression darkening!

This scholar is too sharp!

Since Grandmother was at a critical moment and needed human essence, to complete the task, even if this man wouldn't fall for it, she had to deliver him to Grandmother. She might as well act, ignoring the Taoist!

She turned to An Yang, leaned in, parted her lips, and slowly exhaled a puff of white smoke. But An Yang, as if expecting it, turned his head aside, avoiding her charm. He took down a painting from the wall, folded it, and handed it to her.

"Miss, since you're alone and lonely, I'll give you this painting. May it keep you company through the night. When dawn comes, please leave this place. Everyone has their own destination, and Lanruo Temple is no place to linger."

Hearing this, Nie Xiaoqian's eyes dimmed, and her heart filled with bitterness for reasons she couldn't name.

"Heh, everyone has their own destination..."

Her golden pagoda was controlled by the Thousand-Year Tree Demon. She didn't even know where her own destination lay. She wanted to be reincarnated, but the tree demon never gave her that chance.

She opened the painting and froze, then quickly closed it!

"Young master, this painting... where did you get it?"

An Yang said, "Today, passing through Guo Bei County, I saw a vendor selling paintings by the roadside. I thought the woman in this painting was heavenly beautiful, yet reduced to being hawked by a vulgar peddler—an insult. So I spent all my savings to buy it. I thought it was fated for me, but seeing you now, I realize this painting was bought for you all along."

Nie Xiaoqian paused, a flicker of reluctance in her gaze as she looked at An Yang. She put away the painting, remembered Grandmother's orders, and gritted her teeth. "Young master, the ancients say a moment of spring night is worth a thousand gold. Today, fate has brought us together, and you've given me this painting, which I adore. I have nothing to repay you but myself. Please don't refuse, and don't waste this short, sweet night."

As she spoke, she threw herself into An Yang's arms with a seductive look, pulling open her clothes and guiding his hand inside her chest. The light gauze around her lower body slipped down, revealing a pair of shapely, taut legs, dazzlingly white.

An Yang's heart jolted; his palm was filled with a slick, full softness. He glanced down but only saw a stretch of snowy skin, and quickly withdrew his hand.

"Miss, please don't do this. This scholar has no family, but I am by no means a reckless man. If you are lonely and restless, I can play the flute for you or tell you stories—only, please, have some self-respect."

Though Nie Xiaoqian was delicate, soft, and pitiful, stirring genuine sympathy, he knew that if he truly entertained any thoughts toward her, before he could even steal a kiss, the Thousand-Year Tree Demon would drain him into a dried corpse. Even Yan Chixia might not be able to save him.

Nie Xiaoqian froze, and in a daze, she saw that painting before her again. Once, she too had been a proper lady from a noble family, not yet fallen to such depths, never needing to seduce men night after night. A deeper gloom settled in her heart. She slowly rose from An Yang's embrace, already prepared for Grandmother's scolding, picked up the painting from the floor, and walked barefoot toward the door.

"Since that's the case, I'll take my leave. You're right, young master—Lanruo Temple is no place to linger. As soon as dawn breaks tomorrow, please leave here quickly."

Seeing her about to go, An Yang quickly grabbed her. "Wait... I still don't know your name."

Nie Xiaoqian turned back, her voice soft and pleasant. "Young master, my name is Nie Xiaoqian."

An Yang said, "My name is An Yang."

Nie Xiaoqian pushed open the door, both hands pressing against it, then looked back again. "Young master An Yang, let us part ways here today. If fate allows, we may meet again... though I hope we never do."

Hearing this, An Yang knew he had already made a decent impression on Nie Xiaoqian. But he would still be here tomorrow night, and he hadn't built enough intimacy yet. He could ensure safety tonight, but not necessarily tomorrow.

He quickly reached out. "Wait..."

Nie Xiaoqian turned again. "Young master An Yang, is there something else?"

An Yang took a bamboo flute from his bundle and said, "Since Miss Xiaoqian is lonely, why not let me play a tune for you?"

Nie Xiaoqian let out a soft laugh, her face pale, and nodded. "Very well."

An Yang immediately raised the flute and began to play. It was the theme song from the original A Chinese Ghost Story by Zhao Guorong and Wang Zuxian, the very piece titled A Chinese Ghost Story.

When the tune ended, Nie Xiaoqian's eyes shimmered. "That melody is quite lovely, but the flute sounds too light and airy. It would feel better played on a xiao."

An Yang's eyes lit up. "Miss Xiaoqian understands music—how wonderful! Do you happen to have a xiao? You could bring it tomorrow night, and I'll play another piece for you."

Nie Xiaoqian's expression shifted slightly, and she quickly said, "No need. Young master, you should leave as soon as possible tomorrow."

An Yang feigned a hint of disappointment. "I see. Still, I know many stories that could help pass the long night for Miss Xiaoqian. Would you be interested?"

"No need. Thank you for your kindness, young master. Xiaoqian appreciates the thought." Nie Xiaoqian shook her head and walked straight out the door.

An Yang reached out as if to call her back, only lowering his hand after the door closed. A faint smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

Nie Xiaoqian was kind and fragile at heart. Forced to aid evil all these years, her spirit had grown brittle—easily moved.

He knew he had already carved a shadow of himself into Nie Xiaoqian's heart. At the very least, when he faced her again, he no longer had to fear being harmed by her.