Holding a lantern, guiding souls across, Lady Hou comes from the underworld.

winter night.

A cold wind whistled, and a cold rain drizzled.

In the Mu residence in Xiling County, Chun Tao, a maid who had just lost money gambling, was forced to deliver food to a side courtyard. Her resentment was heavier than that of a ghost.

She trudged along the muddy road, and before she knew it, her new shoes were dirty.

"unlucky!"

After yelling and cursing, Chun Tao was still not satisfied. She brazenly kicked open the door of the main room in the side courtyard and shouted, "Dinner's ready!"

After the door was opened, there was no heating in the room. The south-facing window was half-open, and a cold wind was blowing in, making it feel like an ice cellar.

Chuntao couldn't help but shiver.

She looked around and saw an oil lamp, barely lit, casting no light at all, making the whole room look eerie.

It's like... there's no trace of a living person.

"Miss Xia, it's time to eat..."

Sensing something was wrong, Chun Tao's arrogance vanished, and her voice softened.

But all she got in response was the whisper of the wind.

Could something have happened...?

Thinking of this, Chun Tao panicked and, disregarding her fear, quickly walked to the bedside and pulled back the tattered gauze curtains.

However, what came into view was a corpse that had already stiffened.

-

Three days later.

As dusk settles, heavy snow is on its way.

At the entrance of West Street, at the wonton stall, Aunt Zhang glanced at the sky and then poured the last batch of wontons into the pot.

As the boiling water bubbled and steam rose, hot mist swirled around it.

Suddenly, a slender figure appeared silently in front of the stall.

Aunt Zhang was startled, but being good-natured, she laughed and said, "Oh dear, girl, how come you walk without making a sound?"

He weighed the strainer in his hand again and said, "You've come at just the right time. There's only one bowl of wontons left. If you wait any longer, there won't be any left."

As dusk fell, the figure took another step closer; it was a young girl of about sixteen or seventeen years old with delicate features.

Facing the kind stall owner, the girl remained unmoved, her eyes clear and bright, yet filled with a chilling frost.

Aunt Zhang became suspicious when she saw that she didn't respond, but she was surprised when she looked at her closely.

It was the dead of winter, yet the other person was only wearing a single layer of clothing, along with thin trousers and shoes covered in mud, suggesting they had just been through something.

While they were pondering, the girl spoke up.

"I have no money, could you please give me a bowl of hot soup?"

She spoke frankly, her voice and expression as cold as ever, showing no sign of begging.

Aunt Zhang, who was always doing good deeds, didn't hold it against her and said with a smile, "Alright, I won't take your money. Take this bowl of wontons and eat it."

As they were talking, the steaming hot wontons were ready.

However, the girl remained standing in front of the stall, her eyes sweeping around as if deep in thought.

"Come in and sit down to eat, it's warmer here."

Seeing this, Aunt Zhang quickly called out and specially placed the bowls and chopsticks on the table near the stove.

The vendors run a small business and don't earn much on weekdays. To save money, they only built a simple thatched shed to keep out the cold winds from all sides.

The girl hesitated for a moment before stepping into the thatched hut, but did not sit down. Her cool eyes were fixed on a corner, as if she were examining something.

Aunt Zhang immediately followed her gaze, unable to fathom what the other woman was thinking.

But just then, the girl spoke again.

"Has anyone in your family been sick recently?"

Upon hearing this, Aunt Zhang's heart skipped a beat, and she asked in disbelief, "How...how did you know?"

The girl suddenly looked up, and in the light, a faint red beauty mark, like faded cinnabar, could be seen hidden at the corner of her left eye.

Without giving a reason, she remained calm and composed: "You just need to answer me, yes or no."

Aunt Zhang felt a chill run down her spine for no apparent reason as she was being stared at like that.

An indescribable sense of oppression instantly enveloped my entire body.

Her lips trembled, and she said, "Yes, my... my poor daughter has been sick for over half a month. We've consulted doctors and given her a lot of medicine, but nothing has helped. I don't know if she'll ever get better..."

Before she could finish speaking, the girl picked up the wontons on the table and walked straight to the corner.

Aunt Zhang was stunned for a moment, and the tears that had just reached her eyes were forced back.

The girl slowly squatted down, placed the bowl and chopsticks on the ground, and coldly uttered a few words.

"After you finish eating, let's get going."

This strange behavior caught Aunt Zhang's eye, and her three parts doubt turned into seven parts fear.

The corner was deserted. Was she... talking to a ghost?!

After a moment of silence, Aunt Zhang stood frozen in place, at a loss for what to do, her heart pounding.

Just then, a gust of wind swept by, causing the chopsticks on the table to fall to the ground with a crisp sound.

Aunt Zhang could no longer suppress her fear and screamed in terror.

"Miss... young lady!"

In the corner, the young woman remained calm and composed, her pretty face showing no sign of surprise from beginning to end.

She picked up the bowl and chopsticks from the floor without even lifting her eyelids: "It said, 'Thank you for the wontons.'"

Aunt Zhang had no idea who "it" was, and was still shaken: "What exactly is the girl talking about?"

"A child died nearby about a month ago."

Those few words sent chills down Aunt Zhang's spine.

About six months ago, every evening a little beggar would linger outside the stall. He looked about the same age as his daughter and was a boy.

Aunt Zhang has always been kind-hearted. She would always cook a bowl of wontons just before closing up shop and have her daughter secretly deliver it to her.

This continued for several months, until the little beggar suddenly fell ill and appeared less and less frequently.

Until recently, someone found his body in a back alley.

Thinking of this, Aunt Zhang felt a mix of emotions and couldn't help but ask, "Young lady, are you saying that my daughter's illness is related to this?"

The young woman sat upright at the table, not replying immediately, but slowly eating the wontons in her bowl.

Her hands, holding chopsticks, were slender and fair, like those of a pampered young lady from a wealthy family. But what had happened to her that led her to this state?

She chewed the twelve wontons carefully, swallowed them slowly, and finally drank the hot soup as well.

Not caring at all, this bowl of wontons was offered as a sacrifice to send away a wisp of a departing soul.

"If a person has unfulfilled wishes after death, their soul will linger in the mortal world, and over time, it will generate resentment."

"Your daughter is young, and if she is affected by resentment, she will inevitably fall ill."

"He's out of danger now."

The girl lightly wiped the corner of her mouth and offered an explanation, her expression and tone remaining indifferent.

If someone else had said this, Aunt Zhang wouldn't have believed a word of it.

But it's precisely this kind of person...

Night has quietly fallen, the bright moon has risen, and its clear light shines on the ground.

As a thin layer of snow drifted down from the eaves, a heavy snowfall, like fluffy cotton, followed closely behind.

The girl looked up at the sky, then suddenly stood up and walked straight outside.

Seeing this, Aunt Zhang quickly picked up a raincoat from the side and handed it over.

"Girl, it's snowing. Wear this to keep out the cold."

The girl stopped, turned around and glanced at her gently, then said, "Thank you, a bowl of your wontons is enough for me."

As she spoke, disregarding the fierce wind and snow, and still dressed in thin clothes, she walked towards the end of West Street.

-

Deep in West Street, in front of the Mu Mansion.

Startled by a short knock, the doorman reluctantly went to the door and asked in a raised voice, "Who's out there?"

Amidst the wind and snow, a figure stood before the door, coldly staring at the brass ring on the door. After a moment, he uttered three words.

Xia Ximo.