My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Late at night.

Yunniang sat alone in the mourning hall.

The huge mansion was empty; she had sent the maids to bed and dismissed the guards.

She couldn't explain why she did it; she just felt she didn't want anyone to be with her tonight.

Several eternal lamps were lit in the mourning hall, their flames flickering and illuminating the words on the memorial tablet on the offering table: "The Spirit Tablet of My Late Husband, Chen Decheng".

The characters were carved by the best craftsman in the village, and every stroke was neat and upright, but Yunniang always felt that they didn't look like his.

He wasn't this upright when he was alive.

He loves to laugh, and when he laughs, his eyes squint into slits and his mouth stretches to the sides, like a child who hasn't grown up.

That's how he smiled when he first met her.

At that time, she came from out of town, passed through the Ten Thousand Mountains, got lost outside the village, and happened to meet him.

He was carrying a bamboo basket on his back, having just come down from the mountain, his clothes still covered in mud.

She asked him for directions, and he looked at her, paused for a moment, and then smiled.

"I'll take you away," he said.

The road was so short that she hadn't even had a chance to see what the village looked like before she was finished walking it.

But she also felt that the road was very long, long enough for her to remember that smile for a lifetime.

He died less than a month after his marriage.

He went into the mountains to collect ginseng, encountered a mountain demon, and never returned.

They couldn't even find the remains, so they could only erect a cenotaph.

The villagers were talking about it.

Some say she has a tough fate, that she killed her husband.

Some people say she was lucky, as she received a huge fortune right after marrying into the family.

Some people said she wasn't sad at all, and that her tears were all fake.

Many people envy her, saying that she has no in-laws or husband, and lives in such a big house all by herself, doing whatever she wants, how carefree!

Yunniang did not feel at ease.

She felt that the house was too big, so big that her voice echoed, and so big that when she woke up at night, she always felt that the bed next to her was empty.

She tried to explain to people that she was really sad, that she really missed him, and that she wasn't faking it.

Nobody believed it.

The women in the village told her to accept their condolences to her face, but behind her back they said, "He's just a man, is it really that big of a deal?"

The men went even further; some climbed over the wall after drinking, some asked others to act as matchmakers, and some even stopped her directly on the street.

She called the security team several times and spent money to hire a few guards to stand guard at the gate before things finally calmed down.

But after it became quiet, I felt even more lonely.

one Year.

She thought things would get better with time, but longing doesn't fade with time; it only deepens.

Like roots buried in the soil, unseen, yet they grow deeper and deeper, binding the heart tightly.

Today marks one year since he passed away.

She had arranged to meet A Luo, but in the evening A Luo sent a message saying that something had happened at the market that day, and a Taoist priest with great supernatural powers had come. The villagers were entertaining him, and she couldn't leave.

Yunniang said it was nothing and told her to keep going.

She understood that the Taoist priest had done the village a great favor and should be treated well.

As a widow, she couldn't very well go over there, for fear of offending the guests.

But she really wanted to talk to someone.

Even if you don't say anything, just sitting there is fine.

Now she sits alone in the mourning hall, facing that cold, lifeless memorial tablet, feeling an emptiness in her heart.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there.

The flame of the ever-burning lamp flickered, and her shadow swayed on the wall, making it seem as if there were two people.

She stood up, walked to the offering table, and reached out to touch the memorial tablet. The wood was cold, devoid of warmth, without a heartbeat, and completely empty.

She suddenly wondered, if she died, would she be able to see him again?

Once the thought popped into my head, I couldn't take it back.

She went to the door and bolted it.

Then he went to the window and closed it.

She moved a chair, placed it under the beam, stood on it, draped the white silk over the beam, and tied a knot.

She looked down at the empty chair and suddenly felt a little scared.

It's not that I'm afraid of dying, it's that I'm afraid I won't be able to see him again even if I die.

Isn't it said that people become ghosts after they die?

Why does he never come to my dreams?

She took a deep breath and put her head into the knot.

Then she heard a knock on the door.

"Knock knock knock".

Very gentle, very polite, unhurried.

Yunniang froze, then jumped off the chair, the white silk still around her neck, making it hard for her to breathe.

She hurriedly untied the chair, moved it back to its original place, and hid the white silk under the offering table.

"Who?"

Her voice was a little hoarse, as if she hadn't spoken in a long time.

A clear, melodious voice came from outside the door, like that of a scholar.

"I am a scholar traveling to the capital for the imperial examinations. I am passing through your esteemed place and have missed my lodging. I would like to ask if it would be convenient for me to stay at your residence for the night?"

Yunniang frowned.

Her house is on the edge of the village, and there are guards at the entrance, so ordinary people can't get in.

How did this person get in?

"There are guards at the gate, how did you get in?"

There was a moment of silence outside the door, then the voice rang out again, tinged with embarrassment: "This humble one... just walked in like this."

Yunniang's heart skipped a beat.

She slowly walked to the door and looked out through the crack.

Under the moonlight, a young scholar stood under the eaves.

He was wearing a blue robe, a square scarf, and holding a scroll in his hand.

He had a refined appearance, with a fair complexion, red lips, and delicate features. But beneath his feet was nothing; there was nothing at all.

The moonlight shone on the ground, casting shadows on the pillars, on the flowerpots, and on his own shadow—no, he had no shadow.

Yunniang's heart jumped into her throat.

She wanted to run, but her legs went weak. She wanted to shout, but her mouth wouldn't open.

The scholar spoke again: "Miss? How are you, Miss?"

Then he took a step forward.

step.

With that one step, his body passed through the tightly closed door, his entire body emerging from the door panel, and he stood in the mourning hall.

Yunniang's vision went black, and she collapsed limply to the ground.

The scholar stared blankly for a moment as he watched her fall to the ground.

Then he looked down at himself, then at the non-existent shadow on the ground, and awkwardly touched his nose.

He crouched down and reached out to check her breath.

He was still breathing, but he fainted from fright.

He sighed, stood up, and walked around the mourning hall.

He looked at the memorial tablets on the altar, then at the ever-burning lamps, and then at the white silk hidden under the altar, and suddenly fell silent.

He stood before the offering table, facing the memorial tablet, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he took the white silk ribbon out from under the offering table, folded it, and placed it on the chair.

He pushed the window open a crack to let the night breeze in.

After doing all this, he sat down on the threshold, leaning against the door frame, watching the flickering lights in the mourning hall, and waited quietly.

......