A debt-ridden tycoon inherits a luxury mansion, but the tenants are not human.

Li Yaohua didn't speak, his fingers tapping on the table, making a dull thud.

She said, "I just want to sing."

Chen Mo spoke very softly, afraid of disturbing something.

"Such a simple request. She never thought about becoming a big star, never thought about making a lot of money. She just wanted to sing, and for someone to listen to her sing. But you, you won't even give her that opportunity."

Li Yaohua stopped tapping.

"Mr. Chen, I'll say it again, I'm here today to discuss..."

"I know."

Chen Mo interrupted him.

"Let's make a deal. Pay money to buy my silence."

He leaned back in his chair, making himself appear shorter.

"But I'm sorry, I can't make that decision."

"What do you mean?"

Chen Mo didn't answer. He raised his head, and his Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

When he spoke again, a completely different voice came from his mouth.

It's a female voice.

With weariness from a long wait, and a sense of calm.

"Mr. Li, do you remember me?"

Li Yaohua suddenly jumped up from his chair.

His movements were so sudden that the armchair beneath him flipped backward, its legs scraping against the floor tiles with a strange screech.

The three bodyguards at the door simultaneously drew their guns, pointing them at Chen Mo.

Chen Mo ignored the guns.

He, or rather she, continued speaking.

"Ten years have passed, and I've been waiting."

"I'm waiting for you to admit that those rumors are false, and for you to admit that I didn't act like a diva, didn't lip-sync, and didn't bully anyone."

"I'm waiting for you to admit that I was forced to my death."

"But you never said that."

"You can continue being your big boss, continue promoting new talent, and continue making big money."

"But what about me?"

"He can only lie on the morgue shelf, covered in a thick layer of dust, and there isn't even anyone to sweep his grave."

Chen Mo's eyes were open, his pupils shrouded in a mist, empty and unfocused.

That was Su Wanqing's gaze before she jumped off the building.

The color drained from Li Yaohua's face. He staggered backward and bumped into his female assistant to avoid falling.

The old man in the Tang suit suddenly stood up, pulled out a yellow talisman from his pocket, and quickly chanted a spell.

The talisman spontaneously combusted, turning into a wisp of green smoke that rushed towards Chen Mo.

The wisp of smoke had only traveled halfway when it crashed directly into an invisible pane of glass.

With a soft pop, smoke dissipated.

The old man's hand trembled, and his lips turned white.

He stared intently at the beams of the main room, forcing out a few words.

"This house...it's alive!"

Chen Mo slowly turned his head and looked at the old man.

Su Wanqing's voice rang out again.

"Old sir, you've spent your whole life cultivating Taoism, and all you've achieved is aiding and abetting evil?"

The string of the Buddhist prayer beads in the old man's hand snapped with a snap, and the beads rolled to the ground.

Chen Mo's gaze returned to Li Yaohua.

"Mr. Li, I don't hate you anymore. Hate is too tiring, I'm exhausted."

"I only ask one thing of you."

"To be honest."

Just one sentence.

"Say I'm not wrong. Say those are all rumors. Say I'm worthy of the title 'singer'."

Li Yaohua was trembling violently, and cold sweat was streaming down his face.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His female assistant supported him and urged him softly.

"Mr. Li, let's go, something's not right here..."

"Walk?"

Chen Mo laughed, but the laughter was so shrill it was inhuman.

"You came and left? Mr. Li, didn't you come to discuss a deal? I haven't finished speaking yet."

He stood up and took a step forward.

With that one step, Li Yaohua was instantly drained of all his strength, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground.

Upon seeing this, the three bodyguards at the door roared and were about to rush in.

They had just stepped across the threshold when they were suddenly struck hard and sent flying backward.

The three of them groaned simultaneously, their bodies flying backward in an awkward posture, crashing heavily onto the bluestone slabs in the courtyard.

The burly man with the crew cut struggled to support himself with his hands, but as soon as his palms touched the ground, he suddenly let out a scream that sounded inhuman.

A charred palm print appeared out of nowhere in his palm, a bloody mess, sizzling with black smoke.

The short-haired woman's compass needle spun wildly, and finally, with a crisp crack, the entire dial shattered into pieces.

The driver tried to pull out the gun from his waist, but the holster was fused to his flesh. His face turned red, and he couldn't pull it out no matter what he did.

"In the old house, the landlord has the final say."

Chen Mo's voice returned to normal, revealing no emotion.

He lowered his head and dusted off non-existent dust from his cuffs.

"Mr. Li, do you still want to discuss the deal?"

Li Yaohua collapsed to the ground, his gaze unfocused.

The old man in the Tang suit picked up a few Buddhist beads, bowed deeply to Chen Mo, and even abandoned the beads that had rolled into the corner.

"Fellow Daoist... no, Mr. Landlord, I was blind to your greatness. This house is not a place for us to cause trouble. I will no longer interfere in Mr. Li's affairs. Farewell."

He turned and left in a panic, his back hunched, looking ten years older in an instant.

As Li Yaohua watched the last barrier disappear, the light in his eyes went out completely.

He raised his head, his voice extremely hoarse and heavy.

"What...what exactly do you want?"

Chen Mo sat back in his old armchair.

"I've already said it. I will issue a public apology and clear Su Wanqing's name."

"That would ruin me..."

Chen Mo lightly tapped the armrest with his finger.

"You ruined her back then, why didn't you think about that? Mr. Li, the choice is yours. Do you want to apologize proactively and earn a reputation for being responsible for your actions? Or do you want me to expose the evidence, at which point an apology won't be enough to resolve the issue?"

A hint of wariness flashed in Li Yaohua's eyes.

"Do you have evidence?"

Chen Mo took the worn-out diary from his pocket and threw it on the table.

"Her diary contains detailed records of how you hinted at and threatened her, how she refused, and how she was later attacked with negative information."

He paused for a moment, then added.

"Also, she called you before she jumped. I have the recording of that call."

The last sentence was a ruse, but Li Yaohua didn't know it.

Li Yaohua's face was deathly pale.

He stared intently at a venomous snake that seemed poised to pounce and bite his throat at any moment.

Chen Mo said.

"I'm giving you three days. After three days, if I don't see your public statement, these things will appear online."

"Of course, you can also find a way to make me disappear."

He pointed to his neck.

"But if I die, this evidence will be automatically published. There are many backups; you won't be able to find them."

The main room was eerily quiet, with only the faint crackling sound of the wick of the old-fashioned kerosene lamp.

In the courtyard, the bodyguard was still groaning on the ground, unable to get up.

After a long time, Li Yaohua used all his strength to squeeze out two words from his throat.

Okay. I apologize.

Chen Mo nodded.

"Three days. I'll be waiting."

Li Yaohua, supported by his female assistant, struggled to his feet.

As he reached the door, he turned back and gave Chen Mo a deep look.

"Mr. Chen, who exactly are you?"

Chen Mo answered.

"A landlord. A landlord who helps tenants collect rent and also helps them resolve their obsessions."

Li Yaohua's eyes were filled with complex emotions. He didn't say anything more and staggered away.

The three bodyguards, supporting each other, followed them out in a disheveled state.

The sound of the car engine faded into the distance.

The alleyway returned to its deathly silence.

Chen Mo remained seated, but his back had completely slumped down.

He sank into the armchair, his chest heaving violently, each breath labored and labored.

Beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead, landing on his collar and spreading into a small dark patch.

He tried to raise his hand, but his fingertips only twitched weakly.

That performance just now exhausted all his energy.

The clay figure of the earth spirit emerged from the shadows and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well done."

Chen Mo's voice was still trembling.

"My...my voice just now..."

"That's what the spirit of the earth said."

"Like this. This is the price of whispering obsessions. You will briefly become the vessel of those obsessions. Do you understand now? Helping them fulfill their obsessions is not just about running errands. Sometimes, you have to speak for them, cry for them, and hate for them."

Chen Mo closed his eyes.

The despair and resentment of being abandoned by the whole world, like Su Wanqing, still lingered in his body.

For a moment, he even had a real urge to jump off a high place and end it all.

"That's what the spirit of the earth said."

"Rest now. If Li Yaohua really apologizes, Su Wanqing's obsession will be resolved."

Chen Mo nodded, but couldn't move at all.

Di Ling went upstairs, brought down a thin blanket, and covered him with it.

He wrapped himself in a blanket, huddled in the armchair, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

After an unknown amount of time, a very soft and gentle singing voice rang in my ears.

He turned his head and saw Su Wanqing standing in the corner of the main room.

It was no longer a blurry shadow, but a clear, almost tangible image.

She was wearing a white dress, barefoot, and smiling at him.

Her voice is very real.

"Thank you. Whether he apologizes or not, thank you for speaking up for me."

Chen Mo tried to speak, but found that he couldn't make a sound.

Su Wanqing walked over and squatted down in front of him.

She reached out, wanting to touch his face, but her hand passed right through him without any resistance.

She said softly.

"You must be exhausted. Don't push yourself too hard. My affairs aren't worth your time."

Chen Mo shook his head with difficulty and squeezed out two words.

"worth."

Su Wanqing smiled, a smile that was pure and innocent.

she says.

"If...if I could truly find liberation, in my next life, I want to be an ordinary person. I won't sing anymore; I'll be a teacher or a nurse. Helping others, and being helped in return."

Chen Mo nodded.

"it is good."

Su Wanqing stood up.

"You too. Don't overwork yourself. Those who are alive should live well."

Her figure began to fade and slowly disappeared.

Before disappearing, she sang one last line, her voice very soft and weak.

"The vibrant colors of spring have faded, leaving only broken wells and crumbling walls..."

The song faded away.

Only Chen Mo and the flickering kerosene lamp remained in the main room.

He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

In his dream, he saw Su Wanqing standing under the spotlight, with the audience packed to capacity.

After she finished singing a song, she bowed, and thunderous applause erupted.

She smiled as she stepped off the stage, took a man's hand, and together they walked into the light in the distance.

very nice.

Chen Mo thought about it in his dream.

She can finally sing properly.

When I woke up, it was already nine o'clock in the evening.

He sat up, and the blanket slipped off.

The phone screen is lit up; there's a new text message.

It was sent by Li Yaohua's assistant.

"President Li asked me to convey the following: The statement is being prepared and will be released at 10:00 AM tomorrow. In addition, Su Wanqing's burial plot has been selected in Nanshan Cemetery, in the best feng shui location. The tombstone will be inscribed: Singer Su Wanqing, a person who sang with her life."

Chen Mo stared at the text message for a long time.

He replied.

"it is good."

He put down his phone and went into the yard.

The night sky was clear and bright, filled with stars.

Under the locust tree, the woman who used to sing opera was still dancing with her flowing sleeves, silently performing that opera that would never end.

He went back inside and upstairs.

As I lay in bed, the mark on my neck felt burning hot.

He touched it and felt that the edge of the mark had spread outward a little further.

But he didn't care anymore.

Outside the window, the moon rose.

It is round and bright.

The light shines on this sleepless city.

It also reflects the unfulfilled obsessions within this century-old house.