Blood of Ten Years Ago

The air at the end of the corridor seemed to have frozen into an icy gel. The light filtered through heavy curtains and years of accumulated dust was dim and murky, barely outlining the furniture covered with white cloth against the walls on both sides, like a row of silent vigil-keepers.

Shen Zhixia floated in midair, carefully maintaining a foot's distance from the ground. She followed behind Lu Chenzhou like a balloon tied to its owner by an invisible string, afraid to drift too far, afraid to land. Ever since the warm "red cord" had been tied around her wrist, she noticed for the first time that a clear, complete shadow had formed beneath her feet—no longer the broken, faint, and flickering traces of before. This inexplicably reassured her, as if she had taken one more step closer to being "human."

Lu Chenzhou walked slowly, his steps landing on the thick carpet, nearly soundless. He stopped before an ornate wooden door, his fingertips gently tracing the intricate iris carvings on the surface, as if appreciating craftsmanship from a century ago.

"The carving style here doesn't quite match the main building," he said, tilting his head. His voice rang out especially clearly in the empty corridor, as if speaking to the air, or murmuring to himself, searching for character inspiration.

But Shen Zhixia knew he was speaking to her. She drifted closer, peering curiously at the door, only to feel a bone-chilling coldness seeping through the cracks in thin wisps, making her soul-body tremble. She instinctively shrank back, hiding behind Lu Chenzhou.

"It... doesn't like it here," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of dependence she herself hadn't noticed.

"I know." Lu Chenzhou didn't turn around, his gaze still fixed on the door. "That's why I need you to stay close to me. Remember: no matter what you see or hear, don't leave my side beyond three steps."

His tone was calm, but carried an unyielding authority. Shen Zhixia nodded obediently. After what happened last night, she had come to understand that the rules he set were not meant to confine her, but to protect her.

They bypassed that closed wooden door and continued deeper in. At the end of the corridor was a curving spiral staircase. The handrails were forged from dark,沉重的 iron, entwined with withered vine reliefs, spiraling upward into deeper darkness.

This was the place.

A violent tremor originating from the depths of her soul suddenly seized Shen Zhixia. Not fear—but a resonance of grief and savagery. Her gaze was uncontrollably drawn to a corner at the base of the spiral stairs.

There was nothing there—only mottled wallpaper and a spiderweb hanging from the ceiling.

Lu Chenzhou stopped at almost the same moment. He didn't look at that corner but raised his head to study the staircase structure, as if analyzing its load-bearing capacity and aesthetics.

"Classic late Gothic style—sacrifices structural stability for visual lightness. Filming a chase scene here would have great dramatic tension," he commented casually, yet his body subtly shifted half a step to the left, blocking most of Shen Zhixia's soul-body behind him.

But the icy aura didn't diminish in the slightest because of his obstruction.

A wisp of black mist, darker than the surrounding dimness, seeped out from that corner. It was as thin as a thread, like a forgotten怨念 hesitantly writhing in the air.

It paid no attention to Lu Chenzhou, whose yang energy radiated just inches away, as if he were nothing but a lifeless stone.

The black mist had an extremely clear target. It bypassed Lu Chenzhou's body and stretched precisely, stubbornly toward Shen Zhixia's direction. No—more accurately, toward the patch of empty floor beneath her at the stair landing.

Shen Zhixia's breath stopped. She saw that wisp of black mist slither like a living venomous snake to hover above that patch of floor, then plunge downward with a sudden lunge!

"WUMMMM——"

A sharp ringing exploded in her mind.

The moment the black mist touched the ground, on that floorboard coated with a decade's dust, a long-dried bloodstain that had seeped deep into the wood grain abruptly surfaced as if awakened—a dark red, spatter-shaped mark that, catalyzed by the怨气, shifted from faded brown to a vivid, piercing red, as if freshly spilled.

The怨气 recognized this blood. The blood of ten years ago.

"Ah!" Shen Zhixia let out a short, sharp cry as her soul-body shook violently. A狂暴记忆 not her own, mixed with endless cold and despair, overwhelmed her fragile consciousness.

Wind!

The heartbreaking sound of wind filled her ears!

Her body was falling rapidly. The sensation of weightlessness dislocated every organ. She wanted to scream, but her throat was blocked by the rushing cold air, unable to make a sound. Everything before her spun at dizzying speed—the castle's spires, the gray sky, the distant woods—all dissolving into blurry patches of color.

The only clear thing was the hard, stone-paved courtyard below, rushing toward her at an unstoppable speed!

She was going to die.

The thought was cold and certain.

"Don't look!"

A low shout crashed like thunder in her ear as a warm hand seized her wrist. That warmth instantly pierced through her icy soul-body, like a sturdy dam forcibly cutting off the surging flood of memories.

Shen Zhixia snapped back to reality. There was no falling courtyard before her. She was still floating at the stair landing, tightly shielded behind Lu Chenzhou. Her soul-body flickered violently, its edges nearly translucent.

As for that wisp of black mist—the moment Lu Chenzhou reached out and grabbed her, it let out a piercing shriek as if burned by invisible flames, then abruptly retracted back into the corner and vanished. The eerie fresh bloodstain on the floor rapidly faded as well, returning to its unremarkable state as an old stain.

"It's all right." Lu Chenzhou's voice was steady and firm. He didn't let go; the warmth of his palm continuously flowed into her, soothing her nearly shattered soul-body.

"I... I just now..." Shen Zhixia's lips trembled, unable to form a complete sentence. The terror of falling still lingered in every inch of her perception. "I think I... fell..."

"It's just the怨气 here stirring up your lingering執念." Lu Chenzhou supported her, guiding her away from that corner, his voice low. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Shen Zhixia took large, gasping "breaths"—though a ghost didn't need to breathe. She stared blankly at Lu Chenzhou's back as he shielded her, then looked down at his hand gripping her wrist.

Just now, when the怨气 appeared, he could easily have dispersed it with those incomprehensible techniques of his. But he didn't. He chose the most direct, least "magical" method—using his own body to block between her and the danger.

His rules. His three-step distance. So this was what they meant.

As long as she was by his side, the malice directed at her couldn't truly harm her.

In that moment, the last trace of resistance she felt toward his "control" dissipated like smoke. She no longer found this man cold or domineering—only felt an unprecedented sense of safety. In these ten years, for the first time, she felt she wasn't a wandering spirit, but someone firmly sheltered under the wings of a powerful and reliable presence.

"I... I'll listen to you." She raised her head, looking at Lu Chenzhou's profile, her eyes clear and determined. "I won't run off anymore."

Lu Chenzhou's gaze paused on her face for a second. A barely perceptible ripple passed through the depths of his eyes. He hummed in acknowledgment, released her wrist, and said instead, "Let's leave here first. This matter... isn't simple."

...

Meanwhile, in the top-floor office of the Shen Corporation a thousand miles away.

Shen Mingheng hung up the phone, his face expressionless as he looked at the floor plan of the ancient castle displayed on the tablet before him. The spiral staircase on the second floor of the west wing had been circled in red pen.

"Lu Chenzhou..." He tapped the desktop with his knuckles, his gaze behind his glasses icy cold. "Let's hope you're only interested in old architecture—and not in old matters from ten years ago."

In another document on the desk, a photo of an actress was prominently displayed. It was the production's female lead, Lin Wanqiao. Beside the photo were several handwritten annotations: 【Timid personality, strong competitive drive, easily manipulated. Can serve as an observation window.】

...

When Lu Chenzhou led Shen Zhixia back to the brightly lit main filming area, the crew was preparing for the next shot. The director was raging at a camera position.

"What's wrong with Camera Three again?! It was fine just now!"

Several crew members surrounded a camera, sweating as they tried to adjust it.

Lin Wanqiao stood to one side, watching Lu Chenzhou emerge unharmed from that supposedly haunted restricted area. A complex emotion flickered in her eyes. She unconsciously clutched the hem of her clothes, her gaze shifting back and forth between Lu Chenzhou and the malfunctioning camera, as if calculating something.

Shen Zhixia stayed close to Lu Chenzhou, still somewhat unsettled. She couldn't help turning back to look at the entrance of that dark corridor, now temporarily cordoned off with warning tape by the crew.

Just as she turned her head, her pupils contracted sharply.

She clearly saw an extremely thin, almost imperceptible wisp of black vapor silently slipping out from beneath the warning tape. It hugged the ground like a snake searching for prey, nimbly dodging the coming and going crew members, and slid straight toward the constantly malfunctioning camera.

Then, completely unnoticed by anyone, that wisp of black vapor climbed up along the camera stand and plunged headfirst into the lens.

On the camera's monitor screen, the snow-static-ridden picture instantly cleared up.

The cameraman who had been adjusting it exclaimed in surprise, "It's working! Director, the picture is normal!"

No one noticed that in the moment the picture recovered, a faint, barely visible red light flashed deep within the lens and vanished in an instant.

And in the shadows at the end of the corridor, it was as if a pair of eyes were quietly watching all of this from the darkness—before silently disappearing again.