Filming Begins

On the first day of official filming, the second-floor corridor of the old castle was crammed with light stands and reflectors.

Shen Zhixia huddled at the turn of the stairwell, staring at things she had never seen before.

Black poles held blinding white light; several people in work clothes gathered around a square box, with an even smaller box mounted on top. She heard someone shouting, "Light a little left," "Sound ready," and "Actors in position." The noise was chaotic like a market, but everyone was busy with their own tasks, and no one looked up at her.

She tentatively drifted half a step forward, and the edges of her spirit body immediately began to grow faint.

Yang energy.

So many living people gathered together—the yang energy was as thick as a wall, pressing down on her until she could barely breathe. She quickly retreated into the shadows, her fingers gripping the stair railing, her fingertips nearly passing through it.

"Scene one, take three. Action."

The clapperboard snapped, and the corridor fell silent in an instant.

Lu Chenzhou walked up from the other end of the stairs, wearing the robe of that Republican-era young master from the script. The ink-blue fabric caught the light, giving off a soft sheen. He walked slowly, each step as if measured, his footsteps so light they were almost inaudible.

Shen Zhixia watched him stop in front of the camera, lower his eyes to adjust his cuff, then look up with a gentle smile on his face.

That smile was faint—just enough for the camera to catch, but not a trace more.

She froze.

This man had spoken to her in such an icy tone last night, and now he was smiling so... warmly?

"Cut." The director called a stop. "Mr. Lu, one more take. This time, give a little more eye line toward the left camera."

Lu Chenzhou nodded and walked back to the starting point.

Shen Zhixia saw that the moment he turned, the smile vanished completely from his face. His lips pressed flat, and his gaze swept across the corridor as if checking something.

She instinctively shrank back.

"Take two. Action."

Lu Chenzhou stepped into frame again, and the smile returned—even more natural than before.

Shen Zhixia stared at him and suddenly understood—this man was acting.

She knew what "acting" meant. Ten years ago, when she was still alive, there were people on TV wearing ancient costumes, crying and laughing. But she had never imagined that someone could put on and take off a smile like a piece of clothing.

And when he took off that smile, his eyes became very cold.

Just like when he looked at her last night.

"Good, this take is a wrap." The director nodded with satisfaction. "Prepare for the next scene. Props team, open that door."

Shen Zhixia's heart leaped.

Door?

She followed the direction the director was pointing. Several crew members were walking toward the sealed stairwell door.

No.

There was something behind that door.

Last night, she had been chased by black mist to that spot and nearly sucked in. The resentment was so thick it felt like it would tear her apart. She still remembered that bone-chilling cold.

"Hold on."

Lu Chenzhou suddenly spoke.

Everyone stopped and looked at him.

"This door..." Lu Chenzhou walked to the sealed stairwell and pressed his hand against the door panel. "It's a bit loose. I'm worried it might cause problems during filming."

The props team leader was taken aback. "Really? We checked it yesterday."

"Better to check again to be safe." Lu Chenzhou's tone was gentle but carried an undeniable insistence. "This scene requires the door to suddenly open. If the hinges aren't stable and it falls on someone, it'll be trouble."

The director hesitated. "Then... let's skip this scene and shoot the next one?"

"Mm." Lu Chenzhou nodded. "I'll have my assistant call building management to take a look."

Shen Zhixia watched him smoothly redirect everyone without changing his expression, and a strange feeling rose in her heart.

He knew there was something wrong behind that door.

And he didn't want anyone else to touch it.

The crew adjusted the camera positions. Lu Chenzhou turned and walked back. As he passed the stairwell corner, his steps paused.

Shen Zhixia held her breath.

He didn't look at her. He simply lowered his eyes, adjusted his cufflink, and kept walking.

But Shen Zhixia clearly felt that, in that brief moment, his gaze had swept over the shadow where she was hiding.

She curled up in the corner, staring at his back, and suddenly realized that her spirit body wasn't as faint anymore.

In that moment, she had been very close to him—so close she could almost feel the faint coolness emanating from him. It wasn't the scorching heat of yang energy, nor the icy cold of the black mist. It was a strange kind of aura that made her feel safe.

She tentatively drifted forward a little, and the fuzziness at the edges of her spirit body noticeably diminished. Shen Zhixia stared blankly at her own hands. Her fingertips were no longer transparent; she could even make out the outline of her nails.

Was it because of him?

"Mr. Lu, this scene is ready."

The clapperboard operator's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Lu Chenzhou stood in front of the camera again. This time, they were shooting a scene with another actor. The leading actress, Lin Wanqiao, was wearing a cheongsam. Her makeup was exquisite, and she walked toward him with a smile.

"Cousin, why are you here all alone?"

"Just taking a stroll." Lu Chenzhou answered with a smile, his voice warm, as if coaxing someone.

Shen Zhixia watched them perform and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.

That actress smiled too sweetly, and she was standing too close to Lu Chenzhou—almost pressing up against him.

She frowned, not knowing why she felt a tightness in her chest.

"Cut. This take is a wrap. Ten-minute break."

Lu Chenzhou turned and stepped away from the shot. The actress tried to follow and talk to him, but he politely declined.

"Sorry, I need to use the restroom."

He walked quickly, heading straight for the sealed stairwell.

Shen Zhixia hesitated, then followed.

Lu Chenzhou stood in front of the door, pressing his hand along the edge of the door panel as if checking the hinges. His left hand hung at his side, his thumb casually brushing over the black sandalwood beads on his wrist—one, two, three.

Shen Zhixia saw his lips move slightly, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible, as if he were muttering to himself about the poor quality of the door panel.

A low, muffled thud came from behind the door. Then everything went quiet.

She flinched back in fright, and her spirit body immediately began to fade again.

Lu Chenzhou opened his eyes. His gaze swept over her hiding spot, then he withdrew his hand.

"Don't be afraid."

His voice was very soft, soft as if meant for her ears alone.

Shen Zhixia was stunned.

He really could see her.

"Mr. Lu?"

An assistant's voice came from the other end of the corridor.

Lu Chenzhou turned around, and that gentle smile was back on his face. "Mm, coming."

He walked back to the set, leaving Shen Zhixia standing there alone.

She stared at the door, her heart racing.

A yellowed seal was pasted on the door panel, its edges bearing scorch marks. She leaned in for a closer look and saw symbols written on the seal that she couldn't understand, but they made her deeply uncomfortable—as if something was staring at her.

She reached out to touch it, but the moment her fingertip made contact with the seal, a sharp pain shot through her.

"Hiss—"

She quickly pulled her hand back, and a wisp of green smoke rose from her fingertip.

"Don't touch it."

Lu Chenzhou had somehow returned and was standing behind her, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness. "That's a Grudge-Suppressing Talisman. If you touch it, your soul will dissipate."

Shen Zhixia turned around and looked at him.

He wasn't looking toward the camera, and he wasn't wearing that gentle smile. He just stood there in front of her, his gaze calm, like he was looking at a child who needed care.

"You..." Shen Zhixia opened her mouth. "Is whatever's behind that door... related to me?"

Lu Chenzhou was silent for two seconds. "Not you. Something else."

"Then why did it chase me?"

"Because your spirit body is unstable, making you easy prey." Lu Chenzhou said. "Stay close to me. Don't wander off."

He turned and walked back. Shen Zhixia hesitated, then followed.

She realized that as long as she stayed by his side, her spirit body stabilized, and the scorching sensation from the yang energy lessened considerably. It was as if he had an invisible protective shield around him, enveloping her within it.

"Scene five, take one. Ready."

Lu Chenzhou stood in front of the camera again. Shen Zhixia shrank into the shadow behind him, watching the bustling crew.

The lighting technician adjusted the angle of the light stand, and the blinding white light swept across the corridor, illuminating the oil painting on the wall. The camera's red indicator light came on, and the lens slowly pushed in.

Shen Zhixia saw the figure in the oil painting move.

She rubbed her eyes, thinking she must have imagined it.

But in the next second, the figure in the painting moved again—and this time, more noticeably. The face slowly turned, its eyes staring straight at the camera lens. A wisp of extremely faint black mist seeped from the edge of the frame and crept along the wall toward the camera.

Shen Zhixia's heart leaped.

"Action."

The clapperboard snapped.

Lu Chenzhou walked into the frame. As he passed the oil painting, his steps paused. He seemed to be adjusting his position, but in reality, his left hand hung by his side while his thumb quickly brushed over one of the beads.

The figure in the painting froze. The black mist stopped in midair, as if nailed in place.

"Cut. This take is a wrap."

The director nodded with satisfaction. Lu Chenzhou turned and left the frame. As he passed the oil painting, Shen Zhixia saw a flicker of coldness in his eyes.

"Props team, move this painting to a different spot. It's hung too high—it's hard to frame a good shot. Also, the camera seems a bit damp—I saw some fog on the lens edge. Wipe it down later."

He spoke naturally, as if casually offering a suggestion.

The props team leader acknowledged and called people over to move the painting. The cameraman also leaned in to check the lens, muttering, "I just wiped it."

Standing beside the director, Lin Wanqiao happened to be watching the playback on the monitor. Her face paled slightly, and she couldn't help but quietly ask, "Director... did that shot just flicker? I think I saw a dark shadow in front of the painting."

The director waved it off, assuming it was a lighting issue. "Probably just a light shift. No problem—this take is good."

Lin Wanqiao didn't say anything more, but her fingers tightened around the script unconsciously. She secretly glanced at the oil painting being carried away, then at Lu Chenzhou's impeccably composed profile. An inexplicable chill rose from the depths of her heart. Something about this crew seemed... off.

Shen Zhixia watched as the painting was taken down. The figure inside had returned to normal, but she clearly remembered how that face had turned just a moment ago, and the wisp of black mist that had almost crawled into the camera.

She moved closer to Lu Chenzhou, and the fuzziness at the edges of her spirit body lessened a little more.

He was protecting her.

And he did it so carefully—so carefully that no one noticed what he was doing.

Filming continued until dusk. When the crew wrapped up for the day, the lights in the corridor went out one by one. The yang energy dissipated, and shadows crept back up the walls.

Shen Zhixia watched the crew pack up their equipment and leave, and suddenly felt a little reluctant.

It had been ten years since she had seen this many living people. And among them, Lu Chenzhou had disguised every move he made as an accident, a coincidence, or a casual suggestion from an award-winning actor.

She watched his back as he stood among the crowd and suddenly understood—helping her was a risk for him.

As Lu Chenzhou was about to step forward, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was a new message from his lawyer.

【The legal department of Shen Group called today to inquire about the filming permit and security details for Old Tales of the Castle. The person named was Shen Mingheng. Their intentions are unclear, but they seem highly interested in the castle itself.】

Lu Chenzhou turned off the screen with a blank expression, but the warmth in his eyes cooled another degree.

Shen Mingheng...

Shen Zhixia remembered that name. He was her cousin, always wearing a fake smile. Why would he be concerned about a film crew?

"Aren't you leaving?"

Lu Chenzhou stood at the stairwell, looking at her.

Shen Zhixia was startled. "Leaving... to where?"

"Come back to my room." Lu Chenzhou said. "If you stay here alone, when whatever's behind that door comes out, you won't be able to hold it off."

Shen Zhixia glanced at the sealed stairwell. The seal on the door panel glowed faintly red in the dim light.

She bit her lip and followed.

Lu Chenzhou was staying in the innermost room on the third floor of the castle. The room was small but neatly kept. He took off his robe, changed into black loungewear, and pulled a wooden box out of his suitcase.

Shen Zhixia watched him open the box. Inside were neatly arranged talisman paper, cinnabar, and several thin strands of red thread.

"Come here."

Lu Chenzhou sat down at the table and beckoned to her.

Shen Zhixia hesitated, then drifted over and stood in front of him.

Lu Chenzhou looked up, scanned her from head to toe, and frowned.

"Your spirit body is unstable, and it's dissipating quickly." He said. "How did you survive these ten years?"

Shen Zhixia opened her mouth but didn't know how to answer.She didn't know how she had managed to get through it.

She only remembered that when she woke up, she had already become a ghost, and had been staying in the castle ever since—not daring to go out, and unable to leave.

"Forget it." Lu Chenzhou withdrew his gaze and took a talisman paper from the wooden box. "Let's stabilize the soul first."

He picked up a brush, dipped it in cinnabar, and wrote a few characters on the talisman paper that she couldn't understand.

Shen Zhixia watched his hand—his slender fingers gripping the brush, each stroke written slowly and steadily.

Halfway through writing the talisman, Lu Chenzhou suddenly stopped and looked up toward the window.

Shen Zhixia followed his gaze. Outside the window, it was pitch black, with nothing to be seen.

But she felt it.

That familiar icy aura was spreading from the direction of the enclosed stairwell.

Lu Chenzhou put down the brush, walked to the window, and his expression darkened.

"It's out."

Shen Zhixia's heart jolted. "Then... then what do we do?"

Lu Chenzhou didn't answer. He just stared out the window, his thumb slowly rubbing the beads on his wrist. The black sandalwood bracelet emitted a faint red glow, as if resisting some invisible pressure.

After a long moment, he turned around. His face was paler than before.

"An ordinary Soul-Protecting Talisman won't be enough." Lu Chenzhou turned his left wrist toward her. Shen Zhixia saw that one of the black sandalwood beads had already cracked.

"Suppressing that door today cost me one bead." His tone was flat, as if stating something unrelated to himself, but Shen Zhixia felt a chill run through her.

After a brief silence, Lu Chenzhou took a red thread from the wooden box. The vivid red looked strikingly stark between his fingers.

"We'll have to use another method." He said this without looking at her, his gaze fixed on the red thread in his hand, studying it with an almost ruthless scrutiny.

Shen Zhixia looked at the thread in his hand and the shattered bead.

A thought surfaced in her mind, impossible to suppress: they were heading toward a crossroads from which there was no turning back.