Night fell, blanketing the earth.
Strange sensations began to creep over me.
First, an icy coldness seeped into my bones—unrelated to the weather, as if my marrow itself had frozen. My limbs grew numb, and my body felt less like my own, more like a borrowed shell.
Then my skin paled, growing increasingly translucent, until it was nearly see-through.
When the last sliver of daylight vanished, my hands turned as white as ash…
"So it's happening again," I sighed. I didn't dare look in a mirror—turning into a paper figure wasn't new, but witnessing it unfold was still unsettling.
Zhang Xinya glanced at me through the rearview mirror, her hands jerking on the wheel. The car swerved on the highway, nearly clipping the guardrail. Luckily, there were no other cars at this hour; otherwise, it would've been a disaster.
"I've seen it before, but I still can't get used to it…" She shook her head, her expression a mix of discomfort and something else. "But could you move over a bit? You're making me want to kill you—seeing you like this gives me the creeps."
I shifted away, not just because of her. Beside me sat Zhang Daoxuan, his presence radiating an indescribable aura—tangible yet invisible, like a pressure that raised the hairs on my neck. Being near him when I was half-paper made my skin crawl; instinct told me to keep my distance.
He said nothing, barely acknowledging me.
We reached Taiyuan by midnight but didn't head back to the shop. Instead, following Zhang Daoxuan's instructions, we drove to a high-end residential community near Fenhe Park.
This was where he needed my help.
As Zhang Daoxuan put it: "All things in the world seek balance. To owe a debt is to disrupt that balance. What happened to you is your karmic entanglement. I'm helping you resolve it partly to aid my niece, but also because you owe me. To settle this debt, you'll do this task for me—it's the way of the Tao."
His words were vague, but I understood the gist. My father had once mentioned that true Taoists uphold "purity and non-action," carrying a moral compass in their hearts—one side for their own virtue, the other for the world. In turbulent times, they save others; in peaceful times, they withdraw to cultivate their spirit. They take on cases not for money, but to balance the scales, to resolve what lingers between the living and the dead.
True Taoists don't refuse cases, regardless of wealth or status, but they demand payment—often simple things like a meal. They ask for little to avoid greed, which taints their virtue. Zhang Daoxuan, it seemed, was one of those rare Taoists who'd stepped into the mortal world temporarily, drawn by a karmic thread tied to someone else's plight.
I followed him silently, my mind racing. There was something about him I wanted to unravel, like a door I needed to open to see a new world.
Zhang Daoxuan, oblivious to my thoughts, led the way confidently—he'd been here before. My unease grew; what could trouble even someone like him?
Soon, he stopped at a building. "Upstairs," he said, turning to me. "Do as I say. Whatever you see, tell me immediately. Tonight, you're my eyes."
"See what?" I asked. "Ghosts?"
He sighed, a rare flicker of exasperation crossing his face. "Not necessarily. But spirits are tricky—they hide, even from me. Sometimes, even their own kind can't see them. They let you see them only if they want you to."
He stepped forward and used a keypad to call the resident.
I scratched my head. If even other spirits couldn't see them, why was I here?
"Stop asking. You'll find out soon enough," Zhang Xinya said, smirking. "Though I've never met this family, I know my uncle's been after this for ages. He's tried everything but can't pin down whatever's haunting them. It's been his obsession. Maybe… you're the key he's been missing."
By then, Zhang Daoxuan had reached the door. A woman in her thirties answered, her eyes hollow with exhaustion, her cheeks sunken. She relaxed slightly at the sight of Zhang Daoxuan, relief softening her features. "Master, you're just in time. The child's been crying nonstop tonight—just calmed down a moment ago…"
She stepped aside, ushering us in, and nearly slammed the door on me. My head got caught in the jamb—a sharp, stinging crack. The door bounced open, and she stared, then tried to slam it again.
Zhang Xinya burst into laughter, her face turning red as she pulled me inside and shut the door.
It was a standard three-bedroom apartment. Aside from the woman, there was her husband—a man slightly older than her—holding an eight- or nine-month-old baby, its face red from crying.
The baby tilted its head, studying me with wide, curious eyes. That told me something: young children could see spirits.
From the conversation, I pieced together the story. The couple, Zhang Wei and Wei Xin, had a child who'd cried nonstop since birth. At first, they thought it was illness, but doctors found nothing wrong. Then came the oddities: the baby would giggle at empty spaces, and their rice sometimes tasted bland, as if drained of flavor.
Rice losing its taste meant one thing: spirits were feeding on its essence.
Zhang Daoxuan chatted briefly with the couple, then nodded at me. I'd already scoured the room and found nothing, so I shook my head.
His gaze deepened. He spoke to the couple again, and after a moment, Zhang Wei placed the baby on the couch and left with his wife, closing the bedroom door. Trusting Zhang Daoxuan completely.
"What now?" I asked. "Did it run away?"
"No. If it feared me, it would've left already." He sighed. "If even you can't see it, I suspect only the child can. Will you… take over its body?"
"Probably," I said uncertainly. "Do I… lift it up and keep three inches away? Like possession?"
"Possession is different," Zhang Daoxuan clarified. "Possessors sneak up from behind, lifting the victim's feet to control their body. Taking over is deeper—you merge with the child's body, seeing and feeling what they do. That's why spirits target children: their souls are fragile, easy to manipulate."
"I'll try…"
I hesitated. The idea of acting like a spirit felt wrong, even though I was half-paper myself. But under Zhang Daoxuan's sharp gaze, I had no choice. I approached the baby, who gurgled and smiled at me, its innocence making me feel guilty.
Then, a chill swept over me. A force yanked at my neck.
"Are you okay?" Zhang Daoxuan asked, frowning.
I strained to turn my head, wincing. "Someone's… pulling me from behind!"
Smack!
A sharp slap across my right cheek. The pain jolted my soul. I staggered sideways.
The sound was loud—everyone heard it.
"Who the hell hit me?!" I yelled, rubbing my stinging face.
No one answered.
Zhang Xinya pointed at my face. "There's a shoe print…"