Das Grab von Qin Shi Huang

Kapitel 14

"That sounds nice, but it's not like you're the one doing the housework and putting up with her attitude..." Lucy was full of resentment. She finally managed to serve her aunt breakfast and hurriedly drove to work. Ten minutes later, she suddenly remembered she'd forgotten an important document—she was so absent-minded! When she got home, she unexpectedly overheard a stern old woman speaking:

“Lin Jie (Jim’s original name), I’ve always treated you like my own son, so after I pass away, all my property will be yours. But there’s one condition,” Auntie took a deep breath, and Lucy outside the door couldn’t help but feel nervous, “that is, don’t let that woman touch a single penny.”

“Lucy?” she heard her husband’s puzzled voice.

"Yes. She was so incredibly cruel to me. I never imagined there could be such a vicious woman in the world, capable of such cruelty towards a lonely old woman!" Sobbing, sniffling, and the sound of clothes being rummaged through filled the air. "Look here, all of this is from her pinching and scratching. She would sweet-talk me to my face, but behind my back she would secretly torment me! I never dared to tell you!"

Lies, shameless lies! Lucy was furious. She admitted that behind Jim's back, she had given her aunt a lot of dirty looks, but she had never laid a hand on her—after all, she was an old woman! She never expected her aunt to be so malicious, slandering her behind her back!

"I swear, that vicious woman will kill me for my money, and then she'll come after you! Remember, don't let that woman touch a single penny, otherwise I'll change my will and donate it to charity rather than leave it to you!"

Lucy held her breath, waiting for her husband's reply. When she heard the words "I know," tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, washing away the remaining makeup. Even her closest husband had been bewitched by that witch; what did she have left? She realized that she had to get rid of that annoying aunt.

Book One: The Seven Deadly Sins - Greed: The Return of the God of Wealth (Part 2)

First, she visited 666 Frozen Street, a vibrant and relatable astrology shop.

In the eyes of astrologers, humanity's destiny is woven by the threads of the stars, intertwined and tangled. Through the movement of the stars, all the mysteries of human life become exceptionally clear and easily resolved. "In your two birth charts, I see that the old woman's Saturn is opposing your Sun, which is why she constantly criticizes and negates you. Sometimes you accept it under pressure, and sometimes you can't bear it and explode. Furthermore, in terms of the houses, her children's house (the fifth house) has Pluto, and the aspects are quite challenging, indicating a distant relationship between her and her children. Your parents' house (the fourth house) has Mars, and the aspects are also quite challenging, making you prone to arguments with family members—in short, you two are natural adversaries, like two peas in a pod." The astrologer sighed slightly, "That's what you call a head-on confrontation."

"Then what should I do?" She gasped. "According to you, am I going to have to put up with this old monster's temper for the rest of my life?"

The astrologer crossed his long legs, and uttered soft words from his thin lips:

"Guest, an astrologer can only illuminate the stars and dispel the darkness that lies just a step ahead for you," he said, narrowing his icy green eyes, cold and devoid of any color. "The right path, however, is currently winding and intertwining beneath your own feet."

She wiped away her tears, her mind made up. No, it should be said that long before visiting the astrology shop, she had already chosen a shortcut to quickly climb the cliff to the summit. Seeking help from the astrologer was merely a way to reassure herself. Success meant millions of dollars at her fingertips; failure meant utter destruction, plunging into the deepest abyss, never to be reborn.

As December arrived, the weather grew increasingly cold. Even wrapped in two thick down comforters, Auntie still complained of her hands and feet being freezing. Jim suggested putting down an electric blanket, but Lucy rolled her eyes at him.

"The newspaper reported a few days ago that an electric blanket spontaneously combusted and burned a child sleeping on it!" She pouted and said to her husband coquettishly, "How could you let your aunt use such an unsafe thing?"

Like most elderly people, Auntie had a natural distrust of trendy and new electrical appliances, but rather a fondness for traditional items. Thus, a hot water bottle, an inexpensive and practical winter heating device, became her only choice. This was exactly what Lucy wanted, and she was overjoyed.

From the day she made up her mind, Lucy never lost her temper again. Instead, she endured her aunt's constant nagging and became increasingly filial, personally taking care of everything. This time was no exception. She personally stuffed a hot water bottle filled with boiling water into her aunt's bed, tucked it in with clothes, and then sweetly said "Goodnight" to her aunt.

My aunt caught a cold the next day.

"The sheets are all wet!" she yelled at her nephew from the bed, grumbling, "Look what your good wife did to me!"

Lucy reached under the covers and quietly unscrewed the cap of the hot water bottle. "Oh, I'm so sorry, it seems the hot water bottle is leaking!" She handed the hot water bottle to her husband; almost all the water inside had leaked out. Jim didn't notice the leak in the hot water bottle, but the stopper was clearly loose. This time it wasn't Lucy's fault; he figured it was his aunt's carelessness, but he didn't want to offend her, so he had to buy a new, well-sealed imported hot water bottle.

The imported goods were still leaking. By the third day, the old lady's condition had worsened; she had a fever, headache, cough, and phlegm. She was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with acute pneumonia, a result of her cold. Given her advanced age and generally poor health, the doctor said her condition was not optimistic. Sure enough, before evening, the aunt passed away despite all efforts to save her; she was 67 years old.

Upon hearing the devastating news, Lucy's heart clenched. She carefully crafted her words, trying to subtly comfort her husband while also gently bringing up the matter of her aunt's inheritance. She knew her man well, knowing that he, like herself, cared more about the living than about deceased relatives.

They searched through all of Aunt's belongings but found not a single word about a will. Even more strangely, bankbooks and property deeds were nowhere to be found. Besides clothes and daily necessities, the only thing Aunt had with her was a China Merchants Bank credit card with a PIN. Where had her millions gone? As the days passed, Lucy gradually descended into madness and despair. If there was no reward, why had she gone to such lengths to kill her aunt? Unwilling to accept this, she sought help from an astrologer.

The astrologer wasn't home, but the doll guarding the astrology shop said something that Lucy remembered—her name was Maya. Maya asked about her troubles, and Lucy honestly told her everything.

They only stated the facts, but didn't mention the truth.

"What's so difficult about that? Why would I need to trouble you, sir?" Maya tossed her long, jet-black hair behind her, looking relaxed. "Just summon her soul. Whatever you want to know, just ask her, won't you?"

"This? Is it really possible?" Lucy hesitated, feeling it was like witchcraft. "This method is called necromancy," Maya said, her beautiful cat eyes widening with an arrogant attitude. "It was a popular method in Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries. Only highly skilled mediums can summon the spirits of the dead. And now, you have the good fortune to meet the world's greatest necromancer—I am it."

"So, are you in or not?" She impatiently put her hands on her hips, as if urging Lucy to make a decision quickly. There was no other way, so she decided to try anything! Regardless of her husband's willingness, she dragged him along to the séance held by Maya, which would take place at the oak dining table in their home on the seventh night after her aunt's death.

It is said that this is called the Night of the Return of the Soul.

Following Maya's instructions, not a single light was turned on in the house, and a dark twilight gradually enveloped everyone. Lucy couldn't see her husband across from her, only Maya standing on the table, her eyes shimmering with a golden light—truly cat-like eyes. Maya's eyes moved gently, and she murmured ancient, incomprehensible words. Was this her process of summoning a spirit? Suddenly, Lucy felt a chill creep across her bare neck, and she shivered involuntarily. A sudden fear gripped her, her thoughts racing, recalling classic horror movie tropes: vengeful spirits. Of course, her aunt had died of natural causes, but wasn't she herself the one who had caused her illness?

A flash of white light appeared behind Jim and vanished in an instant. She rubbed her eyes in surprise—no, it was still there. Behind her husband's blurry outline, a white figure was indeed gradually rising. It was a humanoid object, completely covered by a white shroud, moving slowly and resolutely.

A shroud! Fear gripped her like a cold, damp hand, choking her. She shook her head violently, but could no longer call out. She could only watch helplessly as the thing dragged its heavy steps toward her. In terms of its appearance, it resembled her aunt in life, but the ghostly thing's face was also covered with a white cloth. What was beneath that white cloth? Her teeth chattered, and her whole body trembled uncontrollably like a leaf in the autumn wind.

Could it be her aunt's face? She fantasized wildly, almost crushing herself in the thought. Could it be her aunt's face?

A pale hand grabbed her sleeve; the ghost was right beside her! She screamed for the doctor, flailing her fists wildly, but the ghost was too strong; she couldn't break free. Then, the ghost stretched its head forward and ripped off the shroud.

Below was clearly my aunt's swollen, dead face!

“Sudden heart attack,” Lin Jie calmly dialed 120 for emergency help. “Please come quickly, my wife might not make it.”

She was already dead. Anyone with eyes could see that Liu Qian (Lucy), lying limp on the ground, was lifeless and had long since joined the ranks of the dead. Lin Jie looked at his wife without any emotion and said dryly:

"It really was her."

"What? What?" Maya asked curiously.

Lin Jie removed the mask that imitated his aunt's face and took off the shroud. His aunt was right; Liu Qian was too greedy. She not only wanted his aunt's money and her life, but might also cost him his own. If it weren't for the talking doll that inspired him, he might have been kept in the dark until his death. Luckily, he acted first. He sincerely thanked Maya.

“No need to thank me,” Maya said smugly at her masterpiece. “I was just helping you fulfill your wish, sir. The last of the Seven Deadly Sins, ‘Greed,’ is in my hands!”

Lin Jie was somewhat confused. But he couldn't worry about that now; there was a small matter he wanted to ask Maya for help with. "Can you really talk to spirits?" he asked. "Please tell my aunt that I have avenged her, and that she can rest in peace."

He also wanted to ask her where she had hidden the millions, but he didn't say it aloud.

Maya's gleaming cat eyes stared sharply at him, a gaze so piercing it could penetrate his very soul. "Perhaps you are the truly greedy one," she sighed, "but what can I do when the master only likes women? I'll let you off this time."

Volume Two: The Red Spider Lily Blooms, on the Other Side of Life and Death

"The red spider lily blooms for a thousand years, withers for a thousand years, its flower and leaves never meeting. Love is not bound by cause and effect; fate determines life and death." — Buddhist scripture

The red spider lily blooms on the other side of the river. When the flower blooms, there are no leaves, and when there are leaves, there are no flowers. The flower and the leaf never meet, forever separated.

In Buddhist terminology, the *Tu Mi* is the last flower to bloom in the season; once the *Tu Mi* fades, the floral season ends, leaving only the flower blooming on the other side of the river of forgetting one's past life. The *Manjusaka*, also known as the flower of the other shore, is generally believed to be a flower that guides souls across the Sanzu River. There, these flowers bloom in vast quantities, appearing from afar like a carpet of blood, and are thus called the "Path of Fire," the only scenery and color on the long road to the underworld. People follow the guidance of these flowers to the prison of the netherworld. Legend says its fragrance has magical power, capable of evoking memories of the deceased's past life. It mostly grows in fields, along riverbanks, and in cemeteries, hence its other name, "flower of the dead." In autumn, it blooms with eerily vibrant, almost blackish-red flowers; a field of *Manjusaka* is a shocking sight of crimson, like fire, like blood, like a raging inferno.

This scroll is dedicated to those restless souls who refused to be forgotten.

Volume Two: The Red Spider Lily - Love at Sunset

As the setting sun painted the clouds crimson on the horizon, the school bus station by Fanghua Lake was already veiled in a soft, reddish sunset. Looking out from here, the entire campus was bathed in a tranquil, serene violet sky, with the rooftop lights gradually illuminating the night, as if God himself had adorned the night sky with twinkling stars. The moon had not yet risen above the treetops; it leaned against the horizon, lazily combing its silvery veil.

A man dressed entirely in black leaned against a seat in the station, his head bowed low to his chest, a wide-brimmed black hat almost completely obscuring his head. He had been in this position for a long time, seemingly resting with his eyes closed, or perhaps bored, waiting for a specific person to appear. Until he heard the seat next to him creak: indicating that someone had sat down beside him.

"A beautiful evening, isn't it?" The man sighed with deep emotion, the sigh was so long that it almost drowned him out. "The only regret is that it's a bit dark."

The astrologer's hat swayed heavily twice along the vertical direction, indicating that he completely agreed with the view.

The visitor continued, "Today, I made things clear to her... I first asked her about a few poems, and she answered most of them, though there were some she didn't know. But I'm sure she knows that one..."

The astrologer straightened up and quietly asked, "Did you ask?"

“I asked her,” the visitor said, unable to contain his smugness, “what’s the next line after ‘the moon rises above the willow branches’? Without hesitation, she blurted out, ‘Little rascal, it’s a date after dusk!’”

“It’s ‘a rendezvous after dusk’!” he repeated excitedly. “She finally agreed, so I smiled and replied, ‘See you there!’”

"I see." The astrologer's curiosity, which had been so easily piqued, vanished instantly with his words. He slumped back into his chair, muttering something under his hat. But the boy's enthusiasm seemed to have been ignited, and he began to chatter on and on.

"She's very close to many guys—no, not 'that'—she just treats them like buddies. She's straightforward, loyal, and gets along well with girls too. I heard that whenever cockroaches are found in the girls' dorm, she's always called upon to stomp them to death; no other girl has the guts. Of course, she and I are also good friends, but once she knows what I'm thinking..."

The astrologer's lips curved slightly upwards. "You like her?"

"She likes me too! She said it herself!" The boy's tone suddenly turned somber at the end, as if he had remembered something disheartening. "However, her 'liking' for me and my 'liking' for her are definitely not the same thing..."

"Have you ever confessed your feelings?" the astrologer asked calmly.

"How could that be!" The boy suddenly jumped up, waving his fists excitedly in front of his chest. "At least we're still good friends; what if, what if we confess and she doesn't accept me? Then I won't even be able to be friends anymore! That won't do!"

The astrologer wearily closed his eyes. Why do young people always exaggerate the future into a thorny jungle, hesitating to face potential challenges? Little do they realize that it is precisely because they are young, precisely because they have nothing but youth, that they have nothing to lose. Even mistakes radiate a captivating charm under the glow of youth, making one smile. Rather than waiting until old age and declining strength to regret past hesitations and inaction, why not start afresh and seize every opportunity and challenge that fate bestows? As the saying goes, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may!"

However, it seemed the boy had no more chances. The phrase "the moon rises above the willow branches" had exhausted his last bit of courage; he lied to the girl he admired, saying "we'll meet after dusk," but he no longer had the courage to tell her the specific time and place, and most importantly, his feelings for her.

After dusk, he waited alone.

Humans who die in accidents often do not realize their death at the moment of physical demise due to the suddenness of the process. Their remaining consciousness continues to carry out the tasks they performed in life, which is known as "wandering spirits." Furthermore, if they had strong unfulfilled wishes in life, their "wandering spirits" will wander aimlessly until those wishes are fulfilled, never finding peace.

“For example, a ‘see you there’ date.” The astrologer calmly raised his chin, and in his field of vision appeared a girl holding a bouquet of flowers. She was dressed in pure white, and her face was as pale as the flowers she held. The boy’s expression clearly became excited; his face flushed red to his ears, yet he kept stealing glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

The girl was completely unaware. When she saw the astrologer stand up, she quickly ran over. Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, and her short hair danced lightly behind her head.

"As you wished, she came to the appointment," the astrologer whispered to the boy. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

“No, nothing’s left,” the boy stammered, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “I… I just wanted to see her one last time, so… I could go in peace…”

The astrologer suddenly reached out and shoved him hard, causing him to stumble.

"Go!" he commanded, a deep growl emanating from the depths of his throat. "Speak your mind, tell her your true feelings! What kind of man drags his feet!" His eyes held a mixture of madness and profound sorrow. "Don't end up like me, forever tormented by pain and regret, for a thousand, ten thousand, eternal years!"

The boy was stunned; it was as if he had never seen the elegant man so furious before, his mouth agape.

“Tell her!” the astrologer finally gave him a push.

The girl stopped, seemingly oblivious to the brief commotion. The boy glanced uneasily at the astrologer, then slowly lifted his feet, each step heavy and forceful. He gazed deeply at the girl before him, a captivating light shining in his somber eyes. Then, he gently bent down and silently placed a kiss on her fair forehead—a sacred kiss.

In that instant, visible only to the astrologer, the boy's body instantly transformed into white feathers, like the pure white wings of a golden-winged bird. He hovered silently in the air for only a moment before flying into the deepest darkness of the sky. "See you in the next life," the astrologer silently prayed, hoping that, if they were fortunate enough to meet again in the vast sea of people.

"Sorry I'm late." The girl glanced at her watch, hoping she could still see Han Xiu in time. Han Xiu was her best friend; they had been chatting that morning, but he had been in a serious car accident that afternoon, and she heard the situation was extremely urgent. If she didn't hurry, she might not even get to see him one last time… "By the way, who were you yelling at just now?" She looked around, puzzled. "There's no one here. Was it a ghost?"

Faced with Yan Wuyue's question, the astrologer only managed a desolate smile. "That's a secret," he replied.

June 15th

Birthday flower: Sensitive Plant

Flower language: Shyness

The leaves of this plant will immediately close and droop when gently touched, even a gust of wind will cause this to happen, just like a shy young girl. Therefore, its flower language is - shyness.

People born under the blessing of this flower are very shy and timid, and quite reserved. They are exceptionally perceptive and have a strong sense of self-esteem. However, they feel much more relaxed and at ease with people who understand them. They value quality over quantity in friendships and prefer long-lasting, steady relationships.

Volume Two: The Nightmare King of the Other Shore Flower (Part One)

She was once a beautiful and beloved school beauty.

Now, she sits alone on a mahogany chair in the astrology shop, her skin and bones trembling, her empty black eye sockets filled with death and despair. Using the light offered by the astrologer, she takes a deep drag, and then, amidst the rising smoke, tells this unbelievable story.

It all started one day while I was studying in the library. I unknowingly fell asleep, drifting into a dream that felt both real and unreal, a hazy, dreamlike state. Then, for some reason, I suddenly jolted awake, goosebumps rising all over my body. Looking at the clock, I realized I had only slept for a minute; time seemed to have stopped when I fell asleep. Even more strangely, there was a card under my arm.

You know, when she said that, she tossed her long hair back, deliberately revealing her fair face. A girl like me, let alone on a university campus, would definitely attract the attention of many men on the street. Therefore, I grew up surrounded by love letters, so how could I possibly care about a mere card? But I couldn't help feeling a little strange. I clearly had my head resting on my arm when I slept, so who could slip a card in without waking me up? I casually played with it, only to find that it didn't contain the usual mushy love letters, but rather a few large, blood-red characters on a cluster of elegant daffodils:

I'll pick you up in 49 days.

The signature was also unique, consisting of only the character "王" (Wang), circled in red. Was it someone surnamed Wang? My mind raced through the names of people I knew. "王" is one of the most common surnames in China; I could recognize over a dozen names and faces, not to mention the possibility of strangers. 49 days? I couldn't help but chuckle, wondering what tricks he'd pull in 49 days.

The first week went smoothly. On the eighth day, I suddenly felt sleepy in class and couldn't help but doze off—this was unusual, since the class didn't start until almost 10 pm, and I had just had a good night's sleep, so how could I possibly be drowsy again?—but it happened. I don't know how long I slept, but a cold wind whistled past my head, and I shivered awake. My classmates were as usual, some attentive, some daydreaming, hoping no one would notice my odd behavior. So I nudged my roommate and asked her how long I had slept.

She looked at me with a surprised expression, as if I were a monster. "Sleeping? Weren't you listening to the lecture the whole time?"

A sense of foreboding washed over me, like a gust of north wind blowing across my neck, instantly raising goosebumps. Sure enough, I checked my watch, and it was exactly the same time as before I fell asleep. Could that damned "King" have reappeared? I searched around for any suspicious cards, but found nothing. Then, my gaze inadvertently caught sight of something strange. I instinctively covered my mouth to prevent myself from screaming.

The teacher had been writing on the blackboard with his back to us. Then, at that moment, he turned around, and there it was, pinned to his chest, with the words "I'll pick you up in 42 days" written in huge characters, along with the increasingly larger and more prominent "King"!

That very night, I had my first strange dream. I dreamt I was standing on a bustling, crowded little commercial street, lined with fruit stalls, butcher shops, general stores, and the like. I entered a small department store, and I clearly knew everyone there, from the customers to the cashiers, they all greeted me. But strangely, I couldn't see any of their faces; all I saw were smiles, and all I felt was a familiar, homely warmth—how terrifying! Blurry clumps of flesh swayed before me, their blood-red lips moving in a wide, grinning motion, yet I perceived it as warm! Just then, the doorbell rang, and a man walked in.

He was very tall and broad, and his shadow happened to block the sunlight behind the glass door. I took two steps forward, and the golden sun shimmered between the tips of his hair. Then, he slightly turned his face to the side. At that moment, I almost stopped breathing.

His smile was brighter than the sunshine.