Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Enchantment of a Bewildered Heart

Every day after that, the opera singer would appear at the same hour in the evening, repeating the same motions, speaking the same words—arriving at dusk, departing at dawn. I, too, grew accustomed to these encounters, so much so that if there ever came a day when he failed to appear, I would feel unsettled.

By the third day of his visits, I had already searched through the Book of the Underworld and the Maoshan Secret Records, trying to uncover the reason behind his peculiar condition. In both volumes, I found accounts of such spirits. According to the texts, the ghost of the opera singer was known as the Lost-Hearted Enchantress—a soul who, in life, was consumed by the desire to rejoin his troupe, endlessly reciting lines from Farewell My Concubine as he hurried along the road. So absorbed was he in his performance that he unwittingly slipped and fell to his death.

Transformed into a ghost, the opera singer remained unaware of his demise, believing himself still alive, still desperately pursuing his troupe and rehearsing his lines. Thus, he became trapped in an endless cycle, repeating the actions of the day he died.

Each evening, the opera singer would appear at the spot where he met his fate, spend the night in the temple, and depart before dawn, returning to the place where his journey began, only to repeat his fatal accident. Day after day, year after year.

He did not know he was dead, nor did he realize the world had changed beyond recognition. The obsession in his heart—to chase after his troupe and recite his lines—would keep him locked in this cycle forever unless someone performed rites to release him.

The Lost-Hearted Enchantress posed no threat to the living; he was simply trapped in an infinite loop, unable to escape.

Later, I discovered in the books a method to break the cycle—a deceptively simple solution: tell him the truth, reveal that he has already died and is merely repeating the events of his death day. If he remembers everything, the cycle would end.

Yet, though this method seemed straightforward, if the Enchantress could not bear the truth, he might lose his sanity. The longer a ghost persists, the denser its aura, and its power grows stronger. If the person performing the ritual lacks the necessary strength, they may be killed by the maddened ghost.

After learning of this, I pondered carefully whether I should tell him the truth. In my heart, I wished to do so, for it was unjust that he must die every day, reliving his final moments. He ought to be reincarnated, reborn to a new life, not forever trapped in this curse.

Yet, knowing he had been trapped in this cycle for nearly a century and possessed a powerful aura, I feared the consequences of breaking this balance. If disaster struck, it would be too late for regrets.

Ultimately, I did not immediately reveal the truth. Each day, he appeared as before, and I greeted him in the same manner—befriending him, conversing, and seeing him off at dawn.

In the days that followed, I became more cautious, subtly inquiring about his past, trying to understand his character and nature. By the night of the Lantern Festival after the New Year, I had memorized the entire Book of the Underworld and thoroughly studied the Maoshan Secret Records.

Now, I had achieved some mastery in Daoist arts; dealing with wandering spirits was a simple matter, and I could subdue ordinary evil ghosts. The most powerful ones and typical fierce ghosts would be beyond my abilities, but with the Forbidden Arts from the Book of the Underworld, I might stand a chance. With the Underworld Curse, I even felt confident that I could destroy an average fierce ghost. Of course, against a highly cultivated ghost like the Daoist nun, I would not be her match.

By now, I had spent over twenty days with the opera singer and it was time for me to leave. In this time, I discovered that his temperament matched his gentle appearance: he was a kind and good-hearted man. Though he earned little in life, he often helped the poor, accumulating much virtue.

Such a person, after dying accidentally, should not be condemned to the wretched fate of the Lost-Hearted Enchantress; he deserved to pass on to the underworld and be reborn into a good family.

Perhaps it was because I now possessed some skill and confidence, and because he was the first ghost I encountered after leaving White Street, I resolved to try—using my own methods—to break the cycle and curse binding him.

To guard against unforeseen circumstances, I prepared many talismans during the day—not to be used against him, but in case he reacted more violently than expected upon learning the truth, so I would not be caught unprepared.

Because it was the Lantern Festival, the sound of firecrackers echoed from the foot of the mountain before nightfall. I had a quick meal and made a special trip down to recharge my phone, for I had felt cut off from the world during my time at the temple.

When I turned on my phone, I found many messages, some from Wang Feiyang and Lu Li, who seemed worried about me since my phone had been dead and they feared something had happened. There were also texts from university classmates, festive greetings sent during the New Year. Among them was one from Li Yi, my closest friend in college. Because of his name and robust build, we called him "The Emperor."

The Emperor had sent me many messages, asking what was going on, why he couldn't reach me, threatening to disown me as his little brother if I didn't call back, and even saying he'd beat me up.

Reading these texts, I smiled quietly and replied to each with a simple "Happy Lantern Festival!" Then I put away my phone and returned up the mountain to the temple.

Checking the time, I saw that it was nearly the hour of the opera singer's arrival. Leaning against the gate, I waited for him with a complicated mix of emotions.

At the same hour as before, the sound of Kunqu opera—Farewell My Concubine—drifted from the path.

"With drunken eyes, I linger beside the blossoms, the garden filled with the fragrance of the imperial consort."
"A shallow dimple graces the lotus face, making all flowers blush in shame."

As the singing approached, my nerves tightened. Perhaps it was because I intended to reveal the truth tonight; I no longer felt as relaxed as before.

There, dressed in a white robe, carrying a makeup case, and wearing the phoenix crown, the opera singer appeared before me, stepping closer.

He saw me, fingers poised in an elegant gesture, and politely asked, "Young man, are you lodging here as well? Where are you headed?"

I was accustomed to his greeting and smiled, nodding as I replied with the same words as before.

Then, as always, I began to chat with him. With so much experience, I could now become his confidant in less than half an hour.

At that moment, fireworks bloomed in the dark sky at the foot of the mountain. I rose and walked to the temple gate, then turned to the opera singer inside and asked, "Brother, do you know what day it is today?"

I had finally decided to tell him the truth. He stood up, smiling as he answered, "The ninth of April!"

I nodded, motioning him to join me. Pointing to the fireworks, I said, "What day is the ninth of April? Why are fireworks everywhere at the foot of the mountain?"

The opera singer looked puzzled, saying, "Aren't fireworks only set off during the Lantern Festival? Why are there so many brilliant displays today?"

I took a deep breath, turned to him with a serious expression, and said, "Brother, today is the Lantern Festival."