Chapter Fifteen: Whom Should I Trust

My heart instantly leapt into my throat. There was only one reason Zuo Daoyin would call at this moment—he must have returned home and discovered that Luo Xiu was already dead in the attic. Was Zuo Daoyin calling to hold us accountable? Would he call the police? Or, since Wang Feiyang killed his wife, would he come for revenge?

Countless possibilities flashed through my mind, leaving my thoughts in chaos. I looked at Wang Feiyang, my face tense, and asked him what we should do. Wang Feiyang shook his head and unexpectedly handed me his phone. Without thinking, I instinctively took it and hung up the call.

“Brother Yang, what do we do now?” I gripped the phone tightly, seeking Wang Feiyang’s advice.

Wang Feiyang replied that Zuo Daoyin wouldn’t call the police, because he had imprisoned his wife in the attic for over a decade. He would never do something so mutually destructive.

I quickly asked why Zuo Daoyin had imprisoned Luo Xiu and whether Luo Xiu had told him the reason.

Wang Feiyang said she hadn’t; she had only revealed the sequence of events and the way we could break the curse.

“What’s the method?” I asked urgently.

“Find the place where Yang Li was buried alive all those years ago, open the large crimson coffin, take out Yang Li’s corpse, then find a spiritual master to perform a rite to appease her spirit and reduce her resentment. That way she can reincarnate.”

After hearing this, I nodded. Even if Yang Li hadn’t returned as a vengeful ghost to seek revenge, after learning that my grandfather changed my fate, I felt this was the right thing to do. I owed her that much.

“But Wu Dao,” Wang Feiyang continued, “don’t think it’s that simple. Before you do this, you must consider the consequences.”

“What consequences?” My heart tightened.

“Once the coffin is opened, the underworld binding ritual will be broken. The Nine Yin Fate will return to you, and you might not survive the year.”

My heart sank. So, years ago, Yang Li exchanged her life for mine, and now, to appease her spirit, I had to exchange mine for hers. A debt for a debt—I owed her, and I should repay her. But when it came to ‘death’, I hesitated. I admit, I was afraid. My grandfather sacrificed so much to save me; so many people had died because of my fate. Was it really worth it for me to just die now?

While I was still struggling with this question, the phone in my hand rang again. I shivered, glancing uncertainly at Wang Feiyang. It was undoubtedly Zuo Daoyin calling, but I didn’t know whether or not I should answer.

Given the current situation, perhaps Zuo Daoyin had always been helping me, but his motives were questionable. Luo Xiu had warned us to be wary of him, and Zuo Daoyin had imprisoned her in the attic for over a decade, which clearly put them at odds. Now, with Wang Feiyang and I having chosen Luo Xiu’s side, Zuo Daoyin had become our adversary.

My mind was a mess. I almost threw the vibrating, ringing phone away, but at that moment, Wang Feiyang nodded at me.

I hesitated for a moment, then pressed the answer button.

On the other end, Zuo Daoyin’s voice was eerie—soaked with despair, yet laced with a hint of relief.

“Wu Dao, is that you?”

I answered yes.

“That woman—you killed her, didn’t you?”

Hearing this, my heart leapt into my throat. I didn’t reply; I simply didn’t know how.

After that brief exchange, silence fell between us. A minute passed, feeling as long as a year. Finally, Zuo Daoyin sighed and said, “Whether it’s that woman or me, neither of us could escape this fate. It’s destiny.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Wu Dao, there’s nothing more I can do for you. From here, you’re on your own. But I have some advice for you. You don’t have to take it seriously, but you must hear me out.”

I tensed, unsure what kind of warning he would give.

“Twenty years ago, your grandfather and I did indeed use a forbidden ritual to alter your fate. But what actually happened wasn’t as that woman told you.”

My heart jolted. I quickly asked what he meant.

There was a pause, then Zuo Daoyin suddenly asked me a bewildering question: “Do you know why I kept that woman locked in my attic all these years?”

I replied that I had no idea—that was his business.

“Because that woman is not my wife, Luo Xiu. I never lied to anyone—my wife died twenty years ago.”

“If she’s not your wife, then who is she?”

Zuo Daoyin did not answer. After his final words, he hung up. “Wu Dao, remember my warning: I would never harm you. No matter what that woman in the attic told you, don’t believe her lies. She’s using you. Whatever you do, don’t dig up that crimson coffin we buried all those years ago.”

The call ended in a mechanical hum. I stood there, phone in hand, my mind a tangled mess.

Just moments earlier, I thought I’d finally understood the truth from Wang Feiyang. I was still debating whether to dig up the coffin and break the curse. Now, Zuo Daoyin claimed that Luo Xiu was using us, that everything she’d told us was false, and that the so-called truth was a lie.

In that instant, I felt like a drifting boat lost on a boundless sea, directionless and helpless.

Since I’d had the speaker on during the call, Wang Feiyang heard everything Zuo Daoyin said. Now he, too, was deep in thought, as if he no longer knew whom to trust.

For more than ten minutes, we sat in silence. Finally, I couldn’t help but ask, “Wang Feiyang, do you think we should trust Zuo Daoyin or Luo Xiu?”

Wang Feiyang scratched his bald head, not answering, still pondering.

Both Zuo Daoyin and Luo Xiu had seemingly flawless stories. Was Luo Xiu’s version really the truth? Was the ghost haunting us truly Yang Li, the one born under the Purple Star Fate?

And if Zuo Daoyin was right that the woman in the attic wasn’t Luo Xiu, then who was she? What purpose did she have in using us?

At that moment, Wang Feiyang suddenly stood, his gaze icy as he looked at me. “Wu Dao,” he said solemnly, “regardless of who’s right or wrong, do you think we still have a choice?”

I frowned and nodded. Indeed, we had no choice. At this point, if we did nothing, the ghost would finish us sooner or later. Instead, we might as well take a gamble, dig up the coffin as Luo Xiu suggested, and find someone to perform the ritual for the corpse inside.

Either way, death was looming. But what if we guessed right? Even if the Nine Yin Fate returned to me, at least I’d have a year left to live, and Wang Feiyang might survive as well. Maybe, within that year, I could find a way to break the curse.

With this thought, I felt as if I’d found my direction. There was no need to heed Zuo Daoyin’s warning—perhaps he had called merely to confuse us and serve his own hidden agenda.

Most importantly, Wang Feiyang’s grandmother had urged him, before her death, to seek Luo Xiu. That meant she sided with Luo Xiu and would never harm her grandson.

With these thoughts, I made up my mind. As Wang Feiyang and I prepared to leave the hotel and search the mountain behind for Yang Li’s burial site, something wholly unexpected happened.