Chapter One

This was an old courtyard tucked away deep in the mountains, with three sections of halls lined front to back.

A pair of big red lanterns dangled from the eaves, gently spinning whenever the mountain breeze stirred.

“So pretty.”

A young girl sat beneath the eaves, head tilted slightly as she stared at the tassels hanging from the lanterns above.

She didn’t look older than sixteen or seventeen. Her dark hair fell like clouds, cheeks soft and fresh like cut lychee.

She was wrapped in a light yellow dress that clung gently to her slender figure.

Her hair was lazily tied up, only pinned with two shaky golden butterflies. A small crescent-shaped gold ornament sat between her brows, adding a touch of delicate charm.

When she reached up to touch the tassels, the sleeve slid down, revealing smooth skin that practically glowed.

It was the kind of beauty that made one think of “skin like jade, soul like snow.”

Truly a rare sight to behold.

Strangely enough, this remote place had barely a soul around. Besides the girl, not far off stood a young man in blue robes and an elderly servant behind him.

The young man wore a jade crown, a jade pendant hanging at his waist, his features gentle and refined.

When he lifted his gaze and saw the girl clearly, a flicker of surprise crossed his face before he quickly shuttered it.

Behind him, the servant urged in a low voice, “Young Master, we shouldn’t delay any more…”

The young man seemed to snap out of something, hesitated briefly, then finally took a step forward.

His name was Marcus Sterling, the famed Little Prince of the capital.

A month ago, he had accompanied the Third Prince to Jingzhou for disaster relief but was ambushed by bandits along the way and ended up stranded in a rundown temple.

It was there, by pure chance, that he met the girl.

To keep their identities hidden, they claimed to be traveling scholars headed for the capital.

The girl's eyes lit up when she heard that and she took them in without hesitation. After they had recovered, she personally saw them off.

How beautiful was she?

Like something painted, like a lotus blooming on still water, like the moon hanging in the sky.

She had none of the world’s grime on her — innocent and sweet by nature.

Girls like her didn’t exist in the capital.

Marcus had been utterly captivated. So, he came up with an idea — to bring her back with him.

He gave her a few of his personal belongings as symbols of affection and asked for her hand.

To his surprise, she agreed immediately with bright eyes and started planning the wedding joyfully.

But a girl with no parents, born and raised in the mountains — she could never be made an official princess.

Still, Marcus figured, if they just arranged a simple ceremony in the mountains, away from prying eyes — pretend for a bit, humor her — it wasn’t a big deal.

The more effort the girl poured into planning their marriage — so sincere and unaffected — the more he found her utterly endearing.

She once said to him, “When we get married, I want a big feast, full of guests. It should be cheerful and lively.”

Marcus just chuckled in response.

Who could she possibly invite? She had no family, no acquaintances — where would these guests come from?

Then, seven days ago —

The royal Taoist, who served the imperial family, returned to the capital unexpectedly.

The Third Prince came with him to find Marcus, saying the girl wasn’t human at all. If not a fox spirit, then a ghost.

It wasn’t just about marrying her — even staying near her too long could leave a man completely drained of his life force. If she was one of the dangerous kinds, he might end up nothing but bones.

Marcus’s parents fainted as soon as they heard.

The Taoist, stroking his long beard, offered a solution:

“Spirits and demons hold grudges fiercely. You can run thousands of miles and they’ll still come after you. But since you've already made a verbal promise of marriage, use that to your advantage. Ask her for something close to her — her belongings, her birth date. All these beings have a soul pearl. If you can get your hands on that, even better.”"Don’t let her young looks fool you—who knows, she might be centuries old. Beings like her, able to take human form, surely have rare treasures on them. If you could get your hands on some and offer them to His Majesty, that'll be quite the gift, wouldn’t it?"

"…"

"Husband." A soft, sweet voice called from nearby.

Marcus Sterling’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

He glanced up and saw the girl standing there.

She didn't seem the type to get embarrassed. Ever since they verbally promised marriage, she’d been calling him “husband” without a second thought.

But clearly, she had no clue about worldly matters, let alone the differences between men and women. She’d never even tried to get close to him.

Marcus wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or not.

If she had gotten close…Would she have drained his life force?

He swallowed. “Ophelia,” he called.

Ophelia Blackwell pointed to the tassel on the lantern and asked, “Isn’t it pretty? Felicity made it.”

Felicity Harmon was her maid.

Actually, maybe not even human.

“It’s… nice,” Marcus replied awkwardly.

He stepped up onto the porch, patting his shoulder. “There was a shower just now. I got soaked.”

Ophelia never had much on her mind, so she rarely noticed these little things.

“Oh!” she gasped, quickly stood up, tiptoed closer, and raised her hand.

Her fingers were slender and pale, pressing softly on his shoulder, gently brushing over the fabric like she was brushing the rain away herself.

Marcus looked down—

And saw something that made his blood run cold.

Beads of water seemed to glide right into her fingertips, spiraling along her knuckles.

The water, clear and delicate, wrapped around her fingers, making them look even whiter against the shimmer.

It should’ve looked beautiful.

But all he could hear in his head was a loud, terrifying buzz.

The Immortal’s words had been right!

She wasn’t some ordinary girl.

She was a spirit. A ghost.

Definitely not human.

Forcing a tight smile, Marcus said, “Thanks, Ophelia.”

Her eyes sparkled. “You're welcome!”

“My clothes are still a bit damp though,” he added. “Not the most comfortable. I’ll go change.”

Ophelia nodded cheerfully and led him further inside.

He followed her into her bedroom.

An old eight-panel table sat in the room—so old it looked about ready to collapse. But right on top of it were two brilliantly red wedding outfits, bright as flame.

They were so vivid, Marcus had to squint.

Ophelia grabbed a fresh robe for him to change into.

As Marcus started untying his belt, he said casually, “Also, I’d need your birthdate and time. I want to ask a fortune-teller to check our compatibility.”

Ophelia tilted her head. “What's that?”

The Immortal’s warning echoed again: “She won’t give it up easy. She’ll lie.”

Marcus paused in untying the sash. “It’s the date and hour you were born. Couples need it to see if their match is blessed.”

Ophelia nodded in realization. “Oh! I was born on the third day, first month, Year 412 of the Xuanhuang Calendar, around midnight.”

Marcus frowned just barely.

If that calendar was correct, she was only seventeen.

But what kind of spirit or phantom reaches human form in only seventeen years?

That had to be a lie.

He pressed on, “Do you remember those personal things I gave you before?”

Ophelia nodded. “I do.”

She lowered her eyes slightly, blinking up with a soft, guilty look. “You want them back?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. But you should also give me something personal of yours. That would make it official. A little exchange.”

Ophelia picked up a teacup from the table and held it up to him with a smile. “This one—I use it every day.”

…A teacup?

Marcus forced himself to smile. “So in your eyes, I’m worth… a teacup?”Ophelia Blackwell: "Huh? What else?"

She let out a quiet sigh.

"Alright then. A proper wedding shouldn't be this stingy anyway."

Turning away, Ophelia opened her treasure chest, stirred it around a bit, and fished out a hairpin. She held it out to Marcus Sterling.

Marcus wrapped his fingers around it. "Do you have a sachet, a handkerchief, or something like that?"

Ophelia shook her head.

She never used those kinds of things.

Marcus’s grip tightened slightly.

She’s guarding herself.

He forced a smile. "Well, I’ll head down the mountain to find the birth chart master. You wait for me here."

Ophelia nodded, then asked, "Would you like to try on the wedding robes? You know, to see if they fit?"

She’d had three spiders working on them for ages.

Marcus glanced at the outfit. "…Maybe later. Another day’s fine."

Ophelia said lightly, "Okay."

Not daring to meet her gaze again, Marcus held the hairpin tighter and hurried outside.

"Wait," Ophelia called out again.

Marcus froze mid-step. "What is it?"

She stuffed a paper umbrella into his hand. "Here. Use this so you don’t get caught in the rain again."

His fingers closed around the handle, still faintly warm from her touch.

Then he opened the umbrella, stumbling his way down the mountain, barely aware of his own steps.

The celestial master was already waiting with his carriage at the base.

As Marcus climbed in, the celestial master smoothed his beard and said with a grin, "You got it? Good. Let me cast the spell and draw the wards. She won’t be able to trace your steps again. But—I'll need that hairpin."

"And this umbrella… let’s offer it to His Majesty."

"I heard your parents have arranged another match for you—with the Minister's daughter. Congratulations in advance, young lord."

The carriage rolled away, and their voices faded into the distance…

Soon, the day of the wedding arrived.

From miles around, every kind and size of spirit creature had received invitations and made their way up the mountain.

A wedding between spirits wasn’t anything unusual.

Like wild beasts, these creatures fought over territory. And with cultivation being tough as it is, one wrong encounter with a passing cultivator during training could mean instant death. A marriage? Well, it meant backup.

And if they someday found some dual cultivation technique that worked for them—like those that human cultivators practiced—it could give them a boost in power too.

Still…

"That little fox found a groom?"

"Wasn’t she cast out by her clan? Who would she even marry now?"

"Yeah, and she’s not even pure-blooded. Doesn’t have to be a fox anyway. Could’ve grabbed any random little demon in the woods. Maybe one that just learned to take human form."

"I thought she’d died ages ago. Who knew she was still alive—let alone getting married? That’s something, at least!"

Chattering among themselves, the spirit creatures made their way up to Ophelia’s old mountain estate.

She might’ve been poor, but hey, if she was throwing a wedding feast, the food and drinks wouldn’t be terrible.

The little demons came for the freebies.

Even a drop or two of spiritual energy in the wine would make the trip worthwhile.

The greater creatures, though? They were mainly here to see if the fox clan would make a laughingstock of itself.

That lonely old mansion in the woods suddenly turned lively.

Everyone came dressed their best—faces powdered, cheeks rouged, fragrant winds trailing behind them. To a human, it’d probably look like some celestial banquet.

Then came a creak—the sound of a door opening.

A tall figure stepped inside, her hair done in a proper bridal style, wearing a blue-green robe, holding a wooden tray.

She was Felicity Harmon, Ophelia’s handmaid.

In a soft voice, Felicity asked, "Did you find him?"Ophelia Blackwell turned her face, every feature scrunched up. "Nope," she muttered. She licked her lips and added, "Not even a trace of his scent left. You don't think... he’s dead, do you?"

Felicity Harmon frowned too. "What are we gonna do then?"

"He said he was going downhill to find some fortune-telling master, then poof—gone." Ophelia sighed. "Maybe we should head to the town at the foot of the hill and ask around?"

"But the guests are already here..." Felicity looked just as troubled.

"Go ahead and share the jade nectar with them for now."

Truth be told, Felicity didn’t really need to do a thing.

As soon as the little demons saw her walk out with the jade nectar, they swarmed in on their own, grabbing drinks like there was no tomorrow.

The elder demons were baffled. "Where’d she get jade nectar from?"

"Beats me."

"Never seen a wedding like this—no bride, no groom, just wine!"

Ophelia didn’t care what anyone said. She grabbed Felicity and made a beeline down the mountain.

With her pretty face, Ophelia found people in town quick to answer whatever she asked. Before long, she had the addresses of three different fortune-telling masters.

But talking to all of them didn’t help—none of them had seen Marcus Sterling.

She could only wander out, a bit lost.

Felicity sighed. "Maybe we should ask the folks at the city gate? They usually notice who comes and goes. If we still can’t find him, we might have to assume he’s… gone."

Ophelia pinched her fingertips, sighing quietly.

I really don’t wanna be a widow this fast.

They left the fortune-tellers behind and walked toward the gate.

This time, they actually got some information.

"Yeah, I saw him. Handsome guy, stood out like a sore thumb. Had some nobles with him too, a whole long convoy—all went that way together. Some of our town elders even went out to see them off."

The man speaking leaned casually against a mud wall that passed for the town gate, face animated as he recalled.

"Which direction?" Ophelia asked, lifting her gaze.

A direction she had never even been in before.

"What’s out there?" Felicity cut in.

The man grinned. "Oh, lots of places. But I know exactly where they were headed! I overheard the servants—they said they were going back to the capital! You know, where the emperor lives! Only big shots live in the capital! Never thought our humble town would see such high-ranking folks..."

Ophelia blinked. "So he just... left?"

"Yep, gone." The man couldn’t help but give her a once-over, his tone softening. "Why’re you looking for him?"

Some lover she didn’t wanna let go of?

Ophelia mumbled, "To marry him."

He looked stunned for a second, then chuckled. "And where do you live?"

Ophelia answered, "Up on the mountain."

That made him laugh even harder. "On the mountain? Girl, even the city girls can't land a man like that, let alone a mountain lass. You think someone like him’s gonna marry you? Don’t kid yourself. Don’t bother chasing after him. He’s gone back to the capital, probably to marry some big-shot family’s daughter. You know what that means?"

Ophelia shook her head.

"Means folks with money, status, and power!" the man said, eyes locked on hers. "You're stunning, for sure..."

He’d honestly never seen anyone so beautiful.

"But those nobles? They’ve got pretty girls lined up. Whatever promises he made to you—sweet nothings, vows, whatever—just forget ‘em. I bet that whole group rushed off just to avoid being tangled up with you."He rubbed his hands and said, “Honestly, why not just find a decent man here in town and marry him? You’re stunning—most folks pray for eight lifetimes and still don’t get half your looks. No shame in once being with someone from high places.”

This man clearly had his own ideas spinning.

But the girl sitting across from him didn’t follow his lead. She just looked at him, dazed, and asked, “He ran off in such a rush… just ‘cause he thought I’d cling to him?”

“Exactly!” he nodded with a flourish.

He figured if the girl got heartbroken enough, maybe she’d move on and marry someone else.

Ophelia Blackwell bit her lip lightly. Her eyes drooped, and there was a faint sadness settling over her face.

“So… I don’t have a husband anymore?” she mumbled.

“What’s the big deal? Just find another one—hey, wait, where are you going?”

Since they couldn’t find Marcus Sterling, Ophelia didn't feel like chatting. She just turned and walked away.

Felicity Harmon furrowed her brows and silently followed her.

The gatekeeper at the town’s edge scrambled to keep up, but partway through, he lost them both.

“Seriously now, how do I keep losing track of just two girls?”

A blink later, they were gone without a trace. He had no choice but to give up with a regretful sigh on his lips.

Meanwhile, Ophelia was already climbing the mountain path again.

As they walked, Felicity glanced down and caught sight of a few muddy teardrops on the dusty ground, soaking into the earth.

A chill ran through her. She quickly looked up.

Ophelia had her head lowered, shoulders slightly hunched. Tears were falling fast, like they’d been running down her face for a while.

Felicity’s chest tightened.

This girl—a little spirit, shunned by her own kind—had grown up mostly on her own. She hadn’t even hit eighteen yet. She finally found what she thought was love, excitedly prepared for a wedding...

…only to be dumped just like that.

What a cruel joke.

“It’s so cruel…” Ophelia sobbed. “The wedding wine—I got jade marrow wine, you know? Each jar was worth hundreds of spirit stones. And the bed—cut straight from a sacred tree on Mount Gusu. My pillows were carved from ice crystal stone! The wedding robe was made of woven baby cuckoo feathers… I loved it all so much. This is awful…”

Once she started, she couldn’t stop.

The more she spoke, the more miserable she felt.

Her spirit stones.

Her wine, her wood, her stone, her feathers.

And then there was the hairpin, the umbrella…

All wasted!

She needed to get back—fast!

At the very least, she was going to drink more of that pricey wine before any other wandering spirits drained it dry!

Felicity: …?

Wait, all this weeping wasn’t about heartbreak?

It was about… jade marrow wine and divine timber?

Felicity felt like she’d stepped into a daze.

She couldn’t help but wonder—maybe Ophelia agreed to marry Marcus not out of fondness, but because he showed up with a cart full of gifts…

Still, Ophelia hadn’t finished her list of laments.

Sniffling, she added, “And… and…”

More? Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“My lantern fringe. The one you made for me. It’s wasted too…”

Felicity froze.

She’s even mourning that?

Something warm stirred in Felicity’s chest. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, ready to wipe her lady’s tear-streaked face.

But Ophelia suddenly came to a halt. “Felicity, look at that big chunk of black wood on the ground. It’s huge! Could it be lightning-struck wood? Let’s bring it home!”

Felicity stepped up to inspect it.

Wood? That wasn’t wood at all!

Ophelia blinked. “…That’s a person?”

Disappointment painted her tone. “Forget it then.”

Not worth keeping if it’s not lightning wood.