Chapter Eight: The Kiss

Only then did I realize that the person who had knocked three times on the coffin earlier was the old crone beside me. Looking around, I saw the figures seated on either side, all clad in dull, charcoal-gray mourning clothes, silent as statues, perched on antique redwood chairs. Fear gnawed at my heart, but I forced myself to hide it.

“Young master of the Yang family, it’s your turn!” she called.

I quickly stepped back, pointing to myself to signal her to instruct me on what to do next.

“Heh, grown as you are, you still need an old woman to teach you?” she grumbled, though she soon explained, “Open the coffin, bring out Miss Su Ying, then proceed to the wedding and the bridal chamber!”

I nodded, not realizing how badly my hands were trembling. Taking a deep breath, I placed both hands atop the crimson beauty’s coffin and began to untie the large red flower affixed to it. Instantly, a cold wind swept over me, carrying a faint, familiar yet strange fragrance. It nearly made me lose my balance.

Gripping the coffin lid, perhaps out of fear, I pushed it open with all my strength. The icy wind rushed against my face—oddly, I didn’t feel cold, only a chill deep in my bones. As the lid swung open, I saw inside not a stranger but Su Ying herself, as beautiful as she was in high school. With the lid fully removed, I could see her entirely: dressed in a scarlet bridal gown, a phoenix crown atop her head, cheeks flushed, lips painted like ripe cherries, and feet clad in embroidered slippers.

I had no desire to admire her beauty; my mind was filled with horrors. Perhaps it was all the domestic horror movies I’d watched—my imagination supplied its own eerie soundtrack, threatening to make me lose control of myself.

“If you don’t call out, how will Miss Su Ying awaken?” the old crone prompted.

Glancing around, I noticed the people seated on either side were all staring at me, faces ashen, unmistakably spirits. I shuddered, then turned to the coffin, calling Su Ying’s name as she lay peacefully within, as if merely asleep.

“Yang... Ying Ying...” My voice faltered with fear.

I called again, but there was no response.

“Su Ying...”

At my third call, Su Ying suddenly opened her beautiful eyes. I couldn’t help but cry out, landing flat on the floor in shock.

“How careless! Sitting on the ground before the bridal chamber is unlucky,” came a seductive voice, followed by the musky scent of a fox spirit. Something soft brushed against my back.

Shivering, I hurriedly moved away.

The three or four alluring fox spirits who had opened the door earlier now entered the hall, presumably to witness our wedding.

Su Ying slowly sat up, turned to me with a radiant smile. “Xiao Dong, you’re so good!” Then, supported by the old crone, she stepped out of the coffin.

As soon as she emerged, she took my arm and led me to the center of the hall. I followed, stiff and unnerved.

Without ceremony or fanfare, Su Ying knelt suddenly. The old crone gestured for me to kneel as well. The wedding was strange and silent—no calls for bowing to heaven and earth, parents, or each other. Just Su Ying and I facing one another, bowing once, and it was over. Aside from my own ragged breathing and the jingling of Su Ying’s silver ornaments, I heard nothing else.

As pale moonlight spilled into the hall, Su Ying and several fox spirits surrounded me, leading me toward a nearby pavilion. My legs moved as if not under my own control, and none of them touched my shoulders. Whether I was getting used to terror or simply numb with fear, my mind began to think.

Inside the room, Su Ying pulled me to sit on a brocaded bed. Glancing at it, I saw it was newly made, with mandarin duck pillows and quilts, all in red embroidery.

“Husband, wait here. Ying’er will pour you a drink,” she said softly. Her touch earlier had felt startlingly real.

I immediately looked at her feet—the red embroidered slippers struck the floor with a solid sound.

Had the little fox tricked me? Was Su Ying not a ghost after all?

Lost in thought, Su Ying returned with two cups, handing one to me and holding the other herself.

“Husband, what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing…” I stammered, raising the cup to my lips.

And then, I shuddered violently, almost dropping the cup. It wasn’t wine I held, but blood—a pungent, metallic scent assaulted my senses.

“No!” Su Ying’s voice was low and urgent, her brows furrowed.

I couldn’t move; her empty hand had seized my arm, freezing it to the bone.

A piercing chill sank into me. Su Ying’s alluring cherry lips moved close to my neck.

“What… what are you doing?” I stammered.

“Shh!” Su Ying paused, raising a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture.

She leaned in closer, and I felt a warm dampness at my throat, followed by her whisper.

“Xiao Dong, trust me—I will protect you, even if it means my soul is scattered to the winds!”

After whispering these words, Su Ying, resplendent in her red bridal gown, smiled sweetly and slipped her hand through my stiff arm.

“Husband, shall we drink the wedding cup together?” she asked.

I nodded woodenly, though my whole body trembled.

What did Su Ying mean by those words? Was it not she who wished me dead, but someone else? Who wanted me gone—the fox spirits, or those bizarre figures in the hall?

“Don’t speak. Drink, and I’ll tell you.”

I nodded again.

Looking at Su Ying in her scarlet wedding dress, a sudden warmth filled my heart. In high school, she’d told me, “Someday, we must have a wedding like ancient times—phoenix crown, red veil, mandarin duck pillows.” Now, she had made it happen.

Seeing her drain her cup, I hesitated no longer, bracing myself against the repulsive taste and swallowing it down.

Mmm, mmm…

As soon as I drank the small cup of blood, Su Ying pressed her lips to mine.

Everything happened so quickly. After years apart, that feeling surged through me again—gentle and tender, and for the first time, I felt the warmth of her tongue. Her tongue circled inside my mouth, as if not kissing me but licking something from within.

“It’s done,” she whispered softly by my ear.

The foul taste vanished from my mouth, replaced by the familiar scent of osmanthus from my hometown.

Everything felt inexplicable.

Then Su Ying began to undo my shirt, and I was stunned. I hadn’t noticed before, but I was wearing a charcoal-gray robe that could be untied from the side.

It was a burial shroud!

When had I put on a burial shroud?