NOVPUBDing Ling had lain in the coffin for so long that she had gradually become the embodiment of Ding Ling.
Growing up, I became you.
Ding Ling caressed the two bells in her hand—in a way, both should have been vessels for her.
But Ding Ling was no longer a bell.
After the Witch Bell was split in two, a remnant of spiritual essence lingered on the Bewitching Bell and the Heart-Seeking Bell, like the eyes of a doppelgänger.
After ringing the bells yesterday, the traces of spiritual essence she had left within them were reabsorbed by her true self. It was precisely because of this that Ding Ling could now map out the relocated settlement.
Back then, as the true "bell," she had been captured by the demonic cultists and had no knowledge of this settlement.
Now, Ding Ling was no longer the original "spirit."
Within the Soul-Imprisoning Array, the surging yin energy had not only scoured Ding Ling but also purified her spiritual form.
The hanged ghost had gradually transformed from a mere specter into a Ghost King, while she—once a pure spirit—had absorbed more and more yin energy, undergoing changes even she couldn’t comprehend.
As the saying goes, "Lone yin cannot flourish, lone yang cannot thrive," and yin energy was entirely different from spiritual energy.
As a spirit tempered by yin energy and raised beside a Ghost King, Ding Ling could now manipulate yin energy, wield the aura of a Ghost King, and effortlessly discipline lesser ghosts—truly an anomaly.
Was she a ghost? The answer was no.
Then was she still a "spirit"? Ding Ling didn’t know.
However, there was one thing she now understood more deeply.
When she first emerged from the coffin, her body had continuously leaked yin energy, leading the Special Case Division to classify her as a Ghost King.
Ghosts existing in the mortal world, leaking yin energy and incompatible with the living—this was normal.
Looking back, Ding Ling realized that since she wasn’t a ghost, the yin energy leakage might have been due to her spiritual form rejecting it.
She had spent so long in the Soul-Imprisoning Array, then buried underground, with no replenishment of spiritual energy. Yin energy had dominated her body, making her a half-yin, half-spirit entity.
When she was unearthed and exposed to sunlight, returning to the mortal world, her spiritual form regained dominance, naturally expelling the yin energy. The logic was simple.
For a long time, Ding Ling had needed to carry a black umbrella during the day because yin energy still held sway within her, and she had believed herself to be a Ghost King.
But on this year’s New Year’s Eve, the infusion of cosmic energy completed her transformation.
No longer needing an umbrella in daylight, even seeing a flush of blood in her fingertips… At this moment, Ding Ling finally understood the true meaning of that fateful encounter half a year ago.
She was no longer a "ghost."
Nor was she a pure spirit.
Yin and spiritual energy had now reached equilibrium within her. Her remade body, cleansed by cosmic energy, had gained the approval of heaven’s will.
She was a spirit who could manipulate yin energy and command ghosts—a yin spirit who could perceive the souls of all living beings.
As dawn lightened the sky, Ding Ling rose, holding the two bells.
With her spirit reforged and memories restored, Ding Ling exhaled deeply. The debt she owed Yan could never be repaid, no matter what.
Gazing at the land beneath her feet, Ding Ling reflected.
Once, as the spirit of the Nanyue Tribe’s Witch Bell, she had received centuries of worship and reverence.
Now, with both bells safely recovered and the underground settlement unearthed intact, she wondered if this marked the end of a karmic cycle.
Ding Ling carried the bells back to the makeshift housing, opened her phone, and stared at the vast topographic map, lost in thought.
Then she logged into the Special Case Division’s hidden forum and began searching for century-old maps.
…
The night passed without incident. Yan and Zhu Jue woke early to find no missed calls on their phones—only a teahouse location sent by Brother Bao.
With no major developments at the construction site, the two sighed in relief.
"Finally, we can have proper dim sum today," Yan said, sitting up despite wanting to laze in bed a few more minutes.
She eagerly washed up and dragged Zhu Jue out the door.
The teahouse was some distance from both their hotel and the construction site, so it made sense to travel separately.
After squeezing through the subway and biking through traffic, they "overcame countless obstacles" to reach the old neighborhood teahouse and reunite with the others.
The moment they stepped inside, Yan sensed the difference—grandpas, grandmas, aunties, and mothers crowded round tables, chatting in Cantonese she barely understood. Young faces were rare.
The four found seats, and a waitress set up their tea service and dim sum order card. Soon, carts laden with an overwhelming variety of snacks rolled by.
Har gow, phoenix claws, char siu bao, honeycomb tripe, red rice rolls… These classics were must-haves, along with unfamiliar dishes like salted fried Bombay duck, steamed dumplings, chicken bundles, and duck feet rolls.
Adopting a "see it, take it" approach, they piled their table high.
"These plates are huge, but one bite each and they’re gone. We’ll probably need a second round," Yan remarked.
"Order freely. We’ll finish it all," Brother Bao declared.
"You have no idea how much I can eat now."
A young body was already ravenous, but since starting manual labor at the site, Bao Hui’s appetite had grown exponentially.
After battling morning rush hour and traffic, everyone dug in hungrily.
The braised phoenix claws melted off the bone, bursting with flavor. The crystal shrimp dumplings were plump and satisfying.
Though the tea was cheap, the joy of dim sum lay in the shared warmth of the meal.
"This afternoon, we’ll have dessert soup, congee for dinner, and in a couple days—if work’s slow—we’ll hit a mountain villa for free-range chicken," Brother Bao listed.
"If I’m busy, you two explore on your own. I’ve scouted all the best spots for you."
"Don’t worry," Zhu Jue said.
Yan nodded through a mouthful of shumai. This trip to Canton with Zhu Jue was purely for eating—no strict itinerary.
In the days that followed, Yan and Zhu Jue happily feasted their way through the city. With few tourist attractions and sweltering heat, their outings revolved around food, followed by mall strolls to digest.
By the time they returned to campus, Ding Ling’s work remained unfinished.
In July, Bin University’s summer session began, and the campus stayed bustling.
Between enrolled students, open courses, summer camp attendees, and grad students, the grounds were lively—though cafeteria lines were shorter than during the regular term.
With lighter coursework and more extracurricular activities, the summer session was a relaxed affair.
If this were a regular study week, Yan would have found such days utterly relaxing. But knowing these days were eating into summer vacation made the enjoyment feel hollow.
For agriculture majors, the summer session meant hands-on fieldwork. Yi Zhi had followed Professor Qin back to Qionghai City, Gu Jiasui had joined a film crew, senior He Xing was still abroad, Ding Ling had gone to Yangcheng and hadn’t returned, leaving only Yan and Chu Bingbing in the dorm.
Of course, there was also the unofficial addition—An’an, an auditing student who occasionally dropped by.
Chu Bingbing had simulation training courses and spent her time in the dorm, her wide eyes glued to the stock market charts.
Zhu Jue’s dorm was equally quiet. Brother Xiao had taken his cat back to Ning City—his summer was booked with returning patients waiting for his treatments. Boss Chu still had his shop to run, Yuan Ye had vanished, and Lin Fan had fully embraced his role as a 24-hour stay-at-home dad. Only Ye Ping’an remained on campus.
But for some reason, he’d barely stayed in the dorm all summer session.
The six-week summer session flew by. On August 14th, Yan and Zhu Jue, sick of cafeteria food, escaped to an off-campus mall for a proper meal.
"Lately, it’s just me in the dorm. Boss Chu only comes back twice a week, and Ping’an’s been disappearing like a ghost," Zhu Jue complained.
Living alone wasn’t bad—he could call or video chat with Yan without restraint—but the dorm’s eerie silence had started to wear on him.
"Did Ping’an take on some gig? Or is he out streaming?" Yan guessed.
"If he were streaming, it’d make sense he’s never around."
"Or maybe he has a girlfriend?"
"He just said he’s busy with work and that the dorm isn’t convenient. But honestly… it feels like he’s avoiding me. Like he’s keeping his distance." Zhu Jue’s expression turned odd.
…
Ye Ping’an was avoiding the couple.
Because he was secretly plotting something big—and he couldn’t risk slipping up.
He was trying to unbind himself from the interstellar livestream.
