Chapter 2 : Lady Huang (2/2)

Shi Pengpeng chuckled, easily seeing through his lack of strength, and bent down to pick up his backpack, which had fallen to the side.

The bag was stuffed full—so full, in fact, that the zipper had split open a little.

She instinctively reached out to zip it back up, but when she glanced inside, her brows furrowed.

Inside the bag, folded into a bundle, was a black-and-yellow plastic sheet.

“Where did you get this?” 

Shi Pengpeng asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, I found it at the mountain peak,” Guo Jintai said casually. 

But seeing her expression shift, his nerves flared up. 

“Is… is there a problem?”

As it turned out, after reaching the summit the night before, Guo Jintai had realized there was still some time before sunrise. 

He had wanted to get some sleep, but since his trip was last-minute, he hadn’t brought a sleeping bag, and there were no tent rental services in the village.

Luckily, the mountain was flat and spacious, so he had planned to lean against a rock and make do.

And that was when he spotted the plastic sheet nearby. 

It looked clean, and since it had clearly been left behind by someone, he didn’t think much of it. 

He simply used it as a mat and lay down.

Of course, as a responsible university student, he didn’t intend to litter. 

So after watching the sunrise in the morning, he folded up the sheet and brought it down with him, planning to dispose of it properly.

Shi Pengpeng sighed, exasperated. 

“Do you even know what this is?”

“Huh?” 

Guo Jintai blinked, confused. 

“It’s… just a plastic sheet?”

“Yes,” Shi Pengpeng said, “But it’s the kind used for funerary tents during mourning ceremonies.”

Guo Jintai: “??!”

His pupils dilated, and a chill shot down his spine. 

“Y-you mean… I slept on a funerary tent cover all night…?!”

How cursed was that?!

“Not just that,” Shi Pengpeng sneered and grabbed a corner of the yellow cloth, giving it a sharp tug. 

“I’d wager this thing is exactly why you got possessed—”

The moment she finished speaking, the air around them turned ice-cold.

“Sha—Sha—”

The bamboo grove suddenly shook violently, the dense leaves rubbing together, producing an eerie, ominous sound.

A powerful gust of wind howled from deep within the forest, rushing straight toward them.

At the same time, something bit into Shi Pengpeng’s hand—a sharp, stinging pain spread from her palm. 

Reflexively, she loosened her grip slightly.

In that instant, the yellow cloth ripped free from her grasp.

The wind snatched it up, sending it whirling into the air.

It was about to vanish into the sky—

“AHHH—” 

Guo Jintai screamed in terror, practically jumping toward Shi Pengpeng. 

“G-G-GHOST! THERE’S A GHOST!”

“Trying to escape?” 

Shi Pengpeng sneered.

She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a pair of long, lean legs, and bolted forward. 

With two powerful strides, she leaped up, kicked off a bamboo stalk twice, using the momentum to propel herself into the air.

In a swift, fluid motion, she hooked the flying yellow cloth mid-air, spun midair, and then landed gracefully.

Thud.

With a soft sound, the girl landed firmly on the ground, the yellow cloth now pinned securely under her boot.

The howling wind still raged, causing the cloth to flutter violently. 

But Shi Pengpeng quickly pulled out her cinnabar lipstick, twisted it open, and, with her fingers forming a seal, swiftly began drawing on the cloth.

At the same time, she chanted a spell: 

“Essence of Yin and Yang, fiery Yang within, illuminate and restrain, reveal the hidden, let the talisman manifest—evil spirits, be exposed! Defiance shall not be tolerated. By the Dao, I command—Exorcise!”

The moment the incantation ended, the cinnabar symbols flashed with a brilliant red glow.

The roaring wind suddenly ceased.

The once-fluttering yellow cloth collapsed lifelessly onto the ground, no longer moving.

Silence filled the air—except for one sound.

Guo Jintai: “AHHHH—”

Shi Pengpeng shot him a glare. 

“Enough. It’s over.”

Guo Jintai: “?”

He choked mid-scream, his mouth still open. 

“Huh? It’s… over? Just like that?”

Shi Pengpeng: “You’re disappointed?”

“No, no!” 

Guo Jintai shook his head frantically. 

He wouldn’t dare! 

It was just… it had all ended so quickly—he barely had time to react! 

Still dazed, he asked, “I thought you practiced magic… but you also know martial arts?”

“Of course,” Shi Pengpeng replied coolly. 

“It’s part of our curriculum.”

Guo Jintai gawked. 

“…Your school teaches that too?”

“Obviously.” 

Shi Pengpeng gave him a meaningful look. 

“We’re a comprehensive university.”

Guo Jintai: “…”

A comprehensive university… right. 

That made perfect sense.

Now that he thought about it, it did make sense. 

A job like hers was bound to involve danger, so learning self-defense was only natural. 

Even Shaolin monks had 72 martial arts techniques, after all.

It took a while for Guo Jintai to fully process everything. 

Watching Shi Pengpeng casually fold up the yellow cloth, he swallowed hard. 

“So… what exactly is this thing?”

“It’s called a Huangjing,” Shi Pengpeng explained. 

“What you encountered was a ‘Huang Niangzi’.”

Funeral tent covers, like this yellow-black fabric, were commonly used in mourning rituals. 

Over time, as they absorbed yin energy from the deceased and ritual offerings, they accumulated spiritual power.

Though the cloth itself wasn’t the object of worship, it still received some of the prayers and merits, which eventually allowed it to gain sentience. 

With the right conditions, it could become a spirit.

These kinds of spirits were rare and had no fixed name in folklore. 

Generally, people identified them by their color. 

Since this cloth was primarily yellow, it was called a Huangjing (Yellow Spirit).

Moreover, these spirits could be gendered—

Male ones were called “Lang”.

Female ones were called “Niangzi”.

The one Guo Jintai encountered was a Niangzi.

Guo Jintai glanced at the cloth from left to right, scanning for any obvious signs of gender. 

Finding nothing, he asked curiously, “How do you even tell if it’s female?”

“Because spirits choose their targets accordingly,” Shi Pengpeng smirked. 

“If it had been male, it probably would’ve kicked you straight down the mountain for sleeping on it… unless, of course, it was into men.”

Guo Jintai: “…”

Yeah, he shouldn’t have asked.

This Huangjing’s cultivation was shallow—it hadn’t even developed a physical form yet, making it impossible to interrogate its origins.

However, it wasn’t hard to guess.

Since spirits needed strong spiritual energy to grow, they gravitated toward places rich in yin energy.

Ironically, Pinghe Village’s exaggerated claims about Yujian Mountain weren’t entirely false—the mountain did have spiritual significance.

Located in the shadow of the sun yet facing it, the mountain was naturally charged with energy.

Moreover, bamboo forests were inherently yin-aligned, making them ideal places for spirits like the Huang Niangzi to cultivate.

Most likely, this Huang Niangzi had been peacefully residing in the mountain when Guo Jintai decided to crash for the night.

And spirits, by nature, were drawn to emotions—especially sentimental and poetic young scholars.

So, it visited him.

Only to wake up the next morning and realize…

This jerk not only slept on it—but was planning to throw it away.

Not wanting to leave the mountain, and feeling betrayed, the Huang Niangzi had acted out.

Funeral tent fabric had absorbed countless grief-stricken cries.

That was why Guo Jintai had suddenly been overwhelmed by sadness, and why his sobbing sounded so eerily familiar.

The heartbroken words he had wailed—

“You heartless thing! How could you leave me behind!”

“How am I supposed to live without you!”

Those weren’t random cries of a broken-hearted man.

They were common funeral wails—ones that had been spoken at countless ceremonies, absorbed into the fabric.

Realizing the truth, Guo Jintai’s eyes welled up.

“I swear… I’ll never sleep—I mean, pick up random things again.”

Shi Pengpeng tutted. 

“Such a heartless man. That Huang Niangzi let you sleep on her all night, you know. People say it takes ten years of fate to share a boat ride, and a hundred years to share a pillow—You two must have been destined for a hundred-year romance.”

Guo Jintai: “…”

Guo Jintai: “Master, I don’t mind being single, but please stop traumatizing me further.”

Shi Pengpeng burst out laughing. 

“Alright, alright, I’m done teasing you.”

“You don’t have to worry too much,” she added. 

“Your luck isn’t bad. This Huang Niangzi doesn’t have ‘shāng qì’—it hasn’t actually harmed anyone.”

Shāng qì was a form of resentful energy created when a spirit harmed a person.

Since this Huang Niangzi had only been heartbroken and not malicious, it hadn’t crossed the line into true malevolence.

That meant, according to regulations, Shi Pengpeng couldn’t destroy it—but she also couldn’t leave it wandering freely, in case it troubled another unlucky traveler.

After some thought, she decided to send it to her sect for proper handling.

Guo Jintai, still intrigued by her “comprehensive university”, asked eagerly, “So… when do you go back to campus? Can I come with you? You know, as a witness…”

Shi Pengpeng blinked. 

“Why would I go back?”

“Uh… to send that cloth to your school?”

Shi Pengpeng “Oh”ed. 

“I’m just mailing it.”

Guo Jintai: o.O

You’re kidding… right?

***

As soon as Wen Miao stepped into the farmhouse restaurant, she was greeted by the sight of Guo Jintai eagerly pouring tea for Shi Pengpeng.

“This was just freshly brewed. Be careful, it’s hot! Want me to fan it for you…?”

Shi Pengpeng waved him off. 

“No need.”

“Then… how about some peanuts? I can peel them for you—”

Wen Miao: “…?”

Wait. 

What was going on here?

Since when was Shi Pengpeng this good at comforting people?

And look at this boy—he was beaming, full of energy, completely refreshed. 

Where was the heartbroken wreck from earlier?!

Wen Miao’s gaze shifted between Guo Jintai and Shi Pengpeng’s stunning face.

She paused.

And then, she understood.

Hah.

Men.