The Ghost Bride Walks
Silence seized the manor as Bai Heran stepped through vermilion gates—a living corpse draped in frozen rags. Paper effigies mirrored her gaunt face; mourning banners whispered her name. "Second Miss... returned from Yama's court?"
Unfazed, Bai Heran drifted to the spirit brazier. Scooping fistfuls of joss paper , she fed the flames, lips moving in silent pact:
"Take these offerings, little ghost. May your next life bloom kinder than mine. As for this vipers' nest..." Her gaze swept the stunned crowd. "...I'll play their game. Boredom bites sharper than winter."
*
Ashes and Audacity**
Bai Xingyan's voice cracked like thin ice. "What blasphemy is this?"
She turned, innocence sharp as Valyrian steel. "Mourning rites, Father. Or have you forgotten how to grieve?"
His revulsion deepened—this child he'd exiled like her suicide mother. "For whom do you burn hell-notes?"
"For all Wen Guogong's house!" Embers danced in her eyes. "Why hoard paper wealth? Let the first corpse claim first coin!"
Gasps slithered through the crowd. Fifth Miss Bai Huayan trembled. "Ghost! Are you ghost?"
"How did I die, little sister?" Bai Heran's smile chilled the air.
"Fell... fell from a cliff," Bai Huayan stammered.
"Ah." Bai Heran opened her palm—thirteen blood-rusted needles glinted. "But fate tossed me into thermal springs. And these..." Her gaze speared Bai Jinghong . "...I plucked from my back. Finer than market wares, no?"
Bai Jinghong's moon-pale face drained to ash. Amethyst eyes clouded with panic.