Chapter 47: The Sleeping Beauty

Xie Lingyu then told me that to wake Ji Qianqian, a “Seven-Aperture Exquisite Heart” was needed. After saying this, she sighed deeply and remarked, “Who would have thought everything in the world is cyclical, and the same thing is about to happen again.”

I pressed her, “What is a Seven-Aperture Exquisite Heart? Is it a real heart? A plant? A stone? Or something else entirely?”

Xie Lingyu shook her head. “I don’t know either, but it can save her.”

I nodded, engraving the words “Seven-Aperture Exquisite Heart” in my mind. Picking up He Xiaomao, I went in search of the soul-reaper in white robes and a black hat. The hospital at night was far from quiet—death didn’t take a break just because the sun had set.

As soon as darkness fell, the soul-reapers would arrive. Hospitals are the saddest places in the world—people who can’t afford treatment sleep in the corridors, those who can’t pay their medical bills are turned away, and the deceased are sent to the morgue.

If possible, I’d rather never step foot in a hospital again. The corridors are filled with sorrow and pain. Unless you’ve experienced it yourself, you can never truly understand what it’s like to lie in a hospital bed. The white-robed, black-hatted soul-reaper walked with an iron hook, glancing around as he went, reaping souls as he passed.

After searching everywhere, I still couldn’t find the man Xie Lingyu had described. Instead, near the emergency department, I saw several cars surrounding Gao Mo’s Mercedes. The taxi driver, his face bruised and his jaw cradled in his hand, cursed, “Damn it, whose car is this?”

A crowd gathered, hurling national-grade insults. “No justice or law left! Just because he drives a Mercedes, he thinks he can hit people? Does he think the roads belong to him?”

I stepped forward. “You again? Looking for a fight?” After a day of torment and bloodshed, an inexplicable bloodlust surged in me. If they wanted a fight, I wouldn’t hold back.

Hearing the commotion, Liu Jun and Bold Uncle rushed out.

Jun-ge dragged a pot-bellied man—Bai Feiyan—by the collar and slammed his head against the car hood. Bai Feiyan had recently sworn allegiance to a new boss, and after Jun-ge beat him, he reported the incident. The new boss, Huolong, had risen from the urban slums and was trying to consolidate control over the illegal taxi business. Without hesitation, he sent seven or eight cars to block the hospital entrance.

Huolong himself stayed inside his car, smoking Soft China cigarettes, sending only a few underlings to negotiate.

Bai Feiyan glanced at me, frail as I looked, and sneered, “Kid, don’t pretend to be something you’re not.” Jun-ge stepped forward. “Looking for me?” Then he turned to me. “I can handle this kind of trash…”

Bai Feiyan sprawled over the Mercedes, playing the victim. “You wrecked my car, beat me up—how am I supposed to keep my reputation in the underworld now?” Zhang Bold leisurely puffed his cigarette, watching Jun-ge. “Need backup?”

Jun-ge scoffed. “This is nothing.” He strode to the car and barked, “Get down. Now.” Bai Feiyan shouted, “Big bro, this is the guy!”

Without another word, Liu Jun climbed onto the hood, grabbed Bai Feiyan by the belt, and hurled the 200-pound man onto the ground. Huolong, watching from his car, was stunned—he had come with seven or eight cars and over a dozen men, yet this lone guy just tossed one of his men off like it was nothing.

No room for negotiation.

Bai Feiyan scrambled up, wailing, “You hit me! Big bro, everyone saw it! Hitting me is like slapping your face!” The hired drivers had heard their opponent was armed, but they hadn’t expected just one man to face them. Drawing knives against a single guy would’ve been shameful.

Seeing Bai Feiyan beaten, the crowd jeered, “Get down here, kid, or we’ll flatten you!”

Jun-ge leapt down like a wolf among sheep. His movements were crisp and precise, his fists whistling through the air. In under two minutes, bodies littered the ground.

Huolong kicked open his car door, storming forward with a knife wrapped in newspaper, ready to stab someone. But when he got a good look at Jun-ge, his face paled. “Damn, isn’t that Jun-ge? Did I just pick a fight with my own boss?” He hastily bowed and offered a cigarette. Jun-ge shoved him away. “What kind of disgraceful operation are you running? Get out of here with these losers.”

Humiliated, Huolong waved his men off. “Let’s go.” Once back in the car, he tossed the knife aside, finally relaxing. A lackey asked, “Big bro, what was that about?” Huolong exhaled. “Only a real dragon dares cross the river. That guy back there? He’s the real deal—not just tough, but terrifying.”

The skirmish ended as quickly as it began. I told Jun-ge to take Bold Uncle home. “What happened at the old riverside dock today—let’s pretend it never happened.”

Jun-ge grinned. “No problem. Just a drizzle. Back in the day, I’d cripple people in fights. You at least had a reason—killing a bastard like that makes sense. Bold-ge, you’ll have to rough it with me tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t touch your chrysanthemum.”

Bold Uncle shrugged. “Any place to crash is fine.” Then he turned to me. “Kid, I’ll head back first thing tomorrow. No need to see me off. Men don’t need long goodbyes. You’ve got your own troubles. Listen to your uncle—there’s no hurdle you can’t overcome, no road you can’t walk.”

I had Jun-ge drive Gao Mo’s car back, reluctantly sending Bold Uncle off. Staying with me meant risking jail time.

In the car, Zhang Bold suddenly frowned. “What did you mean by ‘not touching my chrysanthemum’? I don’t even drink chrysanthemum tea…”

Back in the ward, Ji Qianqian lay silent in sleep. Jie-se cradled Xiao-xiao, his arm half-numb. Surprisingly, the little girl trusted him enough to forget her grief momentarily, dozing off peacefully without her mother.

Xie Lingyu sat beside the bed, gazing at Ji Qianqian with a sigh. “Sleeping beauty, when will you wake?”

Seeing me enter, she signaled for quiet. “Did you find the soul-reaper in white robes and a black hat?”

I shook my head. “No sign of him. Maybe he only comes when someone dies.” Xie Lingyu nodded. “Perhaps I overthought it. He probably isn’t here for Miss Ji.” I took out the jade ruler, and Xie Lingyu curled inside—she was exhausted.

Beneath the bed, He Xiaomao and Gou Xiaojian slept side by side, as if tomorrow would bring a new day. I reached to take Ji Qianqian’s hand but hesitated, pulling back.

Why had Xie Lingyu said everything was cyclical?

I spent the entire night sitting by Ji Qianqian’s side, never touching her cold hand. A kind nurse brought a small cot, and Jie-se laid Xiao-xiao on it. The little girl, having cried all evening, finally fell into a deep sleep. Hidden in her clothes were 3,000 yuan stained with pig’s blood—left behind by Bold Uncle…

My phone never rang. I had no news from Shen Yihu. Anxiety gnawed at me all night. Even as the ward lights dimmed, I remained seated, never reaching out to touch Ji Qianqian.

Jie-se slept soundly in the corridor outside.

The hospital grew quieter. He Xiaomao, curled on the floor, suddenly lifted her head and meowed twice. I turned to look outside the ward—a black hat flashed past.

The soul-reaper.

My heart clenched. Was he here for Ji Qianqian? I bolted up, pushed the door open, and called to Jie-se. “Guard the door. Don’t let anyone in white robes and a black hat inside.” Rubbing his eyes, Jie-se mumbled, “Got it. What are you doing?”

Following the footsteps down the hall, I chased after the figure. The hospital was a maze—doors swung shut ahead, revealing only glimpses of the black hat, always just out of reach, as if leading me deliberately.

The sounds grew fainter. I pushed open a door, and cold white air rushed out. Glancing up, I saw the sign: “Morgue.”

The morgue—modern-day equivalent of ancient corpse houses. Its purpose was twofold: to give families time to arrange funerals and to confirm the deceased wouldn’t revive. Medically, some dead could reawaken within three days—hence the folk tradition of keeping bodies for three days before burial. Not superstition, but science.

Inside stood the figure.

White robes, black hat. On the hat were two circles—like the McDonald’s delivery logo, a uniform “M” cap.

I approached silently. The man spoke first. “I’m Fox. You can call me Hu. Look at this corpse—Jin Baiwan, worth millions. But a tumor grew on his liver, and he died. Now his sons are fighting over his wealth in court.”

I said, “Death doesn’t spare the rich.”

Fox pulled out another body—a stunning young woman named Sai Xishi. “Peerless beauty, yet she was stabbed eight times in a home invasion. Didn’t survive.” I replied, “Even the most beautiful can’t escape death. Misfortune strikes without warning.”

Fox showed me several more corpses before fixing his gaze on me. “Do you understand now?” I shook my head. “No.” Fox sighed. “You’re smart—why pretend? You know what I’m saying. Whether rich or poor, kind or cruel, everyone dies. Ji Qianqian is no exception.”

I asked, “If you’re a soul-reaper, why lead me here? If the underworld exists, you’re breaking its rules. If you’re here for Ji Qianqian’s soul, why tell me?”

Fox replied, “Three reasons. First, because you can see me. Second, because of Miss Xie. Third, because of the ghost-tear pearl around Ji Qianqian’s neck. I brought you here to ask you to remove it—so I can take her soul.”

I countered, “And if I refuse?” Fox shook his head. “You know feng shui masters who go too far invite retribution. Ji Qianqian’s soul belongs in the underworld now—no more delays.” I smiled coldly. “What if I don’t fear retribution? What if I don’t care about the consequences?”

Fox’s expression hardened. “The underworld doesn’t bend to mortal will. If you persist, your three-year calamity will become lifelong suffering. Think carefully.”

I chuckled softly. “Hu, I’m sorry you’ll fail your mission. She fell into this sleep because of me—I won’t let her leave like this.”

Fox scowled. “You reckless fool. I hope you reconsider. But personally… I’ll still wish you luck.”

That night, all I saw were the two circles on Fox’s black hat. His face was veiled in mist—unreadable, as if from another world.

The next morning, the morgue attendant found me. “Why were you sleeping in the morgue?” I lied, “Got drunk last night, wandered in by mistake.” He cursed, “Drunk enough to sleep in the morgue? You’re the first in history…”

Fox was gone. Five new bodies had arrived—one a suicide from depression, one a jumper, three from terminal illness…

I rushed back to the ward. The scent of flowers—white roses and lilies—drifted from the room.

Pushing the door open, I found Shen Yihu waiting. He’d been there half an hour…