Chapter 43: Apprenticeship Ceremony Completed (1/2)

The scene before me turned my initial coldness into icy dread. How could this be? Were all those 枕边情话 (whispers by the pillow) lies? Judging by their intimate gestures, the cuckold's hat sat tight on my head.

I'd 预想 (anticipated) many possibilities—Zhao Na's greed, as her 面相 (facial features) hinted at 拜金 (materialism). Watching the man pinch her hip, laughing as they entered the compound, I felt sick.

I didn't know why I'd come—maybe for her side of the story. Following them inside, I climbed the fire escape without a lift card. On the fourth floor, behind the iron door:

"Stop fooling around—I'm looking for keys." Zhao Na's voice.

"Who knows where you put them?" the man replied.

"Can you keep your hands to yourself? You'll rip my dress. Must've left them at the hotel. My boyfriend's coming—go back and check." Her tone was coquettish.

"What's the rush? Not our first time. Let him come—why fear him? You never planned to stay with that bumpkin anyway. Remember who begged me at 3 AM..." He snickered.

"Shut up! Leave if you keep this up. My boyfriend knows sorcery. Today was creepy—I followed Li Qian. You should've seen her collapse, bugs crawling from her mouth."

Their words ignited my fury. How dare she! Even a clay figure has its limits. As Zhao Na fussed about keys, I slammed open the fire door. Our eyes met, my emotions a storm. Her companion yelped and ducked into the elevator.

Alone in the corridor, I stared into her bright eyes, struggling to reconcile her beauty with such 蛇蝎心肠 (venomous heart). As the movie says: "The prettier the woman, the better she lies."

"Dabao, listen—it's not what you think." She panicked.

My voice was flat: "Why?"

Tears welled: "I'm sorry! That was nothing. I love you, Dabao. Gao Wei and I... please don't hurt me."

Before opening the door, I'd imagined rage, but now I felt oddly calm. Her 虚伪 (hypocrisy) struck me as pathetic. With age, I realized my attraction to Zhao Na stemmed from more than beauty—her wealth and status had blinded me, from Yi Zhai's costly renovation to the shop's prime location.

As a genuine feng shui master, I needed pride. "I didn't ask about the betrayal. Why kill Li Qian?"

She stammered: "I... I just wanted to scare her. I never meant for her to die."

I sneered—this was premeditated. Having witnessed feng shui and 厌胜术 (malign rituals), she knew the risks.

Despite our history and my conservative nature, I warned: "I was with Li Qian. Yin energy deformed the fetus, which was over seven months—enough for a soul to enter. Be careful. Stay away from clubs, go home on time, donate to a temple."

Dropping Yi Zhai's keys, I ended our 荒唐感情 (absurd relationship). We'd never fit—she craved novelty, I buried myself in ancient texts. I hoped she'd survive.

About Li Qian's death: When a pregnant woman dies after seven months, yin-yang practitioners call it "tomb-sealed burial"—the mother's body becomes a tomb sealing the unborn. Reincarnating souls wait lifetimes for human form; a seven-month fetus draws a soul. If the mother dies, the soul is trapped, unable to reincarnate—hence "tomb-sealed ghost."