Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Money Can Make Ghosts Push the Millstone

Tu Hua yawned her way into the bathroom.

When she came back out, the world outside her house had snapped back into the familiar shape she knew—like reality had finally gotten tired of its own joke.

Tu Hua nearly cried from pure relief. The moment she pushed open the front door, a ripple of light swept through the whole house. Sunlight poured into the little courtyard, scattering gold across the ground so bright it made her heart thump.

She stepped outside with her phone in hand, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath—steady, real.

She was back.

A neighbor auntie passed by with a schnauzer on a leash. She paused and peered at Tu Hua. “Miss Tu, I haven’t seen you in ages. Did you go on a trip?”

Tu Hua blinked, then smiled. “Yeah. A long one. I just got back.”

“Going out to relax is good!” the auntie said cheerfully. “I’ll walk the dog first. See you!”

“See you,” Tu Hua replied.

The auntie had barely turned the corner when a property staff member came down the path. He spotted Tu Hua, startled so hard he actually stepped back, then called through the fence.

“Miss Tu! You’re back? We’ve got a mountain of your packages piled up at the office. Don’t forget to pick them up!”

Tu Hua slapped her forehead. “Right! Thanks! I’ll grab them in a bit.”

“No problem,” he said. “I’ll get going.”

“Bye!”

Dog. Neighbor. Property staff. Three tiny, boring exchanges, and Tu Hua felt like she’d been stamped “Authentic” by the universe. Her mood lifted so high she could’ve floated.

First order of business: retrieve the hoard of packages.

She brought them back and stared at the pile on the floor, one hand pressed to her chest. Modern life was fast, convenient, and—most importantly—predictable. It made her feel safe.

Second order of business: takeout.

She was starving. She ordered four or five things in one go. While she waited, she pulled up the system’s new manual and skimmed.

All-Purpose Guardian System Safety Manual

Please read carefully and follow all instructions. With assistance from the system assistant, recharge, spend, and use functions reasonably and lawfully.

Tu Hua’s gaze snagged on the word “recharge.”

In her experience, wherever that word appeared, her wallet was about to start bleeding.

The old version had limited energy and could not provide higher-quality service for the host. The new version will provide comprehensive support services and charge a small service fee.

Tu Hua stared. “So… you want me to pay for premium.”

As always, the system’s voice arrived right on cue, polite and maddeningly calm.

Tu Hua kept reading. When she found a clause she didn’t like, she jabbed at it with her finger.

Notes:

Article 3, Clause 2: This system forbids the host, when facing danger, from requesting that the system prioritize protecting the ward. Breach will clear all points and energy.

Tu Hua frowned. “What does that mean? It forbids me to request it… which means I can request it?”

The system seemed to freeze for an instant.

System: “In principle, forbidden.”

Tu Hua’s mouth curved. “In principle” meant “in practice, don’t get caught.”

She didn’t even know why it mattered yet, but her instincts started screaming. She marked the clause with a big star.

The manual wasn’t long. She finished quickly and summed it up in one sentence.

Money can make ghosts push the millstone.

Then she opened her personal panel.

Host: Tu Hua

Age: 23

Identity: Illustrator; Xie clan household god; Pending?

Ward: Xie Yu Chuan (Locked)

Bloodline Points: +15

Points: +70

Energy Level: Lv. 1

Inventory Space: 4/10 (Includes Starter Gift Pack)

Account Balance: -666.66 (Please recharge as soon as possible to avoid affecting functionality)

Tu Hua stared. “Why is my balance negative?”

System: “Before the upgrade, the system advanced credit to the host for remote delivery of food and medicine to Xie Yu Chuan, emergency protection functions, and rain functions.”

Tu Hua went silent.

Then her silence cracked.

“…You can take out loans now?”

The system, for once, had the decency to stop talking.

Tu Hua exhaled slowly through her nose, turned, and went upstairs to find her bank card.

As she rummaged, she complained, “If I hadn’t spent time with the Xie family and gotten a little… incense bond with them, I’d have unbound you the moment you ‘invited’ me into this mess.”

At this point, what was done was done.

Six hundred and change was still six hundred and change. She could afford it.

She linked the card.

The next second, a bank notification popped up.

China Merchants Bank: Your account 9518 was charged RMB 66,666.00 at 12:45 on January 22.

Tu Hua stared at it.

Tu Hua continued staring at it.

Then, very softly, she said, “Don’t stop me. I’m going to lose my mind.”

Back in Great Liang, the exile convoy resumed the road after a short rest outside the capital.

The midday incident didn’t affect the Xie family much. It only earned them a few more hostile stares.

As long as no one started trouble, Xie Yu Chuan ignored it. The rest of the Xie family did the same.

After hearing Xie Wu Ying’s advice, Zhang Da Yi guided his mother to walk near the Xie family when they set out again.

He had seen what happened at noon. In truth, he also believed the “Xie family deity” might be nonsense. He’d argued about it in court because the Grand Progenitor’s Annals recorded it clearly—without solid evidence, how could such a record be erased?

And the unexplained rain that put out the fire over the Xie ancestral hall had been the talk of the imperial court. By reason and by principle, Zhang Da Yi didn’t agree with wiping that founding-era account clean.

But personally… the matter of the Xie family deity still felt uncertain.

Even so, the Xie family had helped him and his mother when they needed it. Exile was dangerous. He couldn’t just think for himself; he had to think for his mother. Hanlin Scholar Zhang accepted the debt with a heavy heart.

Xiong Jiu Shan got the convoy moving. As they left, he glimpsed someone coming from the relay station’s direction.

The figure stopped under the trees by the roadside, neither approaching nor leaving—watching, as if waiting for the next act of a play.

Xiong Jiu Shan couldn’t read his intentions and decided not to waste brainpower. He had enough problems.

The prisoners had marched half a day. Their rest had barely eased their fatigue before they were forced onward again. Complaints rose in waves, answered by sharp curses and the crack of whipsticks.

Xie Yu Chuan walked with the convoy, but his thoughts were elsewhere—fixed on the household god, Tu Hua.

He had heard her voice, bright with joy… and then nothing.

No more sound. No more comment. Not even the usual irritating presence that had become, against all logic, a strange kind of reassurance.

Unease hopped in his chest.

What door had opened? Why had she sounded like she’d been waiting forever?

And then—silence again. Too much silence.

His mind chased itself in circles until a teasing voice cut through the air.

“I never thought the dignified sixth son of the Xie family would end up this miserable,” the man drawled. “Tsk, tsk. What a pity. Truly a pity. Being able to see this with my own eyes today—this young master can die without regrets.”

Heads lifted all along the line.

A refined young master stood by the roadside in a blue robe, holding a folding fan, smiling as he threw words like stones.

Xie Yu Chuan raised his eyes.

He met a pair of eyes that smiled—and didn’t.

Trouble had found them again.