Phong saw the ghost of a young soldier he’d once failed to save in a past life. The soldier pointed at Linh. “He was that soldier. You left him to die on a battlefield.” Phong wept, but knelt before Linh’s mirror reflection and said, “Then let me pay this life instead.” The mirror cracked.
The palace hummed. Lanterns lit themselves one by one, revealing a long, red-carpeted hall. But instead of ghosts jumping out, a brush and inkstone floated toward him. A silken scroll unrolled, with elegant, chilling words: “Ngươi có duyên với chủ nhân nơi này. Hãy viết lời thề kết tóc. Nếu không, vĩnh viễn không được ra.” (You share a fate with the master of this place. Write a wedding vow. If not, you shall never leave.) Phong blinked. “I… I’m a broke scholar. I don’t even have a wife. Or a husband, not that I’d mind, but—wait, master ?!” ------- Ma Cung di Se Duyen Bl
And the red string of se duyên tightened around both their little fingers—fate finally fulfilled, even beyond death. Phong saw the ghost of a young soldier
Phong, exhausted, tear-streaked, grabbed Linh’s collar. “You idiot ghost. You planned this from the start, didn’t you? The ‘trials’ were just to make me fall for you.” You left him to die on a battlefield
“I am terrified,” Phong admitted, clutching his poetry book. “But your calligraphy set is very high quality. May I borrow it after I die?”
“Ah… a haunted house. Wonderful,” Phong whispered, teeth chattering.