A wave of elation washed over me, my entire body trembling slightly with excitement, and I choked out, "Bing'er! It's me, it's me!" As I spoke, I reached out to touch Qin Bing'er’s pale, sorrowful cheek, intending to wipe away the tears there.

Qin Bing'er stared with two hollow, dark eyes, her face etched with tragic confusion. She seemed utterly unaware of my hand, her upper row of pearly white teeth biting down on her lower lip, her whole frame shivering as if seized by a cold fit.

"Bing'er..." I leaped up and shouted with all the strength I could muster.

Normally, a screech like my high-pitched caterwaul would send Qin Bing'er flying, but now she remained utterly oblivious to my cry; not even the muscles in her face twitched. Standing before her, I might as well have been a wisp of thin smoke.

Despair filled my heart. "The boundary between Yin and Yang is but a thin sheet of paper"—that was the phrase my grandfather always loved to repeat when telling tales of the so-called 'Underworld' and the 'Living World.' Back then, I often wondered where that 'paper' was. What was the other world like beyond that 'paper'? Now, I finally understood: that sheet of 'paper' was everywhere, the farthest distance imaginable—close enough to see the one I loved most, yet forever unable to touch her, forever unable to whisper sweet nothings in her ear...

My face contorted, my eyes brimming with unshed tears, while my own distinct black-and-white physical body lay motionless on the ground.

Hua'er nudged and bumped against my leg, but I felt nothing from my limb. Qin Bing'er stood dazedly for a moment, then let out a long sigh. She crouched down, gathered my body tightly into her embrace again, pressing her cheek against its forehead, rubbing gently. Her shoulders hitched and spasmed, and she began to weep softly anew. Hearing that crying from behind the veil of 'paper,' my heart felt as if it were being twisted by a knife. I let out a long sigh, finally grasping the true meaning of being 'torn apart limb from limb.'

Hua'er, failing to elicit a response from my leg, lifted its head to look at my face. Tears gathered at the corners of its eyes, falling like a string of broken pearls.

Seeing Hua'er’s tears, a question that I had almost forgotten suddenly flooded my mind—damn it all, how did I die? If I couldn't figure this out, I might never know true peace for the rest of my life. Of course, given my current predicament, the concept of peace was moot anyway.

I recalled the events carefully. My body underwent a drastic change starting from the moment I smeared Hua'er's tears onto my eyeballs. Before that, I could genuinely touch Hua'er—from leaping over the wall, closing my eyes to rush to Hua'er’s side, lifting Hua'er onto the stone lion, to using the embroidered shoe to sever the giant serpent... right up until I discovered Qin Bing'er was missing, I could clearly feel the warmth of the real world. When I jumped the wall, I distinctly felt the sharp pain in my feet. Even when my fingers brushed against Hua'er's tears, I felt their cool dampness, unlike now, where everything felt dreamlike and numb—except for the ability to hear Hua'er and Qin Bing'er's voices.

So, what happened after I wiped Hua'er's tears onto my eyes? I remembered that after smearing Hua'er's tears onto my eyeballs, I was too afraid to open them for a long time. It was only after Hua'er shrieked wildly for a while that I instinctively opened my eyes, only to be confronted by the black-and-white world before me... A point of suspicion arose: why did Hua'er scream then? Given its temperament, it would only let out such earth-shattering barks if it saw or sensed imminent danger. So, what did it see or sense? Did I enter the world behind that 'paper' at that very moment? If so, whether I was dreaming or dead, I must have been influenced by an external factor. Perhaps Hua'er's frantic barks marked the critical juncture of my transformation into a different form.

There was further evidence to support this conjecture. Hua'er is fiercely loyal to me, and deeply devoted to Qin Bing'er. Yet, after I used its tears, when I intended for Hua'er to accompany me to find Qin Bing'er, it unexpectedly stood frozen. Even when I struck its head with the embroidered shoe, it didn't react, and seemed deaf to my words. This suggests that I had already assumed a different form by then. The reason Hua'er stood still must have been to guard my physical body and refuse to leave, not, as I initially suspected, because it was exhausted or afraid.

But this presented a new complication: why couldn't I see my own physical body at that time?

I looked up, and my gaze inadvertently fell upon the depiction of Zhang Fei above the central archway of the stone memorial arch. The fierce, bushy-bearded face seemed filled with mockery—So, buddy, you’re laughing at me for ending up as a gate guardian here? Didn't expect your day would come... My eyes withdrew. I recalled that my entire focus at the time was fixed on the Zhang Fei image, the black rabbit, and the turtle on the gate panels. More importantly, I was desperate to find Qin Bing'er and hadn't taken time to observe my surroundings. It was entirely possible that I failed to notice the complete separation of my soul and body. Besides, what normal person would ever anticipate such a bizarre, radical transformation?

Now, that physical body was clearly visible before me, albeit rendered only in shades of black and white.

To be honest, I had encountered the legendary 'physical body' before in my childhood. I had a distant uncle of the same surname—not the one called Man Niao Niao—who was a solitary man, rumored to be an 'Emissary of Impermanence' (Wuchang) who collected souls in the netherworld. By day, he was indistinguishable from a normal person; skilled in drinking, eating meat, plowing fields, and harrowing land. There was nothing outwardly special about him. But once night fell, anyone who slept beside him would often find his body as cold as a corpse, his breathing gone, and his pulse still. Only a shallow warmth lingered near his sternum. Those familiar with him knew that when his body entered this state, it meant someone somewhere was about to die, and he was off to execute his 'soul-collecting' duty. Having seen it many times, people grew accustomed to it, even joking with him, "Man Wuchang, give me a heads-up next time you come for me, alright? I don't know how much good wine and meat I've treated you to; a little courtesy must be shown!" Man Wuchang would only smile and offer no reply. As winter gave way to spring, many people died, but no one ever heard of Man Wuchang greeting anyone before their passing. I was young then, clueless about everything. One night, Man Wuchang sneaked into my house for some drinks. After eating and drinking his fill, he slept at our place—right in my bed. I woke up in the middle of the night to relieve myself and inadvertently touched his thigh; it was as cold as an ice block. I touched other parts—still ice-cold. I had no concept of death or corpses then, so I never considered anything unusual, only muttering to myself, No wonder I couldn't warm up all night. I’m never sleeping with you again... The next morning, Man Wuchang got up, grinning, and said to me while I was still groggy, "Let's go, let's go see the dead..." I knew 'seeing the dead' meant someone had passed away, and everyone was going to help with the funeral rites. I found it strange then: I hadn't slept a wink all night due to the cold, and I hadn't seen him converse with anyone, yet he knew someone had died? During the day? Before I was even fully dressed, someone arrived to ask my father to help build the spirit house...

When I recounted this to my grandfather, he explained that my distant uncle was a 'Wuchang' (Emissary of Impermanence). He didn't collect souls by stomping loudly in square steps at midnight; instead, he first received his mission from King Yama, and then departed with his own spirit to collect the soul. His spirit and body were separated, which is why his body became so cold.

From then on, I kept a wide berth from this uncle. I wouldn't interact with him even if threatened; forget sleeping in the same bed, I dared not even eat at the same table, let alone look him in the eyes. If I happened to run into him unexpectedly, I would hook my head down to my crotch, respectfully murmur, "Uncle," and then bolt away faster than an airplane.

Of course, this uncle has long since passed away. Who collected his soul, I have no idea.

Looking at my own body on the ground, recalling my uncle's icy form, I wondered: how did my uncle's spirit return to his own body? There must have been some prerequisite—yes, it was very likely that small warmth in his chest, coupled with some method allowing the detached spirit to reunite with the physical form. So, is there still a pool of warmth in the chest of my body? And what is that method for the spirit to return to the flesh?

I recalled scenes from supernatural movies where the spirit returns to the body—usually by actively lunging towards the physical form, which then inexplicably revives, gasping, air starting to puff from the nostrils, before the eyes slowly open... Never mind thinking about it. Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth; why not just give it a shot?

The problem is, my physical body is currently held in Qin Bing'er's arms. If I rush toward it recklessly, will my spirit enter Qin Bing'er’s body instead? Logically, one person cannot house two souls. If my spirit possessed Qin Bing'er, her soul would naturally be displaced—the thing that tried to force its way into my body on the stone bridge in Anle Cave proved this point. Fortunately, I resisted fiercely, preventing it from succeeding, or the consequences would have been dire. Of course, if my spirit entered Qin Bing'er's body, the consequences would be even more unthinkable. I need to devise some way to get her away from my physical body first.