Following the imprint within Lin Liwen’s mind, Lin Rui tracked his way closer, his heart tightening with every meter he neared the Peach Blossom Community where they lived. It was only when he realized the direction of the trace passed through the community and continued further north that his expression softened slightly, and he let out an involuntary, deep breath.

Guided by that faint, intermittent track, Lin Rui arrived above a hospital.

“I don’t know if he ever stayed in this hospital…” Lin Rui murmured to himself, “I remember it was at home then… yes, definitely at home…” As this memory surfaced, his anxiety eased slightly. He hovered above the hospital for a moment, took a deep breath, and slipped in through an open window in the corridor.

Entering the building, the sheer volume of souls surged; the lingering thoughts of countless people remained—perhaps their spirits had already reincarnated or dissipated, but these fragments of consciousness could float here for a long time.

Lin Rui composed himself and began meticulously discerning the origin of the faint ghostly aura clinging to Lin Liwen. He walked down the hall, past ward after ward. Souls that would normally be subconsciously overlooked now manifested clearly before him due to his intense focus. Every soul here had died from injury or illness—the long agony and despair of prolonged sickness, or the bewilderment and helplessness of sudden, accidental death. The sight made Lin Rui profoundly uncomfortable. Frowning, he moved forward until a small soul entered his field of vision.

Lin Rui watched the spirit drifting out of a ward. It was unaware that the mark he had placed on Lin Liwen had been severed by Lin Rui, and it seemed intent on following that broken thread toward Lin Liwen. Without a second thought, Lin Rui shot forward, intending to strike it down instantly, scattering its essence to nothingness. Yet, as he met the expressionless little soul face-to-face, for some inexplicable reason, his heart softened.

The tiny soul latched onto the “thread” but immediately fell off the severed end. Confused by what had happened—it spun around a few times like a frustrated fly—it climbed back up again. Climb up, fall down, climb up, fall down… Repeatedly, with complete inability to surrender.

Lin Rui watched for a long time, his brow knitting deeper and deeper…

Zhou Ying’s living room was, as always, a vibrant chaos. The “family” was crammed together, eating dinner and watching television “happily.” Huo’er would generously “take” the choicest chunks of meat from Liu Di’s plate onto its own, and Liu Di would respond by “offering” Huo’er things like bones and fish bones. Watery soups, vegetable scraps, bowls, and plates flew everywhere during the meal. By the time dinner was halfway through, Zhou Ying, who had been quietly eating his portion of vegetarian food, had a bowl overturned on his head, mushrooms dangling from his ears, rice soup dripping down his hair, and steamed bun crusts stuck to his arm. When a large dinner platter crashed heavily onto his head, he merely looked up at his friends and son at the table and said calmly, “Stop messing around, let’s eat.”

Huo’er answered by mimicking the sound of a machine gun with its mouth, simultaneously launching a barrage of walnut-sized fireballs at Liu Di. Liu Di was, naturally, not to be outdone, sending plates and bowls flying from his hands toward Huo’er in a continuous stream.

Finally, the matriarch of the kitchen, Gui’er, made her entrance.

She let out a fierce shout, a flat-bottomed wok in her left hand, a stainless steel spatula in her right, majestic and radiating killing intent. She strode out of the kitchen with steps as firm as stone. After fixing the noisy dining table with a steady gaze, she realized she was being completely ignored. Her authority challenged, her dignity wounded, she roared, swinging her weapons down upon the two main culprits. Hot oil splashed, the steel spatula gleamed coldly, and Liu Di and Huo’er scattered like frightened birds and dogs, tumbling into a mess. Then, under Gui’er’s relentless pursuit, they began to blame each other, pushing the responsibility for disrupting the dining table’s peace and unity entirely onto the other.

Lin Rui walked in to find this very familiar scene.

Since this was nearly every night at Zhou Ying’s house, Lin Rui was unsurprised. He charged into the fray, grabbed Huo’er by the neck, pulling it free, “Huo’er, I need you to do me a favor!” he said, shaking the creature anxiously.

“Are you trying to choke me to death!” Huo’er replied, simultaneously delivering a wing slap to his face.

“Just come with me and do this favor; I’ll give you my high-level warrior ID from the game.”

“Really!” Huo’er’s eyes immediately lit up. If there was any area where Huo’er couldn't match Lin Rui and Liu Di, it was their gaming prowess. Despite spending more online time than Lin Rui, who had school, or Liu Di, who spent his days loafing and indulging, its level never matched theirs. Huo’er once suspected they had stolen high-level accounts, but it knew their accounts were established together with itself. It suspected they had used their software skills to create cheats, but Liu Di might, yet Lin Rui would never possess such a boon without sharing it with him.

Regardless, the prospect of bullying others in the game with a high-level account was intoxicating. Hearing Lin Rui’s offer, Huo’er instantly dropped everything, grabbed Lin Rui, and rushed toward the window, “Let’s go, stop dawdling!”

By the time Zhou Ying looked up to ask where they were going and what they were doing, they were already far in the distance.

“That little menace has finally left. Gui’er, another pot of braised pork, please,” Liu Di ordered contentedly, taking the victor’s stance.

A few heavy thuds sounded—it turned out Gui’er, seeing Huo’er flee the scene, had vented her accumulated fury on the other troublemaker. She repeatedly hammered Liu Di on the head with the flat-bottomed wok before reluctantly muttering and heading back to the kitchen.

Huo’er followed Lin Rui into the hospital and stopped in a specific ward.

On the white hospital bed lay a tiny body, riddled with tubes and hooked up to various machines. At the child’s bedside, besides a woman already drifting into a heavy sleep, there was a faint, small soul hovering, its face utterly blank.

Huo’er circled above the child once. Perhaps due to the long period of unconsciousness, relying entirely on medication for basic needs, the child was skeletal, resembling a poorly crafted wooden puppet. Huo’er curled its lip in disdain, “You called me here just to look at this? This isn’t even edible!” Even though it had just left the dinner table, Huo’er’s thoughts immediately linked back to food.

“Who said you were supposed to eat it?” Lin Rui pointed at the child. “Do me a favor. I want to take him to an amusement park for one ride, but he can’t go by himself. You help me take him.”

“Me?” Huo’er struck a posture suggesting carrying the child, but immediately understood. Lin Rui didn't want it to carry or haul the body; he wanted Huo’er to possess it—to ‘take him’ meant controlling the body to go out. Huo’er scratched its head with its wing. “He’s almost dead. If I possess him, he won’t last twelve hours! He’ll be completely gone! Even Nan Yu won’t be able to save him then. Why don’t you ask Nan Yu to heal him first, and then we go play?”

Though usually capricious, Huo’er’s thinking remained cool and clear in critical moments. If a Bi Fang possessed someone, let alone a half-dead child, even an adult would suffer severe energy depletion and a drastic shortening of lifespan.

Lin Rui shook his head and sighed. “I discussed it with him. He doesn’t want to be healed and live again. He has no mother; his father and stepmother constantly beat him and starve him. He doesn't want to go back to that home; he wants to go to the underworld to find his mother. But he desperately wished to visit an amusement park before he dies, and I can’t help him, so I came to you.”

It turned out the child’s name was Xing Rui. He lived near the amusement park with his father and stepmother, who worked in the city. Yet, he had never had the chance to visit the park once. He could only stand outside the perimeter wall, staring blankly at the Ferris wheel and roller coasters day after day.

Xing Rui’s mother had passed away less than six months after his birth. All his memories were filled with the beatings from his father, stepmother, and grandparents, coupled with hunger, cold, and performing hard labor far exceeding what a child his age should handle. He had few desires beyond avoiding beatings and having enough to eat; his singular wish was to one day enter the amusement park right before his eyes and play there.

Xing Rui’s father never sent him to school, instead making him work in the small shop they owned. Whenever he had rare moments of leisure, Xing Rui would sneak out and gaze his fill at the bustling, lively amusement park nearby. Especially when he saw parents leading their children, a happy, harmonious family unit, he couldn't help but wonder if his own mother, had she lived, would have loved him so dearly? Would he, too, be enjoying the life of schooling and games like other children?

The day the accident happened, he was lingering by the roadside, watching the park as usual, when a group of teenagers, about fifteen or sixteen, walked past. They were dressed eccentrically, their hair dyed in all colors, with cigarettes dangling from their mouths or gum chewing. Xing Rui usually kept his head down and avoided such obvious delinquents, having suffered at their hands before. But that day, one boy in the group suddenly turned back and said, “Damn, why run when you see us? Do I eat people? Come here, brother will take you to the amusement park.” This remark was casual; the teenager didn't even pause his steps before walking across the street. But Xing Rui was both startled and overjoyed. Without thinking twice, he quickly followed them.

He said he would take him inside to play—he could finally enter the park! Xing Rui didn’t even consider whether it was real or fake; his only thought was: I’m going into the amusement park, I’m going to the amusement park! Thus, he didn't notice the traffic light at the intersection had changed, nor did he notice a car rapidly approaching…

Lin Rui reached out and pulled all the tubes and lines from the child’s body, explaining to Huo’er, “That idiot cousin of mine came to this hospital to visit a sick classmate that day. He was shouting without any civic sense down the corridor, saying he’d take ‘Little Rui’ to the amusement park. Hmph. He pretended to be the good big brother right outside this room, making sure this little guy overheard.” Lin Rui pointed to the small ghost. “This kid was already at the end of his rope, just lingering waiting for death. Hearing that sentence about taking Little Rui to the amusement park, his dissipating soul suddenly coalesced, transforming into this… lifeform? Or should I call it a living ghost?”

Huo’er shook its head. There were specialized terms for these things, but it was normal that creatures of their limited knowledge couldn't recall them.

Lin Rui waved dismissively. “Then he latched onto that idiot, nagging him in his dreams every night to fulfill his promise.”

Huo’er knew that possessing the body would kill the child, but that was unimportant. Since Lin Rui no longer cared if this little thing harassed and threatened his cousin Lin Liwen, Huo’er certainly didn't mind helping. What was the life or death of a child compared to a high-level ID waiting for it?

“Then hurry up and act, stop dawdling,” Huo’er urged. It lunged toward the body, which now barely resembled anything alive. A flash of brilliant light erupted, and the ‘child’ quickly stood up, seemingly restored. It stretched its legs and arms, tried jumping to the floor, and took a few steps, muttering, “Two legs are really hard to balance; it’s awkward to walk. Fox, how do you manage with four legs all the time?”

Lin Rui shrugged. This was clearly a matter of personal perspective, not worth arguing over.

The formerly withered frame rapidly began to change, transforming in an instant into a cute, chubby form with rosy skin. Huo’er’s voice emanated from the child’s mouth: “Hurry and call him over!”

Lin Rui sighed and spoke to the ghost. “You still have time to regret this. If you return to your body, Huo’er can take you to play to your heart’s content, but within twelve hours—half a day—you will die. If you regret it now, I can heal your injuries, and you still have a chance to live, grow up, and there will be plenty of opportunities for the amusement park later.” As he spoke, Lin Rui’s tone was persuasive; he truly hoped the spirit would choose the latter option.

The little ghost didn't hesitate and immediately declared, “I want to go to the amusement park.”

So, Lin Rui pushed the ghost toward the body, and the spirit instantly merged with it.

The amusement park at night was bustling; the crowds were no less dense than during the day. Lin Rui and the “Huo’er-in-a-body” held hands and were immediately swallowed by the throng.

“Roller coaster, bumper cars, Crazy Mouse, flume ride…” Huo’er favored the high-thrill rides. But it had overestimated the resilience of the human body. Two legs weren’t just hard to balance when walking; after the roller coaster, it couldn’t find its “center.” Its legs below the thighs felt weak, like walking on cotton, and its head was buzzing, making everything look double.

“Huo’er, Huo’er, be strong. If you feel sick, just throw up.” The “Huo’er” collapsed onto a bench, groaning, while Lin Rui patted its back and massaged its chest beside him, offering loud encouragement and comfort.

“I’m dying… I want ice cream…”

“Coming right up…” Lin Rui flashed over to the ice cream stand like lightning and returned just as fast, not only bringing back a tub of ice cream but also snatching up a dozen skewers of barbecue.

“What kind of damn body is this!” Huo’er snatched the ice cream from Lin Rui’s hand and poured it down its throat before it had the strength to speak. It snatched the barbecue skewers and wolfed them down, but immediately cried out, “Ow…”—the freshly roasted treats had burned a layer of skin off its lips. Having just possessed the human form, it hadn't fused with the body as perfectly as Lin Rui, nor did it have any protective spells. It was burned by the extreme heat it usually generated—likely the first and last time in its life it would be “scorched.”

“I hate the human body!” Huo’er declared furiously. “When I can transform into a human later, I will never do it! No wings, no body heat (it usually ignored any temperature below one hundred degrees), no feathers, and stuck with two feet! Ugly and impractical, an underdeveloped, low-grade animal!”

Lin Rui looked at Huo’er’s sputtering and asked, “I heard you lot naturally turn human when you mature?”

This was common knowledge—spirit beasts could transform into humans after reaching adulthood and undergoing a period of cultivation. But now Lin Rui wondered what Huo’er would look like as a human. And if its personality transformed along with its shape, meaning it could be seen by humans as wantonly as it was now, what kind of trouble would it cause…

But that was at least six or seven hundred years away. By then, it would be grown, and its temperament should have… Lin Rui couldn't be sure how much mental growth a Nine-Tailed Fox would achieve in six or seven centuries. Forget it, he decided to deal with things as they came, refusing to ponder questions too complex even for a fox's mind.

“I don’t want to be human at all, a low-grade animal,” Huo’er retorted while grabbing the tail of a passing Maltese dog, making the little creature yelp. The dog's owner turned back and glared at the ill-mannered, mischievous child. Huo’er was unaffected by the look of censure, returning a gaze that dared the owner to do something about it.

“I think you’re enjoying yourself quite a bit,” Lin Rui grumbled.

Huo’er resentfully watched the small dog walk away and asked, “What did you just say?”

“Nothing, let’s go play again.”

Lin Rui pulled Huo’er, and they rushed toward the rides again. Huo’er’s complaints were completely disproportionate to its enthusiasm for playing. Despite constantly droning on about the inconveniences and impracticality of the human body, it insisted on riding every single attraction at least twice until Lin Rui held up an empty pouch. “We’re out of money.” Only then did it stop.

Previously, when the two visited the park, they were either invisible or had the place to themselves at night; they never used money. This time, they learned that visiting the amusement park was quite an expensive affair. This became new evidence against the inferiority of the human body, and it started nagging Lin Rui again.

Lin Rui, however, was talking to himself. “That idiot Lin Liwen brought me here several times. Did he spend all his pocket money on this?” He, too, noticed for the first time how much money it cost to enjoy these things. The idiot Lin Liwen was surprisingly generous.

Huo’er’s entire concept of money was: if it’s gone, go rob some; if you get it, spend it; if you can’t rob any, rob things that need buying. So, after thinking for a moment, it immediately reached a conclusion: “Let’s go rob a bank, then we can keep playing.”

Lin Rui didn't move and sighed. “Time is almost up. Is the body still holding up?”

Huo’er wiggled its legs. “It started feeling wrong earlier. If I come out now, he won’t last much longer. Come on, let’s play a bit more before he dies…” It had become somewhat addicted to the inconvenient human body—though it would never admit it out loud.

“Then come out. I want to talk to him a bit more,” Lin Rui whispered.

Huo’er scratched its head, reluctantly agreeing, “Oh.”

The moment the fire-bird flew out of the boy’s body, the child, who had been immersed in the joy of playing, immediately felt the sensation of falling from heaven to hell. The physical pain and discomfort began to assault his soul again, causing him to moan incessantly while lying on the bench, gasping for air.

Lin Rui sighed and cast a minor spell on him—nothing more than alleviating the immediate agony. He was powerless against the physical decay and the pressing approach of death.

“The amusement park was so fun, so beautiful… so fun, so beautiful…” The boy lay there, his eyes shining, repeating only those two phrases.

“You’re about to die…”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt so much now…” This child’s age meant he didn’t quite grasp death, but he greatly feared pain.

“I want to ask you something.”

“Mmm?”

“I am a demon.”

“I figured it out. You have nine tails.”

“Huo’er and I just possessed a boy, just like I possessed you. But I don’t plan on leaving, because I love my mother very much—the mother of this body. I want to ask you: if you die, and a demon like Huo’er possesses your body and goes to your home to take over your life, if you knew about it, would you hate him?”

“Take over my life?” the boy asked blankly. “Would he like being beaten, going hungry, and doing heavy labor?”

“No, I mean, if a demon occupies your body after you die, would you hate him?”

“I don’t know. I’m dead anyway, so I probably wouldn’t hate him?”

“But that was originally your mother, your cousin; the person they cared for and loved was supposed to be you, but now I’ve taken that place?”

“I don’t have a mother, and I don’t have a cousin.”

“If you did have them…”

“I don’t know…”

Lin Rui questioned for a long time without grasping the key point, frantically organizing his thoughts and words, when the boy's breathing grew fainter and fainter, until finally, his body slumped softly to the side, and a small, indistinct soul drifted out of his form. Huo'er leaned in for a look. "Good, at least there’s some residual consciousness; it’s not just a fragment of a spirit. It’s probably because I attached myself to him—this is my doing. This way, he might have a chance to reincarnate, perhaps leading a better life next time."

Lin Rui snatched the ghost, shouting, "Tell me quickly that you won't hate me! You won't hate me for taking your mother!"

The little ghost nodded repeatedly, terrified by the outcry.

Lin Rui slumped where he sat, then suddenly asked Huo'er, "Huo'er, what if I weren't Lin Rui?"

"Huh? Who are you turning into?"

"What if I’m actually the Nine-Tailed Fox, Bai Yiming? What if I’m not Lin Rui at all..."

"Are you changing your name?"

"I... my mother doesn't know... if she knew..."

"Knew what? That you’re a fox? No big deal, I’ll take responsibility for washing her brain later!"

"Huo'er, I love my mother deeply, and I love that idiot Lin Liwen, and my grandmother, my aunt, my uncles..."

"I knew you only said you didn't like them out of spite," Huo'er preened, pleased with her own talent for reading people.

"I am Lin Rui. I am Lin Rui... I don't want to lose all of this..." Lin Rui murmured to himself, shielding his eyes. After a long silence, he finally handed the soul over to the waiting ghost messenger and picked up the corpse himself.

"He agreed to it, I didn't kill him," Huo'er quickly cleared her involvement first. "Where are you taking the body?"

"I’ll return the body to the hospital. I'll take this soul to Nan Yu. She’s been a doctor for so long, she has connections with the Black and White Impermanence; she can arrange a better outcome for him."

"Then I'll go with you to see Nan Yu. Hey, this child agreed willingly; I didn't kill him," Huo'er grumbled again, clearly bothered. Every yao had its own code of conduct; just as Liu Di never preyed on women or children, Huo'er never targeted children for hunting. Although the boy’s death was an inevitable outcome of severe injuries, the most direct cause was the power of its possession, which a human couldn't withstand. Thus, Huo'er felt compelled to explain repeatedly.

"I know, I know."

"You begged me to possess him. You are the main reason he died."

"I know, I know."

"If anyone should be blamed, it should be you."

"I know..."

"It wasn't my fault..."

"I know..."

"..."

Lin Liwen strode in, looking refreshed. He patted Lin Rui’s head and asked Lin Qingping for permission, "Second Aunt, it's my day off today. Can I take Little Rui to the amusement park?"

Lin Qingping smiled and nodded. She knew she spent too little time with her only son, but thankfully Liwen was sensible and always found ways to coax Little Rui, taking him to play and cheer him up. "Liwen, make sure you’re back for dinner, okay?"

"I know, I love Second Aunt's stir-fry the most. Little Ghost, are you ready?" Seeing Lin Rui still smiling, unmoving, he urged him on.

After a long moment, Lin Rui looked up hesitantly at Lin Qingping and said, "I, I... the other classmates go with their mothers..."

Lin Qingping put down what she was doing and asked, "Little Rui, do you want your mother to go with you?"

Lin Rui shuffled his feet, saying nothing, but the expression in his eyes clearly conveyed that he desperately wanted to go with his mother.

Lin Qingping sighed. Little Rui was too well-behaved; he understood the burdens of adults and never made demands or caused worry. Lin Qingping was already somewhat concerned that the child was too understanding and might be depriving himself. Today, having finally heard a request from him, even though she still had housework unfinished, Lin Qingping set aside her tasks. "Alright, today Mom will go with Little Rui for the whole day, okay?"

Lin Rui let out a cheer and rushed forward to hug his mother.

As the mother and son prepared to leave, Lin Liwen hurriedly asked, "Hey, hey, what about me?"

Lin Rui turned back and flashed him a sweet smile. "You can stay home and look after the house for us."