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In the intricate world of cultivation, where the boundary between the living and the dead is a delicate veil, children are often believed to be more attuned to the presence of spirits. What adults dismiss as childish fantasies or imaginary friends are, in many cases, the restless souls of the departed, yearning for recognition or closure. Rarely do parents confront this unsettling reality, attributing such occurrences to the fertile imaginations of their young ones.
Lan Wangji, the esteemed leader of the Gusu Lan Clan, had long sought a sanctuary to escape the haunting memories of the war against the Wen Clan. The secluded countryside estate he found seemed to be an ideal refuge—a place where he could find peace and rebuild his shattered spirit. The estate, nestled among ancient trees and tranquil lakes, came at an astonishingly low price, which he attributed to the remoteness of the location. Along with him came his husband and A-Yuan, a symbol of hope and renewal amidst the devastation.
Lan Wangji found immense joy in watching A-Yuan and Wei Wuxan explore the vast garden, their laughter ringing through the air like the sweetest melody. The little boy's innocent delight was a balm to Lan Wangji's soul, a reminder of simpler, happier times. A-Yuan's favourite activity was playing with a wooden tea set, an expensive cherished gift from Lan Wangji, which mirrored their shared love for serene tea-drinking moments.
One late afternoon, as the sun dipped behind the dense foliage, casting eerie shadows through the estate's grand windows, Lan Wangji discovered A-Yuan alone in the garden, engaged in a lively conversation with an unseen companion. The boy's animated gestures and joyous laughter were endearing, but there was something unsettling about the scene. Lan Wangji, though curious, dismissed it as a child's innocent play.
Days turned into weeks, and A-Yuan's interactions with his invisible friend grew more frequent and intense. The little boy would often speak in hushed tones, as if sharing secrets, and his laughter would echo through the empty hallways, sending chills down Lan Wangji's spine. One evening, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Lan Wangji gently asked A-Yuan about his mysterious friend.
With wide, innocent eyes, A-Yuan described a boy, just his age, who played and laughed with him. The description was so vivid, so detailed, that Lan Wangji felt an inexplicable chill. The boy seemed almost too real to be imaginary. His unease grew when, one night, A-Yuan spoke words that would haunt him forever.
"Wangji-gege," A-Yuan said solemnly, his eyes filled with an unsettling calm, "the boy’s head is bleeding."
Lan Wangji's heart skipped a beat. He scanned the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner, but there was nothing there. Trying to maintain his composure, he assured A-Yuan it was nothing to worry about, yet the child's calm demeanour and matter-of-fact statement gnawed at him. This was not a typical imaginary friend; this was a spirit, a ghost.
Haunted by unease, Lan Wangji began researching the history of the estate in the Library Pavillon. He delved into old records from the Room of Forbidden Books, spoke with local elders, and uncovered a chilling tale. Decades ago, during a time of great upheaval, a young boy had been brutally murdered on the property. His head had been severely injured, and his spirit, bound by the trauma of his violent death, had never found peace.
With this revelation, the serene estate transformed into a place of dread. Each creak of the floorboards, each whisper of the wind, seemed infused with malevolence. Cold spots appeared throughout the house, and objects moved on their own, often in the dead of night. The oppressive atmosphere grew heavier, and Lan Wangji could feel the boy's presence growing stronger, more restless. The peaceful haven he had hoped for was now a prison for a tormented soul.
Desperate to find a solution by himself, Lan Wangji sought the counsel of his dear husband Wei Wuxian, the notorious Yiling Patriarch, renowned for his ability to commune with spirits. Wei Wuxian stayed quiet, his usual playful demeanour was replaced with solemnity as he assessed the situation. The estate's oppressive energy was palpable, and Wei Wuxian's expression grew grave as he sensed the depth of the boy's torment.
"The spirit is bound here by the trauma of his death," Wei Wuxian explained, his voice low and serious. "He needs to be set free."
With Wei Wuxian's guidance, they prepared for a ritual to communicate with the boy. The air grew thick with anticipation as they set up the ritual space, and Wei Wuxian played the Chenqing, his mournful melody reaching out to the boy’s spirit. The atmosphere grew tense, the energy in the room charged with the presence of the supernatural.
The first night of the ritual, they gathered in the main hall of the estate. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. Wei Wuxian began to play the Chenqing, the haunting notes echoing through the silent hall. Lan Wangji stood by A-Yuan, who clutched his hand tightly, his wide eyes filled with both fear and curiosity.
As Wei Wuxian's melody filled the room, a cold wind swept through the hall, extinguishing some of the candles. The temperature plummeted, and the oppressive energy thickened. Slowly, the outline of a young boy began to materialise in the center of the room. His figure was translucent, his head bloodied, and his eyes filled with pain and confusion.
Lan Wangji’s heart ached at the sight, and he stepped forward, his voice gentle yet firm. "We are here to help you," Lan Wangji said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "You don’t have to suffer anymore. Tell us what happened."
The boy's spirit wavered, as if caught between two worlds. He began to speak, his voice a whisper that seemed to come from the depths of the past. He recounted his death with chilling clarity—the betrayal, the violence, the overwhelming pain. Lan Wangji listened, his heart heavy with sorrow and empathy.
As the boy’s tale unfolded, Wei Wuxian's melody shifted, becoming a soothing lullaby, a bridge to peace. The boy’s spirit, drawn by the promise of release, moved closer. Lan Wangji continued to speak words of comfort, assuring the boy that justice would be served and that he would find peace in the afterlife.
The ritual reached its climax, and the room was filled with an intense light. The boy's spirit began to dissolve, his features softening, the pain in his eyes replaced with gratitude. With one final, lingering look at A-Yuan and Lan Wangji, the spirit faded into the light, his torment finally lifted.
The oppressive atmosphere lifted, and the estate returned to its serene state. Lan Wangji and A-Yuan could finally breathe easy, knowing they had helped a tormented soul find rest. The experience had changed them both, a stark reminder of the unseen world and the lingering consequences of past tragedies.
As they settled back into their routines, the estate truly became a haven. The shadows that once haunted the corners of their home were replaced with light and warmth. Lan Wangji found solace in the quiet moments of tea-drinking with A-Yuan, grateful for the peace they had restored in their home. And in those moments, he couldn't help but feel a deep connection to the boy they had helped—a connection that transcended time and space, a testament to the enduring power of compassion and justice in the world of cultivation.
However, their peace was short-lived. The ghost of the boy might have found release, but the estate held more secrets, more spirits bound by their tragic pasts. One night, as Lan Wangji was preparing to retire, a chilling voice echoed through the halls. "Why did you leave me?"
Lan Wangji's heart froze. The voice was not A-Yuan's, and it was filled with a sorrow that seemed to seep into the very walls of the estate. He hurried to A-Yuan's room, finding the boy asleep, undisturbed. But the voice continued, growing more desperate, more insistent.
Desperate to understand the new haunting, Lan Wangji directly reached out to Wei Wuxian's help, and decided to not wait any longer. His husband looked at him, his expression grave. "There is more to this estate than we realised," Wei Wuxian said, his voice heavy with foreboding. "The boy was not the only one who suffered here."
They began another investigation, delving deeper into the history of the estate. They discovered that the property had once been the site of a brutal massacre, where many innocent lives had been lost. The spirits of those who had died violent deaths were bound to the estate, their suffering creating an oppressive atmosphere that even the release of the boy’s spirit could not dispel.
The rituals to communicate with the new spirits were even more intense. Each night, Wei Wuxian played the Chenqing, calling out to the restless souls. The air grew colder, the shadows deeper, as the spirits began to manifest. Their appearances were more grotesque, their pain and anger palpable. Each spirit had a story, a tale of betrayal, violence, and death.
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian worked tirelessly, night after night, helping each spirit find peace. The process was draining, both physically and emotionally. The spirits were reluctant to leave, their anger and sorrow anchoring them to the estate. But with each successful release, the atmosphere of the estate lightened, the oppressive energy gradually dissipating.
One particularly harrowing night, they encountered the spirit of a woman, her face twisted with grief and rage. She had been a mother, killed along with her children. Her pain was so intense that it took all of Wei Wuxian's skill and Lan Wangji's compassion to soothe her. They promised her justice, vowing to remember her and her children's tragic fate.
As the rituals continued, A-Yuan remained a constant source of light and hope. His innocence and joy were a reminder of why they were fighting so hard to bring peace to the estate. Yet, even A-Yuan was not immune to the oppressive energy. He began to have nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night crying for the spirits he saw.
His parents' resolve only strengthened. They could not allow the spirits' suffering to affect A-Yuan. Each night, they held the boy close, whispering words of comfort, assuring him that they were helping the spirits find peace. A-Yuan’s trust in them and his courage inspired them to keep going, no matter how difficult the task became.
As the final spirit was released, the estate seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The oppressive energy was gone, replaced by a calm serenity. The once-haunted estate was now truly a haven, a place of peace and light. Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan could finally live without the constant presence of suffering and sorrow.
The experience had deeply changed the married couple. They had faced the darkness of the past, helped spirits find peace, and protected A-Yuan from the shadows that had haunted their home. The connection they felt to the spirits they had helped was a reminder of the enduring power of compassion and justice. The estate, once a place of hidden horrors, was now a symbol of hope and renewal.
The young parents and A-Yuan continued to live in the estate, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. The boy’s laughter once again filled the halls alongside Wei Wuxian’s, a testament to the peace they had fought so hard to achieve. In the quiet moments of tea-drinking and peaceful contemplation, Lan Wangji found solace, knowing they had brought light to a place once shrouded in darkness.
And in those serene moments, he couldn't help but feel a deep connection to the spirits they had helped—a connection that transcended time and space, a testament to the enduring power of compassion and justice in the world of cultivation. The whispers of the haunted estate had been silenced, replaced by the harmonious melodies of peace and renewal.