HEIFEIGU -Chapter 72

The Unlucky Ghost looked aggrievedly at Xie Jixing.

Though he didn’t speak, his reluctance was obvious.

Xie Jixing patted the ghost’s head.

“Go, child. You should have a proper ghost life now.”

“He loves devouring ghosts, right? From now on, don’t sleep at night. Roam the film city, act out your skills, be a wandering soul.”

The Unlucky Ghost took out his personal little fleece blanket from his luggage, reluctant to leave.

“No sleep? I even brought my blanket!”

Xie Jixing confiscated the blanket and led the ghost to the window.

“Go, Unlucky Ghost!”

The ghost looked back at Sister Yue pitifully.

Sister Yue spread her ghostly aura hands:

“Don’t look at me. If I go floating, who devours whom is unpredictable.”

Fine, fine, so ghosts bully ghosts, huh.

The Unlucky Ghost, deprived of his blanket, angrily floated out the window to perform as a wandering soul.

Sister Yue, treating him like a little brother and worrying about him wandering alone, floated out as well and sat atop the roof, keeping watch.

Inside, except for the broken mirror, everything returned to normal. Xie Jixing changed into the bedding he had brought, slipped under the covers, and dialed Qian Shuyun.

“Teacher Xie?” Qian Shuyun’s voice was clear, obviously still awake. “Up so late?”

“Boss Qian,” Xie Jixing turned over, “Have you ever stayed in Room 714 at Xile Hotel?”

Qian Shuyun’s voice darkened immediately: “The crew assigned you to 714?”

Clearly, he knew what had happened there.

“That’s not important…” Xie Jixing murmured, about to continue.

He interrupted: “It is important. Didn’t you bring Xiao Zhong? Have him rebook your room immediately.”

Xie Jixing had no choice and briefly explained the room-change with Huai Xinhou.

“So is 714 safe now?” Qian Shuyun still focused on the room itself.

“Safe,” Xie Jixing yawned lightly. “Those two groups of ghosts fought, and both ran off.”

“But from the mirror shards, I felt a ghostly aura very similar to yours.”

“Do you want to come see?”

“Okay,” his tone normalized upon hearing it was safe. “I’ll wrap up my tasks and come over.”

“If there’s anything abnormal, don’t stay there again.”

“Got it~” Xie Jixing, sleepy, dragged out his words.

“Then you rest first…”

Before he finished, the sound of regular breathing came through.

Xie Jixing had actually fallen asleep on the phone.

Sleeping so soundly alone in a room that just hosted ghosts—if Meng Zezhou knew, he’d surely exclaim: Stepfather’s got skills!

Qian Shuyun shook his head and chuckled softly, whispering “Good night” into the receiver.

The muffled “Mm~” on the other end likely came from the cheek touching the screen. The call ended.

All night, Xie Jixing slept wonderfully. In the morning, when he drew the curtains, he saw the Unlucky Ghost with heavy dark circles still stuck to the glass.

Xie Jixing had never seen so much resentment in him.

But thinking about it, if he had worked a full night shift and the project progress was still zero, he might be even more resentful than a vengeful ghost.

No matter human or ghost, a shift of work can spike the resentment level.

The Unlucky Ghost, forced back on duty after a few months of ghostly gap, floated into the room and collapsed on his little blanket for a nap.

At this rate, he might surpass Sister Yue in resentment value soon.

---

The script reading took place in the hotel’s first-floor conference room. Xie Jixing ate the crew’s buffet breakfast, full of energy, and had the front desk girl replace the broken full-length mirror in his room.

“It shattered on its own yesterday, the shards are still there. You can collect evidence,” Xie Jixing paused, then asked the question that mattered most: “I won’t have to pay for this, right?”

Seriously? In a room filled with ghost stories, where the mirror exploded on its own and the horror atmosphere was at max, your only concern is whether you have to pay?!

“No need, no need,” the front desk girl hurriedly waved her hands. “The mirror will be replaced for free.”

Having seen countless arrogant, quirky celebrities, the polite and obedient Xie Jixing drew a pang of affection. “Should I tell the manager… get you a new room?”

“No!” Not changing the room—he planned to use this one as a clue to investigate the issues with Qian Shuyun.

He gave the front desk girl a grateful smile. “Thanks, Miss. This room is very comfortable. I slept very well yesterday.”

Watching him leave, the front desk murmured: Seems normal… not scared stiff or possessed. Maybe this little handsome guy is just brave and naive.

Today’s script reading had two goals: getting familiar with the script and letting the lead actors get to know each other.

Currently, aside from the male lead Zhao Chaoran, all other leads were present.

The director, surnamed Yang, in his fifties, had specialized in martial arts films before and was fairly well-known. But with martial arts waning, he had switched to TV dramas.

The screenwriter, surnamed Li, in her forties, bookish and elegant, with long black hair and simple, new-Chinese attire, looked like a refined lady.

“Director Yang, Teacher Li, Director Yang, Teacher Li, Director Yang, Teacher Li…”

In crowded situations, remembering everyone’s names and titles was extremely difficult.

Looking at the room full of people, Xie Jixing silently began to get a headache as he walked in to find a seat, quietly reciting names under his breath.

“Xiao Xie,” someone called him, a very gentle female voice. “Come sit over here.”

Xie Jixing looked up and thought, Wow, what a cool lady.

The one calling him was Jiang Yueli, the lead actress of this drama.

But it seemed they didn’t know each other.

Xie Jixing, slightly suspicious but obedient, walked over. “Hello, Sister Jiang.”

Once seated, Jiang Yueli quietly asked him, “You’re probably wondering why I called you, right?”

Xie Jixing nodded obediently.

“It’s Boss Qian’s instruction. You haven’t looked at the company profile yet, right? I’m also from Tingyun Entertainment, so you could say I’m your senior sister in the same company.”

“Hello, Sister Jiang,” Xie Jixing said with a soft, sweet smile, the little red mole on his face making it even gentler.

The more Jiang Yueli looked at this junior, the more she liked him. Since she had already accepted this favor, she decided to take extra care of him. “Do you see the one on the left?”

“That’s the second female lead, Zhang Xiaoxiao. She’s probably about your age, but she started as a child star, so you should call her Teacher Zhang.”

Xie Jixing greeted politely, “Hello, Teacher Zhang!”

With Jiang Yueli introducing him, he naturally received smiles and warm responses.

“The one next to her is the second male lead, Wei Tingquan. You have a lot of scenes with him, so go greet him properly later.”

They greeted each other from a distance.

Once all the main cast had arrived, the screenwriter began the first script reading.

The drama had a very large framework, set in an alternate-history Tang Dynasty, telling the story of an empire’s rise and fall.

Xie Jixing’s role in this drama was the young prince of the empire, Li Chengxu.

This little prince didn’t like studying; he loved martial arts. He often snuck out of the palace to chase cats, tease dogs, and get into fights, even finding a master in the martial world.

But his two elder brothers—Zhao Chaoran as the eldest prince Li Chengye, and Wei Tingquan as the third prince Li Shengran—both loved him dearly.

As the empire underwent political upheaval, the now grown princes began scheming for the throne. The once harmonious relationship between Li Chengye and Li Shengran grew distant due to their ambitions, and they even began to oppose each other directly.

Caught between the two, Li Chengxu was deeply troubled. He couldn’t understand why his brothers seemed like completely different people.

They both wanted to destroy each other, even using him as a pawn in their schemes.

Disillusioned, Li Chengxu completely left the court and roamed the martial world.

The situation grew increasingly tense: internal unrest was unresolved, and external threats emerged.

The northern border faced invasions, and the empire had already lost three cities. A prince was needed to lead troops to pacify the northern region.

However, with the emperor aging, the adult princes all wanted to stay in the capital to manage their own influence; none wanted to fight on the frontlines.

In the end, the eldest and third princes reluctantly agreed to assign the battle to Li Chengxu.

Originally intending to live freely as a wandering prince, Li Chengxu did not refuse. A flourishing nation required responsibility. As a royal, supported by his people, he should fight for them. Clad in armor before his twentieth birthday, he led troops to the northern frontier.

The battle was extremely difficult. In the end, the young prince secured the safety of his people and sent victory news to the capital. Yet he could never return home, remaining forever in the snowbound north at the age of twenty.

Thus, Xie Jixing’s part in the drama was essentially wrapped up.

In this drama, he had no romantic storyline. Aside from martial arts scenes, most of his interactions were familial with the male leads.

The character’s overall tone was tragic: from youthful bravado to dying on the battlefield. It inevitably reminded Xie Jixing of his previous life.

After the table read, he felt somewhat heavyhearted.

That evening, the crew arranged a dinner to help everyone get to know each other, leaving the entire afternoon free.

That wouldn’t do—having nothing to do would only let him overthink.

Xie Jixing immediately grabbed Huai Xinhou, who was about to leave. “Brother Huai, Brother Huai.”

“What’s up, Little Xie?” Thinking about the room change, Huai Xinhou was ready to help with anything. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Very well, slept like a log, didn’t recognize the bed at all.”

“I want to ask—you mentioned this film base used to be a prison and execution ground. Are there any records or a museum? I want to get that sense of war.”

“There’s a small archive, hard to find. I visited it before filming a Republican-era drama. It’s quite heavy. If you want, I can give you the address.”

The archive was not far from the hotel; about a 15-minute taxi ride. Xie Jixing pulled out a baseball cap and black-framed glasses, completed his disguise, and headed out.

Kids this motivated are rare! Huai Xinhou thought, realizing he also needed to study the script and memorize lines.

He played the Left Chancellor, with lengthy, passionate speeches that demanded strong command of dialogue.

Walking down the corridor, he quietly recited lines. At the end, outside room 714, a broken dressing mirror and shards of glass were being carried out.

The cleaning lady muttered in annoyance, “See? I said seal it off, but they insisted on making money. Another one broke last night. If someone got hurt, who knows how much they’d have to pay?”

Huai Xinhou: ???

Last night? It exploded?

Slept soundly?

Xie Jixing’s sleep quality was apparently terrifyingly good!