Red Veils in the Sunken Temple
By @john1208
I was just trying to brew my morning tea when the kitchen faucet spat out black river mud and my television congratulated me on my starring role in a supernatural snuff show. Now, I’m standing knee-deep in the flooded halls of the Wading-Crane Temple, forced to play the groom in a cursed ghost marriage. The broadcast’s rules are absolute: Do not look at the floating paper servants. Drink the burial wine. Never lift the bride’s veil before the third toll of the drowned bell. Disobey, and the spectral audience tears you apart. I’m a proud Yanzhou exorcism dropout; I don’t take orders from glitchy announcer voices or dead in-laws. Instead of cowering, I decide to rewrite the script. I shamelessly flirt with my terrifying, sorrow-bound bride, wiping the bloody tears from her pale cheeks and coaxing a blush from her icy lips. Luo Qinghe, a scholar’s daughter drowned centuries ago, soon realizes her groom is more dangerous than her captors. As she begins shielding me from the show's horrific purges, our cursed romance blossoms. But when the timid historian guiding our survival group turns out to be the broadcast's sadistic orchestrator, can our bond survive the final act?
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