A debt-ridden tycoon inherits a luxury mansion, but the tenants are not human.

The sounds were very chaotic, and Chen Mo, enduring his headache, tried to catch any fragments about Liu Fengchun.

Finally, he saw a picture.

On the stage late at night, the oil lamp flickered.

Liu Fengchun was putting on makeup. In the mirror was a handsome but pale face. Behind him stood a person wearing a long robe, with his back to the mirror. Only one hand could be seen resting on Liu Fengchun's shoulder.

On the index finger of that hand, there was a black jade thumb ring.

Liu Fengchun smiled at himself in the mirror, his lips twitching. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Chen Mo couldn't hear him.

Then the scene shifts, and a white silk ribbon hangs from above the stage. Liu Fengchun stands on tiptoe and slowly slips it over his neck.

wrong.

Chen Mo suddenly opened his eyes.

The hand wearing the black jade thumb ring gently pushed Liu Fengchun from behind.

murder.

Liu Fengchun's death was a murder; he was pushed into that time cycle.

And the person who pushed him... Chen Mo recalled the man in the Zhongshan suit he had just seen on the street. Although he couldn't see the face clearly, the posture and movement of the hand were exactly the same.

Just then, the seven-star pattern on the bronze door to the basement suddenly lit up.

The light shimmered with a dark red glow.

A soft knocking sound came from inside the door.

Boom, boom, boom.

Slow and rhythmic.

Chen Mo took a step back. He sensed something awakening behind the door, something that resonated with Liu Fengchun's obsession.

What disturbed him even more was that, through his persistent whispers, he vaguely heard a voice behind the door.

"...The time is almost here..."

"...The stage is about to open..."

"...The audience has all taken their seats..."

"...We're just waiting for...Du Liniang...to take the stage..."

The sound stopped abruptly.

The bronze gate returned to calm, but Chen Mo knew that what had just happened was not an illusion. Liu Fengchun's obsession was affecting the old house and even the Seven Star Dragon Locking Formation.

If this matter cannot be resolved by July 15th, the consequences may be more than just the deduction of lifespan.

He hurried back to the main room and opened the Book of Obsessions.

The ink on Liu Fengchun's page became a darker red, even starting to wriggle slightly, and at the bottom edge, a line of small characters appeared:

[Hint: To resolve the actor's obsession, three things are needed—the last mirror he saw before his death, the unused rouge in his makeup box, and the tears of the first audience member.]

Mirror, rouge, tears.

Chen Mo noted down these three items and was about to close the booklet when he suddenly noticed that below the first line of small print, another line of even smaller print slowly appeared, the handwriting very messy:

Be careful of the mirror; he might see you in it.

Chen Mo felt a chill on the back of his neck.

He turned around abruptly.

His figure was reflected in the old-fashioned dressing mirror in the center of the main room, as well as the empty room behind him.

But just as he turned his head, a figure seemed to flash past in the mirror behind him—wearing a theatrical costume, with flowing sleeves.

Upon closer inspection, all he could see was his own reflection.

Liu Xiaoyu's voice came from the second floor.

"Landlord? Are you alright? Um... I think I just heard you talking..."

Chen Mo tried his best to keep his voice steady.

"It's okay, go to sleep early. We'll go out and find those three things tomorrow."

He turned off the lights in the main room, but left a small, ever-burning lamp on the altar—a custom reserved for the other unseen tenants in the old house.

Besides him and Liu Xiaoyu, there were other souls at No. 17 Qingshi Lane who had not yet achieved their obsessions, watching quietly from the shadows.

As Chen Mo went upstairs, he glanced at the night sky outside the window.

On the tenth day of the seventh lunar month, the moon was not yet full, and it had a hazy yellowish hue.

On the edge of the moon, he could vaguely see three stars aligned in a straight line, emitting a dark red light.

Three of the seven stars in the Seven Star Dragon Locking Formation are: Tianquan, Yuheng, and Yaoguang.

A conjunction of three stars is an ominous sign.

The spot corresponding to the Yaoguang position is the former site of Qingyun Theater.

Chen Mo returned to his room, but did not go to sleep.

He sat at his desk and opened the notebook left by his third great-uncle, Chen Banshan.

The notes contain many records about formations, feng shui, and yin-yang techniques, but in the last few pages, the handwriting becomes extremely messy:

...They don't want immortality, they want replacement...to replace the thing locked in the formation with the souls of the entire city...The Seven Stars aren't for locking the dragon, they're for raising it...When the dragon awakens, everyone will die...

...The Liu family opera troupe was the first sacrifice...Liu Fengchun's cyclical time was not an accident, but part of the ritual...They were waiting for the fifteenth of July, waiting for the yin energy to be at its peak, to open a gap in the cycle...

...I can't say anymore...They're in the mirror...They keep watching...

This note ends here.

Chen Mo closed the notebook, his palms already covered in cold sweat.

Now he understands.

Liu Fengchun's obsession is part of a sacrificial ritual that has lasted for more than seventy years. The recurrence on the fifteenth of July every year is to supply power to the formation, or rather, to feed the thing locked in the formation.

This year, however, the time seems to have come.

On the fifteenth of July, Liu Fengchun's time cycle may be completely opened, and what will be released at that time is probably not just the soul of an actor.

Chen Mo looked out the window. The dim moonlight shone into the room, casting strange shadows on the floor.

The shadow slowly crept and gradually formed an outline—a human figure dressed in theatrical costume with long, flowing sleeves.

The shadow bowed its head in his direction and then disappeared into the darkness.

The gesture conveyed the message: I'm waiting for you.

I'm waiting for you to come and sing this final act with me.

We're waiting for you to open this door that's been closed for over seventy years.

Suppressing his shock, Chen Mo took out the array master's compass left behind by Shen Mo.

The compass needle spun wildly, finally trembling as it pointed northwest—to the former site of the Qingyun Theater.

A dark red rust stain seeped from the end of the pointer.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

The caller ID showed an unknown number.

Chen Mo hesitated for a moment before answering the call.

A male voice came from the other end of the phone, gentle in tone, but deep and cold.

"Mr. Chen, I heard you're looking for Liu Fengchun's things. Coincidentally, I happen to have a mirror here, the last dressing mirror Liu Fengchun used before he died. Would you be interested in taking a look?"

Chen Mo gripped his phone tightly.

"Who are you?"

The other person chuckled softly.

"Someone who wants to help you. After all, Liu Fengchun's play can't be performed by one person. You need a partner and an audience, and I... can provide you with an audience seat."

"condition?"

The other party paused for a moment.

"It's so refreshing to talk to smart people. The conditions are simple: on the night of the fifteenth of July, do nothing but perform the opera. Don't try to destroy anything or meddle in other people's business. After the opera, take Liu Fengchun's soul with you. Don't ask about anything else."

"What if I disagree?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a sigh.

"Then you'll have to find the mirror, rouge, and tears yourself. But I'm warning you, time is running out, and... Liu Fengchun's mirror isn't just reflecting his face anymore."

The phone hangs up.

Chen Mo put down his phone and walked to the window.

Across the street, next to the abandoned newsstand, stood the man from the phone call, waving at him—the same man in the Zhongshan suit he'd seen that evening.

The man took something out of his pocket and waved it in the moonlight.

It was a bronze mirror about the size of a palm, its surface gleaming with a faint green light.

Even from dozens of meters away, Chen Mo could feel the chilling aura emanating from the mirror.

The man put the mirror back into his arms, turned around, and disappeared into the night.

Chen Mo stood still for a long time.

He knew he was being drawn into a scheme, with Liu Fengchun as the protagonist and him as the supporting character, while many eyes were watching from the shadows.

This performance is a must, but what will happen after it's over is anyone's guess.

The only clues were the mirror, the box of rouge, and the tear.

And, behind the mirror, a pair of eyes that have been watching for over seventy years.

The moon outside the window dimmed a little more.

There are four days left until the eleventh day of the seventh lunar month.