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

But at that moment, something unexpected happened; the sound of thumping footsteps came from downstairs in the ruins.

It wasn't just one person, it was many people, their footsteps were chaotic and heavy, accompanied by the scraping sound of metal dragging on the ground.

Chen Mo's spiritual vision penetrated the floors and saw seven or eight people coming up from the second floor. They were all wearing black raincoats and pale masks with simple Big Dipper patterns drawn on them.

It is the Longevity Society.

The leader carried a lantern, which was not made of paper but stretched with human skin, and a ghostly green flame burned inside.

In the firelight, one can see that the surface of the lantern is covered with densely packed incantations.

The lantern bearer spoke, his voice hoarse and grating, "Zhou Wenyuan, long time no see. Of all the tomb keepers, are you the only one still clinging to that ridiculous balance?"

Zhou Wenyuan turned to face them, his umbrella already open again. "Zhao Qi, you've arrived earlier than I expected."

"The earlier you arrive, the better you can eat while it's hot," the man called Zhao Qi laughed. "We, the Changsheng Society, have been eyeing Liu Fengchun's obsessive energy for thirty years. Today, we've finally reached the crucial moment of the cycle reset. Thank you for helping us lure out this new landlord."

Chen Mo's back tensed.

Was Zhou Wenyuan using him as bait?

"Don't misunderstand," Zhou Wenyuan said without turning his head, as if he knew what Chen Mo was thinking. "I do need you to trigger the cycle, but I don't intend to sell you to the Longevity Society. Zhao Qi, I'm protecting this person today. You can leave now and I can pretend I didn't see anything."

"You're going to protect him?" Zhao Qi laughed. "Zhou Wenyuan, your master Zhou Huaiyuan was supported by our Longevity Society to rise to power. To put it bluntly, your line of tomb guardians are just dogs we raised. Now the dogs want to bite their masters?"

Before he finished speaking, the six men in black behind him raised their hands simultaneously.

Each person swung out a chain woven from some kind of black vine, with hooks at the ends, the hooks engraved with twisted runes.

Six chains shot towards Zhou Wenyuan.

Zhou Wenyuan neither dodged nor avoided the attack; he simply turned the umbrella slightly.

The Big Dipper pattern on the umbrella surface suddenly lit up with a silver light.

The seven stars lit up one by one. With each star that lit up, an invisible ripple spread outwards. The chains made a piercing friction sound the moment they touched the ripples, and then flew back in unison.

But this was the moment Zhao Qi had been waiting for.

He suddenly raised the lantern high, and the eerie green flames surged. In the flames, the chains that had been flying backward suddenly disintegrated in mid-air, turning into countless black flying insects that buzzed and swarmed toward the stage. Their target was not Zhou Wenyuan, but the barrier and Chen Mo behind it.

"He's going to break the cycle!" Zhou Wenyuan's expression changed, and the umbrella spun rapidly, the silver light turning into a light curtain to block the flying insects.

But it's too late.

The first batch of flying insects has already crashed into the barrier.

The barrier shook violently, rippling outwards, and at the very moment the barrier shook, the interior of the stage space began to collapse.

The stage space began to collapse, the timeline became disordered, and Chen Mo saw the audience below the stage disappear one by one. The resonant light band between the makeup mirror and the bronze mirror began to twist and break. Liu Fengchun in the mirror let out a silent scream. His face flashed wildly on the mirror surface, sometimes intact and sometimes broken.

The most terrifying thing was that Chen Mo felt his body was also changing.

On the back of her right hand, a faint theatrical makeup appeared—the red eyeshadow shone through her skin.

I started hallucinating; it was the lyrics of a ghost singing, one line after another, growing louder and louder:

"...I hate the heavens, I envy your beautiful days..."

"...The moon is dark and the stars are dim..."

"...A wisp of her fragrant soul dissipates with the wind..."

"Chen Mo!" Zhou Wenyuan's shout pierced the barrier, "Use the yin energy of the old house to protect your mind! The cycle is about to backfire!"

Chen Mo bit his tongue, and the sharp pain brought him to his senses for a moment.

He tried to resonate with the tenants and connect them to No. 17 Qing Shi Lane, but the distance was too far, and the connection was so weak that it almost broke down.

At this critical moment, Su Jingwan, who had been facing away from the stage, suddenly turned around.

She looked at Chen Mo, her eyes filled with sadness, apology, and a sense of resolve.

Then she raised her hand and gently tossed the handkerchief embroidered with the words "Springtime" onto the stage.

The handkerchief passed through the barrier and landed at Chen Mo's feet.

The moment the handkerchief touched the ground, the entire stage space suddenly froze.

The flying insects froze in mid-air, the collapse process paused, and Liu Fengchun in the mirror was also frozen in a sorrowful look back.

Everything around them seemed to freeze in time, except for Chen Mo and Su Jingwan below the stage.

Su Jingwan nodded slightly to him, her lips moving as she uttered three words.

Chen Mo understood the lip reading: Help him.

Then her figure began to fade away.

But before she completely disappeared, she raised her left hand and pointed below the stage—pointing deep into the ground.

The spiritual vision followed the direction she pointed and penetrated downwards.

Chen Mo saw it.

About fifteen meters below the stage, buried underground, is a stone coffin. The coffin lid is engraved with the Big Dipper constellation, and in the Yao Guang position of the Big Dipper, there is a fist-sized black jade stone.

Inside the jade, a tear is sealed.

It is crystal clear and glows faintly even in the dark.

That was Su Jingwan's tear, the tear that fell on Liu Fengchun's face more than seventy years ago. Later, Zhou Huaiyuan used an array to seal it underground, making it a cyclical tear anchor.

Around the stone coffin were six similar coffins arranged in a ring. Each coffin lid was inlaid with a jade stone of a different color, forming the other six stars of the Big Dipper.

The seven anchor points of the Seven Star Dragon Locking Formation were actually seven coffins.

What was locked inside that coffin was...

Before Chen Mo could see clearly, the frozen time suddenly resumed its flow.

The flying insects swarmed again, and the barrier made a crisp sound like shattering glass. Cracks had appeared on Zhou Wenyuan's umbrella, and the silver light had dimmed considerably.

Zhao Qi of the Longevity Society laughed wildly, tossing the human skin lantern high into the air. The lantern exploded in mid-air, turning into a shower of green flames.

Chen Mo knew that if he didn't do something, everyone would die here tonight.

He bent down and picked up the handkerchief.

It feels warm and smooth to the touch; the silky surface still retains the warmth and fragrance of more than seventy years ago. In the center of the handkerchief, where the words "Springtime" are embroidered, there is a very faint damp stain—a tear stain.

Chen Mo pressed the handkerchief against the bronze mirror.

The moment the mirror touched the tear stain, Liu Fengchun's image suddenly became ten times clearer.

He reached out from the mirror—a pale, long hand painted with nail polish—and gently grasped Chen Mo's wrist through the mirror.

A vast and sorrowful torrent of emotions surged into Chen Mo's body along that hand.

This is not an attack, but a trust.

Liu Fengchun was conveying all his memories and obsessions from the past seventy years, as well as his unspoken love for Su Jingwan.

At the same time, Chen Mo's ability to whisper obsessions automatically reached its limit.

He heard Liu Fengchun's last words:

"...Jingwan, don't cry..."

"...I originally intended to finish singing this entire play..."

"...If there is an afterlife..."

"...No, there is no afterlife..."

"...I only wish your tears wouldn't be shed for me..."

Fragments of memory exploded in Chen Mo's mind:

On a spring night in 1949, under the oil lamp backstage, Liu Fengchun was putting on makeup in front of the mirror. The mirror reflected the figure of Su Jingwan, who had secretly slipped into the backstage area. She handed him the box of rouge and whispered, "After this performance, I'll go with you."

As the drums and gongs sounded, he stepped onto the stage. In the first row below, she, dressed in a moon-white cheongsam, smiled at him.

As he sang the most climax of the song, he suddenly felt a strong force pushing him from behind—not his body, but his soul.

The moment his soul left his body, he saw a person standing in the shadows backstage, wearing a long robe and a black jade thumb ring on his finger.

He tried to shout, but no sound came out.

His soul was forcibly trapped in the stage space, watching his body collapse, watching Su Jingwan rush onto the stage, watching her hug his body and cry, watching that tear fall on his face.

Then it's an endless loop.

Every year on the fifteenth of July, the soul awakens and relives everything from that night.

She put on makeup, went on stage, was pushed halfway through her song, and watched her cry in the audience.

Once, and again, seventy-four times.

Until tonight.

Until this young man named Chen Mo, carrying his bronze mirror, stepped onto this stage.

In the instant the torrent of memories ended, Liu Fengchun's core obsession shifted from finishing the last act of the play to ensuring that her tears were not shed in vain.

He wanted Su Jingwan to feel at ease, to know that he had received that tear, that he had always remembered it, and that he had never resented her.

The way to break the cycle is not to finish the performance, but to let that tear anchor truly land and merge with Su Jingwan's lingering obsession.

Chen Mo opened his eyes.

The bronze mirror in his hand was already covered with cracks, and Liu Fengchun's hand was still holding his wrist, but that hand was becoming transparent.

"I... understand," Chen Mo said softly, addressing Liu Fengchun in the mirror, and also to the vanished Su Jingwan. "I will make your tears fall where they should fall."

He raised his other hand, bit his index finger, and used his blood to draw a simple symbol on the back of the bronze mirror—not the array from Shen Mo's notes, but a symbol he drew intuitively, representing release and peace.

The moment Fu Cheng was completed, the bronze mirror shattered completely.

The bronze mirror did not shatter; instead, it weathered into countless points of light.

The points of light converged to form Liu Fengchun's complete soul form—wearing Du Liniang's full attire, with long flowing sleeves and a calm expression.

He bowed deeply to Chen Mo.

Then he turned around, facing the spot where Su Jingwan had once sat, and began to sing:

"...So the flowers are blooming everywhere, a riot of colors!"

This note, filled with relief and farewell, is the final act that can finally be sung in its entirety after more than seventy years of waiting.

The fighting outside the barrier has ceased.

Zhou Wenyuan, Zhao Qi of the Longevity Society, and all the men in black all looked toward the stage.

Liu Fengchun sang and danced on stage, his flowing sleeves fluttering, his movements graceful. There was no accompaniment, but every word and every note he sang had its own rhythm. It was the last song that incorporated seventy-four years of unwavering devotion.

When the song reached the line "All this is given to broken wells and crumbling walls," the entire stage space began to collapse. But this time, it was a natural dissipation after fulfilling its mission. The wooden planks turned into specks of light, the curtains turned into ashes inch by inch, and the audience seats below the stage also collapsed and disappeared.

In the end, only Liu Fengchun remained standing in the void, singing the last line:

"...Whose courtyard enjoys such delightful pleasures?"

As the last words faded, he bowed to Chen Mo again, then looked towards the direction of the ground. There, the tear sealed in the jade suddenly broke through the jade, pierced through the fifteen-meter-thick layer of soil, flew into the air, and hovered in front of him.

The glistening tears reflected his and Su Jingwan's appearance in their youth.

Liu Fengchun reached out her hand, and a tear fell into his palm, slowly seeping in.

His soul began to emit a soft white light, and within the light, another figure could be vaguely seen coalescing beside him—Su Jingwan, dressed in a moon-white cheongsam, smiled at him and reached out to take his arm.

The two smiled at each other, then joined hands, transforming into two intertwined beams of light that soared into the sky and disappeared into the depths of the rainy night clouds.

The loop has been broken.

The stage space completely disappeared, and Chen Mo stood once again on the cement ground of the unfinished building.

The bronze mirror in his hand was reduced to a few fragments, but those fragments were no longer cold and gloomy; instead, they carried a warm and gentle feeling.

The barrier disappeared.

Zhou Wenyuan's umbrella was tattered, but he was still standing.

Across from him, Zhao Qi of the Longevity Society had a livid face, and the human skin lantern in his hand had gone out, leaving only a charred mess.

Zhao Qi trembled all over. "You...you actually...Where did Liu Fengchun's obsession energy go?"

"Let him be," Zhou Wenyuan said calmly. "That was never something you were supposed to take anyway."

"Very well, very well," Zhao Qi sneered. "Zhou Wenyuan, you'll regret this. The cycle of the Yao Guang position is gone, the formation is unbalanced. Let's see how you explain this to the other tomb guardians!"

With a wave of his hand, he led his men away in a disheveled manner.

Only Chen Mo and Zhou Wenyuan remained in the ruins, along with the gradually stopping rain.

After a long silence, Zhou Wenyuan spoke: "Thank you."

"Thank me for what?" Chen Mo looked at him. "You wanted to use me to break the cycle from the beginning, didn't you?"

"I wanted to use him, but I also really wanted to save Liu Fengchun," Zhou Wenyuan said with a bitter smile. "My master regretted it before he died. He said he shouldn't have accepted the commission from the Longevity Society and shouldn't have dragged those two young people into it. When he passed the ring to me, he said: 'Wenyuan, if one day someone can break this cycle, let him break it. We'll figure out a way to deal with the formation later.'"

"So that's why you helped me?"

"Half of it is my master's last wish, and half is my own choice," Zhou Wen-yuan said, taking a small porcelain bottle from his pocket and tossing it to Chen Mo. "Here is Su Wenjuan's contact information and address. The rouge is with her; you can go get it. As for the tears... you've already seen them."

Chen Mo caught the porcelain bottle. "Was that tear sealed underground by your master?"

"Yes, that was the anchor of the cycle, which had to be sealed off, otherwise the cycle would spread indefinitely," Zhou Wenyuan paused, "but now that the cycle has been broken, the tear anchor has also been released naturally, and Liu Fengchun and Su Jingwan's obsessions have merged and gone to where they were meant to go."

"What about the formation? What will happen if the cycle at the Yao Guang position stops?"

Zhou Wenyuan remained silent for a long time before saying, "It will loosen, the pressure on the other six anchor points will increase, and the Changsheng Society will definitely take the opportunity to make a move. What follows... may be very difficult."

He looked at Chen Mo, "But I have a feeling that perhaps the formation itself should not continue to exist."

After saying that, he turned and left, his desolate figure quickly disappearing into the shadows of the ruins.

Chen Mo stood there for a long time, until the first light of dawn appeared in the east.

He opened his palm, where lay the handkerchief embroidered with the words "Springtime".

The handkerchief was completely dry, the tear stains had disappeared, and only the luster of the silk threads shone faintly in the morning light.

The red from theatrical makeup on the back of his right hand had not completely faded.

A faint pink mark was left behind.

The loop has been broken, but some things remain.

Beneath the city's calm surface, a new crisis is quietly brewing.

He had to go back first to tell Liu Xiaoyu and Di Ling that they had found a clue about Rouge.