GRMFBS CH12

Zhan Yan’s Taobao page was now filled with all sorts of random items like cinnabar, lightning-struck wood, and peachwood swords.

Zhan Suiru glanced at it, her eyes stinging. “Stop buying nonsense. I have a jar of Eight-Treasure Cinnabar someone gave me. I’ll give it to you.”

“Jie, how do you even have that?” Zhan Yan was shocked.

His sister was in the art world, with a wide network of contacts, and often pulled out strange things—like the bottle of miracle ointment she gave him a few days ago, supposedly a secret family recipe from a client.

But Eight-Treasure Cinnabar was a bit over the top. What kind of Daoist would be into her collection of eye-searing art pieces?

“Hey! That’s called postmodern art!” Zhan Suiru grabbed the last two buns from his plate and went upstairs to fetch the cinnabar.

Zhan Yan didn’t voice his inner complaints, but he wasn’t great at hiding his thoughts from his family. Zhan Suiru immediately saw through him.

It was frustrating—she could always tell when he was silently roasting her.

Back in her room, Zhan Suiru took out a stone mortar and began preparing the cinnabar. She worked with precision, her fingertips glowing faintly as she processed the cinnabar, gemstones, and medicinal herbs. Under the influence of supernatural energy, the materials were quickly refined and mixed.

The current environment wasn’t very stable. Although the chaotic spirit-inviting games like “Spirit Writing” rarely succeeded in summoning ghosts, there was always a chance. Zhan Yan had said he wouldn’t play, but college students were unpredictable. If his dormmates dragged him into it, it might still affect him.

Speaking of which, the triggered protective barrier she’d given Zhan Yan before probably needed maintenance.

As her thoughts wandered, her hands didn’t falter. In under ten minutes, she had packed the Eight-Treasure Cinnabar into a small ceramic box.

She carried the box downstairs and found Zhan Yan loading frozen buns and marinated meat into an insulated container. His hair fell to the side, covering half his face.

“Your hair’s getting long. I’ll cut it for you in a couple of days,” Zhan Suiru said. “Come here and sit down. I’ll tie it up for you today.”

Zhan Yan’s hair was naturally wavy and grew quickly. If he kept it short, he’d need frequent trips to the barber—something he found both troublesome and unappealing. He preferred having family cut his hair. When their parents were busy, it was usually Zhan Suiru who did it.

So now, Zhan Yan kept his hair slightly longer to avoid frequent trims, tying it up when it grew out.

Zhan Yan closed the insulated container and obediently sat down. He raised his left hand to his ear, revealing a small hair tie on his wrist. Attached to it was a sky-blue stone, resembling a crystal. It was a gift from Zhan Suiru. When his hair was short, he wore it as a bracelet; when it was long, he used it to tie his hair.

Zhan Suiru slid the hair tie off his wrist and inspected it. The protective barrier hidden inside seemed fine.

She slipped the tie onto her wrist, picked up a comb, and gently brushed through Zhan Yan’s wavy hair.

The curls looked delicate but were prone to tangling. With her nimble and steady hands, Zhan Suiru quickly smoothed them out and tied them into a small ponytail at the back of his head.

Satisfied with her handiwork, she adjusted the position of the blue crystal stone.

Her little brother had a handsome face—he looked obedient with his hair down and dashing with it tied up. Of course, her styling skills deserved some credit.

“All done.” She handed him the ceramic box. “When you go, dab a bit on each palm and your forehead.”

Zhan Yan asked, “Is it really that simple to use? Are you sure your client is reliable?”

Zhan Suiru glared at him. “Don’t return it to me!”

Zhan Yan quickly pocketed the box and grabbed the insulated container. “I’m off to work.”

The gossip system slowly chimed in:

[You have obtained a box of premium Eight-Treasure Cinnabar, but you don’t seem to appreciate its value.]

“I’ll shut you down if you keep mocking me!”

Zhan Jinli had been silently watching from the side. The Eight-Treasure Cinnabar Zhan Suiru gave was indeed authentic—he could feel the intense yang energy seeping through the box’s seams. This type of specially prepared cinnabar didn’t require any talismanic inscriptions to be effective. However, the material and time costs for producing such cinnabar were significant, likely involving secret techniques.

He pulled out his phone and typed a message to Zhan Suiru: [Who gave you the cinnabar?]

Zhan Suiru glanced at him and replied: [A client.]

Zhan Jinli: [Don’t lie to me.]

He didn’t know much about art, but he was sure that cultivators wouldn’t share the same aesthetic taste as Zhan Suiru’s so-called “artworks.” Even if one or two had poor taste, they wouldn’t trade something as valuable as Eight-Treasure Cinnabar for them.

He suspected his sister, with her questionable aesthetic sense, might have encountered some trouble, and someone gave her the cinnabar for protection.

But that didn’t entirely make sense—protective items were usually something else. Why cinnabar?

Zhan Suiru smirked and typed: [How do you know I’m lying?]

Zhan Jinli replied expressionlessly: [Anyone who shares your aesthetic wouldn’t gift something as traditional as cinnabar.]

Zhan Suiru snorted: [My taste is ahead of its time. I helped that client, and we’re on good terms. What do you know?]

Zhan Jinli: [If something happens, tell me.]

He actually wanted to stamp a Ghost King’s Mark on every family member, but the others weren’t as obedient as Yanyan. For instance, Zhan Suiru never carried the phone charms he gave her!

“Got it,” Zhan Suiru replied dismissively.

Big Brother had the heart of an elder sibling. But when it came to real problems, counting on this socially anxious shut-in was less reliable than relying on Yanyan. Things had been chaotic lately, and she wanted to equip the family with some triggered protective charms. Dad and Mom weren’t into wearing jewelry, and she couldn’t convince them otherwise. As for Zhan Jinli, he claimed wearing accessories interfered with his cake-making!

What a hassle. She had to rack her brain to figure out how to arm them. Yanyan was still the most cooperative.

Zhan Yan, carrying the insulated box, headed to Ji Yueming’s company to find Luo Luoluo.

Luo Luoluo’s name sounded cute, but she was very capable.

“Xiao Yan, come here.” She took the insulated box, set it aside, and pulled Zhan Yan over to help. “A foreign collaborator came to the company. He wants to tour around. Are you free? If you are, could you show him around?”

Zhan Yan didn’t have any plans for the weekend. The ghost helping him with English homework wasn’t in a rush, so he agreed. “How’s his Chinese?”

Luo Luoluo replied, “He’s a Spaniard named Matthias. He speaks English but with a heavy accent, and it’s hard to understand. He also knows a few words of Chinese.”

Zhan Yan understood. When he was younger, he watched a Spanish drama and, in a burst of teenage enthusiasm, decided to ditch English and study Spanish instead. Luckily, his family had the means to find him a tutor. He even took a minor language test for his college entrance exam. His English wasn’t great, but his Spanish was fluent.

Judging by Matthias’ language skills and lack of a translator, he wasn’t here for business negotiations. If Luo-jie trusted Zhan Yan to entertain him, it meant the business side of things was settled. Matthias likely just wanted to explore.

Matthias was sitting in the reception room, gracefully wearing headphones and watching a tablet, his thick brows slightly furrowed, his gray-green eyes intensely focused.

Zhan Yan saw this and thought he had misjudged. This man, after all, was a company boss, using his spare time to work.

Luo Luoluo introduced them. Matthias stood up, accidentally yanking the headphone cable. The tablet’s sound immediately blared:

“Young Master! The Young Madam has been hanging on the city wall for three days!”

The Chinese was crystal clear.

Zhan Yan: …

Luo Luoluo: …

The calmest person in the room turned out to be Matthias. He muted the tablet and, with imperfect Chinese, apologized to the two of them, smiling brightly.

Knowing she couldn’t rely on the language-challenged Luo Luoluo, Zhan Yan stepped in. “Would you like to see the city wall? There’s an ancient section near Yunjin City.”

Matthias’s gray-green eyes showed a trace of confusion, but he replied, “I’m interested in ancient city walls.”

Zhan Yan glanced at the tablet. It was playing a melodramatic historical romance drama. Ling Yuteng’s blank yet supposedly intense face was on screen, trying to project a mix of calm, anger, and overwhelming handsomeness. The result was a bizarrely stiff expression as he asked, “Does she know her mistake?”

The lip movement matched “one-two-three-four-five.”

“You’re watching a drama? Can you understand it?” Zhan Yan asked.

“No,” Matthias shook his head. “I only know a little Chinese.”

Then why watch melodramatic dramas so intently?

Matthias paused the screen, pointing at the male lead. “I want clothes like his.”

Oh. Zhan Yan got it. Interested in historical costumes, huh?

Using this as a conversation starter, he quickly struck up a rapport.

Luo Luoluo silently gave a mental thumbs-up to her little boss. His charm was no joke! She left Matthias with Zhan Yan and took the insulated box to deliver food to the “Tianshi”

As they chatted, Zhan Yan discovered Matthias’ interest in historical costumes was rather peculiar. He didn’t want to wear them for photos, collect them, admire artifacts, or watch performances. He was looking for a specific style of costume with a clear purpose.

Matthias could point out which parts of the male lead’s outfit matched what he wanted and which didn’t, explaining how it should be altered.

But the male lead’s costume was a “mishmash” style, impossible to trace. Zhan Yan simply pulled up educational posts from Hanfu bloggers, showing him different styles from each dynasty.

Eventually, Matthias selected an outfit from the Ming dynasty, saying it was the closest match.

Zhan Yan grew curious. “Why are you looking for this kind of clothing? Have you seen it before?”

Matthias nodded and then shook his head. “I saw it in a dream.”

According to Matthias, he’d recently been having many similar dreams. The events in the dreams varied, but one man always appeared. This man looked like an Asian with black hair and black eyes, wearing the outfit Matthias was searching for.

“When did you start having these dreams?” Zhan Yan asked.

“Over the past few months,” Matthias replied. After thinking for a moment, he added, “Since I arrived here. I dream about him irregularly—sometimes every day, sometimes with gaps of a few days.”

“What did he say?” Zhan Yan pressed further.

“I couldn’t understand him.” Matthias seemed frustrated. “Every time he sees me, he looks anxious. But I can’t understand your language.”

“Any part you could understand?”

Matthias did know a few words of Chinese.

Matthias’ expression grew hazy. “A few days ago, I think I understood a bit.”

“What did he say?” Zhan Yan asked.

Matthias replied, “He said, ‘Hello. Can you speak Chinese?’”

Speaking English?

Zhan Yan had an odd association. He opened the “Gossip System”:

[The ghost Tian Youcheng finally found his debtor and excitedly appeared in their dreams.]

[The ghost Tian Youcheng realized his debtor had reincarnated as a foreigner who couldn’t understand him.]

[The ghost Tian Youcheng decided to learn English.]