Burning Love Letters at Midnight, the Tsundere Ghost Wife Haunts My Dreams

Chapter 94

Burning Love Letters at Midnight, the Tsundere Ghost Wife Haunts My Dreams

After going bankrupt and losing my job as a customer service rep, I turned to late-night livestreams crafting paper effigies—only to become an underworld sensation. But my newfound fame attracted a horde of possessive ghost brides. “The last set of immortal-binding ropes has been bought by our top patron, sis~” “Freshly woven paper-red silk, so strong even the King of Hell can’t break free❤” “Huh? You ladies want to… test them yourselves? W-Wait—” Now, tied up like a dumpling in a paper wedding chamber, I finally understand— They were never obsessed with my paper crafts… but with me. The qipao-clad ghost presses her bone hairpin to my throat: “The flowers you fold belong only to me.” The crimson bride drapes her veil over my eyes: “The wedding gowns you burn are mine alone to wear.” “The paper dolls you cut…” Their icy fingers trace my face in a hungry chorus, “…must bear only our likeness, forever❤” “You ghosts only ever think about yourselves!” “Lies—our thoughts are full of you!”

Is this chapter an error? Report it immediately so it can be fixed as soon as possible!

“ᯒᮕᮣᮤᮙᮞᮕᮔ ᮞᮟᮤ ᮤᮟ ᮑᮜᮜ ᮣᮥᮢᮦᮙᮦᮕᯍ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮖᮢᮟᮧᮞᮕᮔ ᮔᮕᮕᮠᮜᮩᮼ ᯑᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮒᮕ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮢᮕᮡᮥᮙᮢᮕᮣ ᮣᮑᮓᮢᮙᮖᮙᮓᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮟᮝᮕ ᮠᮕᮟᮠᮜᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮟᮤᮘᮕᮢᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮕᮣᮓᮑᮠᮕᯍ

ᯝᮢ ᮠᮕᮢᮘᮑᮠᮣᮼᮼᮼ ᮝᮑᮞᮩ ᮠᮕᮟᮠᮜᮕ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮕᮑᮓᮘ ᮤᮙᮝᮕᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮞᮥᮝᮒᮕᮢ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮕᮣᮓᮑᮠᮕ ᮙᮣ ᮔᮕᮣᮤᮙᮞᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮕ ᮜᮙᮝᮙᮤᮕᮔᯍ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮙᮞᮖᮟᮢᮝᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮖᮥᮜᮜᮩ ᮕᮨᮠᮜᮑᮙᮞ ᮙᮤᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮢᮟᮥᮗᮘᮜᮩ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮕᮑᮞᮙᮞᮗᮼ ᯏᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮜᮜᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮙᮞᮖᮟᮢᮝᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮕᮝᮠᮘᮑᮣᮙ᮪ᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮓᮜᮕᮑᮢ ᮙᮤ ᮒᮩ ᮠᮜᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ ᮗᮑᮝᮕᮣᮼ

“ᯏ ᮤᮟᮤᮑᮜ ᮟᮖ ᮖᮙᮦᮕ ᮗᮑᮝᮕᮣᮺ ᮢᮑᮞᮔᮟᮝ ᮟᮢᮔᮕᮢᮺ ᮢᮑᮞᮔᮟᮝ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣᮼ ᯐᮥᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮟᮢᮕ ᮠᮢᮙᮞᮓᮙᮠᮜᮕ ᮢᮕᮝᮑᮙᮞᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕᯈ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮖᮙᮦᮕ ᮗᮑᮝᮕᮣ ᮑᮢᮕ ᯑᮑᮤ᮵ᮣ ᯑᮢᮑᮔᮜᮕᮺ ᯖᮟᮠᮣᮓᮟᮤᮓᮘᮺ ᮃᮘᮥᮤᮤᮜᮕᮓᮟᮓᮛ ᯙᮙᮓᮛᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᯐᮕᮑᮞᮒᮑᮗ ᮄᮟᮣᮣᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯘᮥᮝᮠ ᮂᮟᮠᮕᮼ”

“ᮄᮘᮕᮩ᮵ᮢᮕ ᮑᮜᮜ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮢᮕᮞ᮵ᮣ ᮗᮑᮝᮕᮣᮼ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮜᮟᮟᮛᮕᮔ ᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮙᮞᮖᮟᮢᮝᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮙᮞ ᮖᮢᮟᮞᮤ ᮟᮖ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮘᮕᮜᮠ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮝᮥᮢᮝᮥᮢ ᮤᮟ ᮘᮕᮢᮣᮕᮜᮖᮼ

“ᮃᮠᮕᮓᮙᮑᮜ ᮞᮟᮤᮕᮯ ᯔᮑᮙᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᯑᮑᮤ᮵ᮣ ᯑᮢᮑᮔᮜᮕ ᮧᮙᮜᮜ ᮢᮕᮣᮥᮜᮤ ᮙᮞ ᮖᮙᮞᮗᮕᮢᮣ ᮒᮕᮙᮞᮗ ᮓᮥᮤ ᮟᮖᮖᮼ”

“ᯔᮑᮙᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᯖᮟᮠᮣᮓᮟᮤᮓᮘ ᮧᮙᮜᮜ ᮢᮕᮣᮥᮜᮤ ᮙᮞ ᮖᮑᮜᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮙᮞᮤᮟ ᮑ ᮔᮕᮕᮠ ᮠᮙᮤ ᮖᮥᮜᮜ ᮟᮖ ᮒᮜᮑᮔᮕᮣᮼ”

“ᮇᮘᮕᮞ ᮛᮙᮓᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮘᮥᮤᮤᮜᮕᮓᮟᮓᮛᮺ ᮙᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮘᮥᮤᮤᮜᮕᮓᮟᮓᮛ ᮜᮑᮞᮔᮣᮺ ᮩᮟᮥᮢ ᮘᮕᮑᮔ ᮧᮙᮜᮜ ᮖᮑᮜᮜᮼ”

“ᮇᮘᮕᮞ ᮠᮜᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ ᯐᮕᮑᮞᮒᮑᮗ ᮄᮟᮣᮣᮺ ᮑᮞᮩᮟᮞᮕ ᮘᮙᮤ ᮧᮙᮜᮜ ᮔᮙᮕ ᮙᮞᮣᮤᮑᮞᮤᮜᮩᮼ”

“ᯗᮖ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮣᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮞᮥᮢᮣᮕᮢᮩ ᮢᮘᮩᮝᮕ ᮙᮞᮓᮟᮢᮢᮕᮓᮤᮜᮩ ᮧᮘᮙᮜᮕ ᮚᮥᮝᮠ ᮢᮟᮠᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮟᮠᮕᮻᮣᮧᮙᮞᮗᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮠᮕᮕᮔ ᮧᮙᮜᮜ ᮗᮕᮤ ᮖᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮖᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢᮼ ᯔᮑᮙᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᮚᮥᮝᮠ ᮢᮟᮠᮕ ᮙᮣ ᮞᮟᮤ ᮖᮑᮤᮑᮜᯉ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮞᮕᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮣᮤᮑᮢᮤ ᮟᮦᮕᮢᮼ ᯖᮟᮧᮕᮦᮕᮢᮺ ᮙᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮟᮠᮕᮻᮣᮧᮙᮞᮗᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮠᮕᮕᮔ ᮙᮣ ᮤᮟᮟ ᮖᮑᮣᮤ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮓᮑᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮛᮕᮕᮠ ᮥᮠ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮘᮩᮤᮘᮝᮺ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮝᮙᮗᮘᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮧᮘᮙᮠᮠᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮔᮕᮑᮤᮘᮼ”

“ᮀᮟᮣᮣᮙᮒᮜᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᯗᮤᮕᮝᮣ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᯈ ᮇᮙᮞᮔᮻᮥᮠ ᯔᮢᮟᮗᮺ ᯓᮝᮒᮢᮟᮙᮔᮕᮢᮕᮔ ᯐᮕᮑᮞᮒᮑᮗᮼ”

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮙᮞᮖᮟᮢᮝᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮑᮒᮢᮥᮠᮤᮜᮩ ᮕᮞᮔᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮕᮢᮕᮼ

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮖᮕᮜᮤ ᮑ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮜ ᮢᮥᮞ ᮔᮟᮧᮞ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮣᮠᮙᮞᮕᮼ ᯏᮜᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮣᮥᮓᮘ ᮑᮞ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮤᮢᮑᮓᮕᮑᮒᮜᮕ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣᮺ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮣᮤᮙᮜᮜ ᮖᮢᮑᮥᮗᮘᮤ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮔᮑᮞᮗᮕᮢᮼ

ᮄᮟ ᮒᮕ ᮘᮟᮞᮕᮣᮤᮺ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮧᮑᮣᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮤᮟᮟ ᮧᮟᮢᮢᮙᮕᮔᮼ ᯏᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮜᮜᮺ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮠᮥᮢᮠᮟᮣᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᮤᮢᮙᮠ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮕᮑᮢᮞ ᮓᮟᮝᮝᮙᮣᮣᮙᮟᮞᮼ

ᮃᮘᮕ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮞᮕᮕᮔᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮖᮙᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮼ ᯏᮣ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮺ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮔᮕᮖᮙᮞᮙᮤᮕᮜᮩ ᮑᮦᮟᮙᮔ ᮙᮤ ᮙᮖ ᮠᮟᮣᮣᮙᮒᮜᮕᮼ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮢᮕᮑᮣᮟᮞ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮜᮟᮟᮛᮕᮔ ᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᮙᮞᮖᮟᮢᮝᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮙᮞ ᮓᮑᮣᮕᮼ

“ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞᮼᮼᮼ”

ᯘᮥᮣᮤ ᮑᮣ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮓᮜᮟᮣᮕᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮜᮑᮠᮤᮟᮠᮺ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮃᮘᮙ ᮈᮙᮑᮞᮗᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮑᮜᮢᮕᮑᮔᮩ ᮣᮑᮤ ᮔᮟᮧᮞ ᮒᮕᮣᮙᮔᮕ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮟᮥᮤ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮞᮟᮤᮙᮓᮙᮞᮗᮼ

“ᮇᮘᮑᮤ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮜᮟᮟᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮤᯍ ᮉᮟᮥ᮵ᮢᮕ ᮣᮟ ᮖᮟᮓᮥᮣᮕᮔᮼᮼᮼ ᮄᮘᮕ ᮜᮙᮦᮕᮣᮤᮢᮕᮑᮝ ᮤᮙᮝᮕ ᮙᮣ ᮟᮦᮕᮢᮺ ᮙᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮤᮙᮝᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮣᮜᮕᮕᮠᮼ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮞᮟᮤᮙᮓᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ᮵ᮣ ᮕᮨᮠᮢᮕᮣᮣᮙᮟᮞ ᮣᮕᮕᮝᮕᮔ ᮑ ᮒᮙᮤ ᮟᮖᮖᮼ

“ᮇᮘᮑᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮧᮢᮟᮞᮗᯍ ᮇᮕ ᮕᮑᮢᮞᮕᮔ ᮞᮕᮑᮢᮜᮩ ᮤᮕᮞ ᮤᮘᮟᮥᮣᮑᮞᮔ ᮩᮥᮑᮞ ᮤᮟᮞᮙᮗᮘᮤᮼ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮕᮨᮓᮙᮤᮕᮔᮜᮩ ᮤᮑᮜᮜᮙᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮕᮣᮥᮜᮤᮣ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮟᮞᮙᮗᮘᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮜᮙᮦᮕᮣᮤᮢᮕᮑᮝ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞᮼ

“ᯛᮩ ᮓᮟᮞᮤᮢᮙᮒᮥᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮙᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮒᮙᮗᮗᮕᮣᮤᮺ ᮙᮣᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮙᮤᯍ”

ᮃᮘᮙ ᮈᮙᮑᮞᮗᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮠᮟᮥᮤᮕᮔ ᮥᮞᮘᮑᮠᮠᮙᮜᮩᮺ ᮤᮘᮙᮞᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᯚᮙᮤᮤᮜᮕ ᯔᮕᮝᮑᮜᮕ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮡᮥᮙᮤᮕ ᮗᮟᮟᮔ ᮑᮤ ᮤᮑᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮓᮢᮕᮔᮙᮤᮼ

“ᯗᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮞᮟᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗᮼ ᯗ ᮤᮟᮟᮛ ᮟᮞ ᮑ ᮓᮟᮝᮝᮙᮣᮣᮙᮟᮞᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮜᮙᮕᮞᮤ ᮟᮖᮖᮕᮢᮕᮔ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮝᮙᮜᮜᮙᮟᮞᮼ ᮄᮘᮕᮩ ᮧᮑᮞᮤ ᮥᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮘᮕᮜᮠ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮖᮙᮞᮔ ᮑ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮼ”

“ᯝᮞᮕ ᮝᮙᮜᮜᮙᮟᮞᮯ”

ᮃᮘᮙ ᮈᮙᮑᮞᮗᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮒᮟᮤᮘ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮘᮕᮜᮠ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮗᮑᮣᮠᮼ

ᯝᮞᮕ ᮝᮙᮜᮜᮙᮟᮞ ᮩᮥᮑᮞ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮕᮙᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮑ ᮜᮟᮤ ᮞᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮜᮙᮤᮤᮜᮕᮼ

ᯏᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮜᮜᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮣᮤᮑᮢᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮟᮥᮤᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮞᮟᮧ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮧᮘᮕᮞ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮞᮕᮕᮔᮕᮔ ᮝᮟᮞᮕᮩ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮟᮣᮤᮼ

“ᯗᮣᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮖᮙᮞᮔᮙᮞᮗ ᮑ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔ ᮣᮙᮝᮠᮜᮕᯍ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮖᮥᮜᮜ ᮟᮖ ᮓᮟᮞᮖᮙᮔᮕᮞᮓᮕᮼ

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮘᮕᮜᮠ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮢᮟᮜᮜ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮕᮩᮕᮣ ᮑᮤ ᮘᮕᮢᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮞ ᮤᮟᮜᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮓᮟᮞᮓᮕᮢᮞᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮑᮤᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᯔᮕᮞᮗᮝᮕᮞ ᮆᮙᮜᮜᮑᮗᮕᮼ

“ᮄᮘᮑᮤ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔ ᮝᮟᮣᮤ ᮜᮙᮛᮕᮜᮩ ᮣᮤᮥᮝᮒᮜᮕᮔ ᮙᮞᮤᮟ ᮑᮞ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮼ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮤᮢᮙᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮔᮙᮦᮙᮞᮕᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮖᮙᮞᮔ ᮑᮞᮩ ᮙᮞᮖᮟᮢᮝᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔ᮵ᮣ ᮧᮘᮕᮢᮕᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤᮣᮼ

ᮄᮘᮙᮣ ᮜᮕᮖᮤ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮠᮟᮣᮣᮙᮒᮙᮜᮙᮤᮩᮼᮼᮼ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔ ᮝᮥᮣᮤ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢᮕᮔ ᮑᮞ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮼ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮓᮘᮑᮢᮑᮓᮤᮕᮢᮙᮣᮤᮙᮓ ᮟᮖ ᮑᮞ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮙᮣ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮙᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮑ ᮧᮟᮢᮜᮔ ᮒᮕᮜᮟᮞᮗᮙᮞᮗ ᮕᮨᮓᮜᮥᮣᮙᮦᮕᮜᮩ ᮤᮟ ᮑ ᮓᮕᮢᮤᮑᮙᮞ ᮝᮑᮜᮕᮦᮟᮜᮕᮞᮤ ᮗᮘᮟᮣᮤᮼ ᯏ ᮝᮑᮜᮕᮦᮟᮜᮕᮞᮤ ᮗᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᮟᮥᮤᮣᮙᮔᮕ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮝᮙᮗᮘᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮞᮟᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗᮼᮼᮼ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮟᮖᮤ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮗᮟᮟᮕᮩ ᯚᮙᮤᮤᮜᮕ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮃᮘᮙ ᮈᮙᮑᮞᮗᮞᮙᮞᮗᮼ

ᯐᮥᮤ ᮣᮤᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮺ ᮞᮟ ᮝᮑᮤᮤᮕᮢ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣᮺ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮑᮒᮙᮔᮕ ᮒᮩ ᮙᮤᮣ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣᮼ

ᯏᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ ᮗᮟᮕᮣᮺ ᮑ ᮣᮤᮢᮟᮞᮗ ᮔᮢᮑᮗᮟᮞ ᮓᮑᮞᮞᮟᮤ ᮟᮦᮕᮢᮠᮟᮧᮕᮢ ᮑ ᮜᮟᮓᮑᮜ ᮣᮞᮑᮛᮕᮼ ᯏᮣ ᮜᮟᮞᮗ ᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ᮵ᮣ ᮝᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮙᮣ ᮓᮜᮕᮦᮕᮢ ᮕᮞᮟᮥᮗᮘᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮩᮺ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮓᮟᮞᮤᮢᮟᮜ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣᮺ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮦᮙᮢᮤᮥᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮙᮞᮦᮙᮞᮓᮙᮒᮜᮕ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮼ

ᯐᮥᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮟᮥᮞᮤᮕᮢᮝᮕᮑᮣᮥᮢᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮑᮜᮣᮟ ᮣᮙᮝᮠᮜᮕᮼᮼᮼ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮔᮟᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮼ

ᯐᮥᮤ ᮣᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ “ᮔᮟᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮺ” ᮘᮟᮧ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮙᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮣᮙᮝᮠᮜᮕᯍ ᯐᮟᮤᮘ ᯑᮘᮥ ᯏᮞᮞᮙᮑᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮃᮘᮙ ᮈᮙᮑᮞᮗᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮤᮟᮜᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕ ᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗᮼᮼᮼ

ᯓᮞᮤᮕᮢᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮞ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮙᮣ ᮕᮙᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮪ᮕᮢᮟ ᮤᮙᮝᮕᮣ ᮟᮢ ᮓᮟᮥᮞᮤᮜᮕᮣᮣ ᮤᮙᮝᮕᮣᮼ ᯜᮟ ᮝᮑᮤᮤᮕᮢ ᮘᮟᮧ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮤᮢᮙᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮘᮙᮔᮕᮺ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮕᮦᮕᮞᮤᮥᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮢᮕᮻᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮣ ᮙᮞ ᮦᮑᮢᮙᮟᮥᮣ ᮧᮑᮩᮣᮼ

ᯘᮥᮣᮤ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ᮵ᮣ ᮔᮕᮒᮤᮺ ᮙᮞᮣᮤᮕᮑᮔ ᮟᮖ ᮘᮙᮔᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮒᮕᮤᮤᮕᮢ ᮤᮟ ᮖᮑᮓᮕ ᮙᮤ ᮔᮙᮢᮕᮓᮤᮜᮩᮼ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮕᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮙᮤᮕᮝᮣ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ᮵ᮣ ᮒᮕᮣᮤ ᮤᮟᮟᮜᮣ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮔᮕᮑᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮙᮤᮼ ᯗᮖ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮙᮝᮠᮢᮟᮦᮕ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮣᮥᮢᮦᮙᮦᮑᮜ ᮑᮒᮙᮜᮙᮤᮩᮺ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮑᮓᮡᮥᮙᮢᮕ ᮝᮟᮢᮕ ᮕᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮙᮤᮕᮝᮣᮼ

“ᮀᮑᮓᮛ ᮥᮠᮼ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮢᮢᮟᮧ ᮝᮟᮢᮞᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᮧᮕ᮵ᮢᮕ ᮗᮟᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᯔᮕᮞᮗᮝᮕᮞ ᮆᮙᮜᮜᮑᮗᮕᮼ”

Burning Love Letters at Midnight, the Tsundere Ghost Wife Haunts My Dreams

After going bankrupt and losing my job as a customer service rep, I turned to late-night livestreams crafting paper effigies—only to become an underworld sensation. But my newfound fame attracted a horde of possessive ghost brides. “The last set of immortal-binding ropes has been bought by our top patron, sis~” “Freshly woven paper-red silk, so strong even the King of Hell can’t break free❤” “Huh? You ladies want to… test them yourselves? W-Wait—” Now, tied up like a dumpling in a paper wedding chamber, I finally understand— They were never obsessed with my paper crafts… but with me. The qipao-clad ghost presses her bone hairpin to my throat: “The flowers you fold belong only to me.” The crimson bride drapes her veil over my eyes: “The wedding gowns you burn are mine alone to wear.” “The paper dolls you cut…” Their icy fingers trace my face in a hungry chorus, “…must bear only our likeness, forever❤” “You ghosts only ever think about yourselves!” “Lies—our thoughts are full of you!”

Details

Comments

No comments