That day, Hoàng Hải Vân stopped by a pharmacy and bought several boxes of condoms. She had given up on resisting—being near this cunning little fox, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back forever. Might as well be prepared.
Seeing her buy multiple boxes, Trần Ngọc Linh was visibly unhappy.
"Why are you buying those?" he asked.
Hoàng Hải Vân replied calmly,
"As adults, we should be responsible and practice safety."
Trần Ngọc Linh frowned and retorted,
"Neither of us has ever been with anyone else. What’s unsafe about it? And if you’re worried that I’m too young to take care of you, don’t be. I’m not some spoiled rich kid who can’t handle responsibility."
No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t change her decision. She was always thinking ahead, always leaving herself an escape route—determined never to risk getting pregnant with him.
Was it just because of their difference in status? No matter what he did, was it still not enough?
If she had her way of doing things, then he would just have to find a way to trick her. He respected her, but that didn’t mean he would let her go.
After leaving the pharmacy, Hoàng Hải Vân also stopped by a general store to buy a meditation mat. Whatever problems she had, she would resolve them on her own.
That night, she didn’t wait for Trần Ngọc Linh to make a move—she took the initiative instead.
Thinking he had finally made progress, Trần Ngọc Linh wrapped his arms around her and murmured,
"When we get our bodies back, will you stay here with me? I don’t want to sleep with Thế Anh anymore. I want to sleep with you."
At that moment, Hoàng Hải Vân suddenly remembered the condition that the boy’s father had set—before marriage, the two brothers had to sleep together.
Was he… proposing to her?
Sometimes, his words made her waver. But she was independent, free-spirited, and not someone who would entrust her entire future to another person just because of a few sweet words.
That night, after Trần Ngọc Linh had fallen asleep, Hoàng Hải Vân put on a light jacket, grabbed her meditation mat, and headed to the largest graveyard in the city.
Because her energy was inherently yin, she could only meditate in places where yin energy accumulated.
She was used to working in a morgue, but standing in the graveyard, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
A morgue at least had coworkers, sturdy walls, bright lights, and work that took place during the day.
Out here, there were no people. No lights.
She wasn’t sure if she could handle it.
 
Even if she couldn’t bear it, she had no choice but to endure.
On the first night, Hoàng Hải Vân was both terrified and tormented by a splitting headache. Still, she stubbornly meditated until nearly dawn. When she heard the distant crowing of roosters from a nearby residential area, she quickly gathered her things and headed home.
At home, Trần Ngọc Linh had already woken up. He had instinctively reached out to hold her, only to find her side of the bed empty. Anxiety crept into his heart. But then, remembering what had happened during the day, he realized she was probably trying to resolve her problems alone.
To her, he was still someone unreliable, someone not worth depending on.
Just before sunrise, he heard a noise at the door and immediately pretended to be asleep.
Hoàng Hải Vân entered quietly, careful not to make a sound. Once she had settled in, she collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep until noon.
That night, after their usual intimacy, Trần Ngọc Linh feigned sleep. When he felt her stir, getting up and silently gathering her mat, he knew she was heading out again.
Without a sound, he followed her.
So this was how she was trying to awaken her Yin-Yang sight—meditating in a graveyard night after night.
His heart ached for her.
But he knew there was no convincing her to stop. If he tried, she would simply dismiss him.
Instead, he decided that he would open his Yin-Yang sight before her and solve the problem himself. That way, she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.
He found a hidden spot nearby and sat down to meditate.
But after only a short while, an unbearable, piercing pain shot through his head, stabbing deep into his skull.
So this was the price one had to pay for Yin-Yang sight?
Tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes and spilled over.
He wanted to stand up and stop her. Tell her that she didn’t have to do this, that he would handle it instead.
But after taking just a few steps, he clenched his fists, turned around, and sat back down to continue.
Opening his sight as soon as possible was the only way to end this.
Hoàng Hải Vân was always precise with her timing—she stood up as soon as the roosters crowed.
Knowing this, Trần Ngọc Linh made sure to stand up at the same time so they could leave together, allowing him to return home a bit earlier than her.
And so, night after night, they both meditated in the graveyard, only returning home at dawn and sleeping until noon.
Yet even after a full month of persistence, there was no progress—only worsening headaches.
Doubt began to creep into Trần Ngọc Linh’s mind.
Was this really working?
That night, the rain poured down in torrents.
He assumed that Hoàng Hải Vân would skip her meditation.
But just past midnight, she still got up.
Normally, she sat in the open, but tonight, with the rain pouring, she slipped into the hearse storage house for shelter.
And there, she meditated.