As a panguan, a cultivator tasked with putting the dead to rest, Wen Shi has spent a thousand years sending souls on to their next life. But without a soul of his own, he's trapped in an endless cycle of rebirth, desperately searching for the lost pieces of himself.

Now, reborn for the twelfth time, he feels a constant hunger that can only be satisfied by consuming the dark miasma that clings to the dead. So when failed panguan Xie Wen responds to Wen Shi's ad for a roommate, Wen Shi is taken aback by the dense miasma cloaking the handsome young man. Smug and irritating, Xie Wen instantly becomes Wen Shi's most tempting meal. Yet the longer Wen Shi spends with Xie Wen, the more mysterious he seems. Xie Wen appears to know things about Wen Shi even Wen Shi has forgotten--things that could end his millennium of lonely wandering.

Panguan: The Twelfth Gate has a story by Mu Su Li and art by LINXIZHIYI. English translation is done by Z. Yan, XiA with an adaptation by Em X. Liu. Published by Seven Seas Entertainment (September 15, 2026).

Rebecca Silverman
Rating:

Danmei novels can afford to be slow burns. With typical lengths of around 400 pages, authors have the time to fully flesh out their characters and worlds, giving them leeway to wait to get their romantic leads together when they're darn well ready. Panguan (set in the same world as the author's series Copper Coins) uses most of its first volume to establish the overarching plot of the series, and it's fascinating. The characters are “panguan,” a type of cultivator tasked with helping the dead to move on. Wen Shi has been doing this job for literally thousands of years – he comes back through the gate to the mortal realm some time after he dies in an endless cycle. Most recently he died in 1995, and it's been twenty-five years since then. His disciple, Shen Qiao, appears to meet him upon his return, but the old man has actually recently died, leaving Wen Shi in the care of his grandson, Xia Qiao. Xia Qiao, a teenager, has put rooms in the family home up for rent, which is how Xie Wen, a nominally failed panguan, enters the story.

Obviously, Xie Wen is the romantic interest for Wen Shi, and there's no real mystery as to who he really is; that's revealed (or hinted at very strongly) as soon as he comes in. More interesting is the work of the panguan, which drives the plot here. Panguan enter “cages,” closed worlds created by those who died with regrets. They must solve the mystery of what caused the cages to form in the first place and help the dead resolve their issues. These are the absolute highlights of the book. Mu Su Li writes a heady mix of tragedy and horror for each cage the men find themselves in (with a bit of humor for good measure), carefully scaring readers until the moment of truth, when suddenly everything terrifying becomes bittersweet. The dead don't want to linger. They don't want to hurt the living. They just want to be able to move on, and that requires letting go of something that gave meaning to their lives. Wen Shi may not have a soul and Xie Wen's may be full of darkness (and Xia Qiao might not be human), but they take care with each cage's owner, helping them with compassion and kindness.

As with many danmei novels, there's a slew of named characters, many of whom have multiple names (legal name, nickname, possibly past life name), so the glossary in the back is very useful if you're the kind of person who, like me, can't remember names to save your life. It's worth it, though – this is a very different take on the cultivator novel, and while I'd happily just keep reading about the cages, I'd also like to see Wen Shi find the lost pieces of his soul and his beloved.

Erica Friedman
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There are many very interesting elements in Mu Su Li's Panguan: The Twelfth Gate. Immediately I was interested in the idea of a contemporary story about cultivators. How does ancient energies and skills translate into our modern world, full of technology? In this, this book is consistently fascinating.

In lieu of horrific monsters of Ancient Chinese belief, the narrative instead plumbs the depths of horrors that may be found in ride shares, malls, and other more macabre features of modern life. These scenes, without exception, are fascinating. It's easy enough to be freaked out by mannequins, but here, they are tools, rather than hauntings.

Another very good element was the way the characters—other than the leads—were portrayed. Several of the more human humans (a phrase that is relevant for this book) feel very human and real.

The lead characters felt more like vibes got together, formed a band in college then met again 20 years later with nothing to say to one another. Both Wen Shi and Xie Wen are types. Yes, there are reasons for their lack of personality, but also, there really isn't. When one is writing a novel, it should not be entirely up to readers to interpret Xie Wen's pale and tragically insouciance or a raised eyebrow as a response, without a little more help. Wen Shi is clearly in one lifetime too many, as he's dismissively curt when he should and could be a little more forthcoming. St's illustrations are mostly portraiture, but very competently presented. If you like this type of guy, you'll like these guys.

Too many awkward silences do not actually build up to intrigue and sexual tension. Which is a shame, as these two men do have a mechanism to be intrigued by and sexually tense around one another. It's even more tenuous than usual in danmei stories. And due to the modern setting, there can't even be a symbolic scene of spinning with swords while flower petals fall. Riding buses filled with ghosts isn't really going to suffice.

The final scenario of this volume is quite clever and interesting as it leads to mysteries upon mysteries, but the volume ends abruptly in the middle of it.

Yes, there is a volume two and if you want to continue reading the slowest of burns I have ever read, at least you will get to learn how this clever scenario ends.