12: A Vulnerable Zhou Langxing

Qin Yan hadn’t eaten, hadn’t drunk anything. He simply kept his eyes glued to the clock on the wall. Half an hour remained until midnight.

Only one lamp in the room was lit, casting a yellow glow.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, followed by a voice:

“Your food delivery’s here!”

Qin Yan blinked. After staring at the dim wall for so long, his eyes had gone fuzzy. He looked toward the honey-colored wooden door and said to the person outside, “I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong address.”

A muffled voice replied from outside, the speaker clearly trying to keep their voice low. Qin Yan couldn’t make it out.

Then the delivery guy said, “Someone sent it for you! The message said his last name is Zhou.”

Qin Yan froze—Zhou Langxing!

A wave of guilt rippled through his chest. Zhou Langxing, despite everything, had gone out of his way to send food, probably guessing he hadn’t eaten dinner.

Qin Yan opened the door to find someone in yellow, with a matching yellow cap. He took the neatly packaged food box, glanced around, but the night was too deep—no one else was on the street.

Back inside, he glanced at the clock: 27 minutes left.

As he opened the box, the delicious aroma hit him and made his stomach growl. He quickly tore open the container holding the chopsticks.

After finishing the late-night snack in a hurry, Qin Yan cleaned up the trash, sat back down on the sofa, and picked up that small but crucial wooden box.

Ten minutes until midnight.

He glanced at his phone on the table. Should he message Zhou Langxing? Apologize?

Forget it. If he was already asleep, waking him just to ease his own guilt wouldn’t be worth it.

Qin Yan looked back at the wall clock.

When the minute and hour hands swept past the number “12” in unison, his entire body jolted. His hands trembled so violently he almost dropped the box.

He opened it. Inside, there was only a slip of paper.

Confused, he stood up instinctively, looking around to see if anything had flown out when he opened the box.

Eventually, he picked up the yellowed note—no, it wasn’t just a note. It was the prescription.

“On the seventh night, gather earth from the grave of the deceased and mix it with strands of your own hair. Burn them completely, bury the ashes in an incense burner, light three sticks of incense, and you will be able to see the deceased’s spirit.”

So—it wasn’t a resurrection. He’d only get to see the ghost.

But that was enough. A different form of existence didn’t matter. To see each other again—that was already a miracle.

Qin Yan paced back and forth, clenching the musty, faded piece of paper. But then he stopped, hesitation flashing across his face. Grave soil, hair, incense burner, incense sticks… Right now, the only thing he had on hand was his own hair.

He pressed his lips together. He couldn’t wait until morning. Now. Right now—he needed to gather everything.

There wasn’t a second to lose. He had to see Zhou Shurong immediately.

Qin Yan flung the door open so fast it caught Zhou Langxing, who had been eavesdropping at the door, completely off guard—he fell forward in surprise.

Those deep black eyes reflected a face both delicate and tense.

Qin Yan’s expression froze.

He looked down warily at the man with black hair sprawled at his feet.

“Langxing, why aren’t you home asleep?” His face flushed slightly in mild anger, but his tone was still gentle.

The anger of a soft-tempered person was always the most terrifying. Zhou Langxing guiltily rubbed his nose, staying on the floor in a “helpless” pose and gazing up at him.

“I was waiting to see what you’d do tonight. Qin Yan, where are you going now?”

“You want to stop me?” Qin Yan glanced at his injured leg.

“No.” Zhou Langxing curved his eyes into a small smile. He lightly tugged at the hem of Qin Yan’s shirt. “Wherever you’re going, I’ll go with you.”

Unfair. With his good looks, now he was even looking up at him like a vulnerable little animal, acting sweet and pitiful.

Qin Yan happened to fall for that type. His expression softened, and the anger gradually faded.

Zhou Langxing didn’t have to believe in the “prescription.” As long as he didn’t interfere, anything was fine. If he insisted on coming along, so be it.

Qin Yan crouched and helped him up.

This time, Zhou Langxing didn’t try to act tough.

“Qin Yan,” he gripped his wrist and looked him in the eye, “are you still mad?”

Qin Yan’s gaze flickered.

He wasn’t unreasonable. He understood Zhou Langxing’s earlier worry—doubting the prescription was normal. He didn’t blame him.

“I’m not mad anymore.”

“That’s good,” Zhou Langxing said as he let go of his hand.

“You’ve been outside this whole time?” Qin Yan remembered the late-night delivery. “Where were you hiding when I opened the door?”

Zhou Langxing quietly answered, “In the elevator.”

“You sent me food—did you eat anything yourself?”

“I did. I’m not some kind of masochist.”

“That’s debatable,” Qin Yan replied mildly, sounding more like himself now. “What if you were starving yourself just to get my sympathy?”

Almost to himself, he murmured, “He used to say I was too soft-hearted and needed to change. Otherwise, I’d get taken advantage of.”

Who would bear to take advantage of you… The words hovered on Zhou Langxing’s lips but never came out. The more critical the moment, the more he couldn’t cross the line.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it discreetly, eyes flashing.

Qin Yan tied up his loose ponytail and asked casually, “Family telling you to go home? It’s late. You should get some rest.”

But Zhou Langxing didn’t budge. “It’s not my family. My dad didn’t even come home tonight.”

Touched by the coldness in Zhou Langxing’s family life, Qin Yan didn’t press further and changed the topic. “Right. I’ll treat you to wontons again next time, okay?”

“Deal.” Zhou Langxing pocketed his phone as if nothing had happened.

Even if the truth came out now, there was no persuading Qin Yan anymore. He was fully driven by emotion.

“I still haven’t asked. Where are we going?”

“The cemetery in the west part of the city.”

Zhou Langxing insisted on coming, and Qin Yan couldn’t stop him. He couldn’t scold him, and kind words would be brushed aside.

But they were going to a cemetery. That fractured leg—was he really up for a second trip, after already going once during the day?

Qin Yan walked ahead a few steps, pressed the elevator button, then suddenly turned around. His worry was written all over his face.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Zhou Langxing looked at him, smiling.

Qin Yan had indirectly caused his injury. How could he admit that now and make him feel guilty? He was too busy loving him to do that.

“I’m not that fragile. Just a bit numb from sitting at the door too long.”

Qin Yan opened his mouth to respond, then lowered his eyes.

Inside the elevator, the cold in the air felt strange and heavy.

When they stepped out of the building, the path through the neighborhood had a few streetlights out. The moon was faint tonight. Looking ahead at the dim street, Qin Yan hesitated. He glanced several times at Zhou Langxing’s left leg.

“I’m a little afraid of the dark. Can I hold onto you?”

Zhou Langxing chuckled and held out his arm generously. “Good friends, lean away!”

“What friend? I’m three years older than you. You should—” It felt like they were walking toward a road of light. Qin Yan’s emotions were full, and he no longer avoided certain words. “You should call me ge.”

“Oh—Yan-ge?” Zhou Langxing towered over him and deliberately said it in a teasing tone.

“Yan-ge!” Qin Yan couldn’t help but laugh. “You sound like you’re calling a bird. Forget it. Let’s just stay friends.”

“So as friends, what should I call you then?”

Qin Yan thought for a bit. “People who are close to me call me Ah-Yan.”

“Ah-Yan?”

“Mm.”

“Who else calls you that?”

“A lot of people. My elders, neighbors from when I was a kid, my old desk mate I used to play with…”

Zhou Langxing raised an eyebrow—so that nickname wasn’t exclusive to him after all!

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched where their skin touched. From distance to concern, from rejection to initiative, the space between them quietly closed.

A faint breeze blew by, and under the dim night, a faint smile appeared on the man’s face—so subtle it was barely noticeable.

They hailed a cab and arrived at the cemetery, where Zhou Langxing finally realized Qin Yan had come to collect grave soil. The cemetery was closed at night, but Zhou Langxing managed to get them in by revealing his identity.

With some pride, he said, “If I wasn’t here, were you planning to climb over the wall?”

“I was. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, a true saint!” Qin Yan’s tone shifted. “Let’s get one thing straight—you’re free not to believe me, even to laugh at me, but don’t stop me from getting that grave soil. I’ll flip.”

“That’s the weakest threat I’ve ever heard. Totally ineffective.”

“Really?”

“Watch and learn.” Zhou Langxing changed his tone, suddenly fierce, pointing at Qin Yan. “You try to stop me, and I’ll kill you!”

Qin Yan stared at him, stunned—nearly tumbling down the stone steps.

“You—aren’t you just taking the chance to insult me?”

Zhou Langxing burst into laughter. “Okay, maybe a little—just a little!”

“Hey—” Qin Yan quickly swatted at him. “Keep it down, don’t disturb the dead.”

The cold wind rustled the trees. Under the pale moonlight, the dense rows of tombstones stood silently, encircling the two living men in quiet vigilance.

Every now and then, they caught glimpses of blurred, featureless faces.

Countless eyes stared coldly at them.

Zhou Langxing sucked in a sharp breath.

Coming to a graveyard at night was a wild thing to do.

Shrinking his neck, Zhou Langxing couldn’t help but admire Qin Yan’s courage—planning to come alone for this. But a second later, his admiration turned to jealousy toward his brother.

Qin Yan found Zhou Shurong’s grave without issue. “Look, that bunch of yellow roses from earlier is gone. I wonder who took them?”

Zhou Langxing followed closely behind. “Okay, stop. Let’s just play some music. How about the Great Compassion Mantra?”

“What Great Compassion Mantra?” Qin Yan didn’t look back. “If you’re scared, just hold onto my coat. I’ll be quick. Don’t worry, once we’re done, I’ll make you some ginger tea to warm you up.”

Zhou Langxing muttered to himself, Only to warm me up? No warding off evil?

And ginger tea? Sounds awful. Only a ghost would drink that.

Qin Yan had already pulled out his tools, digging up two handfuls of dirt and sealing them in a black plastic bag.

Once done, he gave the gravestone a gentle touch, smiling sweetly at Zhou Shurong’s etched face.

Zhou Langxing pretended not to see. Sometimes, you had to turn a blind eye just to survive emotionally.

“I’m done. Let’s go, go, go!”

They finally exited the cemetery. Zhou Langxing realized his legs had gone a bit weak, cold sweat running down his back.

“That was intense. More exciting than drag racing. I’ve got a great story to brag about now.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Zhou Langxing winced as the long fringe poked into his eyes. His hair tie had vanished. When he looked up, he caught Qin Yan staring and raised an eyebrow.

“What, admiring how handsome I am again?”

Qin Yan replied in a devilish whisper, “Your ‘cool guy’ image just collapsed.”

“….” Zhou Langxing reached up to fiddle with his earring, refusing to engage.

“Anywhere else you need to go?”

“If it’s more thrilling than late-night grave-robbing, will you still follow me?”

Zhou Langxing sneered. “You should ask around—who doesn’t know I’d take a knife for my friends?”

“Even if it means walking through fire or climbing a mountain of blades?”

“Absolutely.” No hesitation, firm as steel.

Qin Yan smiled. “Too bad. We won’t get to test your loyalty tonight. I’ve nowhere else to go, just need to buy a censer and incense sticks. But it’s so late, probably no shops open.”

“You’re underestimating me.” Zhou Langxing’s hair fluttered in the wind. “As long as it’s a transaction, and money’s involved, it’s not really a problem.”

He pulled out his phone, gave a few cold and concise instructions, calm and self-assured.

Qin Yan looked at his side profile under the moonlight—his tone, his expression, the way he handled things—it felt like seeing a completely different person.

When Zhou Langxing ended the call, he said nonchalantly, “That was my dad’s assistant. Let’s head home first. He’ll take care of it.”

Qin Yan was momentarily stunned by this new side of him and didn’t even catch his slip—Zhou Langxing had said “home.”

Zhou Langxing’s eyes shimmered in the night. “Now do I look a little handsome to you?”

Qin Yan came back to himself. “Anyone who can solve a normal person’s headache with just a phone call is definitely cool.”

“Props to your dad’s assistant for working overtime. But… it’s kinda late. I feel bad.”

Zhou Langxing didn’t care. He tapped his phone screen. “It’s a clean transaction. Willing buyer, willing seller. Even though he’s my dad’s assistant, I paid him.”

Qin Yan peeked at the transfer amount—whoa, that’s a lot of zeroes.

“I bet his assistant’s grumpiness disappeared right away. Even if he had to queue at 3 a.m. for train tickets, he’d do it happily.”