25:Possession by a Ghost

They arrived to the first floor.

But the elevator doors didn’t open.

Zhou Langxing froze for a second and reached out to press the open button. The doors didn’t budge.

“Huh?” Zhou Shurong raised his pale face. “Is this because of me?”

Zhou Langxing kept his composure and pressed the open button again. Still nothing.

Zhou Shurong said, “Ah, the elevator’s broken. Press the emergency alarm.”

He withdrew from Zhou Langxing’s body—no need to make things worse at a time like this. It’s not like he hated his brother to death.

Zhou Langxing pressed the alarm button hard, brows furrowed deeply. Zhou Shurong gave him a sidelong glance. “I was joking earlier. I don’t want your yang energy.”

Mainly because jumping into his body once didn’t do much. Probably would have to cling to him day and night for it to work.

Not like he smelled good or anything. Not interested.

“So, this isn’t because of me. At most, I can fan you a little when you’re sweating.”

Zhou Langxing looked down and fiddled with his phone. It was almost 9 o’clock. No signal.

Suddenly, there was a breeze at the back of his neck.

He looked up at the top of the elevator and reached out to feel it. The wind wasn’t coming from above. It was more like… someone behind him was blowing on his neck.

Without changing expression, he tightened his grip on the phone. In the mirror, no one was behind him.

He suddenly thought of that fleeting glimpse at Qin Yan’s place—the white mist above the incense burner, moving in strange patterns, like an invisible person was inhaling it all in ecstasy.

His face remained cold, but after less than a second, he snorted in amusement.

Ghosts? As if.

But he couldn’t help it—goosebumps prickled on his arms, and sweat ran down the back of his neck.

Zhou Shurong smiled and sent another gust of wind his way. “Ah Xing, are you hot or cold, huh?”

Zhou Langxing did his best to ignore the eerie breeze and pressed the alarm button a third time.

“Oh, I forgot,” Zhou Shurong said. “This complex sucks. Management’s lazy. If no one’s responding, maybe the alarm’s broken too. Wanna try prying the doors open?”

Zhou Langxing couldn’t hear his advice. He exhaled sharply, turned halfway around, and leaned against the elevator wall, ruffling his hair in frustration.

He looked down at his phone again. Still no signal.

He waited and waited. No rescue came.

Zhou Shurong said softly, “Try something. You can’t sleep in here, right?”

So cold.

Why was it so cold?

Zhou Langxing hugged his arms tightly.

It was late May. The weather had no reason to act like this.

Zhou Shurong felt something was off. His calm face gradually stiffened. A chilling, hunted sensation crept in—as if a predator’s eyes were on him. He looked up suddenly.

—A cracked face dropped down.

Its face split in four directions, and when it opened its mouth, a dense, orderly row of teeth filled the void—like a grotesque carnivorous plant.

Zhou Shurong symbolically shielded his eyes.

A comment slipped from his mouth instinctively:

“So ugly, how dare you show yourself?”

The ghost face, enraged and humiliated, lunged at him with ferocity.

Inside the elevator, the only living person—Zhou Langxing—was still hugging his arms, casually glancing around, completely unaware of the two ghosts chasing each other wildly inside the cramped space.

Zhou Shurong narrowly dodged the ghost face’s attack and cursed under his breath. It’s only going for me—what a pain.

Still, this was a relief.

He shot a glance at Zhou Langxing—then vanished from the elevator.

The ghost face chased after him.

Suddenly, the doors opened. The strange wind disappeared too. Zhou Langxing paused, unease bubbling in his chest. But unwilling to dwell on it, he simply walked out.

That night, two ghosts raced and fought through the neighborhood in a furious chase.

A young couple was strolling hand in hand along the stone path when a strange gust blew up the girl’s skirt. She shrieked and quickly held it down. The boy looked back and shivered—it had just gotten so cold.

Zhou Shurong wasn’t fast enough. Caught off guard, the ghost face’s teeth scraped a strip of flesh off his arm. Blood oozed. The pain was faint, but his soul grew even more transparent.

The ghost face licked the corner of its mouth with a long, serpentine tongue, looking slightly satisfied—but not enough. It wanted more. Greed gleamed in its eyes.

Zhou Shurong’s gaze swept over its tongue. Long—perfect for attacks.

Without thinking, he kept fleeing. He had to widen the gap. If that tongue wrapped around him, escape would be impossible.

But… what was that ghost face’s origin?

It had been hiding in the elevator, just a paper-thin layer of skin, barely clinging to any flesh, and cracked into four parts.

Had there been an elevator accident?

Was someone’s face peeled off in an accident, and the skin became sentient?

Or maybe the body had already rotted away, and only the face remained?

Zhou Shurong was playing a high-stakes version of hopscotch.

Jumping from the first floor to the third, from the third to the fourth, sometimes from the fourth back down to the first… His movements had no pattern, but the ghost face always picked up his trail and followed close behind.

Could it smell him?

Well, yeah. They were both made of yin energy. The ghost face saw him as prey and wanted to devour him.

Zhou Shurong thought for a moment—could he devour it instead? No… too risky, no experience, and his soul was already too weak.

Still, there was someone stronger than the ghost face. Even if he couldn’t eat it, that ghost could scare it off.

The last time he rode the elevator, the ghost face hadn’t shown up—there’d been the baby ghost.

He went to 801 on the eighth floor. The woman and the baby ghost weren’t there.

After carefully sensing the surroundings—there. He picked up the baby ghost’s presence. Upstairs!

Zhou Shurong climbed the stairs while dodging the ghost face’s tongue strikes. Close call—it almost wrapped around him.

The rooftop.

A-ling sat on the railing, gazing at the bright moon. Wind played with her hair.

The baby ghost sat on her lap, giggling and reaching out for her drifting strands.

Suddenly, a man appeared. He smiled at her—then vanished instantly.

Then came a hideous face, flying straight at them.

The baby ghost froze for a second, then puffed up her cheeks. Tears sprang from her eyes.

Waaaahhhhh—!!

With her screeching cry, the ghost face shrieked and fled in terror.

Meanwhile, Zhou Shurong had swapped places with a decoy and now peeked up from a lower window. He only heard the ghost face’s scream and didn’t catch the aftermath. Just as he was about to look closer, a shadow fell over him.

Ah ling, in a black dress, suddenly leapt down.

No time to think. Zhou Shurong forgot he was a ghost and instinctively reached out to catch her.

Her body passed right through his hands, still falling fast.

Zhou Shurong gritted his teeth—and dove after her.

He entered Ah ling’s body.

This woman’s yin energy was so strong, her body was like an open door—any low-level ghost could possess her without even asking.

Zhou Shurong successfully took control. He opened her eyes and shouted,

“Hold me—!”

There was no time to think. The moment he entered her body, he lost his ghostly abilities. The heavy body threw off his balance. If she hit the ground, she’d turn into paste.

He could only rely on the baby ghost. Since she could touch physical things, she could definitely catch her mother.

Did she have the strength?

What a joke. She’s a ghost—forget human logic.

The baby ghost grabbed Zhou Shurong’s hand, grinning widely. She thought they were playing some fun game. So happy—Mama hadn’t played with her in so long.

Back on the rooftop, Zhou Shurong stumbled as he landed, legs weak.

He lay flat on the ground, staring up at the moon. The baby ghost lay on his chest, mouth wide open, drool nearly falling out.

Zhou Shurong felt stuffy in the chest. He reached out to rub it, then suddenly stopped—this body was female.

As much as he wanted to be human again, he didn’t want to be a woman.

Strangely, he could sense another consciousness curled up and silent inside—like it had fallen asleep.

Had she decided to end her life for good?

Zhou Shurong fell into thought. If he left this body, Ah ling might try again. Jumping, hanging, cutting—so many ways to die. And the baby ghost, clueless, would just think Mama was playing again.

“Mama…”

The baby ghost rubbed her cheek against Zhou Shurong’s chest, her eyes sparkling adorably.

Zhou Shurong picked her up and bounced her gently. “What made your mom so unhappy?”

“Wah!” The baby ghost happily hugged his arm.

“Forget it. Asking you won’t help. Let’s go find out why she tried to kill herself.” Zhou Shurong looked down at her. “Maybe… it’s because of you.”

The baby ghost said, “Hungry…”

Zhou Shurong’s face darkened. “Wait!”

Too late. The baby ghost had just expelled energy fighting the ghost face, and her belly was flat now. She’d only half-finished feeding off Ah ling when the woman jumped. Still hungry!

Zhou Shurong felt a wave of energy leave his body. His face turned black. This little brat didn’t feed off her mom’s yang energy—she sucked up his yin energy instead!

“What did you even do with that ghost face? You didn’t eat it? What a waste.”

Still, he didn’t blame her. She’d saved his life—that earned a little grace.

“Let’s go,” he said, patting her newly plump belly, “back to your place. Let’s find some clues and stop your mom from trying again.”

Life is precious—once you’re dead, you realize how good it was to be alive.

He didn’t want to take the elevator anymore—too much trauma. Zhou Shurong took the stairs. The body was weak. It took all his effort to climb to the eighth floor. Too exhausted to fish out the keys, he slid down the wall, panting like his lungs were about to burst.

The infant ghost patted his hand as if to encourage him.

The door across the hall opened, revealing a round face. The woman looked panicked. “What’s wrong, Ah Ling? Having another episode?”

Zhou Shurong didn’t have the strength to speak. Even the way he waved his hand was weak.

The young woman shouted into the apartment, “Honey, come help!”

A young man, in the middle of making baby formula, quickly ran out. With a startled exclamation, he helped Zhou Shurong up and guided him inside.

Zhou Shurong felt a bit helpless, and also subtly embarrassed. When he was alive, he’d been healthy, exercised more than eight hours a week, and rarely got sick. Never before had he felt the human body to be so heavy and useless—a burden.

This couple was quite kind. He sat on the sofa and drank a glass of warm water, feeling much better afterward.

The infant ghost, affected by the emotions of the people around it, also became unusually anxious. It clung tightly to Zhou Shurong’s calf and kept repeating, “Mama… Mama…”

When he put the cup down, he absentmindedly patted the child’s head—his silent way of offering comfort.

“Do you have any medicine on you? What about in the apartment?” the woman asked, still thinking he was sick.

“I’m fine,” he explained. “Just tired from climbing the stairs.”

The woman hesitated but finally just said, “Why didn’t you take the elevator?”

“The elevator… seems to be acting up a bit,” Zhou Shurong replied, not sure if Zhou Langxing getting stuck earlier was just a one-time fluke. He mentioned it as a friendly warning.

As he spoke, he looked down to search for his keys—only to freeze in confusion. He was wearing a skirt, and there were no pockets.

His emotions were complicated. The original owner of this body—Ah Ling—had climbed to the rooftop with no intention of returning.

What had driven her to despair? Had she regretted it in the moment she jumped?

“Lost your keys?” the woman asked.

Zhou Shurong nodded.

“Then call your landlord. He has a spare—wait, your phone’s not with you either?”

Zhou Shurong nodded again, wearing a slightly bitter smile, as if this body carried its own story.

The couple exchanged a glance. The woman pulled out her phone. “I’ll call. Our landlord’s the same guy.”

Zhou Shurong thanked her gently and glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was 9:30 p.m.

He had work tomorrow. Qin Yan would go to sleep at 10 p.m.

Qin Yan was watching TV.

After Zhou Langxing left, he had cleaned the ashes off the incense burner, taken a shower, and come out to watch TV. Half an hour later, he heard a commotion outside—growing louder and louder—as more and more people went out to see what was happening.

He paused the TV and, wearing slippers, stepped outside. The neighbors across the hall had also come out. A crowd was heading upstairs, footsteps echoing in waves.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Someone from across the hall answered, “Check the building chat—it’s the elevator. Someone’s stuck inside. The fire department’s here for a rescue.”

The elevator was stuck between the fifth and sixth floors. Firefighters were prying the doors open on the sixth floor.

Qin Yan stood on the edge of the crowd, listening to murmurs: the person trapped inside was the landlord, who’d been coming to deliver spare keys. Who would’ve expected something to go wrong midway? So unlucky.

“I’m telling you, that elevator is ancient. Breaks down all the time. Can’t they replace it already?”

“Replace it? Might as well move to a new place.”

“Where’s building management in all this? Not showing up when something actually happens?”

“Useless. You’re new here, right? Years ago, there was a huge fight between the management and residents on the lower floors. After that, the management office collapsed. Now it’s just a few retired old folks filling in, but they don’t do much. Just the other day, no one emptied the trash bins out front. Turns out some units hadn’t paid their sanitation fee.”

“This is getting scary. No wonder someone broke into Building A last month. If they’re managing things like this… As soon as I have the money, I’m moving out.”

Qin Yan listened. He hadn’t lived here long—moved in right after graduating and getting a job. These stories were all news to him unless you chatted with someone who’d been around a while.

He did remember hearing the old security guard mention something once—five years ago, someone had gone missing. Later they were found inside the elevator, in a horrible state. Their body was mangled beyond recognition, nearly turned to pulp from falling from the top floors.

Supposedly, someone had even seen the dead person’s facial skin stuck to the inside wall of the elevator car.

But that felt more like one of those creepy campus legends. Who knew what was real.

The person who saw it had moved out ages ago.

While Qin Yan was thinking about that, he suddenly felt a gaze fixed on him. He looked up—but didn’t see anything out of place. Everyone was focused on the firefighters.

The person trapped inside the elevator was panicking. Even with rescuers there, he couldn’t calm down, pounding on the door and shouting for help.

At first, the firefighters tried to reassure him patiently.

Then, worried the elevator might drop, they finally shouted, “Quiet!” Only then did he settle down.

Eventually, with great effort, the firefighters opened the doors. The landlord crawled out and collapsed on the ground. Once he caught his breath, he started angrily cursing the female tenant who’d made him suffer.

No one wanted to hear him rant. Everyone had work the next day. As they dispersed, they grumbled:

“What now? Who knows when the elevator’ll be fixed? We’ve got seven straight days of work ahead! Damn it! And we don’t even get paid overtime!”

“You still dare take the elevator?”

“I live on the twelfth floor! If I don’t take it, I’ll die climbing!”

Qin Yan glanced at his phone. 10:15 p.m. Already past his usual bedtime. He worried he’d sleep poorly and be groggy at work.

His job involved the safety of thirty kids—no room for mistakes.

Hands in his pockets, he followed the crowd. The staircase was narrow, and people moved in a slow, ant-like line.

That gaze returned—no longer subtle, but burning, impossible to ignore.

He suddenly turned around.

It was a woman, standing in the corridor, a soft light falling on her head. Her posture was strangely familiar.

She was very thin. Her exposed wrists looked like twigs that had fallen from a tree. Her eyes were strange—like she recognized him, and was angry that he didn’t recognize her.

Do I know her?

Qin Yan thought for a moment—then remembered seeing her once in the elevator.

He smiled at her and turned away.

Zhou Shurong watched him leave, watched until he disappeared from view.

The landlord reluctantly handed over the spare keys. Zhou Shurong offered a quiet “thank you.”

He opened the door to Room 801. The infant ghost eagerly crawled toward the bedroom, vanishing behind the door.

Zhou Shurong hesitated, then quietly pushed it open.

He was stunned—the entire wall was covered with photos of the infant ghost. Countless pictures. Smiling, crying, pouting, clapping, crawling, drinking milk on the bed… And finally, one of the child near death, filled with a chilling aura of death.

Zhou Shurong slowly scanned the wall of photos. His chest began to heave violently. A heavy pressure swelled in his heart. He felt an intense wave of dizziness.

Fragments of memory flashed in his mind—every one of them about the infant ghost. Her first smile, first roll, first crawl, first time calling “Mama.”

For a moment, he let his guard down. The world spun—and suddenly, his body felt light. He was floating, no longer touching the ground.

He looked down in astonishment at the woman slowly waking up on the floor.

Ah Ling blinked in confusion, unsure why she was home again—but she didn’t care. A woman on the brink of death no longer had much curiosity.

“Baby…”

Looking at the wall of photos, she showed a somewhat childlike smile. “I’m sorry, Mama’s coming to be with you now.”

The infant ghost curiously turned her head—looking at Zhou Shurong, then at Ah Ling.

She didn’t understand what her mother meant. She giggled and played with her toes.

Zhou Shurong sighed. Seeing Ah Ling reach for a utility knife on the table, he took control of the body again, gently setting the blade down.

“If you knew your child had been by your side all along, would you still want to die?” he murmured. “I know you can’t see her, but…”

“If you love her, you should be able to feel it.” Something crossed Zhou Shurong’s mind, and suddenly, he smiled.

He walked up to the photo of the dying infant and gently stroked it with his fingertips for a long time. The photo was very recent. Ah ling had only recently moved in, so the device that stored the photos should still be in the house.

Zhou Shurong found the camera.

He flipped through the photos inside, and there it was—a photo recording the death of the baby ghost three years ago.

“So, you’ve been a ghost for three years. No wonder you’re so powerful,” Zhou Shurong stroked her head and added, “And you’re sucking your mother’s life force every day. Must be well-fed.”

The baby ghost was delighted, smiling widely.

Though it was a bit strange—where had that odd uncle gone again?

Zhou Shurong felt that Ah ling’s suicide attempt had some hidden reason. She had held on for three years—why did she suddenly decide to die?

He searched for a long time but couldn’t find her phone.

However, he found another key item—a divorce certificate, dated just the week before last.

***

The next day.

Today was Qin Yan’s workday. After packing his bag, he unzipped it to check the items inside, ensuring nothing was missing, then locked the door and left home.

The elevator still hadn’t been repaired. People heading to work or school were yawning and grumbling as they squeezed onto the stairs.

Qin Yan saw that woman again.

She was wearing the same black dress from yesterday, her exposed skin pale, almost developing a bluish tint. Her eyes were very dark, fixed on him.

Qin Yan was a bit confused and uneasy. He hadn’t interacted with her before.

Why was she staring at him?

He turned his gaze away, trying to ignore the burning stare on his back, pursing his lips as he carefully descended the stairs without looking back.

Once outside the building, the crowd dispersed.

As he left the neighborhood, everyone scattered, blending into the busy streets.

Qin Yan walked faster, but the strange gaze still followed him like a sticky snake, relentless.

She was still there, but she moved so quietly.

Qin Yan entered the subway station, trying to stay calm as he stood at the ticket machine to buy a ticket.

“Good morning.”

Qin Yan jumped, his wrist shaking. The freshly printed ticket dropped to the floor.

He bent down to pick it up but couldn’t reach it as quickly as the woman. In that brief moment, his gaze fell on her. Her medium-length hair split into two parts as she lowered her head, resembling two dark doors that revealed a pale, almost distorted face.

She picked up the ticket and handed it to him without looking.

Qin Yan took it, saying thank you.

He paused for a moment, then added, “Good morning.”

He noticed the woman’s sly smile, the curve of her eyes and mouth lifting in a way that felt eerily familiar.

He heard her gentle voice, “I don’t have any money, sir. Could you please let me ride the subway?”

Somehow, when she called him “sir,” his heart jolted.

In the past, “sir” (láng jūn) was a term for a husband.

Qin Yan quickly collected himself, scanning her once more. She wore a black dress that reached her ankles, and he couldn’t see her shoes. She only held a black umbrella.

“Sure.” Qin Yan, always willing to help, asked, “Miss, how should I address you?”

Something in her expression shifted subtly at the question.

“Call me Ah ling.”

“Alright, don’t call me ‘sir’ anymore. My surname is Qin. Ah ling, where are you headed?”

Ah ling gave him an address, and Qin Yan couldn’t help but glance at her in confusion.

Just now, she picked up his ticket but didn’t look at it. So, how did she know where he worked? Had she inquired beforehand?

Qin Yan should have been cautious—after all, she seemed like a woman who was stalking or spying on him. But for some reason, when he saw her smile, he couldn’t bring himself to be wary.

Ah ling smiled warmly, her eyes curving gently. “I have a daughter… she should be about four years old now. I want to check out a nearby kindergarten.”

Qin Yan was suddenly enlightened. So she was a mother. But he couldn’t understand—she was out alone, without her purse, and she didn’t seem to have her phone either. She was also so thin, as if she had been very ill. Where was her “husband”?

Ah ling continued, “When I heard about Xingyue Kindergarten, a neighbor mentioned you teach there. I’m sorry for paying so much attention to you. I hope I haven’t caused you trouble.”

Qin Yan quickly denied it, embarrassed that he had overthought things.

Also, for a man to be afraid of a woman—it seemed too cowardly.

He quickly bought the ticket and handed it to Ah ling. Since they were headed to the same destination, it made sense to travel together. When the subway arrived, he acted as a gentleman, blocking the rush of people to allow her to board smoothly, her hair and skirt undisturbed.

After sending Ah ling off, Qin Yan suddenly felt someone tugging on his collar from behind. His body lurched backward, and he almost lost his balance. In that critical moment, a hand grabbed his right hand. The hand was soft, cold, and unfamiliar, but it made Qin Yan’s heart skip a beat, almost to the point of tears.

Even after the subway began its journey, Qin Yan still hadn’t come to his senses, staring at his right hand in a daze.

A weak, teasing voice came from his side, “Why are your eyes red after boarding the train?”

He looked up, only to see Ah ling struggling to catch her breath, covering her chest with her hand.

He was alarmed. “Are you alright?”

She forced a smile. “I’m just weak. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine after resting.”

Then she added, “You didn’t cry, did you?”

Qin Yan sniffed. “I just bumped my nose. I didn’t cry.”

Ah ling was delicate, unable to reach the pull ring above her head. There were no available seats around, and as Qin Yan scanned the subway car, he noticed the seated passengers were deliberately avoiding eye contact.

He grabbed the pull ring with his left hand and extended his right arm, offering, “If you don’t mind, you can hold onto my arm.”

Qin Yan was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, his arm slender but firm and pale.

Ah ling stared for a while.

Qin Yan quietly said, “Don’t worry, I like men.”

The subway car was crowded, and though his voice was soft, others nearby overheard and couldn’t help but make faces.

Ah ling—no, Zhou Shurong—fell into silence again.

When they were dating before, Qin Yan wouldn’t hide his feelings. He’d hold hands when it was appropriate, hug when it was appropriate. But he, on the other hand, had always been secretive, only letting Zhou Langxing know. His own father didn’t even know he was in a relationship.

The hand he extended was tempting, but Zhou Shurong couldn’t help but resist. He had already gotten what he wanted when he pulled Qin Yan up earlier.

Though he longed to be close to Qin Yan constantly, this wasn’t his body.

He was naturally greedy, but he was more afraid that once he held on, he wouldn’t be able to let go.

He longed for human connection, but he didn’t want to hide his face anymore, to stop lurking in the shadows. He wanted to meet Qin Yan openly.

—If Qin Yan were also a ghost, they could live a carefree, beautiful life without anyone interfering. Wouldn’t that be perfect?

“Ah ling” broke the silence, rejecting Qin Yan’s offer with a smile. She grabbed the back of a seat, laughing, “See, I’ve got a grip.”

Qin Yan wisely said nothing further.

After a while, she quietly said, “Thank you.”

Ah ling smiled, her lips curving up.

When the subway arrived at the station, “Ah ling” opened the black umbrella. The sun hadn’t appeared today.

Just ten more minutes, and they would arrive at the kindergarten.

The school bus arrived just in time. The children from the Sunflower class jumped off the bus, and as soon as they saw Qin Yan, they rushed toward him, shouting excitedly and forming a circle around him.

“Teacher Dou Sha Bao—”

“Teacher, I haven’t seen you for so many days!” The little chubby kid squeezed into the circle, raising ten fingers and loudly said.

“Little chubby, stop talking nonsense. It hasn’t been that long!” The little girl retorted, then turned to Qin Yan and said, “Teacher, I miss you so much!”

Qin Yan chuckled and pressed down on a few of the little chubby kid’s raised fingers.

“Teacher, teacher, do you listen to your mom at home?”

“Teacher, don’t you go to school? Won’t your mom and dad spank you?”

“No, no! Teachers are adults, so parents don’t spank adults! It’s the grandparents who spank!”

These little kids had bright voices, talking incessantly and with thoughts that weren’t connected. Just a moment ago they were discussing how Teacher Dou Sha Bao hadn’t come to school for days, and the next moment, they were debating whether their moms would spank them for not going to school. It was like a group of chattering birds on a branch.

Qin Yan was surrounded by the little birds as they entered the school gate. But he still remembered Ah Ling and looked back for a moment.

Ah Ling, the pale and frail woman, smiled and waved him off.

Qin Yan saw the principal walking towards Ah Ling, so he finally felt relieved.

The afternoon passed quickly. Qin Yan had lunch in the cafeteria but didn’t see Ah Ling. He assumed she had already left.

While washing the dishes, the lively Teacher Mi Zhou approached and teased, “You’re so popular. I’m feeling a bit jealous. The moment you came back, they couldn’t see me anymore.”

“I’m just reaping the benefits of time. You’ll be fine if you stay a little longer.”

“Heh, while the kids are napping, let’s find an empty classroom and rehearse.”

Qin Yan was curious, “An empty classroom?”

She raised her eyebrows, a little smug and excited. “Yes, it’s specially arranged. The principal allowed it. She knows we’re performing, and she praised us for doing a good job!”

Qin Yan nodded. “Good job!”

“I’ve got the costumes. You’re in the bunny suit, remember to change.”

Qin Yan’s eyes widened. “Bunny suit!”

When he saw it, he realized it was a bunny mascot suit, like the ones at amusement parks. He thought he would just wear bunny ears and a tail. Although the embarrassment was less, the suit was still physically exhausting.

In a day or two, it would be June, and he’d be suffocating inside that suit.

After one rehearsal, Qin Yan took off the headpiece and collapsed onto the floor like a wilted flower.

Teacher Mi Zhou was dressed in farmer clothes and still energetic, “Cheer up! You only have one scene, and you don’t even have lines. Why are you so tired?”

Qin Yan pouted and glanced at her, “I need to pray to the heavens that Children’s Day is rainy.”

“That won’t work! It’s an outdoor scene, how will the kids see?”

“Cancel the performance, everyone can go home.”

Teacher Mi Zhou figured out his intentions and thought for a moment. “Alright, no mascot suit. Just wear white clothes, white pants, and put on bunny ears and a tail. As long as the kids know you’re playing a bunny, it’s fine.”

She got more excited as she spoke, her eyes shining. She had invited Qin Yan to perform because he was popular with the kids and would earn more little red flowers. Oh, he had to show his face!

“What do you think?” She looked expectantly at him.

Qin Yan straightened his messy hair, “I’m a grown man, does it suit me?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t it? It’s fine for a bunny girl, so why not a bunny guy?”

Qin Yan’s expression was still a bit displeased, making her unable to resist laughing.

Teacher Mi Zhou noticed his change after he came back from his leave, and his eyes had gathered a persistent sadness. No one knew what happened during his leave, and when asked, he didn’t answer.

Unable to withstand his gaze, she softened and said, “Okay, I’ll be the bunny, you be the farmer.”

Qin Yan laughed. He knew she had ambitions and was strong-willed. In this story, the farmer was the main character, and he wouldn’t take her role.

“The bunny guy sounds good. It’s settled then.”

Teacher Mi Zhou smiled, “Have you rested enough? Let’s rehearse one last time! This time, no mascot suit.”

Qin Yan nodded. As he was taking off his suit, he suddenly noticed someone standing by the window. It was Ah Ling.

She smiled at him, gentle and elegant. This phrase was usually used to describe men. When used for women, words like gentle and intellectual were more common.

He froze for a moment before realizing her left shoulder was slightly slanted, as though she was carrying something heavy.

He stared for a while, and Teacher Mi Zhou also glanced out the window, then whispered, “Do you know her?”

Qin Yan replied that he did and excused himself to step outside.

Teacher Mi Zhou waved her hand.

Qin Yan left the room, and Ah Ling walked toward him, softly calling, “Sir.”

The moment he heard the word “Sir,” it made his whole body tingle. He muttered in a low voice, “I told you not to call me Sir.”

Ah Ling smiled lightly, and her expression made Qin Yan feel overly uneasy.

“Have you had lunch?”

“I’m not hungry.” It wasn’t that he didn’t crave food from the living world, he just didn’t dare to eat, afraid of satisfying physical needs.

Qin Yan opened his mouth but realized it was awkward to care for a married woman, so he changed the subject, “So, how did you feel this morning? Any thoughts?”

“It’s great, she really likes it.”

“She?”

Ah Ling realized her slip of the tongue and didn’t want to dwell on it, changing the subject, “The principal asked me to look around, so I ended up here. Were you rehearsing just now?”

Qin Yan suppressed his doubts, lowered his gaze, and awkwardly said, “Yes, we’re preparing for the Children’s Day performance. I’m playing—”

She cut him off with a smile, “A bunny.”

Qin Yan was so embarrassed his face turned red.

She sighed, “I really want to come watch you perform that day.”

Qin Yan felt something was off. The conversation was taking a strange turn. He raised his voice and asked, “You didn’t bring your phone or wallet, so you can’t go home, right? I have some spare change, you can use it. Don’t be shy.”

Ah Ling paused for two seconds, then took the money from him with a strange look in her eyes.

“Then I won’t say thank you. Sir.”

Once again, the word “Sir” made Qin Yan feel uncomfortable. He quickly left, almost running away.

Through the glass window, Teacher Mi Zhou watched Ah Ling’s retreating figure with an expression of amusement, “That woman, she’s trying to hit on you!”

“Stop making things up!”

“I’m not making it up. I saw it clearly, the way she looks at you is full of affection, she’s really into you—”

Her words were cut off when Qin Yan got really upset. She didn’t dare say anything further.

Meanwhile, Ah Ling hadn’t left the kindergarten. She stood in front of the slide, watching the pale, pink-dressed baby ghost mimicking the older kids, opening its arms, sliding down the ladder.

“Wow…”

The baby’s innocent voice, so happy, only Ah Ling heard it.