27: Zhou Shurong’s Memorial Tablet

The first time Qin Yan visited Zhou Shurong’s room was after his death, to offer incense.

The servant quickly opened the door but didn’t turn on the light. Instead, she told him to wait a moment, as she needed to get the incense and the lamp.

“Lamp? Is there some special reason?” Qin Yan asked sincerely.

“The light in the room is broken, and Mr. Zhou doesn’t want strangers to enter the eldest son’s room. It hasn’t been fixed yet,” the servant explained quickly, before hurrying off.

Qin Yan was left standing in front of the dark doorway, looking inside from the lit hallway. The room was illuminated only by a faint white light from the doorframe, with the rest of the room completely dark, likely covered with thick curtains blocking out any light.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he gradually made out the room’s furnishings. The bed was high and wide, with a bare vase on the nightstand.

The servant returned slowly with three incense sticks, a flashlight, and a lighter. Qin Yan took them one by one.

She politely asked, “Do you need me to hold the light for you?”

Qin Yan shook his head.

She asked again, “Shall I close the door?”

Qin Yan hesitated, thinking of speaking privately, and then nodded.

The servant closed the door behind her gently.

Qin Yan turned on the flashlight and examined the bare vase, then asked the servant, who was still standing nearby, “Excuse me, that vase…”

“Oh, it seems to be the eldest master’s beloved item.”

Upon hearing this, Qin Yan smiled sweetly. The bare, unattractive vase was a birthday gift he had made for Zhou Shurong. He had spent two days in a pottery studio shaping it himself.

Zhou Shurong had said that he turned the fresh flowers Qin Yan gave him into dried flowers and placed them in the vase. Every night, he would look at it before sleeping and it would help him sleep peacefully.

“So there were dried flowers in it?” Qin Yan asked.

“Yes, originally there were dried flowers in the vase, but they were thrown away by the new girl who doesn’t know better.”

The smile on Qin Yan’s face faded slightly, a hint of disappointment in his expression. It almost felt like a metaphor.

“Also,” the servant continued, “the second young master was making dried flowers and said he wanted to leave two for the eldest young master.”

Qin Yan suddenly smiled again.

When Qin Yan stepped into the room, the servant quietly closed the door behind her.

Qin Yan reached out and gently touched the vase. His hand was clean, and there wasn’t a speck of dust on it.

Next, his gaze turned to a new addition to the room: a shrine made of rosewood. On it, Zhou Shurong’s black-and-white memorial photo and memorial tablet were placed. Below that was a small incense burner, its incense ash already full.

“So, you have two homes here… but why do I feel like you prefer to go to my place?”

“Is this one of the top illusions of my life?”

“I always feel that right now, you aren’t here.”

“A few days ago, your brother Langxing came to my house, talking about how your dad doesn’t love him, or something like that. But when I saw him today, I thought your dad was actually quite interesting, always teasing Langxing at dinner.”

Qin Yan bent down and gazed at the memorial photo, where Zhou Shurong was smiling at him. He smiled back at the photo.

“I somewhat understand now why you smile when you talk about your brother… Hmm, it’s really amusing. Because Langxing really is amusing when he’s teased!”

“Ah, speaking of which, Zhou Shurong, you’re falling behind the times. Today I came to your house, but it was because of your brother. You used to be unwilling to mention family matters—”

Qin Yan scratched his head in regret. “I said the wrong thing, sorry, forget it, let me start over!”

“I shouldn’t complain about you, because I also used to avoid talking about my own family with you.”

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ll say it anyway—my dad is of mixed Chinese and English descent. After he divorced my mom, he settled in the UK. My mom remarried, and when I was sixteen, she had a daughter with her new husband. I held her once. She even pooped on me!”

“Later, because they each had their own lives to focus on, my connection with them grew distant. Of course, part of the reason was that I chose to study at university in another city.”

“During holidays, I don’t want to go back home. I feel like a glass figure awkwardly inserted into their happy lives. They treat me like a guest, always worried they might offend me somehow.”

“Once, my five-year-old sister wanted to ride on my back like a horse. I agreed, but my mom looked terrified and rushed over to pick her up.”

“I originally wanted you to bring me to your house this year.”

“I really wanted to demand it from you, to definitely make our relationship public…”

“I truly wish I had another home.”

Qin Yan smiled faintly, lit three incense sticks, and inserted them into the burner.

Outside the door, someone stood, listening for a long time.

Zhou Langxing took some time to gather his emotions, taking deep breaths. After a while, he gently held the fruit platter and walked toward the stairs, deliberately making his footsteps heavier as he approached the door.

Qin Yan heard the noise, looked up, and saw the incense sticks in the burner—two short ones and one long. He had no knowledge of such things, so he didn’t pay it much mind.

He opened the door and saw Zhou Langxing. Smiling, he said, “So it’s really you. I recognized your footsteps.”

“Really impressive,” Zhou Langxing casually scanned his face, not seeing any signs of tears. Upon thinking about it, Qin Yan’s words earlier were calm and quiet, with no emotion in them.

Numb? Used to it? No longer hurting?

Qin Yan stepped outside, moving from the dark into the light.

He glanced at the fruit platter in Zhou Langxing’s hands.

“Is this for me?”

“Yeah, I specifically told them to use the fruit you brought. It’s really fresh and sweet. Try it. Especially the mango!”

Qin Yan didn’t bother with formalities. He took a beautifully crafted silver fruit fork and picked up the largest piece of mango, savoring the sweet taste.

He gave a thumbs up and mumbled, “As expected of me, I have great taste!”

Zhou Langxing smiled with his eyes.

“By the way,” Qin Yan asked, still smiling, “Did you dry those flowers?”

“How do you know?” Zhou Langxing asked, holding back his curiosity, but he couldn’t resist asking how Qin Yan knew.

Qin Yan said the servant had told him, and he also learned that Zhou Langxing had promised to give Zhou Shurong some dried flowers.

He shone the flashlight onto the vase in the room. “Do you see that vase?”

“Yeah, I see it,” Zhou Langxing replied, his tone indifferent, his thoughts drifting. He casually thought that the vase was plain and that Zhou Shurong’s taste was getting more twisted.

“That was a birthday gift I personally made for your brother. Once your flowers are dried, you can place them in that vase.”

The ugly vase was a gift from Qin Yan? He made it himself?

Zhou Langxing immediately experienced selective amnesia.

He said with a sincere expression, “Truly—it’s beautiful! Simple, elegant, noble, and unique!”

Qin Yan felt a little embarrassed hearing this.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Even if you tone it down, it’s still that beautiful.”

Zhou Langxing then changed the topic, “I will definitely make good use of this vase.”

He looked at the vase with a darkened gaze, clearly harboring possessive thoughts.

He confidently thought: since I’ve already boldly started digging up the corners of the wall, what’s the harm in taking a vase too?

It’s all part of the plan!

After finishing the fruit, it was getting late. Qin Yan could not stay over at the Zhou household, and Zhou Langxing did not have the courage to insist. Father Zhou had made it clear that he wasn’t concerned about such matters.

Zhou Langxing had the driver take him back.

When Qin Yan was about to thank him, Zhou Langxing immediately understood, saying first, “Saying too many thanks will make our relationship feel distant.” He glanced at Qin Yan, “We’re… not that unfamiliar, right?”

Qin Yan’s eyes shifted slightly, and he smiled lightly, “Alright, let me rephrase—goodbye, see you next time!”

Zhou Langxing raised an eyebrow slightly.

He preferred “see you tomorrow” to “see you next time.”

When Qin Yan got in the car, Zhou Langxing waved and said, “See you tomorrow—”

The car hadn’t started yet. Qin Yan leaned out of the window. The wind outside blew his hair into his eyes, and he pushed it back, revealing eyes full of confusion.

“Tomorrow? Are you completely free now?”

“Yes. The old man said he wouldn’t care about me anymore. I’m now a free person with nothing to do. I can go anywhere I want.”

“Your leg’s better now, but you’re not going back to school?”

“I’ve taken a whole semester off; I just need to take the exams.”

Qin Yan nodded. The car still hadn’t started; people who work for rich families have a sense of timing. They wouldn’t drive off while a conversation was ongoing. The driver patiently waited for the conversation to conclude.

“But I have to go to work. Also, I need to rehearse for a show, so I don’t have time to hang out with you.” Qin Yan remembered his promise to accompany Zhou Langxing to the park to pet cats once his leg healed.

Zhou Langxing’s eyes lit up, “What show? Can I watch?”

Qin Yan thought, since he would be performing on stage anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to practice his mentality by showing someone beforehand. He nodded, “I’ll be playing a rabbit, very amateurish. You can watch if you want. We’re rehearsing at noon, and we can have dinner together after work. Oh—I’ll treat you to some crispy dumplings!”

Zhou Langxing nodded enthusiastically. The lights in front of the door were bright, but not as bright as his eyes.

Qin Yan kept those eyes, which seemed to shine like stars, in his heart. The car drove off, but those eyes continued to shine in his mind.

It was now 9:10 p.m.

Zhou Shurong found Ah Ling’s phone, which had been under the sofa. If he hadn’t suddenly gotten the urge to clean the house because it was too dirty, he wouldn’t have found it.

After unlocking the phone with the fingerprint scanner, he first checked the messages. Most were spam, but he eventually found a few useful ones—

The first: A message from the bank, showing there was only a four-digit balance left in the account.

The second: A message from a little-known small city department, informing Ah Ling that she needed to pay the management fee for two cemetery plots next month.

The third: A message from someone named “Yongliang,” warning Ah Ling not to disturb him again, as he was remarrying on the 16th of the next month. (The message was sent eight days ago.)

This Yongliang was her ex-husband. Just a few days after their divorce, he was getting remarried.

Zhou Shurong didn’t even need to check the calendar to know that there were only two days left before next month. Qin Yan would be performing on June 1st, and he remembered that very clearly.

So many troubling matters piled together, not just a “straw,” no wonder she felt pressured and couldn’t think straight.

She wanted to escape everything through death.

But little did she know, even if the body dies, the soul still remains in the world?

She could escape those numbers and stop worrying about money, but if she died, who would take care of those cemetery plots that might be her parents’ graves? What would happen if the management fee wasn’t paid?

And if Ah Ling died, after the seventh day of mourning, she would still have to attend her ex-husband’s second wedding. No matter how much she suffered or didn’t want to let go, no one would see it.

However, there was some benefit to Ah Ling’s death.

At least she and her child would be reunited.

Zhou Shurong had once thought of this: he wouldn’t care about Ah Ling; she could die if she wanted to.

Yes, she missed the child, and the child missed her. If she died, she could meet with her child with the obsession she carried, which would be a happy reunion, right?

How much it resembled himself and Qin Yan—humans and spirits, both concerned about each other.

But ignoring the death of an innocent life would be condemned by his conscience, and he didn’t want to bear that burden for a stranger.

How could he make Ah Ling live?

Solve her financial and emotional issues? No, he wasn’t that saintly.

Besides, was it really just these issues that made her want to die?

Her last words when she jumped were about apologizing to the child, saying she was going to be with her.

The question turned back to: how did the infant ghost die? Was it an accident? Was it caused by someone?

How much responsibility could her apology carry?

While Zhou Shurong was contemplating, he opened the call log and was surprised to see that “Yongliang” had made several calls two days ago.

Since he had called her first, if Ah Ling still cared, this relationship wasn’t beyond saving.

Zhou Shurong dialed “Yongliang’s” number. After a long pause, the call finally connected.

The man didn’t seem as impatient as expected. He sounded somewhat weary, a bit conciliatory, and said warmly, “Ling, did you call me because you’ve made up your mind?”

Zhou Shurong deliberately spoke coldly, “Made up your mind about what?”

“Re-marriage!” the man said excitedly. “Don’t pretend to forget—let’s get remarried! We can try for another child. Since you could have one, there’s definitely a chance for a second. I’m not in a hurry, we can take our time!”

Zhou Shurong lowered his eyelashes, deliberately sounding melancholic, “A child, huh—”

“I don’t want a boy anymore; even a girl would be fine! Ling, let’s get remarried!”

Zhou Shurong pretended to be in pain, “I can’t forget; I always feel like she’s still by my side.”

“Don’t think too much,” the man said, a little hesitantly. “She was so harsh, she wouldn’t dare come back.”

This sentence had a hidden meaning, confirming that the infant ghost’s death was likely caused by human actions. And the fact that he spoke so bluntly suggested that Ah Ling was also aware of it.

Zhou Shurong gently touched the sleeping infant ghost.

“Aren’t you getting married on the 16th of next month?”

The man was silent for a moment, then gritted his teeth, “I’m embarrassed to say it, but the child in her womb wasn’t mine! Ling, I really regret it; I shouldn’t have let my mom interfere. A girl would have been fine!”

Zhou Shurong’s eyes shifted. This man likely couldn’t have children anymore, hence his regret, desperately trying to win back Ah Ling, who had once given birth to a child for him.

“Yes, a girl would have been fine.” Zhou Shurong smiled oddly, “Let’s talk more about it when we meet tomorrow, okay?”

“You… you agreed!”

“We’ll talk when we meet.”

“Alright… I’ll buy the tickets now. I should be there by around 4 or 5 PM tomorrow!”

After hanging up, Zhou Shurong looked at the infant ghost, who was sleeping soundly on the sofa, sucking her finger as though eating something incredibly delicious.

“Tomorrow you’ll meet your dad. Are you happy?”

The infant ghost smacked her lips.

“I’ve heard that ghosts stay in the mortal world either because they have unfulfilled wishes or harbor grudges. In any case, they linger with bitterness, unable to descend into the underworld.”

“You’re always so happy, as if you don’t have any grudges. Maybe you don’t even understand what it is to hold a grudge. Even if the people who killed you were your parents, you only have love in your heart.”

“So the reason you’re staying in the mortal world is because you can’t bear to leave your mom, right?”

“Now, I’m inhabiting your mom’s body, which means she can see you, hold you, play with you… yet you still haven’t left. Children are really scary; it’s not that you’re too attached, but rather too greedy.”

“The only way to let you properly return to the underworld and reincarnate seems to be if your mom personally takes you down.”

In contrast to his previous reluctance to ignore the loss of life, Zhou Shurong suddenly softened. His instinct told him that Ah Ling wasn’t innocent. This was no longer a pure and clean life.

How did the infant ghost really die?

Zhou Shurong took down the special photograph from the bedroom wall and studied it carefully. The infant’s skin was pale, very thin, and on the brink of death—an omen of passing. Did Ah Ling take this photo? What was her mood at the time? Was she feeling guilty and reluctant? Or was she excited and proud, unable to control herself and took the photo as a memento?

It wasn’t clear how the infant ghost had died. There were no external injuries, no bruises.

It could have starved to death, or it could have died from illness.

Zhou Shurong stared at the photo for a long time before shifting his gaze to the infant ghost, who was making soft little snoring sounds.

After a moment of silence, he gently patted the infant ghost’s small arm and whispered, “Hang in there. Tomorrow when you see your dad, make sure to hug him a lot; he must miss you so much.”

The moon tonight was sharp and cold, coldly gazing down on the brightly lit towns below.

The roads at night were even smoother than during the day, with fewer people and cars. In less than an hour and a half, the car arrived at the residential area and stopped downstairs.

Qin Yan stayed alert, not letting himself fall asleep, afraid that if he slept too much, he wouldn’t be able to sleep later. He thanked the driver, opened the car door, and got out.

Zhou Shurong was on the eighth floor. He couldn’t hear the car below, but somehow, he instinctively looked downstairs.

There was a dim yellow light below, casting shadows of the car and a person, but he could barely distinguish what they were wearing. Yet, he knew it was Qin Yan.

He didn’t notice that his lips had already curled into a slight smile.

Carrying a bag of trash, he went down to “accidentally” meet someone.

The elevator was still out of service, and the only way up and down was the stairs. One person was going downstairs to throw out the trash, and the other was heading upstairs to rest—such a “coincidence.”

They ran into each other on the third floor.

The hallway light was also yellow, flickering intermittently.

Qin Yan was tired from the car ride, his eyes downcast, focusing on the steps below. Suddenly, he saw a pair of women’s feet. He raised his head in surprise.

“Miss Ah Ling—”

“Mr. Qin,” Ah Ling squinted and smiled, “Coming home so late? Does the kindergarten have overtime?”

Qin Yan had initially intended to avoid her, but now he stopped in his tracks, unable to pretend to be deaf and mute. He answered, “No, I visited a friend’s house.”

“Oh—it’s so nice to have friends when you’re working in an unfamiliar city.”

Qin Yan heard her sigh as if she had no friends herself and seemed envious. There was also the odd feeling that she wanted to be friends with him.

Qin Yan moved his lips. Although he appeared kind and approachable on the surface, he was actually distant at his core. He was intrigued by this strange woman but didn’t want to get close to her.

Because deep down, he was resisting.

Her every frown and smile felt disturbingly familiar to him, but he didn’t want to find traces of Zhou Shurong in her.

This made him wonder—did Ah Ling and Zhou Shurong have a story from the past?

Qin Yan gave her a heavy glance.

She was so cold, and he couldn’t smell anything from her. It was as if she wasn’t even alive.

Moreover, he felt she was deliberately approaching him. Carrying a bag of trash downstairs was a poor excuse; she lived on the eighth floor—did she really need to go up and down just to throw out a bag of trash? Couldn’t she throw it out tomorrow while leaving?

This wasn’t a coincidence; this was intentional.

“Miss Ah Ling, I’ll be leaving now.” He coldly moved aside and continued up the stairs.

Zhou Shurong looked back at Qin Yan’s retreating figure. He of course sensed Qin Yan’s coldness and distance.

He felt a mix of happiness and sadness.

He recognized something familiar in himself, but it was this familiarity that caused him to reject himself.

Zhou Shurong lowered his head and laughed softly, but his gaze turned icy. “See, this body really isn’t of much use anymore.”