31: Dark personality, doesn’t like to shine

After Qin Yan and Zhou Langxing came back, they caught the third group’s guzheng performance.

The little kids in the audience swayed their heads, almost everyone was seriously immersed. Qin Yan stood in the shade of a tree and spotted the chubby kid from his class secretly munching on chips.

The event lasted nearly two hours, with a break in between since kids can’t sit still for long. Later, some of the children went to look for their parents, the line between adults and little ones blurred, and everyone sat in a mess.

When the performances ended, one representative from each group was chosen to go on stage. The kids each held a little red flower in their hands—whoever they liked best, they’d stick their flower onto that teacher.

When Mi Zhou found Qin Yan, her hair was coming loose, and her cheeks were flushed bright red.

“You haven’t changed clothes yet?” Qin Yan looked at her in surprise.

She let out a small “ah” and asked in return, “You changed already?”

Zhou Langxing nodded behind her, silently showing support.

Qin Yan had no words.

She sighed with regret. “Dressed up as a bunny, all fluffy—kids love that stuff. Oh well, just hurry up and get up there!”

He understood what she was after. She was new, didn’t have much footing yet, and couldn’t compete in popularity with the other teachers—so she needed backup. Qin Yan was her backup.

Qin Yan smiled helplessly and walked up to the stage calmly. As he passed by the kids lining up to hand out red flowers, a little girl with high-pulled braids waved her red flower excitedly. “Teacher Dou sha Bao! I want to give my flower to you!”

Zhou Langxing thought this was a moment worth remembering and lifted his camera again.

Mi Zhou glanced at him a few more times, finding him oddly familiar, and made conversation: “Have you been here before?”

Zhou Langxing looked straight ahead. “Didn’t I come yesterday?”

“No, even earlier than that.”

Zhou Langxing’s smile froze. Earlier than that would’ve only been Zhou Shurong.

He mumbled vaguely.

The woman beside him slapped her thigh. “I remember now! I saw you two hugging and kissing a couple of months ago!”

Zhou Langxing: “…”

“I wasn’t sure at the time—didn’t see the face clearly. Just thought the back looked familiar. Didn’t dare to guess.”

She clicked her tongue, oddly excited. “No wonder he got mad when I said a girl was trying to flirt with him. Turns out he’s already taken.”

Zhou Langxing slowly turned his gaze to her face. What? Someone tried to swoop in?

He pretended to be jealous—or maybe he didn’t even need to pretend.

“Who? A female teacher at the kindergarten?”

Mi Zhou shook her head. The host on stage announced the flower voting was beginning, and the first kid walked up. Mi Zhou watched the stage like a hawk while replying:

“Someone from outside. I didn’t recognize her. I heard Qin Yan call her Ah Ling.”

Ah Ling?

Such a familiar way to address her.

He had to work hard just to get to the point where he could call Qin Yan by a nickname.

His heart soaked in sour liquid, sour and bitter. Zhou Langxing clenched his jaw. “And… what did that woman call him?”

The first flower landed on the Rainbow Class teacher. Mi Zhou was discouraged for a second, then picked herself up again. She kept her eyes locked on the stage and replied offhandedly: “Think she called him ‘sir.’”

She wasn’t uninterested in gossip—especially the romantic kind, which was always juicy—but her career was more important!

Leaving Zhou Langxing brooding on his own.

Maybe it was his imagination, but the word “sir” kept ringing in his ears, overly intimate.

His heart sizzled in sour juice, sprinkled with a secret recipe chili powder—like skewers eaten cold, all that was missing was a bamboo stick to skewer it through.

Zhou Langxing adjusted his emotions and raised the camera again. His hands were steady, but his mouth couldn’t stop muttering.

A breeze stirred, rustling the leaves.

Zhou Shurong stood in the shade, calm and quiet, his brilliance hidden. A gust of wind lifted the green leaves, brushing past his chest—without leaving a trace.

He watched Qin Yan.

In his ear was Zhou Langxing’s muttered whining, tinged with jealousy—until suddenly, Zhou Shurong couldn’t help but laugh.

The top three winners were announced.

Qin Yan lost to the first place by just two flowers. Mi Zhou sighed, “Just a little bit more and we would’ve made it!”

After the morning event, the afternoon was free. Mi Zhou had originally wanted to treat Qin Yan to a meal, but after recalling the hugging and kissing she’d seen, she dropped the idea.

Qin Yan, however, asked, “Want to eat together?”

“Forget it, I’ve got a dark personality. I don’t like to shine.” (She doesn’t want to be a lightbulb.)

What did that even mean? Qin Yan looked at Zhou Langxing. Zhou Langxing shrugged.

Before leaving, Mi Zhou whispered in his ear: “Keep a low profile. I don’t mind, but some people do—especially some parents. They’re afraid you’ll be a bad influence on the kids.”

Qin Yan finally understood.

He moved his lips but didn’t say anything. After a pause, he just said softly, “Thank you.”

During lunch, he grew uncharacteristically quiet.

Zhou Langxing kept looking at him. “She thought I was…”

“Let her think that. Having a dead boyfriend isn’t something worth shouting to the world.”

He said it lightly, and then stuffed a big mouthful of rice into his mouth.

They sat at a table for two. Zhou Shurong had no place to sit and leaned idly against the wall, slowly taking off his glasses and polishing the lenses with a pocket cloth.

At those words, he looked up. His lashes were long, straight, and dark, casting a shadow that dimmed the light in his eyes.

Qin Yan hadn’t yet mastered detachment. Though he said he didn’t care, tears dropped into his rice, and he ate them in silence.

Across from him, Zhou Langxing instinctively reached out, hesitated, then redirected his hand to grab a napkin and hand it over.

Qin Yan wiped his tears, then said on his own, “I figured it out. Shurong and I did something out of line at the kindergarten once—well, not quite inside, but just outside the gates. She must’ve seen that.”

His eyes weren’t particularly red, just lightly colored—like his lightly colored expression.

He suddenly smiled, “He said ‘no no’ but I kissed him anyway—and then he turned soft, even more obedient than a cat.”

Zhou Shurong stared at him, then slowly, lightly, smiled back.

Zhou Langxing lowered his head and ate. His hair was long and thick, hiding his expression. He chewed each bite for a long time.

After swallowing, he didn’t want to hear anymore. He changed the subject: “Who’s Ah Ling? Heard she wants to chase after you.”

“Must’ve heard that from Mi Zhou.”

Zhou Langxing nodded.

Qin Yan crumpled his tissue and tossed it into the trash. He said casually, “She’s a woman trying to get her daughter into Xingyue Kindergarten.”

He left out a lot of details—like how familiar she felt, how he suspected she had some connection to Zhou Shurong. He really wanted to dig into that secret, but he didn’t dare take the first step.

After everything that happened, anything related to Zhou Shurong—he wouldn’t share with Zhou Langxing so easily again.

“Oh—” Zhou Langxing licked the corner of his mouth. Somehow, that tongue seemed to have a sixth sense, stirring something off in the air. His gut told him this wasn’t so simple.

“You…” He looked up, eyes shifting evasively.

He wanted to ask something, but was afraid it’d make Qin Yan angry.

“Just say it. I’m not easily pissed off.”

He took a deep breath and blurted, “Have you ever thought about starting a new relationship?”

Zhou Langxing’s eyes were dark and bright, staring straight at him. Qin Yan shook his head decisively, not even pausing to think—completely firm!

He said, “No!”

Zhou Langxing’s breath caught. He struggled to hide his disappointment.

He shoved a piece of red chili in his mouth, chewing and swallowing it like it was tasteless wax.

“That’s good,” he heard himself say.

That was the only answer he could give. He was Zhou Shurong’s younger brother—his first responsibility was to Shurong.

In the name of family, he could only be family. No other role was allowed.

Silence thickened.

Zhou Shurong continued polishing his glasses, his pale, slender fingers wrapped around the thin cloth, methodically rubbing the smooth lenses in circles.

They were already spotless. Tilted slightly, the lens caught and reflected a cold glint of light.

Zhou Shurong smiled faintly, as if satisfied.

He put on his glasses and neatly folded his pocket square—everything done slowly, deliberately, with a sense of complete ease.

“Using my name to get close to him, you might gain something easily—but you’ll also hit hard bones.”

The voice was very soft—so soft no one could hear it.

He tilted his head slightly, a curious look on his face. “Will it chip your teeth?”

Zhou Langxing didn’t hear it. He was busy eating.

Whenever he got upset, it made the food taste terrible. After a while, his face twisted in pain and he spat out a piece of bone.

After the meal, Qin Yan was ready to head home.

Zhou Langxing clung to him. “What are you going home for?”

Qin Yan replied, “Nothing to do—watching TV.”

“Two people watching TV is better than one, right?”

“Right, right, everything you say is right.”

They bought popsicles at the convenience store by the entrance of the neighborhood—Qin Yan picked mung bean, Zhou Langxing got milk, and Zhou Shurong got nothing.

Qin Yan held the umbrella, walking slower and slower.

He had the popsicle in his mouth, but his eyes kept glancing back. Zhou Langxing’s steps also slowed down.

Gradually, a few people behind them caught up.

They were talking about something—and mentioned Ah Ling’s name.

Qin Yan and Zhou Langxing both pricked up their ears quietly.

“Xiao Zhou, you live on the 8th floor too. Did the police ask you anything?”

“Just asked about Jiang Ling.”

“And then?”

“Then the police left. I don’t know what happened either.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“Didn’t dare. But Ah Ling didn’t come home last night, and she wasn’t around this morning either.”

“Sigh, I know, I know!”

A man who’d been eavesdropping on the gossip jogged up and said:

“Yesterday I was eating at the ten-yuan restaurant, and I overheard that the police had come by. One of the waiters said it was about killing her own daughter. Someone took a picture, and that’s how I realized—it’s that sickly woman who just moved in!”

“For real?”

“How could it be fake? She ran away in the middle of the night!”

“You really can’t judge a person by their face—who would’ve thought! I hope the police catch her soon! Jail! She has to go to jail!”

A neighbor who lived across from Ah Ling sighed. “She gave our kid a Barbie doll as a gift last time. I thought that was weird. Turns out… she used to have a daughter.”

Qin Yan and Zhou Langxing looked at each other, utterly shocked by the development.

Zhou Langxing had just been thinking about how to crush a romantic rival—turns out, that rival was now a fugitive.

Qin Yan raised his popsicle and said with emotion, “Didn’t see that coming!”

Zhou Langxing nodded in agreement.

This kind of chilling story belonged on the city news page.

“But,” Qin Yan said softly, “these are just rumors. Before the truth comes out, I choose to stay silent.”

Zhou Langxing didn’t notice Qin Yan’s strange mood. He nodded seriously.

The group behind them kept gossiping—some old man spying on his daughter-in-law taking a bath, getting chased by her with a knife all the way to the police station.

Someone in Building D had a gold ring stolen, but turns out it was their kindergarten-age kid playing wedding games—he slipped it onto a girl’s finger, and she wore it home.

The two of them eavesdropped like it was a full-time job, completely absorbed, not even noticing their popsicles melting down to their wrists.

Zhou Shurong watched them acting in sync, and all he could do was shake his head in silence.

“Ew—”

The mung bean popsicle had melted into a green mush. Qin Yan couldn’t bear to look at it. He flung his hand, trying to shake it off.

Zhou Langxing narrowly dodged.

A bit speechless.

“Are you a shedding dog or something? Be careful!”

“I like cats more. If you compare me to a cat, I’ll be happier.”

Zhou Langxing snorted. “Back to cats again. You still owe me a promise, remember?”

“I remember. Once it’s not too sunny, I’ll take you to pet cats—so you won’t keep holding it in.”

Qin Yan didn’t have tissues on him and nearly wiped his hand on the ground. A round-faced woman nearby handed them tissues.

The two politely thanked her and walked ahead while wiping their hands.

This time, they decided to take the stairs. Safety first.

Qin Yan saw the others heading for the elevator and gave a reminder.

The one who replied lived on the 8th floor, round face, very gentle voice:

“This elevator really is old—it gets stuck every few months. But it was just fixed, so it’s not that scary. I live on the 8th floor. Walking up is exhausting!”

No need to say more, no need to convince anyone. Everyone has their own concerns. Qin Yan only needed to ensure that if something happened, he wouldn’t feel guilty.

People in modern times all have a kind of laziness—no one likes taking stairs. Some will even ride the elevator for just one floor. That’s why the stairway light hadn’t been fixed in ages.

The lighting was dim, flickering.

The “Emergency Exit” sign on the wall gave off a faint glow, casting a sickly green on people’s faces.

“If someone walks up alone at night, it’s really easy to overthink.”

Especially if you believe in ghosts.

“These days, it’s not just women who aren’t safe going out at night—even men aren’t, either,” Zhou Langxing said. “There was a news story just like that not long ago.”

“Ah—don’t scare me!”

“I’m not scaring you. Just a warning.”

“Yes, yes, but if something happens, I’ll run, okay?” Qin Yan said. “I’m not like those office workers who sit all day or those college students glued to their phones. I play games with energetic little kids all the time. Without stamina, I couldn’t even catch the naughty ones!”

“But someone coming out to do bad things wouldn’t be lacking skills, right? Bad example. Would a white-collar worker or a student be doing that stuff?”

“…Right.”

“You living here really worries me,” Zhou Langxing said, counting on his fingers. “No security guard, strangers walking in and out, building entrance without keycard access, elevator not safe—see how many hidden dangers?”

Qin Yan rubbed his hair. “I’m not a kid…”

Zhou Langxing stared at him.

“Okay, fine. Actually, I’ve thought about moving. I was going to move in with your brother.”

A shadow flickered across Zhou Langxing’s eyes. He stroked his chin and said, “I vaguely remember… he secretly bought a place. The deed is still in his room.”

He thought for a second. “Why don’t you live in his apartment?”

“No.” Qin Yan’s face went blank. “What’s the point?”

He’d seen that new place. It was big—too big. Living there alone would just feel lonely.

“What kind of meaning does a house even need?”

Zhou Langxing didn’t get it. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Why do I get the feeling… you’re afraid that living in that new place would make you think of my brother every day?”

Qin Yan said nothing.

When someone’s gone, and you still keep thinking of them—hurting every time—that is fear, isn’t it?

Zhou Langxing laced his fingers behind his head, lazily swinging his long legs.

Every floor had a glowing green “Emergency Exit” sign. That faint light washed over their faces, casting a strange, eerie glow.

The green light flickered in Zhou Langxing’s eyes.

He drew out his voice, “If you’re afraid of remembering him, what are you gonna do about it?”

Zhou Shurong, hearing that thinly veiled malice, snorted coldly and flicked a finger at the back of his head.

Zhou Langxing hissed in pain.

Qin Yan asked what happened.

“My head… just now, one spot felt cold.”

“Cold…”

Qin Yan’s expression darkened. He quickened his pace, barking, “Let’s hurry!”

Zhou Langxing was yanked into a run by Qin Yan. At first confused, he soon caught sight of their interlocked hands—and beamed with smug delight.

They unlocked and shut the door in one smooth motion.

Zhou Langxing could tell something was off the moment he saw Qin Yan’s pale face. He kept asking.

“I think,” Qin Yan gave him a sideways glance, hesitant, “the stairwell… isn’t clean.”

“Not clean? There wasn’t any trash—”

Zhou Langxing suddenly understood. He hesitated too. “You think there’s a ghost?”

Qin Yan looked at him silently. “You can laugh at me if you want.”

Zhou Langxing stared at him for a long time, then suddenly plopped onto the sofa, one hand propped against his forehead in mock thought.

Qin Yan blinked, puzzled, and followed him over.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“Like what?”

“Something like don’t overthink it, ghosts don’t exist, Zhou Shurong isn’t coming back, and all that.”

“Too tired. Don’t wanna talk.” Zhou Langxing sprawled on the sofa, stretching a hand out. “Gimme a cold Coke.”

“There’s none left. But there’s still ice cream in the freezer. Want one?”

“I just had one earlier. Made a mess of my hands.”

“Hmm… How about a Coke-flavored ice slush?”

“Gimme one.”

“Okay! Please wait a moment.” Qin Yan turned and left.

Zhou Shurong glared at the kid flopped belly-up on the couch, frowning. “Spoiled. Brought all those bad habits here from home. Who’s gonna put up with you?”

Zhou Langxing yawned lazily. “Ah Yan, is it ready yet?”

“Yeah yeah!”

Qin Yan came trotting over with the ice slush in his hands.

Zhou Langxing casually snapped it in two and handed one half to Qin Yan.

Qin Yan took it, remembered the TV, and grabbed the remote to turn it on. Zhou Langxing, bothered by the weight of the camera slung over his shoulder, took it off and set it on the table.

“Can I watch it?”

“Sure. But let me say this first—I’m not good with cameras. You’re not allowed to delete anything, okay?”

There were only two videos inside, both dated today. Looked like a brand-new camera.

Qin Yan watched through them seriously. He’d just opened his mouth to tease Zhou Langxing’s filming skills when he saw the guy had already dozed off on the couch.

He still had half a slush in his mouth.

Qin Yan pulled it out gently, adjusted Zhou Langxing’s position a bit, then smiled softly. “Just like a kid.”

Zhou Shurong echoed, “Isn’t he?”

Qin Yan turned on the air conditioning, lowered the TV volume, and finished his own half of the slush. As for Zhou Langxing’s, he put it back in the freezer.

Then, he quietly brought out the incense burner and began the usual incense ritual for Zhou Shurong.

Watching the strange, swirling trails of the incense smoke, his mood lifted.

The incense still had a while to go.

Qin Yan walked over to the dining table and carefully studied the bowl of noodles from that morning. It had clumped up, but the fried egg on top still held its shape. With cautious hope, he picked up the egg and took a bite. The half-cooked yolk spilled into his mouth—grainy, cold.

He chewed and swallowed slowly.

The egg, soaked in soup, was a little salty, a little spicy.

The flavor was normal. It wasn’t that eerie dullness people say food gets when ghosts eat it.

He turned to glance at the living room. The incense still burned steadily. Beside it, someone unseen seemed to be savoring the drifting smoke.

Qin Yan pressed his lips together.

Then, quietly, he sat down and finished the entire bowl of cold noodles.

The incense had long burned out. Zhou Shurong floated to the seat across from him, watching Qin Yan eat.

No matter how long he stared, he never got tired of it. He could do this for a lifetime.

No—not long enough…

“I failed at being human. A lifetime’s too short. I don’t know if, as a ghost, I can make it to your hundredth birthday.”

Zhou Shurong smiled softly, his features gentle.

“Ah Yan, I’ll wait for you.”