43: Three-Day Cooling-Off Period

Zhou Shurong didn’t come back.

Qin Yan waited the whole night.

On repeat, the news talked about yesterday’s small-scale acid rain, with meteorologists throwing around technical terms he couldn’t understand. Online, it was all peace and joy, as if nothing had happened the day before.

He put down his phone. His eyes ached with a deep soreness. The moment he stood up, the world spun in a surreal whirl, everything tilting and shifting.

Only when he collapsed onto the floor did he realize his calves had gone numb from poor circulation, stiff and unresponsive.

He rubbed his eyes, stumbled into the bathroom, filled the sink with cold water, and splashed it onto his face.

His stomach growled. Wandering around the living room, he confirmed Zhou Shurong truly hadn’t returned. He touched the TV—it was burning hot—and quickly turned it off.

He checked his phone again. No new messages. After a night of binge-reading ghost romance novels, the battery had dipped into low power.

He plugged it in and staggered to the kitchen. Too out of it to cook, he just made instant noodles.

They were tasteless, but they filled him up. Afterward, he sat on the sofa and spaced out.

No work today. So what now?

He thought about it and decided to take a hot shower to wash away the exhaustion clinging to his body.

Freshly dressed, he picked up his worn-out shoes and, after a moment’s thought, tossed them into the trash without hesitation.

Who knew if that strange rain would fall again today? Qin Yan changed into a pair of sneakers with thick soles. Grabbing the trash bag, he opened the door and snatched the large black umbrella drying in the hallway.

The umbrella needed replacing too. He repeated it to himself silently, making sure he’d remember.

As he rode the elevator down, Zhou Langxing—despite his father objections—had already stepped out and arrived at the apartment complex. He stood under a tree in front of the building, unable to summon the courage to go in.

He was irritated. His mind kept circling around Qin Yan and Zhou Shurong—two faces wrestling for space in his head.

Qin Yan’s face won out, completely taking over his thoughts. He remembered what Qin Yan had said yesterday when stepping out of the elevator.

Now he was even more annoyed!

As soon as Qin Yan stepped outside, he instinctively opened the umbrella and caught sight of the man under the tree, childishly kicking at fallen leaves. He was wearing a sharp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His usually tousled, wavy hair had been straightened with a curling iron, slicked back neatly with mousse. He looked every bit the polished professional.

And he was clean. Aside from the watch on his wrist, there were no other accessories.

Qin Yan’s eyes blurred, and he softly called, “Shurong.”

Zhou Langxing had sharp ears and quick reflexes. He immediately adjusted his expression and turned around.

He looked at Qin Yan for a long moment, then clicked toward him in leather shoes.

And corrected him, “I’m Langxing.”

Qin Yan, dazed, glanced from his feet to his face. “Langxing,” he murmured.

Zhou Langxing nodded and casually asked where he was headed.

“Let me guess. You didn’t bring a bag, your hair’s messy, so you’re not going to the kindergarten,” he said with a confident grin. “You’re going to look for Zhou Shurong.”

Qin Yan’s reaction was delayed, but the urgency finally reached his eyes. “He didn’t come back last night.”

His voice trembled at the end, so subtly he didn’t even notice—but it carried the tone of someone asking for help.

Zhou Langxing looked into his eyes and said, almost in a sigh, “You can’t see him, and yet you still know he didn’t come back?”

“I know.” Qin Yan paused, then repeated with certainty, “I just know.”

Zhou Langxing blinked very slowly.

“He’s fine. I went home last night and saw him. He has things he needs to do now. He asked me to look after you for a while. When I left this morning, he was already gone.”

Zhou Langxing figured Zhou Shurong had left during the night—but hadn’t gone to see their father. Inwardly, he mocked Zhou Shurong’s cowardice. If it were him, and he had retained consciousness, he would’ve stirred up a storm. He’d make sure everyone who ever knew him realized he’d come back as a ghost.

Qin Yan’s eyes ached worse now. Every blink made him want to sleep forever.

“I just can’t figure out what could be so important.”

If Zhou Shurong were still a normal person, sure, he could have things to do. But as he was now, Qin Yan couldn’t imagine it.

Zhou Langxing recalled the way Zhou Shurong’s form had been growing more solid. His smile turned bitter. “He didn’t tell me either, but I know—it’s something really important. Something big.”

Qin Yan looked at him, lost.

With both hands in his pockets, the man said calmly, “Let’s go home. Give him a little time. Wait for him.”

Under the umbrella, Qin Yan studied the man opposite him. He tilted the umbrella back slightly, exposing his eyes as he carefully took in every detail of Zhou Langxing’s expression.

Then, very slowly, he said, “Alright. But I want to go buy a new umbrella. It rained yesterday, and I don’t feel safe.”

Zhou Langxing kept his face steady and smiled. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“I also want to go to the park to check on the cats.”

“Okay,” Zhou Langxing nodded again. “I’ll go with you.”

“I still need to stock up on food at the supermarket.”

Zhou Langxing replied the same way—I’ll go with you.

It was as if no matter what Qin Yan asked for, he would agree. Qin Yan tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing him. He didn’t push his luck, just smiled.

“Thanks, Langxing.”

It was a sincere thank-you. Right now, he really needed someone by his side.

Zhou Langxing shrugged, walking ahead with casual flair, and waved. “Come on. No need to say thanks between friends.”

They didn’t get back to the little apartment until after lunch.

Zhou Langxing carried two heavy bags.

Qin Yan held two umbrellas, looking a bit gloomy. Cats were warier than people—so while some had only light injuries, they seemed lively enough when they saw Qin Yan.

But in the supermarket, they’d heard plenty of stories about people harmed by the acid rain.

There was a long line at checkout. Lots of people were hoarding supplies.

He even heard someone mention the “end of the world.”

Qin Yan didn’t understand—why didn’t the authorities tell the truth?

“If everyone knew ghosts were real, wouldn’t they think twice before doing something bad, in case the victim turned into a vengeful spirit?” he asked.

“That’d probably cause chaos,” Zhou Langxing replied after thinking it over. “Life’s already hard these days. So many young people struggle just to survive in the city. If they knew ghosts existed… maybe they’d choose to die, thinking it’d be an easier way to go on living.”

Qin Yan mulled over his words, then heard Zhou Langxing ask, “Have you… ever thought that way?”

He instantly glared at him. “What are you even thinking?”

Zhou Langxing made a zipping motion across his lips. His eyes sparkled faintly as he smiled. “That was out of line. But it’s true, isn’t it? If you can still be alive, why seek death?”

He tore open a bag of chips, cracked open a Coke, and alternated between bites and sips, sighing in satisfaction.

“As a human, being able to eat delicious food… that’s the best feeling in the world.”

“Your expression is way too exaggerated!” Qin Yan couldn’t help but laugh.

“But I’m not wrong. The things we take for granted—when they’re gone, there’s no way to get them back.”

Zhou Langxing sprawled out on the sofa, almost spilling potato chips down onto his collarbone. “Like the sense of taste and smell most people have, and just ordinary body temperature—do you still have those after becoming a ghost?”

Qin Yan tossed his dirty clothes into the washing machine and shouted, “Stop with those ideas already! I’m not going to kill myself! Just watch your TV!”

Zhou Langxing muttered to himself, wanting to play video games.

“Then go play!” Qin Yan pressed the button, and the washing machine started to fill with water. Cradling a basin with one arm, he walked past Zhou Langxing and heard the sound of crunching chips. A little exasperated, he asked, “Didn’t you just have lunch? You’re eating snacks again?”

Zhou Langxing licked the seasoning powder off his fingers, pulled out his phone, and opened the game app. “A meal is a meal, snacks are snacks—how can you compare the two? I might be too full for a meal, but I can still make room for some chips.”

Qin Yan grabbed the whole bag of snacks and took them away.

After he finished his chores, Zhou Langxing dragged him into playing games. While they were playing, one of the game characters suddenly stopped moving. Zhou Langxing looked up and saw that Qin Yan had fallen asleep, slumped over.

The phone slipped from Qin Yan’s hand, but Zhou Langxing caught it in time.

He smiled and mumbled to himself, “This time I’m not lame—I can carry you.”

He carried Qin Yan to the bed, covered his stomach with a blanket, and turned on the fan to the lowest setting.

Zhou Langxing had booked a hotel nearby. Every night when it was time for Qin Yan to sleep, he would go back to the hotel.

The kindergarten remained closed for several days. All the parents were afraid of the acid rain and took leave for their kids. With so many absentees, the principal just gave everyone a few days off.

For those three days, Zhou Langxing stayed with Qin Yan, spending time that seemed uneventful but peaceful.

This was the kind of life—ordinary and warm—that Zhou Shurong most wished he could have again after losing it.

On the third day, Qin Yan could no longer hide how much he missed and worried about Zhou Shurong.

He started bringing him up more often.

He kept speculating where Zhou Shurong might be.

“I still think he’s at the cemetery.”

Zhou Langxing had seen all the signs of Qin Yan’s anxiety by now. First, it was the way he tapped his bowl while eating like a wooden fish. Then, when watching TV, he kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Next, he’d suddenly start biting his nails mid-conversation. After that, he’d let out random sighs. Finally, he was pacing around the living room like a wingless bee that had lost its way and could only crawl.

Zhou Langxing felt exhausted just watching him. With a bit of compromise, he said, “I also think there’s a good chance he’s there. Do you want to go look for him?”

Qin Yan stopped pacing and lunged at him. “I do! I want to so bad!”

Clinging to the edge of the sofa, his eyes were wide. Zhou Langxing noticed his thick, clustered lashes like dense foliage.

“But it’s a cemetery.”

“What am I afraid of?!”

“You weren’t afraid before—but now? For all we know, there could be a ghost for every tombstone. You can’t just go in there recklessly and get yourself killed, can you?”

Qin Yan let go of the sofa, slowly turned around, and faced away from Zhou Langxing. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

Zhou Langxing reached out and poked him.

Qin Yan angrily shrugged him off.

“Want some sunflower seeds?” Zhou Langxing offered, trying to please him.

“No…” Qin Yan’s voice was stuffy, almost damp.

Just then, the phone on the coffee table lit up. Zhou Langxing quickly said, “There’s a notification from your work group.”

Qin Yan reluctantly dragged his feet over, picked up the phone, and frowned as he read. Zhou Langxing asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

Qin Yan pressed his fingers against his brow. “I have to go back to work tomorrow.”

There hadn’t been acid rain for three days, so people dared to go out again—back to work, back to school. Qin Yan didn’t want to return to work. He wasn’t in the mood, didn’t have the energy. He wanted to focus on waiting for Zhou Shurong.

He called in to ask for leave, but the principal refused. In a burst of frustration, he blurted out that he wanted to resign.

The principal snapped, “You need to have a sense of responsibility! How can you talk about quitting so casually? Even if you don’t want to keep working here, you have to finish out the month!”

Already anxious, Qin Yan hung up impulsively.

And immediately regretted it.

Now he was mad at himself.

Zhou Langxing looked out at the calm weather, then at Qin Yan’s not-so-great mental state, and decided it was time for some fresh air. “I’ll go with you to the kindergarten. We can talk to the principal together.”

A flicker of dependence appeared in Qin Yan’s eyes. He nodded, a little dazed.