11: A Wooden Box

Zhou Shurong’s heart would never beat again.

But right now, there was a solution.

Qin Yan had been inexplicably excited all day, overwhelmed with emotion, but the hours dragged on unbearably, and deep down, he was anxious.

What if that person was a liar? A fool? A madman?

Cursing an old man who might have just gone blind felt like a blow to the conscience.

But… if you told anyone that the dead could return, wouldn’t they call it a fantasy?

What’s more, the price wasn’t money—it was something as intangible as lifespan.

The wooden box sat in front of him. Plain. No carvings. No lock. Just a light press on a hidden latch and it would open…

Qin Yan took a deep breath.

It was noon now. Midnight still felt painfully far away.

Zhou Langxing walked out of the bathroom, flicking droplets of water off his hands.

You walk by the river often enough, your shoes are bound to get wet.

He’d been too arrogant, hopping around on his injured leg, and finally took a fall. He wasn’t hurt, just ended up with his hands in a dirty puddle.

Qin Yan was worried and scolded him with a hint of annoyance: “If you didn’t insist on being strong and just let me help you, nothing would’ve happened.”

But Zhou Langxing shot back stubbornly, “I didn’t come here for you to take care of me.”

His hands were covered in foul mud, and Qin Yan didn’t have time to argue. He rushed him back home to clean up.

After sending him into the bathroom, Qin Yan slumped onto the sofa, staring blankly at the wooden box.

Then—

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Zhou Langxing walked over, leaning against the armrest of the couch, eyes fixed on the wooden box on the coffee table, “what is that?”

He’d noticed it at the foot of the cemetery hill.

Someone who paid attention to what Qin Yan wore every day could hardly miss the black bag he never let go of.

At first, he thought it was something meant for Zhou Shurong’s grave—like the bouquet of yellow roses.

But even after they left the cemetery, Qin Yan still held onto the bag. Even while eating noodles, it never left his side.

The black bag took on an air of mystery.

What was it?

What could be so important that Qin Yan brought it into the cemetery and out again?

Zhou Langxing picked up the black plastic bag that had been blown to the floor, his gaze locked on the wooden box.

“That’s what was inside?”

Qin Yan nodded silently, his eyes still on the box.

He had been thinking hard. While Zhou Langxing washed his hands, he’d been debating whether or not to tell him the truth.

Putting himself in his shoes—if Zhou Langxing had obtained some secret method to bring Zhou Shurong back, but, for Qin Yan’s sake, kept it hidden because he feared it might be fake…

Would he accept that kind of “for your own good”?

No! He wouldn’t!

Even if it all ended in empty joy, he would still want to be a part of it.

This was supposed to be something they did together—for the person they both loved the most.

Why exclude him?

Qin Yan made up his mind. He bit his lip.

What he was about to say sounded ridiculous, like a desperate man clinging to fantasy, but he had to say it.

But where should he start, so it wouldn’t sound completely unhinged?

“Langxing…”

Zhou Langxing looked at him. “What?”

“If… if you got your hands on a way to bring Shurong back—”

“Qin Yan!”

Before he could finish, Zhou Langxing cut him off.

Qin Yan froze, staring at the man before him.

He looked emotional, even grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Qin Yan!” Zhou Langxing’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “He’s already gone. Don’t torture yourself with this!”

Qin Yan opened his mouth, stunned.

This reaction wasn’t what he expected. He couldn’t even tell what was off about it.

In the end, he just whispered, “It’s not wishful thinking.”

The words sounded weak, without any proof.

His gaze drifted to the wooden box.

Zhou Langxing was watching him intently and didn’t miss that not-so-subtle look.

He followed his gaze.

The wooden box sat silently on the table, but in Zhou Langxing’s eyes, it suddenly radiated a strange, ominous aura.

Was it the problem?

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

He let go of Qin Yan and reached for the wooden box.

Qin Yan panicked. If it was opened before the seventh day, everything would be ruined.

He dove forward, clutching the box, and in his haste, tumbled to the floor.

Zhou Langxing was startled. He forgot about his bad leg and lunged to catch him—only to fall too.

Qin Yan wasn’t hurt, but Zhou Langxing lay there on the ground, his back rising and falling, clearly in pain, unable to get up.

Qin Yan was alarmed. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?!”

Zhou Langxing hung his head and said nothing, all emotion showing in the heave of his back.

Qin Yan crawled over and placed a trembling hand on his shoulder.

The muscles under his palm were warm and alive, throbbing with vitality.

Zhou Langxing slowly lifted his head.

The tie in his hair had come loose, and the rest of it fell messily over his face, covering most of it—except one sharp, icy eye.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Beneath that dark hair, the veins at the side of his neck stood out from the strain.

His broken leg had hit the edge of the glass coffee table during the fall, but he grit his teeth and insisted he was fine.

Qin Yan didn’t believe him.

Still clutching the wooden box, he tried to check him for injuries.

Zhou Langxing didn’t want him to find out, so he reached out a hand. “Let me see your box, okay?”

Qin Yan froze. Then he backed away, shaking his head, eyes wary as he stopped Zhou Langxing with nothing but his look.

Zhou Langxing held out his hand for a moment, then slowly lowered it.

He leaned on the couch to push himself up.

He smiled faintly at Qin Yan. “See? I’m fine. Did you hurt yourself?”

Qin Yan tilted his head up. His pale face was ghostlike.

He looked at Zhou Langxing with a complicated expression.

He didn’t want them to fall out over this, so he tried one last time to salvage things.

His voice trembled as he asked, persistent, unwilling to let it go:

“If you got a method to bring Shurong back, and it needed… it needed…”

He hadn’t opened the box yet, so he didn’t know what it needed.

So in the end, he just said, “Would you do it? Even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance?”

Zhou Langxing stared straight at him and replied, quietly but with absolute certainty:

“There’s no such method. The dead… never come back.”

Qin Yan couldn’t believe it.

Didn’t he know?

He was so well-educated—didn’t he know resurrection was just a fantasy?

But Qin Yan only wanted to hold onto the final straw.

“Can’t you just believe me? Lie to me, even?”

“Not about this. I don’t want to lie to you.”

In that instant, Qin Yan wanted to cry.

He wanted to smash the box in his hands against Zhou Langxing’s face.

That face spun in his mind, twisted and changed.

So unfamiliar.

Qin Yan turned away, no longer looking at Zhou Langxing.

He used all his strength to say:

“Sorry. Uncle Wei probably won’t be out with his stall tonight. Come get knock-knock wontons another day. My treat.”

He hardened his heart and sent him away.

The seventh day was near.

He couldn’t let Zhou Langxing ruin everything.

Zhou Langxing was silent for a long time, unable to understand how things had turned out like this.

But he knew one thing—he couldn’t afford to provoke Qin Yan anymore. He couldn’t take that kind of hostile gaze.

Leaning on his crutch, Zhou Langxing left Qin Yan’s home.

The source of this strange change was that wooden box. But where had the box come from?

After tonight would be Zhou Shurong’s seventh-day memorial. If he guessed correctly, that so-called secret method would likely take place during this period.

Zhou Langxing made a phone call. Remembering that the soundproofing on this floor wasn’t great, he deliberately walked some distance away.

“Hello, Xiao Hei, I need to figure something out. Can you look into something for me…”

After ending the call, he felt a little tired from standing. The leg wrapped in plaster was going numb, so he moved to the front of Qin Yan’s door and sat down against the wall.

His bangs fell forward, and the emotion in his eyes and brows was completely unreadable.

Actually, he could have lied. He could’ve tricked Qin Yan, comfortably waited for the midnight wonton cart, eaten his fill, and once the clock passed midnight, found out what that “secret method” really was.

Instead, here he was, miserably thrown out of the house.

Why did he stubbornly refuse to lie?

Was it because he had a sense of morality since childhood? Some noble principle of never lying? …Heh. What a joke.

Was it because deep down, he didn’t want Zhou Shurong to come back?

He had to admit, when he heard Qin Yan say those words, he did panic a little inside.

Have I really become this ugly? he thought. What do I do now? I’m hopeless, rotten to the core.

Zhou Langxing took out a cigarette and held it between his lips. The cool mint flavor slowly spread.

Inside the door. Outside the door.

Two people, separated by a single wall.

Even after kicking him out, Qin Yan still sat on the floor in a daze. After a long while, he picked up the wooden box and asked softly, “Was I being too harsh just now?”

“Should I not have been so harsh? But… I was really angry. He’s your closest younger brother, and even he doesn’t believe you’ll come back.”

Qin Yan took a deep breath and gave himself some encouragement. “It’s okay. As long as I believe, it’s enough.”

“I believe you’ll come back.”

He smiled faintly and hugged the little wooden box tighter.

As time passed and the evening rush hour arrived, the building started to come alive with noise again.

Zhou Langxing, worried that the neighbors might come asking questions and disturb Qin Yan inside, downloaded a scrolling message app. He adjusted the font to the largest size, picked the most eye-catching color, typed in a message, and set the phone on the ground:

“Angered a friend. Currently seeking forgiveness. Please do not disturb!”

But this was the city. Neighbors were indifferent. After a long day at work, who had the energy to meddle in someone else’s business? At most, they glanced curiously and walked on.

Zhou Langxing watched the neighbor across the hall close their door expressionlessly, feeling a bit conflicted.

On the one hand, he didn’t want anyone disturbing them. On the other… if one day, a criminal pulled the same trick and waited outside Qin Yan’s door, then what?

After all, even he could come and go from this building freely. There was no elevator keycard, the door locks were old—seemed like you could pop them open with just a flick…

He had only been worried Qin Yan was going down the wrong path, but now that worry had grown heavier.

It was late at night.

His stomach growled. Zhou Langxing pressed an ear to the door and listened for a while—there was no sound of cooking from inside.

He sighed quietly.

Even if, in just a few hours, you’re planning to raise a ghost? Call a spirit? Pray to the Dragon King? Whatever the hell you’re about to do—at least eat something first!

As he frowned, his phone suddenly vibrated. Zhou Langxing perked up—finally, some news.

Time to get to the bottom of this. Who had Qin Yan encountered? A street-side fortune-teller? A Taoist priest? A spirit medium?

He took a deep breath and opened his phone. His eyes widened.

…Huh?

Not a fortune-teller. Not a Taoist. Not a medium.

It was… a funeral supply store that sold incense and paper money?

Zhou Langxing sent a message:

[This is urgent. Get someone to look into that shop. I need it before midnight. I’ll make it worth their while.]

Xiao Hei quickly replied:

[Aw, come on. Talking about payment like we’re doing business. I’m just helping out a brother, man!]

[Thanks. I’ll treat you to a drink next time.]

[No need for drinks, your leg’s still busted. We’re thinking of getting you some Yakult for the bar opening. Haha. See you on the 3rd, no excuses!]

Zhou Langxing transferred some money anyway.

All those words of refusal—just politeness. It was late at night, and asking for a favor without offering anything would wear out a friendship. Eventually, even brothers wouldn’t want to deal with you.