24: I need yang energy.

Qin Yan’s heart was beating.

Thump—thump—thump—

As long as he remained among the living, his heart would keep beating forever.

Zhou Shurong leaned over his chest, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his voice still husky and slow:

“Your heart rate’s going up.”

Zhou Langxing made an excellent soup. He had learned how to warm the water slowly, cooking the frog without it even realizing—Qin Yan had unknowingly started to like him.

Zhou Shurong admitted it—he was jealous.

His heart, which had long stopped beating, now seemed to thump again. Bang, bang, bang—such fierce noise, as if his place, his identity, was being gradually replaced by Zhou Langxing!

But how could he admit he’d lost?

He straightened again, back tall and proud, stubborn to the end. He leaned in close to Qin Yan’s ear, his voice alluring:

“Look at him. Doesn’t he seem like your boyfriend?”

Qin Yan blinked lightly.

A voice echoed beside his ear.

No, no, he couldn’t be hallucinating—maybe it was a thought that surfaced inside his mind:

“Look. Doesn’t he seem like your boyfriend?”

He did. He really did. How could he not?

They were twins, after all.

Qin Yan stared blankly at Zhou Langxing’s profile. If his hair were slicked back with gel, if he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, if his eyes narrowed slightly and he curved his lips into that gentle, steady smile…

Zhou Langxing suddenly looked up and grinned.

“You’ve been staring a while—any thoughts?”

The way the two brothers smiled was completely different. Vastly so.

Qin Yan snapped back to his senses.

A bitter smile crept across his lips. He was doing it again—trying to see Zhou Shurong through Zhou Langxing.

Zhou Langxing noticed something was off and asked cautiously,

“What’s wrong?”

Qin Yan figured the other had every right to be upset about what he’d done, so he didn’t hide it. He gave a bitter laugh and said,

“Sorry. Just now, looking at you, I thought of your brother again.”

Zhou Shurong chuckled softly.

Zhou Langxing’s smile froze on his face.

It’s okay.

He told himself—it’s fine. This is the inevitable curse of being twins.

Of course, that curse could be flipped and used to his advantage.

He kept smiling. He knew his smile wasn’t like Zhou Shurong’s.

Zhou Shurong said nothing, narrowing his eyes to observe him.

Zhou Langxing looked at Qin Yan and said,

“Didn’t we agree? No more apologizing. That’s a violation.”

Qin Yan steadied his mood and nodded.

“Mm, I broke the rule. Should I be punished?”

“Anything goes?”

“Well, not anything. Nothing that betrays basic human decency.”

Zhou Langxing stood, twisting the rag in his hands.

“Hmm… Then you’re punished to drink cold Coke with me!”

Finally, it was dinnertime. Qin Yan picked up the incense burner and placed it on the table, across from the empty seat.

Zhou Langxing looked on curiously. The incense stick was half-burnt, and the drifting smoke had returned to its normal pattern.

Qin Yan explained on his own,

“It’s more lively eating together. I don’t want him to feel lonely.”

Zhou Langxing played along,

“Who?”

“Shurong,” Qin Yan said casually. “I always pretend he’s still by my side. Don’t mind me—I know it’s delusional. That’s why I said pretend. Just pretend.”

Zhou Langxing took a sip of his Coke, also acting unbothered.

“I get it. I don’t mind. Sometimes I feel like he’s still with me too.”

He smiled.

“Ah Yan, we’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

Qin Yan was moved and nodded.

Zhou Shurong sneered. Using me as your stepping stone, huh?

He sat down in the empty seat and blew lightly at the incense. The drifting smoke immediately curled toward Zhou Langxing on the other side, who choked and gulped down three sips of Coke in a row.

Zhou Shurong smiled in satisfaction—but then suddenly froze.

His hands had become even more transparent.

It was probably because he’d just lost his temper and smashed the plate.

His soul body was already weak, and using power only made it worse—he had brought this suffering on himself.

Zhou Shurong fell silent and stopped messing with his younger brother.

At last, the meal passed in peace. After dinner, Zhou Langxing pulled out the excuse he had used for coming—menthol cigarettes.

“I found these in his room. If you run out, just ask me. I’ve got my sources.”

“Thanks, thanks!”

“No more thanks, no more sorries, alright? We’re friends. Don’t be so distant.”

Qin Yan nodded.

Zhou Langxing said goodbye. “Alright, it’s getting late. I should head home.”

Qin Yan suddenly thought of something. “You climbed over the wall to get here. Will it be a problem going back?”

He shrugged. “At worst, I get yelled at or beaten.”

Qin Yan frowned, eyes filled with worry.

Zhou Langxing suddenly grinned. “Kidding. I’m the only one left now—a rare breed. They treasure me.”

Zhou Shurong pushed up his glasses. Not one bit amusing. My fists are itching.

Qin Yan was a little annoyed too and pushed him toward the door. “Get lost, I’m not seeing you out!”

Zhou Langxing smoothed his bangs. What he said just now had been a test—Zhou Shurong had to be dead for him to become the “only one left.” Qin Yan had been angry, yes, but not sad. That was progress.

It gave him more confidence—he could slowly cut Zhou Shurong out of Qin Yan’s heart.

Inside the elevator, Zhou Langxing studied his reflection in the mirror.

That face—expressionless and with the eyes averted—looked just like Zhou Shurong’s.

He felt momentarily dazed, nearly mistaking himself.

Zhou Langxing adjusted his expression: gentler, prouder, and more fake.

Yes. More like. Even more like.

He slicked back his hair, then pulled out a pair of gold-rimmed glasses he’d hidden away for a long time, and slowly put them on.

He looked in the mirror. When he smiled, he raised the right corner of his mouth first, then the left. Good. No crookedness. The smile was gentle and cultured.

No, the eyes—too aggressive.

Zhou Langxing didn’t give up. He stretched his imagination as far as it could go, imagining the person in the mirror was Qin Yan.

Good—the eyes softened.

This was Zhou Shurong, wasn’t it?

Zhou Langxing stared for a long time. The curve of his lips suddenly shifted just slightly, and the entire feel of the smile changed—something playful appeared in it.

Then, his gaze turned sharp. The whole aura transformed.

Zhou Langxing ended the roleplay and took off the glasses.

He muttered to himself,

“Looking like you is exactly my advantage.”

When Qin Yan got lost in his face, he only needed to smile to break the illusion—reminding Qin Yan again and again of the difference between Zhou Shurong and Zhou Langxing.

Zhou Shurong clapped his hands.

“Truly hiding your talents, Ah Xing.” Zhou Shurong slowly leaned in from behind.

The temperature in the elevator dropped.

Zhou Langxing felt a chill.

From behind, where he couldn’t see, Zhou Shurong was embracing him, their bodies slowly, slowly merging—two almost identical faces pressed quietly together.

He whispered,

“Ah Xing, if you’re going to take advantage… at least give me a little sweetness, won’t you?”

“I’m so tired. Ah Xing, help me—”

“Give me some yang energy—”

…Each word was filled with resentment, longing, and confusion.

Zhou Langxing sneezed and hissed. He rubbed his arms hard as goosebumps broke out, and looked up at the elevator display. The elevator was moving so slowly—it felt like forever before it finally reached the first floor.

But after waiting a moment, the elevator doors didn’t open.