32: Free Meat

In the narrow room, the woman lifted her face and stared motionlessly at the tall window.

The moment she woke up, she realized she had been placed under house arrest.

She’d screamed all sorts of hysterical things—

“Where’s the evidence? How can you detain me without proof?”

“What about procedure? You can’t just arrest someone like this!”

“Isn’t there any law? Let me out!”

“Please—”

But gradually, she became exhausted.

No one responded to her. No one came to see her.

She was completely alone here.

Well… not entirely.

She looked down at the baby ghost crawling around her feet. The moment it sensed her gaze, it froze, then raised its face, showing a few small teeth.

“Mommy!”

It called out crisply.

The woman covered her ears.

The baby ghost tilted its head, reached out its arms, and tried to climb onto her.

The woman couldn’t help but shout sharply, “Be good and stay where you are. Don’t come any closer!”

The baby ghost felt like its mother didn’t like it anymore. Its eyes turned red with grievance, and it turned away, curling up sadly.

The woman let out a trembling breath. She didn’t dare let the baby ghost touch her. That morning, it had tried to pass through the iron door, but let out a pitiful cry like food being snatched away. When she looked over in surprise, the baby ghost—suddenly turned into a bony frame—leapt on her and hugged her tightly.

In that moment, she saw something she would never forget for the rest of her life.

The baby ghost, which had suddenly gone thin, inflated again like a balloon.

And she… grew weaker. Even breathing took a massive effort.

She suddenly understood: this little ghost was draining her life.

It was disgusting!

There were ghost-prevention measures in this place—it definitely wasn’t a police station. The woman speculated that maybe the people here still had some use for her, and maybe she’d be out soon.

Suddenly, the iron door opened. Someone outside called, “Jiang Ling! Someone posted bail for you. You’re free to go!”

A flicker of surprise flashed across the woman’s numb face. She asked uncertainly, “I can leave?”

“Yeah.”

“Once I leave, I don’t have to come back?”

“That’s right, now hurry up!”

Sensing the person’s impatience, Jiang Ling didn’t dare ask more. She bent slightly and took a few steps, but suddenly felt a weight on her leg—the baby ghost had clung to her calf again. She trembled all over, glanced at the eyes watching from the doorway, then lowered her head and walked out in silence.

Out of that cramped room, finally free—but Jiang Ling didn’t feel free at all. Dazed, she lifted her head.

Outside stood a man and a woman, both straight-backed, radiating a terrifying aura, so thick it almost became tangible. In her daze, she saw black, ominous mist curling around them.

Jiang Ling slowly approached them, unable to hide the fear in her eyes. She understood now what that aura was—

It was cold.

It was damp.

It was bone-deep chilling.

It was the same aura as that baby ghost!

She realized… these two weren’t human!

…

The sun was about to set. Zhou Langxing woke up, eyes groggy, momentarily unsure of where he was. When Qin Yan approached, he jumped in surprise.

“I fell asleep?”

Qin Yan nodded. “Let’s go see the cats, yeah?”

As he spoke, he shoved something into Zhou Langxing’s hand.

Zhou Langxing gasped from the cold. He looked down—it was half a cola-flavored ice pop.

He stuck it in his mouth and mumbled, “Let’s go! Of course we’re going, you promised.”

Qin Yan told him to wait a bit—he wanted to unpack a delivery first.

Zhou Langxing squatted nearby, watching him unwrap pack after pack of cat food, sorting them by brand with a serious look on his face. He couldn’t help asking, “Do you like cats that much?”

Qin Yan didn’t stop moving and gave a firm “Mm-hmm.”

“Then why not get one?”

“I haven’t decided yet if I can take responsibility for a cat’s whole life.”

After setting aside one pack of food, Qin Yan stored the rest neatly in the cupboard. Zhou Langxing followed him around, chewing on his ice like a tail he couldn’t shake off.

“Do you even need to think about it? Of course you can!”

In Zhou Langxing’s simple view, giving a cat a home, food, water, and toys—that was a full life.

Suddenly, Qin Yan stopped walking. Zhou Langxing nearly bumped into him.

Just as he was about to complain, Qin Yan turned around and said seriously, “That’s not something I can say for sure.”

He couldn’t even maintain his own family relationships…

Zhou Langxing didn’t really understand, but after sensing his sincerity, he simply shut his mouth.

As they headed out, Qin Yan picked up the black umbrella—but then hesitated.

He didn’t want to take the stairs, nor the elevator, and suddenly felt at a loss. Zhou Langxing had reached the stairs before realizing Qin Yan hadn’t followed. He looked back in confusion.

Qin Yan casually caught up, sneaking a glance at the tiny ponytail tied at the back of Zhou Langxing’s head.

Clearly, he hadn’t taken his earlier warning seriously. He didn’t believe there was anything dirty in the stairwell. His reason for avoiding elevators was simply mistrust in their safety.

Qin Yan thought, When it comes to believing in ghosts, I’m all alone.

It was a pain he couldn’t share.

Even if he posted anonymously online, he’d be laughed at by strangers.

No one said a word. Qin Yan was preoccupied, while Zhou Langxing seemed groggy from oversleeping, pressing his temples every now and then.

The trip downstairs was uneventful.

Qin Yan glanced at the orange sky and raised his umbrella.

Zhou Langxing casually glanced at it too.

When will Qin Yan stop chasing these unrealistic fantasies?

When will he finally put down that umbrella?

He figured it would be a long road. But he had plenty of time, and plenty of patience.

Time was a good remedy. He had lost his mother years ago—he had been devastated—but now, wasn’t her face already blurry in his memory?

How many times a year did he even think of her?

Only when he was really sad, hurting himself emotionally, dredging up every sorrow in his life… then he’d think of his mother, lying in bed, sick but still trying to smile.

The more he thought, the more it hurt. Faces of dead loved ones surfaced one by one—first his mother, then his grandfather, finally his brother…

Zhou Langxing expressionlessly massaged his temples.

Qin Yan walked lightly, unaware of the discomfort behind him. Only the person no one could see looked back with concern.

At Sanjiahu Park, Qin Yan immediately spotted the fat orange cat sleeping belly-up on a bench. It had gotten fatter. Too many people were feeding it—not just with cat food, but with random snacks from their own hands.

It was ballooning fast. Now it looked like a fully inflated ball.

Qin Yan was a little worried. The cat needed to lose weight.

He waved an arm and ran over. The cat, awakened by the sound, fluffed up in alarm, leapt to the ground, and bared its teeth at Qin Yan, eyes full of hostility.

Qin Yan froze, then crouched slightly and said apologetically, “Did I scare you? Sorry, sorry…”

The orange cat continued to glare at him fiercely.

Zhou Langxing walked over with the cat food and asked in confusion, “It doesn’t recognize you?”

“How could it not? It’s only been a few days. No way it forgot that fast.”

The orange cat arched its back, warily circling around Qin Yan to rub against Zhou Langxing’s leg, meowing.

Zhou Langxing felt a little awkward and raised the bag of food. “Maybe it’s just hungry.”

But even as the cat ate, it kept a wary eye on Qin Yan. The moment he reached out to pet it, it arched and hissed again.

Qin Yan pulled his hand back, deep in thought.

Afraid he’d be hurt, Zhou Langxing tried to comfort him, “This one doesn’t remember you. But there are other cats.”

Qin Yan’s expression turned a little strange—then, suddenly, he laughed.

Zhou Langxing: ??

Qin Yan held up his umbrella and backed away, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

His eyes sparkled, glowing.

Zhou Langxing looked at him with a mix of confusion and worry and asked a question.

Qin Yan only said, “Cats can see spirit.”

He figured the cat must have seen Zhou Shurong by his side—and been scared, too afraid to approach.

With that guess in mind, Qin Yan stayed in a good mood, even as all the cats hissed and growled at him. Still, he felt a twinge of regret. He understood now: he could never have a cat again.

“If I act like a cat from now on, obedient and well-behaved, will you pet me too?”

The man by his side—unseen—smiled as he spoke.

…

Time passed quickly, and Saturday came.

That day marked the opening of Zhou Langxing’s friend’s bar.

Qin Yan still turned down Zhou Langxing’s invitation. He wasn’t the outgoing type and felt slightly resistant to the idea. Plus, he held certain prejudices—thinking people who opened bars weren’t exactly the most proper or honest sort. He didn’t want to mingle.

Zhou Langxing looked completely deflated—those invisible dog ears of his drooping low.

“Alright,” Qin Yan chuckled, “when you’re done, I’ll take you out for wontons.”

Zhou Langxing’s eyes lit up. Those imaginary dog ears instantly perked back up.

So easy to satisfy! Qin Yan hid the guilt in his heart. He had already decided—after fulfilling this final promise, he would begin to pull away from Zhou Langxing.

He figured, if it were him, he wouldn’t want to see Zhou Shurong getting close with his own brother either.

Zhou Langxing left reluctantly. Qin Yan looked every bit the warm, accommodating elder, coaxing him patiently—enough to make Zhou Shurong watching nearby visibly irritated.

Qin Yan walked him downstairs, out of the complex, and then stood watching until the car drove off.

Rain had just begun to fall—a fine drizzle.

Qin Yan held his umbrella, calmly watching the people rushing about to avoid the rain.

“Hey, handsome—”

A voice called from behind. Qin Yan turned back uncertainly. It was a young woman.

She held her hand over her head to block the rain, but it was useless—her makeup, clearly not waterproof, was on the verge of coming off.

She looked at Qin Yan with hopeful eyes. “Handsome… can I share your umbrella? I live in Building C.”

Under the umbrella, the man in the suit met her gaze with a gentle certainty.

The rain was falling harder now.

A few slanting drops splashed in. Qin Yan’s clothes were getting wet at the hem, while Zhou Shurong’s ivory-white suit remained spotless.

Qin Yan apologized, “You should hurry and run. The rain’s getting heavy. Get home soon—don’t catch a cold.”

The girl pouted, disappointed, then bent down, took off her shoes, and dashed away barefoot.

Splish, splish—water splattered as she ran.

Qin Yan glanced at his wet pant legs and smiled faintly, unconcerned.

After entering the building and folding up his umbrella, Qin Yan was more aware than ever of his declining health. It had only been half a month, and he’d already fallen ill several times.

He just wanted to get home and take a hot shower, so he chose the elevator.

Plenty of people took elevators without issue. He didn’t believe he’d be the exception.

Zhou Shurong pressed his lips together. He remembered the ghost face in the elevator. He wasn’t sure if it had died or not—he hadn’t seen it again after the infant ghost attacked it.

The elevator was packed, mostly with people in yellow or blue uniforms. Qin Yan overheard someone nearby say, “Kids these days are so lazy, always ordering delivery.”

The speaker’s head was glowing—Ah Ling’s landlord.

The landlord grumbled on, “Seriously. Even had this old man help her pack and ship stuff—lazy as hell.” If not for the breach-of-contract fee and the labor compensation, he wouldn’t have bothered.

Qin Yan didn’t think much of it.

But Zhou Shurong couldn’t ignore it. From what the landlord was saying, Ah Ling probably wasn’t in jail. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be acting so nonchalant.

Still, even if she wasn’t locked up, she wouldn’t be having a good time—not with that infant ghost stuck to her constantly.

Zhou Shurong let the matter go, staying alert for any sign of that ghost face. Not that he feared it anymore. If it dared show itself, he’d eat it!

But it never appeared. Zhou Shurong couldn’t sense it at all—it was gone.

Maybe the infant ghost had really dealt with it?

After his shower, Qin Yan checked the weather forecast. His phone said the rain would stop in about half an hour. He thought for a bit, then called Boss Wei of the wonton stall to ask if he’d be open tonight.

Qin Yan had saved the number because he liked Boss Wei’s wontons. If he had a craving and the stall was open, he’d go to wherever Wei was set up that evening.

The ringtone rang for quite a while before the call connected.

Boss Wei answered with a strange, hoarse “Hello?”

Qin Yan swallowed the greeting he’d been about to say and asked instead, “Uncle Wei, are you sick?”

Boss Wei’s voice was broken up. “Got… sick earlier… getting better…”

“Oh. Then you should rest—”

But Boss Wei cut him off. “No rest! Gotta make money… need money for my girl’s treatment!”

Qin Yan went silent. All those comforting lines like “Take it slow, money will always come”—to someone actually struggling, they just sounded hollow.

So he forced a smile and pretended he hadn’t noticed anything odd. “So Uncle Wei, are you setting up your stall tonight? I’ve been craving your wontons—missed them a lot! I’m even bringing a friend along.”

“Stall… yeah… I’m setting up… need to make money…”

After hanging up, Qin Yan still felt unsettled.

Had the girl’s condition worsened?

Everyone had their own hardships. Qin Yan let out a deep sigh. He couldn’t help Uncle Wei.

All he could do, the tiny thing within his power, was go eat a bowl of hand-smashed wontons.

Meanwhile, in a worn-down residential block a kilometer away, Boss Wei had just picked himself up off the floor. Ignoring the dark red stains on his navy robe, he moved stiffly around the kitchen, preparing ingredients for the night’s business.

His pale bluish face was dull, his eyes cloudy, muttering nonstop:

“Make money… I have to make money… for my girl’s treatment… keep the regulars happy…”

Quick, finish chopping the filling…

Where’s the meat?

Where’s my meat?

Wei looked around urgently, then suddenly remembered—he’d gone out with money to buy meat, slipped and fell, and the knife in his hand had stabbed him right in the chest…

He wasn’t ready to die! He couldn’t die! He had to make money! His daughter needed treatment! He needed to throw her a birthday party! Pay for her school!

He couldn’t die…

With that overwhelming unwillingness and obsession, he came back to life.

Remembering what had happened, he looked down—and saw the corpse wearing the same navy robe lying on the floor.

He smiled.

Free meat.

Across the hall came the sound of chopping.

…

Inside, a family of three was having dinner. The child took a deep sniff and said it smelled amazing.

The mother tapped the back of his hand with her chopsticks. “What, my cooking doesn’t smell good? Hurry up and eat! We’ve got meat today!”

The kid pouted. “Too fatty, I don’t like it.”

The mother grew furious. “Meat on the table and you’re getting picky?!”

The father picked up a chunk of glistening, fatty meat, stuffed it into his mouth, and chuckled, “Eat up, son! It’s delicious! Old Wei’s soups just keep getting better. No wonder they sell so well!”

The mother sniffed. “If I had meat and bones like that, I could make a great soup too!”

She sniffed and said, “Huh? It’s not beef bone, not pork bone, and not lamb bone either… What kind of bone did he use to make the broth?”

“It’s his secret recipe. Why would he tell you?”

The woman snorted and coaxed her son, “Son! That old Wei guy has a soft temper. Go beg him for a bowl of soup!”

The child immediately jumped down from the table happily and ran out the door.

“That’s not very nice, are you trying to steal his recipe?” the man said. “His daughter’s seriously ill, he needs the money.”

“I don’t get it. It’s not like that girl is his real daughter, he just picked her up.” The woman grumbled a bit. “What do you take me for? Trying to steal his recipe? I’m just craving it, can’t I eat if I want to?”

“If you want to eat, go buy it! Asking for just soup — there’s not even any meat.”

“Then you pay for it, mister noble.”

The man went quiet, silently pulling out a cigarette and puffing away.

The child soon returned, carrying a big bowl filled with thick, milky-white broth. The meat had melted into the soup, with only an occasional bone bobbing to the surface.

The aroma was bizarrely enticing.

The three of them surrounded the bowl, their mouths watering.

“I get the first sip!” “No, me!” “Stop fighting, line up!”

In no time, the bowl was empty.

The man gnawed on a piece of bone, the woman licked the bowl, and the kid sucked his fingers.

Their expressions were enchanted — satisfied and content.

But after a while, the three of them suddenly clutched their stomachs and rolled on the floor. The man cursed Wei for using filthy ingredients as he bolted to the bathroom.

“Gurgle gurgle…” His stomach churned.

“Splash… plop…” A series of wet sounds echoed in the squat toilet.

The man’s pain worsened. When he looked down, he was scared out of his wits.

— The toilet bowl was filled with his intestines.

…

Qin Yan had dinner, watched TV for two hours, and feeling it was about time, contacted Zhou Langxing. But Zhou said the bar event hadn’t even started yet.

Qin Yan looked at the wall clock — it was almost 9 o’clock.

“So when do you think it’ll end?”

“They usually party all night.” Zhou Langxing covered the phone a bit guiltily. “But I told them I’d leave early — probably around eleven.”

Before Qin Yan could say anything, Zhou added, “When does the wonton stall open?”

“Nine o’clock. He packs up once they’re sold out.”

Zhou Langxing panicked. “Sold out? How long does that usually take?”

“Don’t worry. Just enjoy your time. You’ll make it. Uncle Wei usually stays open till around midnight.”

“Phew! That’s good. As long as I make it!”

Qin Yan hung up and continued watching TV. Occasionally, he would discuss the plot with Zhou Shurong. Since he couldn’t hear Zhou’s replies, it was more like talking to himself.

Once he got too into it, he forgot to talk — Zhou Shurong left quietly.

He swept through the building again and finally confirmed that the ghost face wasn’t there anymore.

Whether it had died or simply left, though, was impossible to say.

…

It was 10:30 p.m.

The moon hid behind a layer of clouds.

The streetlights sparkled in a rainbow of colors, dazzling and bright — far more attractive than the faint moonlight.

A long line stretched out in front of the wonton stall.

Business was booming tonight — customer after customer flooded in. The line even began to disrupt traffic.

One driver rolled down his window, ready to curse, when a strange, rich aroma hit his nose.

He took a deep, intoxicated breath.

“Boss! Gimme a serving!”

Half an hour later, Uncle Wei said to those still in line, “That’s it… I’m closing up…”

The customers complained, “But there’s still uncooked wontons in that drawer!”

“Those are pre-ordered.” Uncle Wei replied slowly.

Someone at the front tried to argue, but then noticed the boss staring directly at him. A chill crept down his spine.

“Well then… what about the broth? Can I get a bowl of soup?”

Uncle Wei seemed to think for a moment and scratched his face with one finger.

“Sigh — don’t overthink it. Business is about making money. Let’s just say this soup costs the same as a bowl of wontons, alright?”

The man pulled out his phone and shamelessly scanned the QR code.

“Alipay payment received — 6 yuan!”

At that sound, a smile bloomed across Uncle Wei’s stiff, pale face.

He said, “Alright.”

He ladled a scoop of broth into a disposable bowl. The milky soup shimmered with oil on the surface. He sprinkled in some chopped scallions. The man eagerly lifted it up and drank it down, piping hot.

The smell was overwhelming. Those still waiting couldn’t bear it any longer. Their stomachs rumbled loudly, as if begging.

“Boss, I want a bowl too!” “Me too!” “Add some bones in mine!”

Some tried to haggle.

But when Uncle Wei’s cloudy eyes locked onto the haggler, the man shrank back and paid the full 6 yuan without another word.

When the broth finally ran out, Uncle Wei began shooing everyone off again.

Some people were reluctant to leave. But when Uncle Wei gave them a look, a deep-rooted fear surfaced, and they scattered.

Once the area was cleared, Uncle Wei closed the soup pot lid, tied the folding stools tightly to the cart, climbed onto his bike, and rode off toward a prearranged location.

He was waiting for Qin Yan and his friend to come and enjoy a hot, flavorful bowl of wontons.