42: Brotherly Conversation

The kitchen was filled with the sound of bubbling, the unique spicy aroma of ginger wafting out from the pot, sneaking through the door cracks, and spreading through the living room.

Zhou Langxing felt the spicy air pressing on his nose and mouth, stifling him, and his heart felt similarly heavy. As soon as he opened his mouth, the sharp ginger scent rushed into his nostrils, mouth, and throat.

This wasn’t him wanting to cry.

It was the irritating, pungent smell that was unbearable.

When Qin Yan turned around to close the door, Zhou Langxing secretly wiped his eye corner.

“It seems almost done,” Qin Yan, unaware of the change behind him, approached the kitchen.

After Qin Yan entered the kitchen, Zhou Langxing finally let go of his composure, took a deep breath, and inhaled the strong spicy scent, quickly scrunching his nose and rubbing his nostrils.

Qin Yan came out with a bowl of thick ginger soup, and Zhou Langxing, slumping his shoulders, turned around slowly, his lonely figure looking even more pitiful. As soon as Qin Yan saw his red nose, he froze in surprise.

After a moment of shock, he became flustered and his voice trembled.

“What happened…? Are you hiding something from me?”

Qin Yan’s mind raced with all sorts of bad thoughts.

Zhou Langxing, seeing Qin Yan’s face quickly redden with worry, felt a little helpless. He pointed at the ginger soup bowl, softened his voice, and said, “You’re overthinking it. I’m just irritated by the smell of this stuff.”

“Really?” Qin Yan asked suspiciously.

It was just that Zhou Langxing was too prideful, not someone who’d have a red nose just like that.

“Really,” Zhou Langxing couldn’t help but smile.

In front of Qin Yan, he took the porcelain bowl with the red rooster design and mocked its cheesy look. Then, pinching his nose, he quickly gulped the soup down.

Ginger soup—an arch-nemesis of life.

He was about to cry from it!

Qin Yan saw Zhou Langxing puffing up his cheeks, still too scared to swallow, so he repeated an old gesture: drawing circles with his finger on his own cheek, signaling Zhou Langxing to swallow.

After swallowing, Zhou Langxing laughed, then started coughing, tears forming in his eyes from the effort.

“You’re so childish! Teacher Dou Sha Bao!”

Qin Yan put his hands on his hips, tilted his head, and gave him an exasperated look.

A bowl of ginger soup seemed to have taken half of Zhou Langxing’s life. He slumped on the sofa, exhausted. He placed the bowl haphazardly on the glass coffee table, the rooster on the bowl staring straight at him. He pointed at it, complaining, “Look, it’s mocking me.”

Seeing him like this, Qin Yan couldn’t help but reach out and pat his head, then took the bowl, saying, “No. It’s looking at a brave person.”

Brave?

From an angle where Qin Yan couldn’t see, Zhou Langxing’s lips twitched slightly, forming a somewhat self-mocking curve.

Qin Yan took the bowl, placed it in the sink, and quickly returned to sit with Zhou Langxing.

The TV was on, with a man on the local news channel, labeled as a “Meteorology Expert,” talking in terms Qin Yan didn’t understand. In short, he was explaining that the recent acid rain was a natural phenomenon.

Qin Yan glanced out the window. The sky had darkened, the rain had stopped, but there were still occasional drips, as raindrops slid down the building.

When Qin Yan sat down, his phone buzzed. A notice came through the work group—no work tomorrow.

The meteorology expert on TV then advised everyone not to go outside tomorrow.

“Looks like a lot of people won’t have to work tomorrow. Wonder if anyone got hurt in the rain.”

As Zhou Langxing hid in his car, Qin Yan heard a lot of noise from inside the building—people discussing the acid rain, debating the hot topic online, all sorts of wails and curses at the weather.

He suddenly shifted his focus, sounding worried, “I wonder if Shurong will be affected?”

Zhou Langxing finally spoke. “He won’t.”

Qin Yan turned to look at him. “You’re so sure?”

Zhou Langxing, holding a cushion lazily, said, “He’s a ghost.”

“Oh, right!” Qin Yan looked him in the eyes. “You said on the phone… you saw Shurong. How did you see him?”

Zhou Langxing’s gaze shifted from the TV screen to Qin Yan’s face. Qin Yan’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. He stared for a long while before answering, “With my eyes.”

Qin Yan’s face fell, and he snatched the cushion away from him.

Zhou Langxing tilted his body and chuckled.

He couldn’t bear to let Qin Yan’s hopes fall, so he finally told the truth. “I don’t know…but I saw him.”

Qin Yan, clutching the cushion he had snatched, rested his chin on it, his face lighting up with happiness. “So, I can see him too!”

Then, his voice dropped.

“But where is he now? Why hasn’t he come back? I hope he’s okay.”

Qin Yan’s longing for Zhou Shurong couldn’t be ignored by Zhou Langxing.

Zhou Langxing leaned back, resting his head on the armrest. His eyes lazily glanced at Qin Yan. His hand was in his pocket, fingers fiddling with the decorative zipper pull.

The outside had darkened, and the room was dim with only the faint blue glow from the TV screen illuminating his face. His eyes carried a cold, dark light.

Later, Zhou Langxing refused Qin Yan’s offer to shower.

He was leaving.

“Are you leaving now? You really have to go?” Qin Yan clung to the doorframe with a worried expression, trying to stop him.

The person before him was Zhou Langxing, and Zhou Langxing was leaving. Qin Yan’s worry for Zhou Shurong shifted to Zhou Langxing.

Zhou Langxing narrowed his eyes, took out his phone, and waved it. “It’s not just you who worries about me. My dad’s called me a bunch of times. I had a small issue in the car earlier, couldn’t answer. I’m going back now so he can see that I’m in one piece.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“That’s my honor.”

Qin Yan took a deep breath. “I’m not joking. So much happened today, and you still have to drive all the way back…”

He couldn’t continue. He was here worrying, while Zhou Langxing was smiling as if nothing was wrong.

“Alright, I really have to go. I have a feeling that if I don’t go now, I’ll miss something important.”

Zhou Langxing thought for a moment, then patted Qin Yan’s shoulder, “Call me if you need anything.”

He turned around and walked toward the elevator. There was no sound of the door closing behind him. He knew Qin Yan was still watching him.

He smiled inwardly—Qin Yan, share your worries, your thoughts, and your blessings with me!

The elevator doors closed, and all the subtle emotions on Zhou Langxing’s face vanished.

Qin Yan stood at the door for a long time before returning inside. He stood by the window, cautiously opening it to peek outside. He saw Zhou Langxing’s car slowly driving away. As Zhou Langxing left, his heart once again felt heavy.

Qin Yan turned on all the lights, curled up on the sofa, and stared at the TV screen, motionless.

Meanwhile, Zhou Langxing had a smooth drive home. It was 8 PM by the time he arrived. The cook had already gone to rest, and Zhou Langxing didn’t disturb anyone. Famished, he headed to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of noodles.

As he rummaged through the cabinets, his father, holding an acrylic cup, quietly emerged from the elevator. The house suddenly felt dustier, and Father Zhou immediately knew it was Zhou Langxing returning.

There were sounds from the kitchen. He walked over, cleared his throat a few times, and said, “Making noodles?”

Zhou Langxing jumped in surprise and said grumpily, “Are you trying to scare me to death?”

Father Zhou took a sip of chocolate milk and said, “I’m hungry too. Make me a bowl.”

Zhou Langxing half-turned, one hand still in the cabinet, the other on his hip. “Do I need to remind you that it’s 8 o’clock? You just ate dinner a little over an hour ago, right?”

Father Zhou sighed. “I can’t help it. Got things on my mind, can’t eat.”

Zhou Langxing fell silent for a moment.

He grabbed something from the cabinet and waved it in front of his dad, “I can only make instant noodles.”

“You hid instant noodles?” Father Zhou immediately recognized that these noodles were Zhou Langxing’s stash. He blew on the steam from his cup and clicked his tongue. “What flavor?”

Zhou Langxing took out two cups. “Beef brisket and mushroom. Which one do you want?”

Father Zhou wrinkled his nose. “No mushrooms.”

Zhou Langxing’s instant noodle-making skills were impeccable. When he had once left home in a fit of temper, he had lived on these noodles.

After filling the cups with water, he pie two plastic forks through the lids, then placed them on the counter. Giving an “OK” gesture, he said, “Three minutes.”

Father Zhou finished his chocolate milk, handed the cup to Zhou Langxing to wash, then sat down, breathing in the long-missed aroma. He sighed, “I used to be so poor, I couldn’t afford instant noodles. When I saw others eating, I’d drool just watching. Now, though, it doesn’t smell as appetizing as before.”

At that moment, Zhou Langxing took the cup and washed it without any reluctance. However, he wrinkled his nose at the leftover liquid at the bottom of the cup, clearly disapproving of his dad drinking this at night. Hearing his father’s complaints, he lazily said, “Before? How long ago was that? Stop talking about old stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk about now.” Father Zhou, while Zhou Langxing wasn’t looking, secretly peeked under the lid of the beef noodle cup to check if the noodles were cooked.

Now, Zhou Langxing shook off the water from the cup. “Let’s talk about before, then.”

He heard a slurping sound and turned to see his father eating noodles. “The noodles aren’t even cooked yet.”

“I just like eating half-cooked noodles!”

The plastic fork that came with the instant noodles was quite small, inconvenient for two grown men to use. After eating several mouthfuls, Father Zhou suddenly started talking about the strange happenings outside.

Although the higher-ups were trying to cover it up, it was merely a futile attempt. They could deceive ordinary people, but they couldn’t hide the truth from the powerful and wealthy. The Zhou family was influential and had, to some extent, touched upon those terrifying truths.

Zhou Langxing listened to the talk of paranormal resurrections, special departments, and the changing times.

His expression remained unchanged; he had long been shocked by such things and was now focused on finishing his meal.

Father Zhou asked him, “What do you think?”

Zhou Langxing replied that he had no opinion, which caused Father Zhou to glare at him with displeasure.

“Thinking about it carefully, Ah Rong has only been dead for just over ten days. I wonder if he’s become a wandering soul by now?”

He continued, “But even if he’s here, we might not be able to see him. Sigh, if I go dig up his grave, will he get angry?”

No one responded. He went on, “Your mother has probably already reincarnated.”

Zhou Langxing sped up his eating, finished, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Let her rest in peace.” Then he ran upstairs, leaving Father Zhou staring blankly at the table.

When Zhou Langxing reached upstairs, his steps slowed.

He stopped in front of Zhou Shurong’s room door.

He reached out to press the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He was missing a key.

For some reason, Zhou Langxing felt a little relieved. He entered his own room, not turning on the lights and leaving the door open. The light from the hallway was bright enough. He lay back on the soft bed.

After staring at the blurred ceiling for a few minutes, he slowly got up, pulled out the second drawer from his nightstand, and retrieved a spare key.

He used the key to open Zhou Shurong’s room.

There was a figure by the floor-to-ceiling window.

Zhou Langxing froze for a moment and gently closed the door behind him.

Since Zhou Shurong’s death, the curtains that had always been drawn had been pulled open, allowing moonlight to pour in. It passed through the faint figure and cast shadows on the floor.

The figure had no shadow; the pure moonlight almost reached Zhou Langxing’s feet.

As he took a step, he felt a chill on his exposed skin, though he wasn’t sure if it was just his mind playing tricks.

He softly called out the figure’s name:

“Zhou Shurong.”

The window was closed, and there was no wind, but the figure flickered like a candle flame, sometimes visible, sometimes not. One moment it was a complete body, the next, it seemed broken apart by the moonlight.

Zhou Shurong asked, “What about the vase on the table?”

That ugly, plain vase was a gift Zhou Shurong had received from Qin Yan, and Zhou Shurong had always cherished it, placing it on the nightstand. Later, Zhou Langxing had taken it.

Zhou Langxing couldn’t hear the emotions in Zhou Shurong’s voice, so he calmly replied, “I was afraid it would collect dust, so I put it in my room.”

A short laugh followed.

Zhou Shurong turned his face. His condition was unstable, and only half his face managed to turn. Zhou Langxing couldn’t help but look at his twisted lips, which flickered, and in a moment, the face returned to its original form.

Zhou Shurong smiled slightly:

“Then are you worried that Qin Yan will be lonely? Do you want to take him with you?”

It was a mocking tone, and Zhou Langxing understood clearly.

If he could, of course, he would want to take Qin Yan with him.

Zhou Shurong didn’t seem to care about Zhou Langxing’s silence. He walked to the bedside, opened the nightstand drawer, and took out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled out a white menthol cigarette.

“Ah Xing. Look, I can still pick things up.”

Then, he instinctively lowered his head to sniff it.

Zhou Langxing watched his every movement and easily understood what he was trying to express. He walked over and grabbed the cigarette pack from Zhou Shurong’s hand. Zhou Shurong let go, and the pack quickly landed in Zhou Langxing’s hands.

Zhou Langxing took a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and then took out a lighter from his pocket.

A soft click.

The tip of the cigarette sparked.

He inhaled deeply, slowly releasing a white smoke ring. The smoke ring spread around Zhou Shurong and soon dissipated.

Zhou Langxing tilted his chin, his slightly messy hair hiding a pair of eyes full of defiance.

“Brother, you can show yourself now, and you can touch things. But… can you smoke? Can you eat? Can you smell the scent of Qin Yan’s shower gel? Can you feel his body temperature?”

Zhou Langxing’s voice was calm, but each word was like a dagger to the heart.

Zhou Shurong involuntarily showed his ghostly form. He had died in a car accident, and the back of his head had a gaping hole, dark and oozing blood, soon staining half his body.

The muscles around his eyes and mouth twitched. He struggled to maintain his composure, trying to keep his usual calm and polite demeanor.

Zhou Langxing looked at his deathly pale face and remembered the silent figure lying in the coffin.

A flash of pity crossed his mind.

Zhou Shurong touched his face and then looked down at the ivory white suit stained with blood. He smiled a shallow smile, one that lacked warmth, and said softly, “What a pity, I didn’t scare you.”

Zhou Langxing shifted his gaze and changed the subject skillfully, “Humans and ghosts have no future. You’re going to harm him.”

Zhou Shurong returned to his original form, unbothered. “The changes in the mortal world are enough to be recorded in textbooks. Perhaps in the future, people will give it a new name for the era—that phrase no longer applies.”

“But with you like this, how are you going to see him?”

Zhou Langxing didn’t feel the need to argue further. He just took a drag from his cigarette and smiled, “Shouldn’t you look in the mirror?”

Zhou Shurong fell silent. “This is just temporary. Ah Xing, I beg you to take care of him for a while.”

“Your topic really jumps around.”

Zhou Langxing couldn’t understand it. He knew Zhou Langxing had ill intentions, yet he still insisted on leaving the person he loved in Zhou Langxing’s care.

Did he think Zhou Langxing didn’t have the ability to take him away?

He thought for a moment, “Are you provoking me?”

“I believe in you.”

The two brothers stared at each other. Zhou Langxing sneered but didn’t respond to Zhou Shurong’s words. He took the cigarette, lit the one Zhou Shurong was holding, and then smiled meaningfully as he walked out. Before closing the door, he said, “Dad wants to see you, you figure it out.”

The room returned to its silent state. Zhou Shurong held the lit cigarette, looking at it for a while, then expressionlessly pressed it into the incense burner.

He walked into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror for a long time. He whispered, “It’s not time yet.”

Zhou Langxing walked toward his room, his steps growing heavier.

He walked out of the wind.

But that heavy, oppressive feeling wouldn’t blow away.

How could he?

Would a single word of belief really make him willingly give up?

He had waited for so long, seeing his hopes dashed. He would never be willing to accept it.