44: Ghost-Veiled Eyes

After the wind and rain finally calmed, lots of people took advantage of the rare time off to go out and enjoy themselves. Just in case, everyone carried an umbrella when they left the house—some opened it to block the sun, some held it in their hand, and others tucked it into their bags.

Zhou Langxing stopped at a red light, watching the different colored umbrellas weaving through the crowd.

He had a new car now—an ostentatious, bright red one, almost festive. According to him, it was a temporary superstition, meant to ward off bad luck.

Speaking of superstition, Qin Yan suddenly stared blankly toward the distant mountains outside the window. “I’ve seen lots of people online saying they want to visit Qingyun Temple and pray.”

He didn’t need to spell it out—Zhou Langxing already understood.

“There’ve been a lot of strange things happening lately, but I haven’t seen a single Taoist or monk around. I guess they’re not much help.”

Zhou Langxing hesitated, keeping to himself the things he’d heard from his father.

He only offered a warning: “There are going to be more strange things from now on. Be careful when you go out. Best not to go out at night.”

Qin Yan looked at him. “But you’ve been going out at night these past few days.”

“I go back to the hotel to sleep!”

“But… you could just head back before dark.”

Zhou Langxing pressed his lips together, eyes fixed ahead. There, at the back of the crowd, was a little child in red holding an umbrella, trailing behind everyone else. No adult was nearby. The child looked abandoned. Even the passing grown-ups didn’t spare a glance. Zhou Langxing frowned, silently blaming the parents.

He switched topics smoothly and pointed ahead. “Look at that kid—came out alone. No parents around.”

Qin Yan asked curiously, “What kid?”

“The one in red, holding a little yellow duck umbrella.”

Qin Yan hesitated. “There’s no kid in red. And no yellow duck umbrella.”

Zhou Langxing turned to look at Qin Yan, who was also looking at him. Zhou Langxing turned back, but among the throng crossing the street, there was no longer any trace of a red-clothed child or yellow duck umbrella.

The rearview mirror reflected his suddenly pale face.

When it came to ghosts, even his father didn’t have much specific knowledge—so how could Zhou Langxing? Zhou Shurong knew more, but had never thought to tell them.

Still, he could infer a few things from Zhou Shurong.

Before, he hadn’t been able to see Zhou Shurong at all.

Now, though he could see him, the form wasn’t stable.

But that kid…

No. Other people hadn’t seen him. Qin Yan hadn’t seen him!

Could it be… something wrong with me?

Zhou Langxing thought back to the weird pink blob of flesh that had lingered in his mouth three days ago. Maybe… he really should get more sun to chase away the bad luck.

The light turned green. Qin Yan lightly nudged Zhou Langxing.

Zhou Langxing took a deep breath and forced a smile, the car slowly inching forward.

“Maybe I was just seeing things.”

Qin Yan wasn’t buying it. Even after the car moved, Zhou Langxing kept glancing back at the crowd from before.

“Langxing,” Qin Yan called, “Why don’t we just walk?”

He added softly, “I’m really scared. So many novels talk about ghosts covering the driver’s eyes and causing car crashes.”

“…Don’t scare me.”

Still, Zhou Langxing pulled over to the side. He gritted his teeth. “Why does it feel like daytime’s more dangerous? All these weird things are happening during the day. It doesn’t make sense!”

“Maybe…” Qin Yan said gloomily, “Ghosts that only come out at night don’t have the ability to show themselves. I’ve never seen Shurong with my own eyes.”

The fear hit Qin Yan late.

So many things had their pros and cons. Before, he’d only been happy that Zhou Shurong was “alive” again, but he hadn’t thought about how much trouble so many “living” presences could cause ordinary people.

Still, even if the world was dangerous, he would rather it be this way.

Zhou Langxing’s brows furrowed deeply. After a long moment, he said to Qin Yan, “Let’s not go to the kindergarten anymore.”

Qin Yan nodded.

“Not just today. We’re not going back. Ever again.”

Qin Yan’s eyes showed a hint of surprise.

“Just thinking about you going to work every day makes me scared.”

Qin Yan hesitated.

Zhou Langxing said, “Think about it. Really think it through.”

Then he fell into his own thoughts, thinking about the child in red holding the umbrella. The way the umbrella vanished along with the child—was there something special about it?

Was it something burned for him by his family?

Naturally, that made him think of how they had burned so many things for Zhou Shurong too—gold ingots, a mansion with servant boys, even a real luxury car.

Could Zhou Shurong actually use those gold ingots to pay for things?

Could he really drive that luxury car, live in a mansion, and have little servants give him shoulder massages?

Zhou Langxing’s head started to ache. He quickly decided not to think about it anymore.

Meanwhile, Qin Yan had made up his mind. He decided to take Zhou Langxing’s advice and quit his job.

The current situation was uncertain. The government was clearly hiding things. The human death rate wouldn’t be going down anytime soon. And there would only be more and more ghosts. In the early stages, many people would die without knowing why.

Zhou Langxing said, “Stay home as much as possible. Best not to go out at all.”

He realized this was the best option. It wasn’t just sitting around waiting to die. Waiting for Zhou Shurong’s return was the only right thing to do.

Zhou Shurong had the ability to protect them.

“You have to stay home too,” Qin Yan said, looking at him.

“I don’t need to.”

“Aren’t you worried about your dad?”

“He knows better than I do. And he’s more afraid of dying. He’ll take good care of himself.”

“Still, living in a hotel isn’t ideal,” Qin Yan said. “I promise I won’t go out as long as we’ve stocked up on supplies. I won’t run around. I’m going to wait for Shurong to come back. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

Zhou Langxing fell silent, then said lightly, “Did you forget? I promised my brother I’d look after you for a while. I gave my word—I can’t break it now, can I?”

“What does breaking a promise even matter…”

Qin Yan looked out the window. Outside, a milk tea shop had a long line. Stylish girls were taking photos together, holding their drinks, their faces lit up with smiles. Maybe… it would be a long time before anyone saw such carefree happiness again.

“Compared to life itself, even dignity feels cheap—let alone a broken promise.”

Hearing that, Zhou Langxing suddenly felt the car grow stifling. He quickly adjusted the temperature.

He still felt like he couldn’t breathe. The clothes he was wearing were way too tight—exactly the kind of style Zhou Shurong liked. He undid a button at his collar.

His mouth was dry too. But there wasn’t any water in the new car.

Following Qin Yan’s gaze, he also spotted the milk tea shop. Naturally, he changed the subject again. “Thirsty? Want a milk tea?”

Qin Yan was sensitive to the shift and looked at his face. The irritation bubbling inside Zhou Langxing was already rising—but he kept it under control and didn’t let it show.

He smiled at Qin Yan. “So, are you drinking or not?”

Qin Yan nodded, not forcing him to decide immediately. He simply said, “Something sweet might help lift the mood.”

“Then I’ll go buy it. What do you want?”

“Let’s go together.”

As he spoke, he had already opened the car door, and Zhou Langxing got out from the other side.

The two walked toward the milk tea shop, passing a street. Zhou Langxing was very careful, looking both ways to make sure there were no cars before signaling Qin Yan to follow.

Qin Yan’s phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out—it’s the director calling. She probably realized her earlier attitude had been poor and wanted to talk calmly about his resignation. But Qin Yan pushed the matter aside for now.

What mattered more right now was talking Zhou Langxing out of his meaningless plan to take care of him.

He ignored the call and put the phone away.

At that moment, a blinding light struck his face.

It was even more dazzling than looking straight at the sun.

He instinctively raised his hand to block his eyes—but something was wrong. He heard the roar of a car engine.

A car had suddenly sped out from around the corner. Zhou Langxing, hearing the noise, yanked Qin Yan hard, and the two of them tumbled to the ground. The car brushed right past their clothes—then slammed into a utility pole.

Qin Yan’s head was spinning. His ears were filled with all kinds of screams.

He instantly realized—they’d been in a car accident!

He staggered to his feet, his cheek stinging a little, and his elbow and knee were scraped.

He looked at Zhou Langxing.

Zhou Langxing had his shoulder tilted, his body twisted into a strange position as he looked at Qin Yan with concern, asking if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” Qin Yan said, eyes falling to Zhou Langxing’s left arm. “Your arm…”

“It’s just dislocated.”

Zhou Langxing forced a smile.

“Don’t smile, it looks awful.” Qin Yan was about to cry.

“Hospital! We need to go to the hospital!” After saying that, Qin Yan’s mouth turned down. “I don’t know how to drive.”

The crash had come out of nowhere. The car had hit the pole hard, its front end crumpled, and the driver seemed unconscious. A crowd had gathered—some calling for help, some trying to rescue the driver.

There were also people gathering around Qin Yan and Zhou Langxing—a few girls holding milk teas. One of them, hearing Qin Yan, said she could drive, though she hadn’t brought her license.

Her friends chimed in from all directions. “It’s an emergency, it should be fine.” “What are the odds traffic police show up?” “Even if they do, it’s understandable, they’ll let it slide, right?”

Another girl, calmer than the rest, said, “If it’s just a dislocation, there’s no need for a big hospital. There’s a great old bonesetter nearby.”

Qin Yan accepted the advice and helped Zhou Langxing to the nearest clinic.

On the way, Zhou Langxing still tried to make Qin Yan laugh.

Qin Yan’s eyes were wet as he looked over, and Zhou Langxing went quiet.

While the doctor was fixing his dislocated arm, Qin Yan asked, “How bad does it hurt?”

If he’d asked “Does it hurt?”, Zhou Langxing could’ve said no. But since it was “how bad,” he couldn’t pretend. He thought about it carefully, then said:

“Like when I fell out of a tree as a kid.”

“I shouldn’t have looked at my phone,” Qin Yan said, full of guilt.

“If we have to blame someone, blame me for wanting milk tea.”

Qin Yan pressed his lips together and stepped out to the nearby convenience store. He bought a long-shelf-life milk tea and a pack of tissues.

“Here!” He unwrapped the straw and handed it over.

Zhou Langxing looked at the factory-produced milk tea. He actually wanted plain bottled water more, but didn’t say it. He took a sip. The artificial flavor was strong.

But it had one upside: “Very sweet!”

Qin Yan opened the tissue pack and wiped the sweat from his face. The doctor reminded him not to lift heavy things, to avoid further injury, and to rest well.

As the doctor was about to leave, Zhou Langxing called out.

“Doctor, he’s scraped too. Can you put something on it?”

The doctor looked at Qin Yan. After the adrenaline wore off, Qin Yan began to feel the sting in his cheek again. His elbow and knee hurt less than his face.

He asked, a bit pitifully, “Did I ruin my face?”

Zhou Langxing shook his head quickly.

“But it hurts!”

Zhou Langxing grew nervous instantly. He put the milk tea down and grabbed the doctor’s sleeve.

“Doctor, doctor!”

The old doctor said, “You’re sweating. Sweat’s salty, of course it stings!”

“Oh,” Qin Yan replied.

“Hold on, I’ll get iodine and cotton swabs.” He pointed at Zhou Langxing. “You need some too.”

Zhou Langxing had rolled around on the ground with Qin Yan, so he had scrapes too. He didn’t care about the pain. Pulling a tissue from the pack, he began wiping sweat from Qin Yan’s face in return—carefully, trying not to touch the wounds.

Qin Yan blinked awkwardly. When he flinched slightly, he saw Zhou Langxing biting his lip, trying hard not to look upset—so he stopped pulling away.

After a while, the doctor returned and saw the scene. He said thoughtfully, “I’ve got something to take care of inside. You two can handle each other’s. It’s easy enough. You know how?”

Zhou Langxing immediately said, “Yes! Go ahead!”

Qin Yan looked like he wanted to say something, watching the doctor’s retreating back.

The two of them locked eyes again.

After a brief hesitation, Qin Yan asked, “How bad does it hurt now?”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Qin Yan didn’t believe him. Holding the tissue pack awkwardly, he looked unsure.

Zhou Langxing beamed at him. If Qin Yan didn’t show a bit of emotion, he’d probably be disappointed!

Bright-eyed, he said, “Come on! Let me wipe you first!”