46: Resentment

Zhou Shurong walked over.

The sunlight receded from his body inch by inch. The indoor lighting was somewhat dim, casting a haze over him as if he had just stepped down from the clouds of some illusion.

Qin Yan looked at him greedily.

The air around him was cold and heavy, yet his face showed no trace of anger—he was smiling, refined and gentle.

Step by step, he approached.

He stopped in front of the two. Qin Yan’s gaze was intense and fixed on him. Zhou Langxing was frozen by the frost, unable to move, only his eyes turning slightly. He used all his strength to twitch his index finger.

Zhou Shurong looked at Qin Yan first and chuckled lightly. “I’m back.”

Qin Yan could no longer hold back and threw himself into his arms.

There wasn’t a trace of falseness in this hug—it was so real. Feeling the long-missed warmth in his embrace, Zhou Shurong closed his eyes and gently stroked Qin Yan’s hair.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fell on Zhou Langxing. Zhou Langxing was looking back at him too—his once-bright eyes had darkened, now filled with despondency.

Zhou Shurong continued to look at Zhou Langxing as he softly comforted Qin Yan.

Until Qin Yan’s injured cheek brushed against Zhou Shurong’s clothing, stinging from the pain. He gasped lightly, and Zhou Shurong shifted his gaze. They separated so he could lift Qin Yan’s face to examine it.

“What happened?” he asked, heart aching.

“Almost got into a car crash and fell to the ground.” Qin Yan, thinking of Zhou Langxing, immediately glanced at him. The man’s body was covered in a thin frost, even his hair and eyelashes turned white, and a single clear tear fell from his eye.

Qin Yan paused, lips moving slightly. He looked at Zhou Langxing, then at Zhou Shurong.

Realizing what had happened, he touched the cheek that had just been kissed and said awkwardly, “We almost crashed. Luckily, Lang—your brother saved me.”

He frowned slightly, adding, “His shoulder dislocated just now.”

Hearing this, Zhou Shurong carefully examined Zhou Langxing. Zhou Langxing was still unable to free himself from his frozen state and could only let him look. His heart was filled with sorrow, and he averted his eyes, no longer looking at anyone.

Zhou Shurong sighed and reached out to tap his brother’s shoulder. In an instant, the frost melted away.

Zhou Langxing was freed and collapsed onto the bench.

He looked at Zhou Shurong—who now looked just like a normal living person—and was momentarily dazed. “You did it. Congrats.”

That word—“congrats”—was loaded with complicated emotion, but at least it wasn’t begrudging.

Zhou Shurong accepted it, nodded slightly, signaling he wasn’t going to hold his earlier actions against him.

Zhou Langxing gave a bitter laugh. “So generous.”

Zhou Shurong replied, “Would you rather he kissed you back”

Zhou Langxing still laughed, as if to ease the tension. “Not like I’d say no.”

Zhou Shurong turned to Qin Yan. Qin Yan, of course, understood his meaning—if he dared to nod, he was dead. He immediately made an exaggerated gesture of refusal.

Zhou Langxing stood up, once again looking like the cool guy Qin Yan first met—but that first impression had long faded. Now seeing it again only felt slightly unfamiliar.

His back was straight, and if he was leaving, he’d leave with flair. Hands in his pockets, long legs striding toward the door.

“Wait a sec,” Zhou Shurong called.

Zhou Langxing stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“Catch!”

Zhou Shurong tossed something to him. Zhou Langxing caught the sound of wind, reached back, and snatched a crystal-clear bead. Inside, it seemed to contain a faint, sorrowful moonlight.

He looked at it closely, then put it away without asking what it was for.

He continued walking out.

Just as he reached the door, he asked, “Hey, do you want to see the old man?”

Zhou Shurong said, “Tell him I’ll come back soon.”

Zhou Langxing made an “oh” sound and left completely.

The clinic returned to quiet. Qin Yan could no longer see Zhou Langxing’s silhouette and figured he must’ve taken that car back home, feeling a bit worried he might get into trouble.

“I gave him a ghost gear,” Zhou Shurong said.

“Ghost Gear?”

“It can make ordinary spirits fall into illusions.” Zhou Shurong pointed to his own chest. “Unless he’s unlucky enough to run into someone like me…”

Qin Yan almost said, What if he’s that unlucky?

He thought for a moment. “Does he know how to use it?”

“Don’t treat him like a fool. If I suddenly give him something, you think he won’t figure it out? If you’re that worried, just call him.”

Zhou Shurong said it like it was no big deal.

There probably wasn’t a more generous love rival in the world—not only did he not mind the overstep, he even armed the guy. But then again, that was his little brother.

Still, if he explained everything too clearly, wouldn’t it make him seem weak and easy to take advantage of?

Zhou Shurong didn’t want Zhou Langxing to get too cocky.

Qin Yan blinked, watching his face closely for any subtle reactions, then pulled out his phone. “Should I send him a text?”

Zhou Shurong smiled.

“I’m gonna send it?”

Still smiling.

“…Forget it,” Qin Yan tucked his phone away. Sending a text while Zhou Shurong was still right next to him might just make Zhou Langxing think he had a chance. “Actually, I do think he’s got some cleverness in him.”

Zhou Shurong’s smile deepened. He glanced at the bottle of iodine and the cotton swabs left on the bench and said, “Let me put some medicine on you.”

Qin Yan sat back down. Zhou Shurong picked up where Zhou Langxing left off. Now that the person had changed, there was no more awkwardness. Qin Yan sat still, and the chair didn’t make any embarrassing noises this time.

Though his face had already been treated, it needed another round—after all, the hug from earlier had rubbed it off.

Zhou Shurong leaned in with the cotton swab. His hand was pale but slender, with a scholarly elegance. There was a small brown mole at the base of his index finger.

Qin Yan’s eyes lingered on that mole—it had a strangely sensual look to it.

Zhou Shurong’s finger accidentally brushed the skin near Qin Yan’s ear.

Snapping out of his daze, Qin Yan muttered, “You’re really cold.”

Zhou Shurong tensed.

Qin Yan looked at his pale face and grinned. “But it’s okay, I’m warm. I can warm you up!”

The frozen cotton swab resumed its careful motion.

Zhou Shurong’s eyes rippled with a faint smile.

The phone rang. Qin Yan checked—another call from the director. Right now, he deeply cherished his time with Zhou Shurong and didn’t want anyone to interrupt. He hung up.

The old doctor in the back room figured enough time had passed and came out to settle the bill. He was surprised to see the young man had turned so pale in such a short time—he looked like a different person.

After paying, the ghost and the living man walked out together.

Qin Yan looked up—the sky was filled with brilliant golden sunlight. He asked Zhou Shurong, “Looks like you can handle sunlight?”

Zhou Shurong nodded with a smile.

“That’s great!”

They stepped into the sunlight together. Qin Yan was delighted to find that Zhou Shurong even cast a shadow.

He curiously asked about it.

Zhou Shurong simply held his hand and said, “Focus. How does it feel?”

Qin Yan hesitated. Both hands enclosed his, holding tight. He asked, “Still cold?”

Zhou Shurong chuckled. “Is that all?”

Qin Yan asked earnestly, “Then remind me—what else should I feel?”

“When you’re holding my hand, besides the temperature, what else can you sense?”

Qin Yan lowered his head, listening intently, and closed his eyes to feel it carefully.

He pressed hard against Zhou Shurong’s skin.

Pressed hard to feel it.

There were faint blue veins on the back of Zhou Shurong’s hand, slightly raised under a thin layer of skin.

His flesh was soft and elastic—when pressed down, it bounced back quickly. It felt like healthy, youthful skin, just lacking a bit of color.

He didn’t feel like someone who had died and come back—a “zombie”—but more like an ordinary human being.

Qin Yan lifted his face. His face had been scratched, treated with medicine, and was now sweaty, his hair a messy tangle. He didn’t look good at all—he looked a mess. But those eyes of his were strikingly bright, as if they could light up a person’s heart.

“I get it now.”

“I really get it!” Qin Yan grabbed Zhou Shurong’s other hand tightly.

Zhou Shurong’s expression softened. He let both hands be held in Qin Yan’s grip. Lowering his head slightly, a loose strand of hair drifted from his otherwise neatly combed hair and fluttered softly in the breeze.

He leaned forward, listening attentively.

Qin Yan said, “You’re real! You really exist!”

Zhou Shurong showed a gentle smile.

“Now we can go out during the day! We can go shopping, go to the movies, do anything together! We don’t have to worry about being noticed anymore!”

“Yes, we won’t care what others think anymore.”

Qin Yan was overjoyed—his eyes gleamed like gold.

Zhou Shurong looked at him steadily, his expression becoming even softer.

But suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind—jarring, distorted, painful.

A voice only he could hear.

His inner demon.

His resentment.

—“This isn’t right. Why is it you who has to work so hard to become like a normal person? Why isn’t it him who becomes a ghost for you?”

Yes. Why?

He couldn’t help but wonder. He smiled, looking at Qin Yan. He couldn’t help it.

Why wasn’t Qin Yan a ghost?

The resentment churned violently inside him—wild, free, unstoppable… ever since he saw Zhou Langxing kiss Qin Yan, that moment’s violent shock turned him into a vengeful ghost on the spot—since then, he had been haunted by resentment.

If Qin Yan became a ghost… wouldn’t that be perfect?

To live and die together. A love eternal and unchanging—how beautiful would that be?

They could be a pair of joyful, ageless… ghostly lovers.

“What are you thinking?”

Qin Yan sensed something strange… hard to describe, but a little chilling.

Zhou Shurong looked at Qin Yan.

He forced down the storm of resentment within, his smile unchanged, voice soft and full of affection: “I can’t wait anymore. I want to hold your hand and walk through every place in the world.”

Qin Yan nodded a little shyly.

They walked hand in hand down the street, as if slowly merging into the bustle of the living world.

People gradually increased around them.

Two men holding hands—fingers interlaced—carried an unmistakable air of intimacy. Passersby couldn’t help but glance back at them.

Whispers stirred around them.

Qin Yan didn’t mind, and Zhou Shurong didn’t either. He was already a ghost—why care about others’ gossip?

“Wow, that guy’s face is so pale. Is he sick?”

“That’s not just pale—it’s like a corpse. So creepy!”

Among all the murmurs, both Qin Yan and Zhou Shurong keenly picked out these two sentences.

Qin Yan looked at Zhou Shurong with concern.

Zhou Shurong smiled back at him.

But Qin Yan’s mood still sank a little.

Affected by the moment, he pulled Zhou Shurong toward a quieter area. They sat on a bench outdoors. The air was a little stifling.

Qin Yan started to feel annoyed by the sun above.

Zhou Shurong tilted his face slightly and closed his eyes to savor the long-lost sunlight. In truth, it wasn’t comfortable—his ghostly instincts were quietly resisting it.

Qin Yan wanted to ask—how could a ghost possibly like sunlight?

He thought for a while. It’s precisely because you’ve lost something that you learn to treasure it. That sentiment could apply to anything.

While he pondered, Zhou Shurong suddenly asked, “Ah Yan, do you want to become a ghost?”

Qin Yan had been full of curiosity. Curious about Zhou Shurong’s experiences, why he seemed to return like a man who’d triumphed against fate, with all sorts of mystery and wonder.

But after hearing that question, he swallowed all his curiosity and focused intently on Zhou Shurong.

He said nothing for a long time, listening to Zhou Shurong list the benefits of being a ghost:

“As a ghost, you never age. You don’t have to worry about money, don’t have to fear illness, or dread the heat of summer or the cold of winter…”

Qin Yan hesitated to speak…

Zhou Shurong, sensing his mood, shifted his tone—like all his previous words were merely to comfort Qin Yan, to assure him not to worry about how he looked now.

“You see? Being a ghost has so many benefits. Low body temperature, poor complexion—that’s just a tiny price to pay, isn’t it?”