53: Elevator Explosion Incident

Everything returned to silence.

Only the cold, sharp moon overhead quietly looked on.

Zhou Shurong lowered his eyes to look at the now-quiet shadow. Perhaps it was because, when he was still a wandering soul, he often hid inside shadows—now that he had become a vengeful ghost, his skill manifested as this strange shadow.

The shadow lay still, without a trace of its recent act—devouring a man and a ghost.

It was a skill derived from his shadow—Shadow Cage.

Brother Wu wasn’t dead. He was trapped in an endless nightmare.

In the shadow world, where there was no food or water, though he was half-human, half-ghost even that wouldn’t be enough to keep him alive forever.

A wind rose.

The evening breeze brushed gently across his face.

Zhou Shurong took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against his wounded face. He lowered his head to glance at the disordered state of his body—both shoulders riddled with bloody holes, as if his scapulae had been pierced, gruesome and torn. Flesh was mangled everywhere.

Looking closely, his figure had become faintly translucent. But that didn’t matter. As long as he endured until Brother Wu and the ghost inside him died, their bodies would become nourishment to restore his own.

He slowly made his way back. Whenever he encountered anyone, he immediately dove into the shadow of the nearest building, drifting silently on his way.

In the grass, Zhou Langxing was still unconscious.

Zhou Shurong looked down at him for a moment. The shadow at his feet wriggled and reached out to grab him, swallowing him as well.

Punishment was necessary. In the shadow realm, Zhou Langxing would experience the most terrifying nightmares.

But he still needed to report this to their father.

In the dark and grim corridor, he made a second video call to Father Zhou.

The first call had been to tell him how to use that bead and to keep a close eye on Zhou Langxing.

Now, the second call was answered quickly. The video was dim; only a vague human face could be made out. Just as Father Zhou was about to ask where he was—

Zhou Shurong said, “Dad, I’ve locked Langxing away.”

The corridor light flicked on.

Only then did Father Zhou clearly see Zhou Shurong’s current state. His face was bloodied and torn, the bone beneath visible. His figure flickered, unstable, on the verge of vanishing.

He paused. “You decide what to do. What… did he do?”

“He led someone from the Observation Society to attack me.”

“Well deserved! As long as you don’t cripple him, do as you see fit.”

“It’s not that serious. I’m just letting him have a nightmare.” Whenever Zhou Langxing was about to starve or dehydrate, Zhou Shurong would let the shadow swallow food and water to keep him from dying.

Though Zhou Shurong made it sound light, Father Zhou knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Shurong…” the middle-aged man on screen, with gray at his temples, said softly, “It’s actually my fault. I was the one who let him go. You two brothers…”

“I don’t blame you, or him. In my current state, it was inevitable that someone had to try and stop me.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “This time, Ah Xing was decisive and courageous enough to take action.”

Father Zhou: “…”

Although he didn’t want to see his sons fight each other, hearing Zhou Shurong, seriously injured and possibly near death, praising Zhou Langxing like that… it felt a little strange.

Zhou Shurong said a few more things, then hung up.

He returned home.

Qin Yan was sitting on the sofa. He wasn’t watching TV, wasn’t playing on his phone, wasn’t eating anything. He seemed to be lost in thought. Only when he heard the door open did he look over.

Only a single small lamp was lit inside the room.

Its warm yellow light fell across his face like flowing honey.

Qin Yan tilted his head, watching Zhou Shurong walk in.

Before entering, Zhou Shurong had tidied himself up—no longer showing any terrifying injuries. But his figure was even more translucent, as if on the verge of dissolving.

“Shurong, where did you go?”

He was still thinking about Zhou Langxing.

“Don’t worry,” Zhou Shurong sat down and stroked his face, “I got into a fight. But it’s over now.”

Qin Yan took his hand and cupped it gently, his pretty brows knitting with concern.

Zhou Shurong repeated, “It’s really over. I’ll recover soon.”

Qin Yan nodded.

Then Zhou Shurong’s gaze fell on the fruit knife on the coffee table. A subtle flicker of confusion passed through his eyes.

Qin Yan suddenly gripped his hand tightly. “Shurong, feel it carefully—I’m still warm now, but not for much longer. Soon, I’ll be cold.”

Zhou Shurong’s breath hitched.

Qin Yan brought his hands to his chest, smiling faintly, eyes filled with gentle insistence.

Zhou Shurong’s breathing quickened.

What a seductive thing to say.

Inside him, the resentful energy burst into laughter: “Yes! Say yes! Once he’s dead, you’ll be a perfect ghost couple—”

Do it!

Kill him!

Zhou Shurong abruptly pulled his hands away. His breath came in short gasps—not only from desire, but from fear.

He had just fought someone from the Observation Society, barely surviving. The ghost world was terrifying. As a human, at least Qin Yan still had the government trying to maintain peace.

He embraced Qin Yan carefully, trying not to squeeze too tightly. He feared losing control and accidentally strangling him in a moment of weakness.

“You have to live well.”

Qin Yan gazed blankly at the ceiling.

Zhou Shurong whispered in his ear, “Live, and live well.”

“All the pain I caused you… I’ve always hated myself for it. I’m sorry. I truly am. I made you sick too…”

Qin Yan quietly hugged him tighter.

“I’m going to disappear for a while. I need to control myself. I need to stay away from you. Please, live well.”

He didn’t want a farewell. He didn’t want to hear pleading. As soon as he finished speaking, he vanished like a gust of wind.

The embrace was empty.

Qin Yan was left staring blankly into space, not knowing where to look.

A long time passed before he finally put the knife away.

The next day, two men in suits came to the door, saying they’d been ordered to protect him.

Qin Yan said nothing. Pale-faced, he searched everywhere for signs of Zhou Shurong. The bodyguards followed closely behind.

When he tried to force his way into the West City Cemetery, the two bodyguards knocked him out and carried him home.

Days passed. Trouble began brewing in the outside world once more.

The bodyguards told him to stay home, not to go out.

Everything was delivered—food, clothes, all necessities. Nothing was lacking. And yet Qin Yan still withered away. Not just his body, but his spirit as well. Everything seemed to be sinking.

Sometimes, when he didn’t know what to do, the bodyguards would turn on the TV. News of horrific cases made it clear how safe Qin Yan really was, staying home.

But he remained expressionless. His eyes were still hollow.

But Qin Yan’s face remained expressionless, and his eyes were still lifeless.

Zhou Shurong was right—he was ill.

Ever since Zhou Shurong had begun to “relapse” and torment him, his mind had begun to unravel.

The two bodyguards quietly discussed whether they should find him a psychologist.

“Isn’t this how everyone is when they lose someone they love? Let’s not do anything unnecessary.”

“Sigh… We should still report to Old Master Zhou.”

Father Zhou agreed and arranged for a psychologist to be sent to him.

Originally, Zhou Shurong had suggested letting Qin Yan stay at the Zhou family estate, but Father Zhou refused. He didn’t want to see the person responsible for making his two sons “turn on each other.”

In truth, Zhou Shurong hadn’t gone anywhere.

He had simply concealed his presence and quietly remained by Qin Yan’s side. He couldn’t feel at ease leaving Qin Yan to others.

In the shadow realm, Brother Wu and the female ghost within him were incredibly resilient. Likely due to modifications made by other ghost, even without food or water for a long time, they wouldn’t die. Zhou Shurong was slowly grinding them down.

As for Zhou Langxing, trapped in his worst nightmares, his face was pale and his body growing thinner by the day.

Zhou Shurong hesitated—should he release Zhou Langxing and let him stay with Qin Yan?

But he was afraid Qin Yan might grow attached to him.

So he remained in a state of indecision.

The psychologist came, but facing Qin Yan, who refused to say a single word, had no better advice to offer. Everyone consumed by love was too obsessed. The only solution would be to hypnotize him and erase his memories.

All he could suggest was to take Qin Yan outside more often.

With incident after incident happening outside, the two bodyguards exchanged glances and reported back to Old Master Zhou.

Eventually, they chose a sunny day and took the elevator down.

The elevator stopped on the third floor. A man stepped in, carrying something that looked like an electric kettle.

Society had changed so much that the two bodyguards, accustomed to all sorts of vehicles, didn’t recognize it for what it was—a fully charged electric scooter battery.

Qin Yan was gazing absentmindedly at his own reflection.

Zhou Shurong suddenly sensed a familiar chill above.

The man entered. The elevator doors slowly closed. And just as they sealed shut—

A ghostly face, strengthened and clinging to the top of the elevator, lunged down. At the same time, the battery exploded. The flames, mixed with the special yin aura released by the ghost, created a type of ghostfire that could even harm spirits.

The man carrying the battery had the lower half of his body blown off.

The two bodyguards were thrown against the elevator walls by the blast, flames engulfing their bodies. They let out agonized screams.

Qin Yan blinked in confusion, slowly coming to his senses.

He stared blankly at the familiar face before him.

In the fierce blaze, the ghost face shrieked and vanished—but Zhou Shurong couldn’t leave.

He had someone to protect.

He revealed himself, shielding Qin Yan tightly.

He had already consumed many wandering souls during his time with Qin Yan, and his body had regained its strength and solidity.

“Shurong…”

The flames gave way to thick smoke.

Qin Yan coughed until tears streamed down his face, but stubbornly kept his eyes on Zhou Shurong.

“Close your eyes,” Zhou Shurong said, enduring the pain. “The smoke will damage them.”

Qin Yan shook his head. “Go. This is the ending you truly want, isn’t it? If I die, I’ll appear before you in seven days—or even right away.”

Zhou Shurong clenched his teeth. The fire scorched his back.

Where was his shadow?

It was cast on the elevator wall by the flames.

He shifted his position while holding Qin Yan, and just as the ghostfire was about to catch Qin Yan’s clothes, the shadow, cradling him, merged into Zhou Shurong’s body.

Until the moment he vanished, Qin Yan kept his clear eyes locked on Zhou Shurong.

Zhou Shurong forced open the elevator doors and dragged the unconscious bodyguards out.

Then he collapsed, crawling weakly.

The fire flickered in his eyes, growing more and more intense.

He released Zhou Langxing, and as his lashes began to flutter, Zhou Shurong—without hesitation—thrust himself into Zhou Langxing’s now vulnerable body.

The moment he entered Zhou Langxing, both Brother Wu and Qin Yan were expelled.

The explosion shook the surrounding apartments.

People were terrified, but no one dared leave. Only when they saw the fire through the cracks in their doors did they scream and flee in panic.

Zhou Langxing awoke, unable to distinguish sky from earth. His eyes were full of sorrow—he had suffered countless times in those nightmares. No, he didn’t believe they were nightmares.

They were cycles, time and again, where he could never save Qin Yan.

Would Qin Yan die again, this time?

He saw the fire, saw Qin Yan lying on the ground. He crawled over, picked him up, and dashed downstairs, deaf to everything else.

Brother Wu also came to, groggily looking around, then jolted up in alarm. Crap, am I going to burn to death this time?

He hoisted the two unconscious bodyguards onto his shoulders.

Then roared, “Fire! Everyone, run!!”

The flames licked up his legs, and he winced from the pain. He tried calling on the ghost inside him for help—but not even a whisper in response. It didn’t dare show its face.

“Fire! Run!”

“Don’t take anything! Just go!”

Everyone panicked, cramming into the stairwell, struggling toward the exit.

Zhou Langxing escaped with Qin Yan in his arms. Brother Wu, carrying the bodyguards, followed close behind. They spotted each other but had no time to speak.

Many made it out. Others remained in the building forever.

Strangely, the water from the fire hoses and the extinguishers had no effect. The fire was unnatural.

The building was quickly consumed, but then—something even stranger happened.

The moment the flames reached the sunlight, they were silently snuffed out.

As though they had met their natural enemy.

The fire died out completely. The sun shone overhead.