Chapter 14 – First Day Living Together

The so-called new house hadn’t been secured yet, so Wei Yang returned to his rented apartment. Since he was discharged from the hospital quite late, it was already evening by the time he got home. The building remained dark and quiet, and even the group of people guarding the entrance hadn’t changed much. The middle-aged man at the head of the group glanced up at Zhang Xiuqi, then quickly looked down, not even attempting to make eye contact. No wonder, Wei Yang chuckled. The person behind him, whether in terms of his gaze or his demeanor, was vastly different from an ordinary person. For these seasoned individuals, it was best not to provoke him lightly.

Although it had only been a few days since he’d been back, stepping onto that narrow and cramped hallway again made Wei Yang breathe a sigh of relief. It felt like returning to a real home. Skillfully maneuvering around the twisted bicycle handles, he warned the person behind him, “It’s a bit dark here, so be careful not to bump into anything.”

His concern, however, was unnecessary. Zhang Xiuqi didn’t touch any of the clutter and even walked more smoothly than Wei Yang, the long-time tenant. He didn’t take a single extra step, moving like a precision machine. Wei Yang shrugged, took out his keys, and opened the door, leading the man into his humble abode.

The rental apartment was as bare as ever. After closing the door, the rustling sounds from the balcony started again. Lao Ye slowly crawled out, leaving wet paw prints as it made its way to Wei Yang’s feet.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy the past few days and couldn’t come home. I made you wait for a long time,” Wei Yang apologized sincerely, patting the turtle’s shell. He then pointed to the man beside him, “This is our new tenant. He’ll be staying with us for a while. Don’t bite him.”

He then smiled at Zhang Xiuqi and said, “This is my turtle, named Lao Ye. Brother Qi, don’t step on him. He’s got a bit of a temper.”

To say he had a bit of a temper was an understatement. Lao Ye had even bitten people before. Its attitude toward visitors depended entirely on its mood, and Wei Yang couldn’t figure out how the turtle had developed such a bad temper. However, this time, Lao Ye didn’t show any hostility. It slowly crawled to Zhang Xiuqi’s feet, stretched its neck to sniff his pant leg, and then crawled away just as slowly.

Wei Yang raised an eyebrow in surprise and couldn’t help but laugh, “Looks like he likes you. That’s rare.”

After putting away the things he’d brought from the hospital, Wei Yang had Zhang Xiuqi sit at his old desk while he changed the turtle’s food and water. Then he called to order dinner. The neighborhood was a residential area, so the food delivery options were plentiful. Soon, two boxed meals arrived, complete with meat and vegetables. Though a bit greasy, they looked quite appetizing. Wei Yang wasn’t one to complain. He pushed one of the meals across the table to Zhang Xiuqi. As if receiving a signal, Zhang Xiuqi picked up the disposable chopsticks and began eating in silence.

His eating manners were actually quite proper. Each bite he took was the same size, and he chewed at a steady pace, swallowing before taking another bite. His long, slender fingers deftly maneuvered the chopsticks, as if performing a ritual or dance, which inadvertently calmed the mood. Wei Yang tilted his head and watched for a while before suddenly picking up a piece of carrot from his own meal and placing it in Zhang Xiuqi’s box. The other man’s chopsticks paused briefly, as if a well-trained dog had been offered food by a stranger—alert and slightly confused. But after a moment, he seemed to adjust and continued eating at his usual pace.

Wei Yang chuckled and began shoveling food into his mouth with a plastic spoon. The wound on his palm hadn’t fully healed yet, so he couldn’t use chopsticks. His messy, wolfish eating style was a stark contrast to the man beside him, and naturally, he finished much faster. By the time he had cleared the table, wiped it down, and brewed some tea, Zhang Xiuqi had just finished his meal. He neatly wiped his mouth with a tissue, stood up, and threw away the empty box.

“Want to watch a movie?” Although he knew the other man likely wouldn’t respond, Wei Yang still played the part of a good host. Zhang Xiuqi didn’t acknowledge him, nor did he sit there staring blankly like he had in the hospital. Instead, he took out yellow paper, cinnabar, and a brush from his travel bag, commandeered the only desk, and set up his workspace.

“What are you doing? Drawing ghost talismans?” Wei Yang was genuinely surprised when he realized what Zhang Xiuqi was up to. He hadn’t expected this wooden man to possess such a high-level skill, let alone that Zhang Xiuqi would actually respond to his question.

“Not ghost talismans,” he replied in a cool tone, but his answer was serious.

Wei Yang was taken aback for a moment but quickly guessed that Zhang Xiuqi probably didn’t understand what “ghost talismans” meant. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Then what kind of talismans are they?”

“Soul Stabilizing Talismans,” Zhang Xiuqi replied simply, then focused on his task. His wrist lifted slightly, and the soft brush tip touched the yellow paper. His movements were slow—so slow that it took dozens of seconds to draw a single line—as if he were wielding a heavy object rather than a delicate brush. The patterns on the paper gradually took shape, not like the symmetrical Daoist talismans seen in movies, but rather a strange and intricate circle, with branches and connections tightly intertwined.

After what felt like an eternity, he finished the last stroke, pressing the brush tip into the center of the circle. As he did so, something on the paper flickered, as if a beam of light had leaped from the page and into Zhang Xiuqi’s body. Wei Yang almost cried out, blinking hard, but the paper returned to normal—just an ordinary yellow sheet with red lines, showing no sign of anything unusual. Zhang Xiuqi casually picked up the paper, stacked it with others, and began drawing another one.

Distracted by this, Wei Yang realized his legs had gone numb from standing too long. He smiled wryly and slumped back onto the bed. In front of this man, he always lost his composure. Even though he knew this was a deep, icy pool, he couldn’t help but be drawn to its clear surface, peering into its depths. If Zhang Xiuqi had even a shred of awareness or caution, Wei Yang might have kept a respectful distance. But this man was like a soulless block of wood, completely unguarded, which only fueled Wei Yang’s curiosity.

This situation isn’t quite right, Wei Yang sighed inwardly, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the talisman-drawing Celestial Master. He picked up his laptop and started browsing local forums. Now he knew that supernatural phenomena weren’t necessarily fake, but he still didn’t want to give up his lucrative side hustle as a scammer. After all, for him, money was the most important thing.

Fishing for information online was always difficult, and soon Wei Yang was fully immersed in his work, typing away with one finger, completely forgetting about his surroundings. On one side, there was the soft scratching of the brush, and on the other, the rapid clicking of the keyboard. After some time, Zhang Xiuqi suddenly stood up, tidied up his tools and the completed talismans, and took a set of toiletries from his travel bag, heading to the bathroom.

Wei Yang looked up in confusion. What was he doing? Was he planning to wash up and sleep? But it was only 9:30! Sure enough, Zhang Xiuqi soon emerged, his face as stern and handsome as ever, though the damp strands of hair on his forehead slightly marred his perfect demeanor. Without acknowledging Wei Yang’s gaze, he took out a set of bedding from his travel bag, patted the pillow on the bed, placed a clean towel over it, and sat down on the edge of the bed to change into his pajamas.

“Wait!” Wei Yang finally reacted, “Are you going to sleep now? And on the bed? I prepared a floor mattress for you…”

Zhang Xiuqi’s hand paused, and he looked over expressionlessly. Though he’d only been with him for two days, Wei Yang found that he could already understand the man’s gaze—it was filled with two big question marks, so innocent it was almost infuriating. After a long stare, Wei Yang scratched the back of his head and smiled bitterly, “Ancestor, you’ve got me.”

As if understanding Wei Yang’s surrender, Zhang Xiuqi lowered his eyes again and methodically took off his outer clothes. At the hospital, he had always slept in his clothes, but now it seemed he no longer had any reservations. He didn’t pause for even a moment. Wei Yang, however, found it hard to look away—not because the other man’s physique was particularly attractive (though his muscles were well-toned, they weren’t envy-inducing), but because the scars covering his body were impossible to ignore.

Zhang Xiuqi was injured. The fight with Yellow Husk had clearly taken its toll. His left shoulder was the worst, wrapped in several layers of bandages that covered most of the area. There were also smaller scattered wounds, some freshly scabbed over, still a raw reddish color. But none of these were as striking as the long scar that stretched across his abdomen. It looked like a centipede, starting from his left chest and cutting diagonally down to his right abdomen, as if his body had been split in two and then hastily stitched back together, leaving a grotesque and brutal mark.

Wei Yang blinked and silently looked away. He knew that this man had suffered a tragedy in his childhood and had even lost a part of his soul, but he hadn’t known that he had also endured such severe injuries—injuries that had nearly killed him. Zhang Xiuqi, however, seemed indifferent to Wei Yang’s gaze. After taking off his outer clothes, he meticulously put on his cotton pajamas. Once dressed, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. About twenty seconds later, he opened them again and looked at Wei Yang, who was still standing dumbly by the bed. “Turn off the light,” he said coldly.

Wei Yang: “…”

Resigned, Wei Yang turned off the light. He glanced at the man who had taken over his bed and sighed deeply before going to wash his face, spreading out the floor mattress, and settling into a dark corner to continue surfing the web. The room was eerily quiet. Zhang Xiuqi fell asleep almost instantly, his breathing soft, steady, and even, like a faint white noise. Before long, Wei Yang found his eyelids growing heavy. After struggling with sleepiness for a while, he finally gave in and closed his laptop. Lao Ye slowly crawled out of the bathroom and made its way back to its nest. The curtains weren’t fully closed, and a sliver of silver light spilled onto the concrete floor, like a path paved with moonlight.

Lying on the floor, Wei Yang smiled faintly. He had thought it would take him a long time to get used to sharing his space with someone else, but both he and Lao Ye had naturally accepted this man into their territory. Had Master Zeng anticipated this? Letting out a soft sigh, Wei Yang closed his eyes and drifted into the warm, quiet embrace of the night.

It had to be said, the floor mattress was a bit too thin. When Wei Yang woke up the next morning, his back was stiff and uncomfortable. Struggling to roll over, he froze before he could even voice his complaints. Less than twenty centimeters from the edge of the bed, Zhang Xiuqi sat upright, looking down at him with a solemn expression.

“What the hell, why are you sitting here?!” Wei Yang nearly pissed himself in fright, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

“I’m hungry,” Zhang Xiuqi replied succinctly, his stomach growling loudly to emphasize the point.

Wei Yang: “…”

Master, I could kneel before you right now! Frustrated, Wei Yang grabbed his phone to check the time and was momentarily stunned, almost wanting to rub his eyes. He thought it was at most 6 a.m., but the clock showed 8:30. He had gone to bed at around 9 p.m. the night before—had he really slept for almost twelve hours? Could this hard floor mattress have some kind of hypnotic effect?

Embarrassed, he put down his phone and looked at Zhang Xiuqi’s cold face, feeling a rare pang of guilt. Ruffling his messy bedhead, he softened his voice, “Next time, you can just wake me up. You don’t have to sit here waiting.”

Another stomach growl was his only reply.

Alright then, Wei Yang sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and got up, “Let’s go get breakfast. There’s plenty of food outside the neighborhood. You’ll eat your fill.”

In the end, they settled on a street vendor near the neighborhood entrance known for its perfectly fried youtiao¹Fried dough sticks. Two bowls of porridge and five youtiao later, they sat down casually. Wei Yang stuffed a youtiao into his mouth—crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, with just the right amount of chewiness. He spoke through a mouthful of food, “If it’s not enough, let me know. I’ll order more.”

Zhang Xiuqi ignored him, eating with the same meticulousness, turning the street food into something resembling a high-end meal. Amused, Wei Yang glanced at him, scooped a spoonful of sugar, and dumped it into the other man’s bowl, stirring it in without a second thought. Zhang Xiuqi paused briefly, but before he could react, Wei Yang smiled and said, “Their porridge is really good. It’s best with sugar.”

Zhang Xiuqi set down the youtiao he was holding, slowly picked up the bowl of porridge, and took a sip. His expression didn’t change, but he let out a soft “Hmm.” Watching the subtle relaxation in the other man’s expression, Wei Yang felt his own mood lighten. He picked up another youtiao and began munching away.

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  Fried dough sticks