Chapter 25: The Burial

Tan Xueci’s pale ears flushed a deep, blood-red as he snatched the maid outfit back and clutched it to his chest, refusing to bring it out again.

He Xunye might not mind, but he certainly did. He had absolutely no desire to wear a maid outfit in front of his dead husband’s grave.

Who was that even supposed to be a reward for?

Besides, he would definitely be labeled a lunatic. Even though he was a psychiatric patient, he didn’t want to be seen as a “perverted” one.

The evil spirit’s deep eyes lowered. The maid outfit featured a white lace hem; once worn, the layered skirts would likely rest right at the base of Tan Xueci’s thighs, making the snowy, tender flesh of his inner thighs look like soft, white cream puffs.

Tan Xueci remained squatted on the ground, his face red with shame as he gripped the skirt and stayed silent. He had no idea that the strange, covetous gaze of the spirit beside him was practically stripping him bare. In truth, the ghost didn’t even want to leave him with that pitifully thin scrap of fabric.

He waited for a long time but didn’t hear He Xunye speak. Just as he lifted his head in confusion, he saw He Xunye suddenly stand up.

He Xunye sat down on a nearby bench, his long legs crossed to conceal a restless part of himself. His gaze remained wet and sticky as he watched his beautiful little wife burn paper offerings for him.

Tan Xueci inexplicably shrunk his neck, feeling a chill at the nape. He hurriedly stuffed the clothes back into the bag and burned the rest of the ceremonial paper and paper effigies in one go.

Once finished, he trotted over to He Xunye. He tilted his small face up, his moist, misty eyes shining brightly in the night, biting his lip as if waiting for He Xunye to praise him.

“Good boy.” He Xunye raised a hand and rubbed the top of his head. He was never stingy with his praise for Tan Xueci.

It was as if Tan Xueci were a small baby; even being able to put on his own socks would be worth a compliment, let alone burning paper for his husband.

Mist seemed to swirl in Tan Xueci’s eyes. He hugged He Xunye’s arm and clung to him as they returned to the hotel together.

Of course, since Tan Xueci had been taking his medicine regularly lately, he couldn’t see He Xunye most of the time. After returning and taking his medication that night, he lay on the bed playing with his phone alone.

Thanks to the dead Zhai Fang, the higher the degree of bashing Tan Xueci had endured before, the higher he bounced back now that he had hit rock bottom.

Tan Xueci’s follower count hadn’t even been a fraction of Zhai Fang’s before. The opposition had been numerous and Zhai Fang had a deep background, so his fans—fearing they would cause trouble for Tan Xueci—hadn’t dared to argue. From the manager to the artist to the fans, everyone had been quite downtrodden. Now, they finally held their heads high. Tan Xueci’s Weibo followers were skyrocketing and had already reached three million.

[Wait, you fans were eating this well and didn’t think to invite me? Fist.jpg Annoying.jpg]

[Who understands? I’ve already started bingeing his old horror movie. I never watch horror, but Xiao Xue is so beautiful when he’s scared to tears. If I were a ghost, I’d want to scare him too…]

[This situation is crazy. Honestly, I wasn’t particularly looking to call him mine, but if Xiao Xue insists on being my wife… Heart-eyes.jpg]

Tan Xueci’s Weibo profile picture used to be a little snowman. After joining the cast and getting bashed every day—and getting rolled eyes from Zhai Fang—he had changed it to a half-melted snowman to show his discontent.

Now, he had changed it back to a very energetic little snowman.

He thought he was doing it secretly, but little did he know many people were watching him. Sharp-eyed fans noticed almost the second it happened.

[Very good, very energetic!]

[I’m dying, baby, you are such a pitiful little thing.]

Tan Xueci felt like he was being teased, but changing it back would be too obvious. While he was biting his fingers in indecision, he suddenly received a text from his father.

[Come home next weekend. Your eldest brother is getting married.]

Tan Xueci froze. When he first arrived at the He family, he would have been happy to receive news from home, but for some reason, he didn’t really want to go back now.

His father’s tone was cold, merely a notification. Tan Xueci slowly replied: Okay, Dad.

He had been so busy filming or running into ghosts that he only now had time to check his phone properly. He had added Tan Yanning as a friend; clicking on his Moments, he saw a photo Tan Yanning had posted with a small moon emoji—likely symbolizing a family reunion.

Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching. Tan Shangli’s fiancée had visited early, and the whole family had taken a group photo.

Tan Yanning loved posting these kinds of photos. He was different from many young people in their early twenties; he had a strong sense of family. Of course, Tan Xueci was never in those photos.

His mother never let Tan Xueci take photos with them. Every time Tan Yanning proactively asked if they should call Tan Xueci over, his mother would get angry.

“Why call him out during the holidays?” His mother would frown, pulling Tan Yanning to sit beside her. She’d pat the back of his hand and say heart-wrenchingly, “A-Yan, you think of others too much. You work so hard at school; you finally come home, so rest more. Why care about others? It’ll affect your luck.”

Tan Yanning would then stop at the right moment. Tan Xueci knew that making his mother upset only made things worse.

His eldest brother hadn’t always hated him this much. He used to buy him phones—though he bought a basic “senior” phone because he thought Tan Xueci was too stupid to use a smartphone.

Back then, Tan Xueci had cherished it. On the rare occasions he was allowed out of the attic, he would even show it to his mother.

When Tan Yanning saw him playing with the phone often, he offered to lend his own. Tan Xueci was afraid of breaking it and didn’t dare poke around, carefully playing a game of Whac-A-Mole for a while before returning it.

That night, the eldest brother saw him using the phone and suddenly snapped at him.

Tan Xueci was bewildered by the scolding. He looked at Tan Shangli timidly. Though he didn’t know what he had done wrong, his instinct was to apologize, but Tan Shangli ignored him.

He later found out that Tan Yanning had gone to Tan Shangli and said, “Big brother, Second Brother seems to like my phone better. He doesn’t seem to like the one you gave him anymore. Why don’t I give him mine?”

It made it seem like Tan Xueci was two-faced, secretly looking down on the phone his brother had bought him.

Nanny Zhang used to be quite kind to him too, sometimes spending her own money to buy him a small cake. After Tan Yanning saw this, he began to stick close to Nanny Zhang.

He had good grades. Even though he came from an orphanage, after six months with the Tan family, he had become poised and elegant—looking like a standard high-society heir just like Tan Shangli.

Moreover, he was refined and handsome, even sharing a slight resemblance with Mother Tan. Anyone looking would think they were biological mother and son.

Nanny Zhang had grown up with Mother Tan and felt for the suffering she endured during pregnancy and childbirth. Seeing how outstanding Tan Yanning was, she grew more and more fond of him. She would often tell Tan Xueci, “Second Young Master, you should learn from the Little Young Master’s way of doing things. Maybe then the Madam wouldn’t be so unhappy seeing you. Look at how excellent the Little Young Master is—he came in first in his grade again.”

Tan Xueci’s pale, thin face would lift in a daze, his fingers twisting together. Every time Nanny Zhang said things like that, he felt a sense of deep shame.

Tan Yanning was first in his grade, but Tan Xueci had never even been to school; he didn’t even know how to write his own name.

Everyone seemed to love Tan Yanning more.

Tan Yanning was straight. He didn’t want to be with He Sui and was repulsed by his pursuit, but the He family was powerful. He Sui’s grandfather was a titan of the business world, and Tan Yanning couldn’t afford to offend either side, so he had to continue interacting with him.

Until Tan Xueci started dating He Sui. Then, Tan Yanning suddenly became much more proactive toward He Sui, often inviting him out to eat. Several times, when he “happened” to run into Tan Xueci and He Sui together, he would look at Tan Xueci apologetically and say, “Second Brother, am I interrupting? Why don’t you come along?”

He Sui, of course, wanted to be alone with Tan Yanning. Every time, he would coldly reject Tan Xueci on his behalf, saying, “He’s not going.”

Then he would take Tan Yanning away.

Though Tan Xueci didn’t understand it then, Tan Yanning’s goal had always been clear: to snatch away everything that belonged to him.

Initially, Tan Xueci really wanted to play with Tan Yanning because Tan Yanning seemed so smart and did everything well, making everyone like him. He envied Tan Yanning.

But every time he got close to him, he would lose something. Furthermore, his mother disliked him interacting with his younger brother, so he didn’t dare speak to him anymore, only watching them from afar.

After ten years, Tan Yanning finally saw his second brother locked in the attic, turned into a dusty little mouse.

Tan Xueci’s lashes lowered as he poked at his phone. If A-Yan hadn’t been unwilling to marry into the He family, his husband would have been A-Yan’s, wouldn’t he?

He had nothing, only his husband. Luckily, his husband was very good to him. Tan Xueci thought gloomily: If even my own hallucinations didn’t love me, what would be the point of living?

The rain in the capital had been heavy this year, falling in a persistent, drizzly gloom. The butler said the burial was at 7:30 AM sharp and told him to come back early. Tan Xueci returned to the He residence at 5:30 AM the day after tomorrow.

The He family’s old residence was a traditional Chinese courtyard with several layers. He Wuling had over a dozen disciples who usually practiced talismans in the front yard. Tan Xueci, as a family member, lived in the back quarters.

Thus, he had never run into He Wuling’s disciples before and had hardly seen any other family members. But today, many people had come to the He residence. Even in the back quarters, people were scurrying about with their heads down. They all wore black mourning clothes, appearing like dark shadows in the curtain of rain.

Tan Xueci also went to his room to change into a black suit. He rarely wore such formal clothing. The well-tailored suit accentuated his thin waist and long legs, making him look tall, cold, and as pale as jade.

He looked very much like a perfect young widower.

“Young Master Xiao Ci,” the butler prompted from outside, “it’s time to offer incense to the Eldest Young Master. After that, we move the coffin.”

“Okay,” Tan Xueci replied. He moved toward the door, but the shadow behind him spread like black water, cold and wet as it slithered up his suit pants.

Tan Xueci’s hand was already on the doorknob. His throat tightened, and he wanted to call for the butler, but before he could open his mouth, a mass of black shadow was stuffed into it, blocking his voice completely.

Tan Xueci was startled, and his eyes filled with a moist red. Physiological tears streamed down his pale cheeks as the black mist pinned him to the floor. He didn’t even know what the thing was; he only felt as if countless large hands were dragging him down.

Tan Xueci lifted his leg to kick, but a pair of pale ghost hands emerged from the floor and gripped his ankles. He couldn’t help but shiver, his entire body held firmly in place. He could only arch his waist and struggle pathetically, but it was useless. Instead, his shirt hem was pulled out from his trousers, bunching up messily on his belly and revealing a strip of snowy-white, narrow waist, leaving him at someone’s mercy.

His freshly tied tie was also torn open, and his elegant, pale neck was wrapped in layers of black mist. The entity didn’t tighten its grip; he could still breathe, but he couldn’t get up.

The cold black mist seeped into his body through every pore. His pale cheeks flushed red, and fine beads of sweat ran down his spine. He couldn’t even tell if it was his own sweat or the damp, cold mist from the entity.

The perfectly fine suit was completely wrinkled, even more so than that little maid outfit. His body was covered in countless red marks from friction. Several shirt buttons had popped off, exposing half of his shoulder and snowy chest, and his trousers were disheveled, hanging loosely on his hips and pelvis.

Tan Xueci let out muffled, whimpering sobs. In response, the entity let out a low chuckle. The black mist in his mouth felt so cold it was almost physical.

Water filled Tan Xueci’s misty eyes as the mist scraped against the roof of his mouth. A low, raspy, sticky voice said, “Do you plan to go to your husband’s funeral like this?”

“…” Tan Xueci trembled with rage. When he was finally released, his face was covered in tear tracks and his whole appearance was a mess. Even though nothing had happened, he looked more disheveled than someone who had been through hours of activity.

Tan Xueci angrily wiped his tears. He didn’t know if he should find a Daoist to exorcise the thing or find a new psychiatrist; the medication from Dr. Xie didn’t seem to be working well enough.

His beautiful face was clouded with gloom as he wiped his tears, then he suddenly heard footsteps nearby.

He Xunye had changed into a suit. Although it was still black, it was a different style than before. Compared to Tan Xueci’s dishevelment, the evil spirit was impeccably dressed, even wearing a white lily brooch on his chest, looking ready to attend his own funeral at any moment.

The ghost looked down and saw his little wife’s snowy shoulders exposed, and his trousers weren’t even pulled up properly, leaving half his bottom exposed. He couldn’t help but say in surprise, “Baby, how did you get like this?”

He picked him up and placed him on the bed. Tan Xueci was still wiping his tears, too aggrieved to speak.

“Did it come again?” He Xunye said sympathetically and gently. “How did it bully Baby this time?”

Tan Xueci’s eyes and nose were red, and his translucent eyes were covered in a film of tears. He complained in a small voice, “It touched me.”

He Xunye rested a hand on his shoulder. The spirit’s thin, red lips curled into a smile, his voice uncontrollably and strangely tender as he looked down and asked, “Was Xiao Xue not a bit more obedient? Did you not proactively let it touch you?”

“I…” Tan Xueci bit his lip. He had been startled and consumed by fear; how could he have thought about being proactive?

“That won’t do. Next time, Xiao Xue should proactively let it touch you.” He Xunye gentlemanly pulled up Tan Xueci’s lopsided shirt to cover his shoulder, then stared at his snowy chest, slowly fastening the buttons one by one. He suggested softly, “Next time, let it touch your chest. You’re a boy anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s touched, right?”

Tan Xueci inexplicably imagined a large hand pressing down and kneading him, making his skin turn red. His moist, red eyes became hazy, feeling both shamed and a strange sensation.

He bit his lip, so embarrassed his eyes were rimmed with red, and whispered, “Husband, I don’t want to.”

“If you don’t do that,” He Xunye advised, “what if it touches even more excessive places? Or does Baby want it to touch elsewhere?”

Tan Xueci was speechless. He always felt the ghost didn’t just want to touch him but wanted to do much more.

The man’s eyes were also sorrowful, as if watching his wife being humiliated and bullied by an evil spirit without being able to do anything. In the end, he could only help him put on his tattered clothes and wipe away the marks on his body.

Tan Xueci’s tears pitter-pattered down. He Xunye picked him up, let him stand straight, and helped him pull up his trousers. Outside, the butler was calling again, so He Xunye patted his bottom and said, “Go on.”

Tan Xueci was about to ask if He Xunye wasn’t going, but when he turned around, the bedroom was empty. Not a single ghost in sight.

He seemed to have vanished quite thoroughly.

The butler kept urging him, so Tan Xueci hurried out. When he reached the mourning hall, he saw dozens of people inside, seemingly all relatives of the He family. He even saw He Sui’s father, but He Sui hadn’t come; most of those present were elders.

Everyone wore lifeless black robes. The rain was cold and dreary, and the mourning hall felt very oppressive.

He Xunye’s mother was also there. Her name was Xu Yuzhu; she was over sixty, but she looked like she was in her late forties at most. She wore a black cheongsam embroidered with magnolias and held a string of white jade prayer beads. She sat in a chair with her eyes closed, not speaking to anyone.

“Bow—”

The butler led everyone in offering incense. Since He Xunye’s parents were the most senior immediate relatives, according to He family tradition, they didn’t need to offer incense to their child. Everyone else lit several sticks and bowed in grief.

Tan Xueci had no idea what he was supposed to do. When others offered incense, he followed suit and lit some; when others bowed, he also bent his waist, peeking to see when others stood up.

A low laugh seemed to come from behind him. A pair of hands wrapped around his waist, suddenly making him go weak. He stumbled and nearly fell, making him look like a wife particularly overcome with grief over her dead husband.

“Young Master Tan, please restrain your grief,” someone said with great emotion as they came to advise him after the bowing. They added an extra remark: “Anyway, you can remarry after mourning for the Eldest Young Master for three years.”

The person finished and walked out. For some reason, the soul-summoning banner fell over, tripping him. He tumbled from the steps into the rainy ground, and blood began to flow. Tan Xueci was startled.

The butler, accustomed to such things, went over and checked for a pulse. Finding one, he waved his hand for someone to quickly carry him off to the hospital.

The He family planned to bury He Xunye on the mountain behind the old residence. It was still raining, and the mountain path was very slippery. Many elderly people in black robes climbed the mountain under umbrellas, making the scene look quite eerie.

Tan Xueci was the only one in a suit, his snowy neck curving down from the collar, looking young and cold.

His health wasn’t great and he wasn’t good at hiking, but he walked steadily.

No one could see that a pale, bony hand was holding his throughout, leading him toward his own grave in the misty rain.

When they reached the site, He Wuling’s face was dark. He glanced at the pitch-black coffin and said, “Seal the coffin.”

The butler and several of He Wuling’s disciples stepped forward. They took a red cloth and covered the entire coffin, then produced seven long nails and began to hammer them into the coffin one by one with heavy thuds.

Another person came forward with a thick stack of yellow talismans and plastered them all over the coffin from head to toe.

A hint of reluctance seemed to pass over Xu Yuzhu’s thin, pale face, but her lips trembled as she fingered her prayer beads. She closed her eyes and began to chant sutras, not intervening.

Tan Xueci’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t see the man standing behind him, sharing his umbrella and holding him.

The man rubbed against his neck, feeling a bit cold and damp in the rain, making that patch of skin look even whiter. His little wife was icy; by comparison, the evil spirit’s bright red tongue seemed to have warmth. He lowered his head and licked the protruding bone at the base of the neck.

Tan Xueci only felt that He Xunye’s hand, which had been holding him, began to disappear bit by bit once the coffin-sealing began. The cold temperature in his palm gradually faded, and his heart beat faster and faster.

Even if he didn’t understand what was happening, he felt something was very wrong. Why seal He Xunye’s coffin like this? Layers upon layers of talismans—it was as if they were trying to suppress something, ensuring it could never be reincarnated.

“Wait…” Tan Xueci’s throat was dry and trembling. He gathered his courage in the rain and spoke up, “Wait a minute!”

The butler and the others stopped. Everyone turned to look at him at once. Dressed in black robes, their faces were blurred in the cold rain—how was it different from encountering a ghost?

Tan Xueci swallowed hard, his fingertips cold and white from the chill, but he still spoke: “Why are you nailing my husband up?”

He Wuling: “…”

He Wuling’s expression was dark. He knew marrying a fool would be troublesome. What husband? His husband was as dead as could be. He Wuling ignored him and signaled for the butler to continue.

Three nails had already been hammered in. The damp red cloth draped over the coffin looked like blood, soaking the entire casket. it looked wet and heavy, making it difficult to breathe.

If he didn’t act now, it would be too late.

This thought suddenly popped into Tan Xueci’s mind. He gritted his teeth and rushed to the coffin. The rims of the youth’s eyes on his snowy face were red; he looked incredibly stubborn, truly like someone with a mental condition. He spoke with a nasal tone from the start, saying, “No, you can’t nail my husband.”

Several elders from the He family pointed at him and gossiped, shouting, “Move aside! Move aside!”

“Is this the wife Xunye married?”

“Truly restless.”

“Sigh, this era isn’t like the old days. In my time, such a rule-breaking wife would have been dragged off to be drowned in a pond!”

“Nonsense! Where is your husband here?!” He Wuling also became angry. He frowned and said, “Letting so many elders stand here in the rain with you—where is the Tan family’s upbringing? Do you not understand respect for your elders?!”

Tan Xueci was a bit defiant. So what if they’re elders? They’re old but won’t die; standing in the rain won’t hurt them. My husband is the deceased, and the deceased should be honored.

He originally thought he was just muttering in his heart, but since He Xunye praised him for everything he did, his temper had been spoiled and was bigger than before. He accidentally said it out loud.

“Rebellion! Rebellion!” several old men glared at him. “Utterly outrageous! Drag him out! Drag him out!”

Several servants moved to drag Tan Xueci away. The butler was sweating profusely and quickly called out, “Please leave! Please leave!”

The Head of the He family held a high status; even the butler’s words carried more weight than these old men from branch families. Thus, the servants didn’t dare touch Tan Xueci, reaching out their hands to ask him to leave.

Tan Xueci’s pale jaw tightened, rain streaming down his cheeks. His fingers gripped the edge of He Xunye’s coffin, refusing to cooperate. After a standoff lasting over half an hour, He Wuling lost his patience completely and commanded coldly, “Take him away! Lock him up for me!”

In the end, the coffin was sealed and buried. Tan Xueci was locked in He Xunye’s room. He leaned against the window and watched the others drive back before the butler finally opened the door for him.

Seeing he was unhappy, the butler said fawningly, “Young Master Xiao Ci, what would you like to eat tonight?”

Tan Xueci’s eyes were bright red. He glanced at him from where he lay on the bed and then turned away without speaking.

The butler retreated and closed the door for him. He muttered to himself: Humans and ghosts have different paths. He had thought only female ghosts seduced scholars and drained their essence; he didn’t expect a beautiful male ghost would be so hard for someone to resist.

He waited until nightfall and came to check on Tan Xueci again. Tan Xueci was still lying on the bed in the same posture. Assuming he was sleeping, the butler slipped away quietly.

In fact, Tan Xueci wasn’t asleep at all. Once the butler left, he scrambled up and busily packed his small backpack, putting a shovel inside.

He hadn’t seen his husband at all since returning; he had intentionally skipped his medicine all day and still hadn’t seen him. So what if they buried his husband? Could he not just dig him out himself?

Tan Xueci had another epiphany: he likely saw He Xunye being buried and was very afraid, thinking his husband was trapped, so his hallucinations vanished as well, making it impossible to see his husband.

Once he dug up the grave, his husband would surely come back.

Tonight, the He family elders were all in a meeting. He slipped away secretly. As he reached the front door of the old residence, he felt like something was watching him from behind. He turned around and his heart constricted in fear.

In the building where he lived, at a third-story window, a long-haired woman in a white nightgown was watching him. Her face was as white as a ghost’s.

It might actually have been a ghost.

He Xunye’s room was also on the third floor, but in all the time he had lived there, he had never seen anyone else.

Tan Xueci didn’t dare look anymore; he turned and ran.

He still remembered the way up the mountain. It had taken over half an hour to climb during the day; at night, it was even more slippery and pitch black. Tan Xueci climbed while feeling afraid, finally reaching the top after an hour. Gasping for breath, he ran to He Xunye’s grave, pulled out his shovel, and began to dig.

His small shovel was about the size of a child’s toy for building sandcastles. He had no choice; he couldn’t sneak out with a large one.

He Xunye’s coffin was made of golden phoebe wood and was larger and heavier than a normal casket. It had taken six adult men to dig the pit and bury it deep that day.

Tan Xueci dug for a long time, but He Xunye’s grave only sustained some “superficial wounds.” There was rain and mud everywhere.

His snowy little face was as dirty as a calico cat’s. As he dug, he couldn’t help but rub his eyes.

He cried for a while and then continued digging. He was a bit scared, always feeling like some ghostly thing would jump out, and he looked back from time to time.

However, a pair of black, polished leather shoes appeared before his eyes. Tan Xueci was startled by the sudden appearance of the feet and nearly fell onto his bottom in the mud.

A man caught him by the armpits and lifted him up, rubbing away the mud and tears on his small face. His ghostly, red lips curled up as he said, “Dropping little pearls again.”

Tan Xueci’s tears fell pitter-patter, one by one. Sometimes he cried in a mess, and sometimes he cried very beautifully.

He bit his lip, hearing that He Xunye was teasing him, but he didn’t have the energy to be angry. He looked up at He Xunye, and the rims of his eyes instantly became even redder than before. With a heavy nasal tone, he said aggrievedly, “Husband, why didn’t you come find me? I thought you were gone.”

“Let’s go home, Baby,” He Xunye said, wiping his face. “Stop crying, hasn’t Husband come back?”

Tan Xueci’s eyes were teary as he said hesitantly, “But…”

He was still a bit concerned about He Xunye’s coffin. Was it really okay for it to be covered in talismans like that?

He Xunye lowered his eyes to look at his own tombstone.

Tomb of Beloved Son, He Xunye.

He didn’t say anything more. Seeing that Tan Xueci’s legs were too weak to stand, he naturally grabbed his wrist and lifted him onto his back.

Tan Xueci was stunned and pursed his lips. No one had ever carried him on their back before. He wrapped his arms around He Xunye’s neck and lay there obediently, his damp cheek pressed against He Xunye’s neck.

“Coming out so late,” He Xunye asked, “aren’t you scared?”

Tan Xueci was indeed scared. He wasn’t afraid of the dark—after all, he had lived in that dark attic since he was little—but there were many ghosts at night. Moreover, when everyone was asleep, there were no sounds and no one to accompany him, so he didn’t like the night.

Until he met He Xunye.

His husband always appeared at night. Though he couldn’t always see him, he felt that He Xunye was by his side.

“Husband,” Tan Xueci said gloomily as his tears fell pitter-patter, “don’t leave. If you protect me, I won’t be scared.”

His damp tears flowed down He Xunye’s shoulder.

He Xunye didn’t answer. He was silent for a moment. When the evil spirit spoke again, his tone was ambiguous and raspy as he asked, “Why can Baby cry so much? Do you have that much water to shed?”

Anyone else might have slapped him. Tan Xueci pressed his damp cheek against him and actually reached out to touch his face. He Xunye originally thought he was going to say something, but Tan Xueci lay on his shoulder and suddenly asked in a small voice, “Husband, does it hurt?”

He Xunye paused and asked, “What?”

“I think it looks so painful,” his little wife whispered on his back, hugging his neck tighter, the rims of his eyes reddening again as he said heart-wrenchingly in a very small voice, “Those nails were so long. I was so scared. They’re all bad to you; I don’t like them.”