Chapter 22: Baby

Tan Xueci gripped the hem of his shirt, at a total loss. He didn’t know why, but being called a “bad boy” by this teacher made him feel incredibly aggrieved. His eyes grew watery, his damp eyelashes drooping as the rims of his eyes turned red. He let out a tiny, soft sniffle.

I’m not a bad boy.

His eyelids were very thin, and the way he looked—flushed pink against his snowy skin after being scolded—made him resemble a beautiful, fragile little lamb, easily bullied.

The teacher kept the pointer pressed against his shoulder, forcing his collar down so that half of his pale shoulder was exposed. The darkness in the man’s eyes was thick as ink as he looked around at the other students and spoke in a slow, measured tone. “What should we do with a bad boy?”

Hearing this, every student in the class slowly turned their heads at the same time. None of them had whites in their eyes; they were pure, abyssal black, making their deathly pale faces look exceptionally eerie. When they opened their mouths, their teeth were blackened, but their gums were a terrifying, vivid red. Strands of bloody meat seemed to cling between their teeth, as if they had just finished eating raw flesh.

Their mouths opened and closed. No sound came out, but they appeared to be chanting:

Bad boys should be eaten. Torn to pieces.

With so many of them moving in perfect, uncanny synchronization in the pitch-black classroom, the “uncanny valley” effect was overwhelming. Terrified, Tan Xueci couldn’t help but shrink toward the teacher.

As he leaned closer, he dazed for a moment. Wait, this teacher is the one punishing me. Why am I leaning toward him?

It was as if, subconsciously, he felt the man would protect him.

The teacher proved to be a “magnanimous” one, once again showing “mercy” for a bad student’s mistake. He took the pointer and affectionately brushed it against Tan Xueci’s soft, snowy cheek. The pointer was made of leather, slightly roughened from use, and it left a red friction mark on the boy’s clean skin, making him look like he had been toyed with and humiliated.

“Tell you what,” the teacher’s handsome face looked like a spectral phantom in the dark room. “Since this is Xiao Xue’s first mistake, I’ll give you another chance. Come to my office after class.”

Tan Xueci nodded gratefully.

The teacher smiled and gestured for him to sit. Tan Xueci originally wanted to give the seat back to the girl and find another place, but when he turned around, the girl was nowhere to be seen. Stunned, he covered his reddened cheek and hurriedly sat down.

Finally, the bell rang. Every student in the classroom put down their books simultaneously, but no one moved. They just sat there, heads bowed and bodies stiff.

The classroom was as silent as a tomb; it felt as if even the sound of breathing had vanished.

Afraid of making the teacher angry, Tan Xueci rushed to leave for the office. He accidentally knocked a pen off his desk and bent down to pick it up. His heart suddenly constricted, and he swallowed hard.

He saw the feet of the student in front of him. The heels were on the wrong side—the heels faced forward, and the toes pointed backward, aimed directly at him.

His heart thudded wildly. It was bizarre, and though he couldn’t quite articulate what was wrong, as he stood up, the student seemed to realize he was watching. The ashen face turned inch by inch, a raspy, strange voice asking, “What is it?”

“N-nothing…” Tan Xueci trembled. “It’s nothing.”

He practically bolted out of the classroom.

The school hallways were equally dark, with no lights on. Class had ended, yet no one was coming out of the rooms. Tan Xueci’s small, pitiful figure ran down the narrow corridors, failing to notice that his own shadow was unnaturally thick and dark, following his every step until he knocked softly on the office door.

“Enter,” the teacher’s deep, gentle voice called out.

Tan Xueci pushed the door open cautiously. The male teacher was the only one inside; the other desks were empty.

The dim, cold moonlight outlined the man’s tall frame. Tan Xueci felt an inexplicable dread and paused at the threshold.

The dark mist following him began to crawl up his slender legs, wrapping around his waist like tentacles and dragging him inside.

Tan Xueci felt himself stumble, and before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of the office.

The teacher glanced at the desk nearby, then back at Tan Xueci. A smile played on his thin, crimson lips—at first glance it was gentle, but closer inspection revealed a deep, predatory interest. His fingers were trembling slightly, as if all his malice and desire had found an outlet in the timid, beautiful youth before him.

He said to Tan Xueci, “Sit on the desk.”

Tan Xueci froze. He bit his lip until it was red, hesitating to move. Even though he hadn’t attended school, he felt a teacher shouldn’t treat a student this way. Why make a student sit on a desk?

“Is Xiao Xue being disobedient again?” the teacher coaxed, looking for all the world like a patient mentor.

Tan Xueci had no choice but to walk over slowly. Under the man’s uncomfortably “sticky” gaze, he braced himself against the edge of the desk and climbed up. The desk was high, leaving his legs dangling. His eyelashes fluttered violently as he looked up at the teacher in a panic.

The teacher reached out and stroked his cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear while staring at the boy’s reddened lips. His voice dropped several octaves. He took the black leather pointer and tapped the boy’s knee, commanding: “Spread your legs.”

Tan Xueci’s spine went numb at the touch. But because he remembered this was his “teacher,” he instinctively obeyed. He separated his knees slightly, only to feel a wave of embarrassment a moment later. His cheeks burned, and he tried to press his legs back together.

“Why won’t you open them?” the man asked. “If you don’t open them, how can I teach you?”

Before the boy could wonder what his legs had to do with learning, the man leaned in. It didn’t hurt, but the tips of Tan Xueci’s ears turned a blood-red.

He was afraid of being hit.

Terrified, he could only tremblingly obey. But the man still wasn’t satisfied, keeping the pointer pressed against his knee. He had to spread them wider until there was enough room for a person to stand between his legs.

The man lowered his gaze, his eyes shrouded in shadow. It was a pity the boy was wearing pants; had it been shorts or a skirt, one would see the snowy, trembling flesh of his thighs, shaking pitifully from nerves.

Tan Xueci covered his face with his slender fingers, but he couldn’t hide anything.

He didn’t dare move and felt like crying. Just as the tears were about to fall, the man stepped forward, standing between his legs. The man was nearly a head taller than him, the size difference immense. He pulled the boy into his arms and whispered, “So stupid.”

You follow any ghost that calls you.

Would you follow any strange male ghost like this?

Tan Xueci was used to being called an idiot, a fool, a psycho, or “brain-damaged.” Over time, he had come to believe he was hopelessly dumb—a loser who should just die.

But for some reason, hearing the man call him “stupid” didn’t make him sad. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t detect any genuine blame in the voice.

He pouted, and even found the courage to feel a little bit of anger. He felt he shouldn’t be treated this way; this person should be praising him.

Because this person was…

Who was he to me?

Tan Xueci buried himself in the man’s chest, shifting restlessly. As he gripped the edge of the glass desk for support, he looked down and saw a photo pressed under the glass. A group photo.

Most of the faces were blurred and unrecognizable. Only in the third row from the back could he see two girls holding hands, their seventeen-year-old faces smiling like flowers.

The one on the left was the girl who had appeared behind him earlier, saying he was in her seat. The one on the right was… Meng Zhi.

Tan Xueci hesitated. He shouldn’t have seen this girl before and didn’t know her, but he felt instinctively that her name was Meng Zhi.

As he tried to look closer, the hundreds of blurred faces in the photo suddenly split into wide grins, laughing at him. Black water seeped from the center, slowly swallowing the faces of the two girls.

In the dim office, every face was painted pitch black. Combined with the yellowed, aged quality of the photo, it was incredibly eerie and unsettling.

Tan Xueci shivered. He felt something else was wrong. What was it?

Then he looked up at the man’s face, and a chill crawled up his spine.

No.

That’s not right!

By rights, this office belonged to the man before him. But looking at the teachers in the photo—even with their faces blurred—none of their builds matched the man standing here.

This man isn’t a teacher at all.

Tan Xueci’s breath hitched. His brain was sluggish, but sensing the man wasn’t looking, he shoved him away, scrambled off the desk, and bolted for the door.

The upper half of the man’s face began to be shrouded in black mist, his human features dissolving. Only his crimson lips remained, like a bloody gash curling into a smile as he watched the boy’s frantic retreat.

Under the desk Tan Xueci had just occupied, a man with a ghastly green face and glasses—the exact image of the homeroom teacher from the photo—lay on the ground. Black mist was coiled around his throat, preventing him from making a sound. He could only watch as the evil spirit “taught” his new student.

After escaping, Tan Xueci didn’t know where to go. He felt he should return to class, as there was still a period of evening self-study left.

When he reached the room, the period was almost over. No lights were on; the students were all reading in the pitch-black classroom. Tan Xueci’s scalp crawled. Is this logical?

It’s so dark. How can they see?

He paused at the door, wanting to enter but not quite daring to. As he hesitated, he heard a voice say, “We can see.”

The voice was cold and ethereal. Tan Xueci froze, and when he looked up, his legs went weak.

Every head in the classroom had turned toward him. Their pitch-black, sightless eyes stared him down. In unison, they spoke: “We can see. Can’t you?”

They whispered among themselves.

• [He can’t see.]
• [Why can’t he see?]

It was as if Tan Xueci were an intruder, a different species among them.

He didn’t dare stay a second longer. Terrified, he turned and ran.

It was past midnight; he should go back to the dorm and sleep. This school was so strange today.

Tan Xueci’s room was on the fourth floor, room 404. When he pushed the door open, his three roommates were there. One was writing, one was making the bed, and the third stood by the window, staring outside. No one spoke.

Didn’t they go to evening study?

Tan Xueci found it odd, but didn’t dwell on it. He picked up his washbasin and bath supplies. Thinking of the school’s strangeness, he felt afraid to go to the bathhouse alone. He whispered, “Excuse me… is anyone going to the bathhouse?”

No one answered.

He felt “creepy,” but didn’t think it was a major issue. Very few people liked him, and most ignored him. He took the hint and walked to the bathhouse alone.

At this hour, only three or four people were there. White steam billowed everywhere. Everyone was facing the wall, showering in silence. The only sound was the running water.

Tan Xueci found a showerhead. His pale body was fully exposed under the water, looking beautiful amidst the mist. Though he was thin and his ribs were visible, he was still soft and graceful. His snowy backside was slightly upturned, leading to a pair of long, pretty legs. He was white in some places and pink in others—his knees were even slightly flushed. The bathhouse was cold; his toes gripped the floor tightly, looking like little pearls.

He turned on the water. Even with the hot water hitting him, he was shivering. Maybe it’s just how bathhouses are, he thought. When there aren’t enough people, there isn’t enough steam to keep it warm. But it was only September.

His mind wandered as he hurried to wash. His shampoo bottle was too slippery; before he could grab it, it fell off the shelf. He leaned down to pick it up, but when he looked down, he saw a pair of large, ashen, bony hands gripping his thighs.

The hands were huge. They squeezed his thighs so hard that the pale, soft flesh bulged between the fingers.

But Tan Xueci was too shocked to be afraid or embarrassed. The hands were so cold they made his entire body shake—a chilling, spectral cold.

It was like a strike to the head. He suddenly snapped out of his dazed state. The hot water was still flowing, but he felt chilled to the bone, his teeth chattering.

What’s happening? Why did I take a bus here? I’m not even a student.

He stole a glance at the other “students” showering. Every one of them had skin that was a deathly, soaked white. None of them were moving. Their skin was becoming bloated and swollen from the water.

They’re all ghosts.

Tan Xueci’s eyes turned red. The hands on his legs vanished. He hurriedly dried himself, threw on his clothes, and ran.

He ran toward the school gates against the whistling night wind. Behind him, classroom doors opened one by one, and many blurry white shadows drifted out, following him.

By the time he reached the gate, an uncountably large number of ghost students—and even a few ghost teachers—were trailing him.

He ran until his vision started to dim. The gate was right there, but when he looked up, he fell into deeper despair.

A long school bus was parked at the entrance, blocking the entire gate. It was packed with ghost students, their faces pale and green—clearly dead—staring down at him from the windows.

He couldn’t escape.

Either he turned back to face the mob of ghosts behind him, or he got back on the ghost bus.

Tan Xueci instinctively reached for the talisman pouch to call for He Xunye, but the moment his hand touched it, he paused. This isn’t He Xunye’s ashes. It has nothing to do with him.

It might even be a Ghost-Attracting Talisman.

He Xunye… is just a husband I hallucinated during one of my episodes.

He thought of He Xunye, and though he should have realized these ghost students were also hallucinations, fear and despair overwhelmed his logic.

What should he do?

The ghost students were closing in. The ghosts on the bus pressed their faces against the glass, their purple-blue tongues lolling out.

Just as Tan Xueci was about to give up in despair, a pair of ice-cold hands settled on his shoulders. A deep, gentle voice spoke: “Xiao Xue, get on the bus.”

Tan Xueci froze. He tried to turn his head, but the person held his shoulders, keeping him still. Cold breath brushed the back of his neck.

It’s my husband.

His heart raced. He wanted to listen to He Xunye, but his legs wouldn’t move. The evil spirit’s tone wasn’t helpful; it was a beckoning, playful lure, like a specter deceiving a mortal.

“Get on the bus,” the dark, “peach blossom” eyes watched him, a smile spreading across the man’s face. “Why won’t Xiao Xue get on? Do you want to stay in the school? Do you like them?”

Tan Xueci shook his head frantically. He didn’t like them at all.

“Then do you like me?” The man reached around and pulled him into a seamless embrace.

Tan Xueci grit his teeth. The man’s tone was so strange—like a monster tricking someone to their death. Maybe if he got on the bus, he’d be torn apart instantly. But the man took his hand, their fingers interlocking. He urged: “Get on the bus, baby.”

Tan Xueci was stunned, his ears turning bright red. This was the first time anyone had called him “baby.” The last time he’d heard it was when he was very small. He closed his eyes, steeled his heart, and stepped onto the bus.

He felt like a side character in a ghost story, seduced by a beautiful spirit and destined for a gruesome end.

But… but…

Tan Xueci was so embarrassed he couldn’t lift his head.

He Xunye called me baby.

He boarded the bus and opened his eyes. The tongues and distorted faces he’d seen through the window seemed to have been an illusion. The bus was old, and the people inside wore uniforms and were pale, but they looked more or less normal—standing, sitting, and chatting. It wasn’t the deathly silence of before.

The man followed him on, hooking an arm around his shoulder and leading him toward the back.

There were no empty seats, so Tan Xueci had to stand, holding onto a pole. He turned to the man’s handsome face and whispered, eyes sparkling, “Husband.”

He Xunye pulled him into his arms to shield him from the crowd. The slight smile on his lips widened as he heard the boy’s soft, syrupy voice.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hear it. It was just that the boy’s voice was so sweet—calling him “husband” sounded like a spoiled child acting cute. It was quite pleasant. He felt the boy should only call him that and nothing else.

Tan Xueci only reached the man’s chin; he was completely enveloped in the embrace. He was no longer afraid of the ghost students and snuggled closer to He Xunye.

It was late at night. As the bus traveled, the flickering streetlights cast shadows across the man’s pale, gloomy face, making him look spine-chilling.

Tan Xueci was too dull to feel the fear. He gripped He Xunye’s coat and eavesdropped on the ghost students nearby.

He heard them talking about Valentine’s Day. Apparently, tonight was the Qixi Festival (Double Seventh Festival). But it was already late September—Qixi had passed a month ago. He didn’t know which year’s Qixi they were celebrating.

Near them was a young couple. The boy kept leaning toward the girl, handing her a plush doll and calling her by a nickname, softly saying “baby.”

Hearing the word “baby,” Tan Xueci stole a glance at He Xunye.

The old school bus merged into the bustling traffic of Beijing, a phantom from the past that no one noticed.

Except for He Sui.

He Sui had just bought a new sports car, but his mood was terrible. Ever since Tan Xueci “married,” he hadn’t seen him. Tan Yanning kept making excuses about being busy and refused to see him.

As he drove in frustration, he saw an old school bus pass by. It was so outdated it looked completely out of place in modern Beijing.

Most of the passengers were students. He Sui frowned. Is it school dismissal time?

Then he saw two people not in uniform. As one of them turned his head, He Sui froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

It was Tan Xueci.

Tan Xueci was being held by a tall man. The man had his back turned, so he couldn’t see the face, but the build was familiar—broad shoulders, cold and upright.

He Sui was stunned. A chill rose from his heart. Inexplicably, he felt this man looked like his youngest uncle.

The He family had many branches and many rules. While every descendant learned some feng shui, only the heir chosen by the head of the family learned the secret, core teachings. That heir’s branch would then become the new main family, allowed to practice feng shui professionally. The side branches were forbidden from taking private business without permission.

He was from a side branch. His father knew some feng shui but didn’t practice; instead, he was the vice president at his father-in-law’s company—essentially marrying into the family. By He Sui’s generation, they had learned nothing of the craft.

He had always heard this uncle was exceptionally talented. Even his father’s business partners were deferential to He Xunye. He had been curious about him, but the man was mysterious and rarely attended family banquets.

Years ago, during his sophomore year of high school, he was at a club with friends. He saw a strange man with his head down enter a neighboring private room. He didn’t think much of it until a waiter’s scream echoed from the hallway. Outside, the neighboring room was splattered with blood. The seven people inside had vanished.

The club owner had run over, pale and frantic, pleading with someone on the phone. It didn’t sound like he was calling the police.

He and several other rich heirs were there. Out of curiosity, they stayed to watch despite the owner’s attempt to clear the floor.

An hour later, someone finally arrived. He was tall, wearing a sharp grey coat and polished leather shoes—an air of cold, noble arrogance. His pale, gloomy face held no expression. Even the black prayer beads on his wrist felt dark and heavy.

He Sui guessed something supernatural had happened. Though he wasn’t a firm believer, He Xunye’s oppressive aura made it impossible to dismiss him as a fraud.

“Uncle,” He Sui had called out, wanting to tell him about the man he’d seen earlier, believing him to be the killer. “I…”

But before he could finish, He Xunye hadn’t even looked at him. He said coldly, “Get lost.”

He Sui was stunned, thinking he’d misheard. He tried to speak again.

“Get lost,” the man said again.

The other heirs exchanged glances, not daring to breathe. They feared both He Xunye and He Sui.

He Sui’s expression twisted in rage and humiliation. He had lived a charmed life; this was the first time anyone had spoken to him like that. What was most insulting was that He Xunye wasn’t even angry; he simply ignored him as if he were an eyesore.

Isn’t he just a con artist playing with ghosts?

What’s so great about him?

He Sui frowned, his face full of disdain. Even if He Xunye were still alive, he wouldn’t want A-Yan (Tan Yanning) to be involved with such a person.

However, that night was strange. The people who vanished in the next room were all heirs in their twenties.

After the incident, their parents arrived. One of them was an art student who had just returned from studying abroad. He had long hair and liked cross-dressing; that day, he had been wearing a black-and-white maid outfit for some roleplay. His father was livid, shouting at He Xunye, “If my son loses a single hair, I’ll have you buried with him!”

He Xunye said nothing. He went inside for fifteen minutes. When he emerged, he was wearing black leather gloves and holding a tangled, wet mass of black hair. He threw it on the floor.

It looked like a head of long, drenched hair.

The father grew dizzy with a bad premonition. He asked tremblingly, “What is this?!”

“Hair,” He Xunye said, his dark eyes curving into a smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. His tone was gentle and “considerate.” “Not a single one is missing. Do you need me to count them for you?”

The businessman collapsed, fainting on the spot.

The other parents, who had been crying or acting tough, went silent. These were wealthy, high-profile people, but they stood there as obedient as quails.

He Xunye asked politely, “Do you have any requests?”

As if he would fulfill them.

Everyone shook their heads, bowing and scraping. “Just… please save them as you see fit.”

If worst came to worst, they’d just have another child.

The man went back in and soon came out. Stretchers followed, and ambulances were called. Some had broken legs, some broken arms; one had his eyes gouged out, another his nose cut off.

One person was covered in blood, seemingly having been dragged through a sewer grate; his scalp was a mess, necessitating a shaved head. Adding the hair found earlier, there were exactly seven people to form a “complete” body.

The club was silent. No one dared say anything as they took their children to the hospital.

He Sui later heard they were playing some “Ghost Summoning” game. He didn’t know if it was true and didn’t believe in ghosts, but He Xunye’s reputation for ruthlessness was real.

Unless it was a life-or-death situation, no one asked for his help. After all, he filled the role of a “King of Hell” in Beijing quite well.

…

He Sui watched the two people on the bus. Tan Xueci was pressed against the man’s chest. The man whispered something, and Tan Xueci laughed. He Sui froze.

In all the time he had dated Tan Xueci, he had never seen him laugh like that. Tan Xueci was always timid and at a loss with him.

Now, his face seemed a bit fuller, as if he had been eating well. His laugh wasn’t fawning or overly shy; he was genuinely laughing, his eyes sparkling like a pampered pearl, regaining some of its natural luster.

He even snuggled against the man’s waist. At first, he was a bit shy, but when the man didn’t refuse, he hugged his waist and buried himself in his embrace.

He Sui’s breath caught, and he was suddenly filled with rage. He had only broken up with Tan Xueci less than a month ago, and he was already with another man? What was the difference between this and cheating?

Even He Sui didn’t move on that quickly.

What did Tan Xueci take me for?!

Besides, He Xunye was dead. Who was this man? How did Tan Xueci meet someone new so fast?

He Sui’s face darkened, his emotions a complex mess. After all, dating Tan Xueci had been an accident.

He had liked Tan Yanning since childhood. Tan Yanning was adopted by the Tan family when he was six. Before that, he had been adopted and returned once—the couple had conceived their own child and found him redundant, even beating him.

Because of this, after being adopted by the Tans, Tan Yanning was obsessed with the parents’ attitude, terrified they wouldn’t love him enough. He never had a sense of security.

Tan Shangli was the eldest son and already grown; he couldn’t be as close to the parents as a child. Tan Xueci became the sole object of his resentment.

He Sui pitied Tan Yanning’s past, and even found his ruthlessness beneath the “refined” mask to be charming. Otherwise, he wouldn’t bother bullying a “little idiot” like Tan Xueci; whether he lived or died didn’t affect him.

He felt it was unnecessary, too—unless Tan Xueci’s mental health completely improved, he would never compare to Tan Yanning in the parents’ eyes. He was no threat.

But Tan Yanning cared, so he would help the person he loved.

So when Tan Yanning suggested Tan Xueci become an actor, He Sui immediately arranged a useless agent for him. In this industry, beauty isn’t enough; in fact, being too beautiful is a sin.

Tan Yanning didn’t need to do a thing; Tan Xueci would be chewed up by others. Even if he survived, he would likely go crazier until the Tan family had had enough and kicked him out.

He had originally intended to let Tan Xueci fend for himself, but Tan Yanning was straight and wanted to marry a woman. When He Sui’s confession failed, he started dating Tan Xueci out of spite.

Tan Xueci was just a substitute. Because he was Tan Yanning’s brother, being with him felt like being closer to the man he couldn’t have.

Then there was the proxy marriage. He did feel he had wronged Tan Xueci there.

He had felt guilty for days, wondering how to compensate him. The “little idiot” was easy to coax; he never got angry and always looked at him with that soft, innocent gaze.

Maybe a few nice words would be enough. Or taking him out for a few meals.

Who knew that before he could even decide on a compensation, he’d find Tan Xueci trysting with some “wild man”?

He Sui glared at the window.

Tan Xueci was still listening to the couple’s conversation. Hearing “baby” over and over, he looked up at He Xunye and whispered expectantly, “Husband, did you hear what they’re saying?”

“Saying what?” He Xunye acted as if he didn’t understand.

Tan Xueci, seeing he wasn’t catching on, asked shyly, “Husband, do you have a nickname?”

He was too embarrassed to ask him to call him “baby” again, so he was being indirect.

The evil spirit pinched his snowy cheek, still acting clueless. Tan Xueci finally gave up, leaning against the man’s chest in silence. The swaying of the bus was making him sleepy.

Then he heard the man lower his head, pressing his lips against his hair. He asked, “What do you want me to call you? Xiao Ci? Xiao Mie?”

Tan Xueci’s heart skipped a beat. Before he could speak, he heard the spirit’s teasing voice: “Baby?”

Tan Xueci said nothing, but his ears hidden under his black hair turned bright red. He Xunye’s large hand rested on his waist. There were other people on the bus, so he didn’t do anything excessive, just held him firmly as if to keep him from falling. Yet the curve of his knuckles was inexplicably suggestive, making Tan Xueci feel that He Xunye was very good at romance.

Maybe the rumors were true—about him “playing” people into the hospital. And though he hadn’t recognized He Xunye in the school, now that he thought about it, He Xunye had hit his thigh with a pointer.

He wasn’t completely ignorant. Brother Lu, fearing he might one day land a “sugar daddy” and be rejected for his lack of experience, had made him watch a lot of “movies.”

Tan Xueci swallowed and asked worriedly, “Husband, when you date other people, do you hit them with pointers? I’m afraid of pain. Please don’t hit me, okay?”

He Xunye: “…”

The evil spirit looked genuinely confused. “What?”

Tan Xueci whispered, “People say you played so hard that people were taken away in ambulances. And someone in a maid outfit.”

It sounded like he had “wild” tastes.

He didn’t mind He Xunye having exes, but he was afraid of pain. If He Xunye kept calling him “baby,” he could handle light taps—as long as he didn’t end up in the hospital.

He Xunye: “…”

The spirit’s expression was unreadable. “Who told you that?”

Tan Xueci shrunk his neck and said softly, “Everyone says so.”

He Xunye: “…”

The man’s handsome face turned dark and inscrutable.

“Husband,” Tan Xueci thought he’d said something wrong and hugged him timidly. “Are you angry?”

He Xunye’s dark eyes were gloomy enough to make one’s blood run cold, but when he looked down at the boy, they softened. He stroked his face and said, “No. But if Xiao Xue wants to wear a maid outfit for me, that’s fine too.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci was bewildered. I didn’t say I wanted to wear one.

But since He Xunye said it, he grew dazed. Did I say I wanted to wear it? Do I have to wear a dress for him?

As they whispered to each other, He Sui frowned, trying to see who the man was. He didn’t remember the “little idiot” having such a man around. But before he could get a clear look, the man suddenly turned his head and seemed to lock eyes with him.

The man slowly pulled Tan Xueci closer, resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder. He Sui couldn’t see his face clearly, only that his skin was unnaturally pale. His crimson lips seemed to curl into a smirk. With an air of spectral malice, he held He Sui’s former boyfriend firmly, his hand on the boy’s waist, stroking him with blatant affection.

It was an undisguised provocation and mockery.

In a surge of rage, He Sui forgot his foot was on the gas. With a loud CRASH, his car slammed into a guardrail, the hood dented in.

His heart stopped for a second. He hurried out to check the damage. When he looked back, the old bus had vanished like a phantom, as if it had never existed.

Tan Xueci thought he heard a loud bang, like a car crash. He saw a familiar-looking back, but He Xunye shifted and blocked his view, so he didn’t look further.

The bus stopped in front of the hotel. The ghost students stopped talking and stared silently at Tan Xueci, but they seemed afraid of something and didn’t try to stop him.

Tan Xueci disembarked safely and walked back to the hotel hand-in-hand with He Xunye.

It was past midnight, and no one was checking in. The receptionist had been dozing, but stood up straight when she heard the revolving door.

However, her expression became increasingly strange.

She saw the boy talking to thin air, his hand held out as if gripping something, occasionally leaning against nothingness.

Perhaps because she stared too long, she saw a blurry shadow appear beside him. It was a man in a black suit and black leather shoes. His features were pale and blurred, save for his thin, cold red lips, which curved into a polite smile at her.

A ghost.

The receptionist slumped into her chair.

Once in the room, Tan Xueci wouldn’t let go of He Xunye. He had seen too many ghosts tonight and didn’t want to see any more. He asked cautiously, “Husband, can you stay and sleep with me?”

“…” He Xunye stared at him for a moment before his lips curled. “Sure.”

Tan Xueci was delighted but afraid he would leave. He sat He Xunye down on the edge of the bed and hurriedly grabbed his bathrobe. “I’ll go shower. I’ll be out soon.”

“Okay,” He Xunye agreed again.

Tan Xueci pitter-pattered off to shower. He didn’t even dare close the bathroom door, afraid he wouldn’t hear if He Xunye left. But when he took off his clothes and saw his legs, he froze.

He ran back out, shivering.

“What is it?” He Xunye asked.

Tearfully, Tan Xueci lifted his bathrobe to show He Xunye his legs. Against his pale skin, the red marks were glaring—the distinct imprint of a pair of large hands.

He remembered the ghost in the bathhouse hadn’t squeezed that hard. And even if it had, the marks shouldn’t still be this vivid after so much time.

His mind was a mess. Terrified, he sat down and clung to He Xunye’s arm. “Husband…”

“How did this happen?” The evil spirit seemed surprised. He pulled his little wife into his arms to comfort him, while simultaneously placing his cold, large hand over the red mark, slowly covering it completely.

Every finger fit the imprint perfectly.

He Wuling had been right about one thing: Tan Xueci had such heavy yin energy that even regular ghosts couldn’t compare. It had indeed made him want to swallow the boy whole and take him to hell on their wedding night.

But he hadn’t expected his little wife to be so pitiful, so cute, and able to call him “husband.”

Since he called him husband, he’d let him be his wife for a few days before eating him. It was just that lately, his urge to swallow the boy was growing; he could no longer distinguish between hunger and other desires.

Tan Xueci: “…”

He stared blankly at his leg, then at the man’s hand which fit the marks perfectly. He looked up at He Xunye in a daze.

The evil spirit smiled, waiting for him to speak. His handsome human skin seemed to be peeling away, and he didn’t even care if his wife unmasked him.

Tan Xueci hesitated. Just as the spirit thought he had finally realized the truth, Tan Xueci spoke, reporting his grievance like a child: “Hu… Husband, it was hands this big that pinched me!”