Chapter 28: Consumed by Shadows

This was his first time appearing before them in human form.

The lighting in the villa was dim, half-bright and half-dark. He stood with his back to the light, half of his extraordinarily handsome face cast in shadow. Pale and perfect, he didn’t look like a real human.

Everyone stared at him in astonishment.

Xie Wuyu moved unhurriedly, advancing step by step, stepping out of the shadows and coming into clearer view. His shadow fell diagonally across the floor, stretched long by the lights, resembling a monster lurking in the night.

From the moment he appeared, the temperature plummeted, but no one noticed this. Because his aura was too overwhelming, it instantly seized all attention. Their scalps prickled, sensing an inexplicable danger. Xie Wuyu possessed an oppressive force that even evil ghosts couldn’t rival.

However, this feeling lasted only for a moment and quickly vanished, as if it were merely an illusion.

Xie Wuyu walked up to Pei Liu and naturally sat down in the empty seat beside him.

Pei Liu was also surprised, but mostly he felt a sense of familiarity and pleasant surprise. His eyes curved as he smiled and said: “You’re here.”

His genuine joy spread, seemingly infecting the atmosphere of the entire dining room.

Almost simultaneously.

Wu Kai and the others’ eyes lost focus for a second, and then their expressions returned to normal, devoid of astonishment. In their perception, Xie Wuyu was the sixth guest, and his presence here was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Xie Wuyu sat very close to Pei Liu; with a casual movement, their legs would touch, appearing exceptionally intimate.

However, since Pei Liu even slept cuddling with him, this level of contact didn’t bother him at all.

Pei Liu looked at Xie Wuyu with a gaze full of trust and reliance. His clear eyes sparkled under the light, looking very beautiful.

He had been looking forward to eating with Xie Wuyu for a long time. At this moment, he eagerly placed the food he thought was delicious into Xie Wuyu’s bowl, urging him to try it.

The braised pork ribs were fragrant and rich, the meat tender, and the bright red sauce seeped into the soft rice, making one’s mouth water just looking at it.

Xie Wuyu wasn’t human and had no need to eat.

But since he was disguised as a human, he ate symbolically. He picked up a piece of pork rib, tasted it, and smiled politely: “It tastes good.”

When someone else likes the food you like, it’s obviously a happy occasion.

Pei Liu smiled radiantly.

Xie Wuyu ate slowly and methodically, making it a pleasing sight, so much so that no one noticed he actually didn’t eat much at all.

Most of the time, he was putting food in Pei Liu’s bowl and casually watching him eat. It was as if Pei Liu were the food he was interested in, and just watching him eat made him feel full.

Wu Kai, being naturally curious, couldn’t help but steal glances from the corner of his eye. He knew Xie Wuyu was a guest like them, but since he hadn’t accompanied them before and only appeared now, yet had such a good relationship with Pei Liu, he wondered what kind of person he was.

Noticing Wu Kai’s frequent glances, Pei Liu thought he wanted the shrimp near him but couldn’t reach it, so he helpfully picked up a few pieces for him.

Wu Kai paused, feeling like a big brother being cared for by a younger brother, his heart blooming with joy. He was about to say thank you when he met the deadpan, deadly stare of a certain someone sitting next to Pei Liu.

“…”

Wu Kai instantly chickened out, silently putting the shrimp back into Pei Liu’s bowl, and muttered: “I don’t like shrimp.”

Pei Liu was confused: “Really?” He remembered Wu Kai eating them before.

Wu Kai nodded vigorously to confirm, then buried his head to silently eat plain rice, trying to minimize his presence. He also couldn’t understand why he was afraid of this person who looked younger and less solidly built than himself. Is he a bigger star? What shows has he acted in? What awards has he won? Why can’t I remember?

Wu Kai zoned out for a moment, but his attention quickly returned to his bowl as he focused on eating.

The atmosphere during this meal was somewhat strange.

It wasn’t exactly bad, but there was an inexplicable feeling of sitting at the same table as a big boss—a subtle reluctance to speak.

After dinner, Tong Jiaqi hesitated for a moment before she couldn’t help but ask what Xie Wuyu’s task was.

Xie Wuyu didn’t answer directly; instead, he pulled out a VHS tape and said: “This is a clue.”

The group was surprised, feeling as if a pie had dropped from the sky. They immediately forgot about wondering what Xie Wuyu had been doing these past few days and focused entirely on the clue, eager to gain more crucial information.

VHS tapes were a trend of the last century; with the development of digital storage technology, they had long been phased out. The younger generation had rarely encountered them, let alone knew how to use them.

At this point, the older Zhao Hai stepped forward: “There’s a VCR under the TV, I’ll do it.”

He had used VHS tapes before and felt a bit nostalgic seeing one now.

He inserted the tape into the VCR, expertly pressed the buttons, and the TV screen flickered.

Everyone sat down on the sofa.

The TV displayed static, flickering unsteadily.

Then, a dark forest background appeared, with a few scattered trees around a well in the center.

This famous scene was practically a household name; everyone knew it.

Instantly, fear struck.

It was as if the sofa had grown needles, making them jump up abruptly. Very uncool, they huddled together, terrified that Sadako would climb out of the well.

Only two people remained sitting in front of the TV.

Pei Liu remained expressionless and calm, continuing to watch the TV. Compared to the others hiding away, he exuded the aura of a big boss, looking quite imposing.

But if one looked closely, they would notice his dark eyes had widened slightly, and the hands resting by his sides were trembling faintly.

He wasn’t unafraid; he was simply scared stiff. He could only stare blankly at the TV as a pale hand reached out from the dry well, grasped the edge, and slowly climbed up…

Xie Wuyu turned his head to look at him, then suddenly reached out and grasped his hand.

Caught off guard, Pei Liu flinched and immediately shrank back as if electrocuted.

But Xie Wuyu quickly caught it again, holding it firmly in his grasp, making it difficult to pull away.

As if sensing his panic and fear, Xie Wuyu soothingly stroked his palm. The touch wasn’t heavy, but he still didn’t let go.

Pei Liu paused, instinctively turning his head to meet Xie Wuyu’s gentle gaze. His wildly beating heart slowly calmed down, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Xie Wuyu a grateful smile.

Xie Wuyu’s expression remained unchanged. Holding his hand, he casually played with Pei Liu’s fingers. Because of this, Pei Liu’s attention was drawn to the tickling sensation on his hand, making him pay less attention to the TV.

The female ghost in the white dress climbed out of the well, yet no one looked at her; she was thoroughly ignored.

The people behind the sofa suddenly thought: “Should we go turn off the VCR? Didn’t people discuss this online before? Unplug it, and Sadako will be stuck in the TV and won’t be able to get out.”

They could try, but the question was, who would go?

They looked at each other, and then left it to fate.

Rock, paper, scissors—whoever loses goes.

But before they could get a result, a hand slapped the back of the sofa from above, startling them into a violent shiver.

“The real content of the tape is starting, come look.”

It was Pei Liu calling them.

They peeked over stealthily, only to discover that the scene on the TV screen had changed. The lighting was bright and normal, not eerie at all. They breathed a sigh of relief, muttering curses at the production team while slowly walking back to sit down. However, they only sat on the very edge of the sofa, ready to flee at any moment.

On the screen was a college student claiming to be a campus gossip reporter, preparing to conduct interviews to gain a deeper understanding and clarify the love-hate drama between the twin campus beauties.

After Tong Jiaqi sat down, she subconsciously looked toward Pei Liu’s side, only to see something completely unexpected.

The living room sofa was divided into three sections: a single-seater, a two-seater, and a three-seater—just enough for six people. Since Pei Liu and Xie Wuyu were familiar with each other, they naturally sat on the two-seater sofa.

Of course, that was nothing; it was perfectly normal.

But now, Tong Jiaqi saw their hands intertwined, tightly and completely clasped together—a highly possessive way of holding hands!

Tong Jiaqi was shocked, barely able to conceal her expression.

Are they together?!

Wait, no, it doesn’t look like it.

She could tell that Pei Liu had no ulterior motives toward Xie Wuyu; his attitude was clearly that of a friend. So, was this person interested in Little Pei?

Tong Jiaqi fell deep into thought. After all, it was obvious at a glance that Xie Wuyu was not simple. Pei Liu being targeted by him was practically like a sheep entering a tiger’s den; he absolutely wouldn’t be able to resist. She debated whether she should warn Pei Liu, and how she could do so tactfully.

But she didn’t know that whatever she did would be useless; absolutely no one could stop Xie Wuyu.

And it wasn’t just holding hands.

Underneath the sofa, where no one could see.

From the shadow Xie Wuyu cast on the floor, a wisp of black mist slowly seeped out. Like an extending vine, it reached over to Pei Liu’s side, silently winding and climbing up his ankle like a unique anklet.

And Pei Liu was completely oblivious, earnestly watching the tape’s content, trying to gather information.

The first interviewee was a friend of the younger twin, looking indignant.

“Her sister wants to steal everything from her, even her boyfriend. What a psycho. They’re twins, looking exactly the same, but how can they be so different? The younger sister has excellent grades, plays the piano, paints, and has a gentle personality. Even though her health is poor, she doesn’t use that as an excuse to make others accommodate her. Who wouldn’t like such a wonderful girl? But her sister actually yelled at her, pushed her to the ground, and told her to get lost. Her sister is disgusting.”

“By the way, do you know why the younger sister’s health is so bad? It’s because when they were in the womb, the younger sister was malnourished, almost absorbed by her sister. She barely survived, which is why she had a bad heart and was frail from birth. Her sister almost killed her!”

“She loves her sister so much, always thinking of her, yet her sister treats her like a burdensome chore, always having to take care of her wherever they go, unable to fully enjoy herself. If possible, I’d rather be her sister.”

Next was another person, a friend of the older sister, who felt equally indignant for her sake.

“Everyone only sees that the younger sister is excellent, quiet, and frail, needing extra care. But isn’t the older sister human too? Ah, yes, you’re the older sister, so you naturally should take care of your younger sister more. Her parents are totally biased. Ever since she was young, they told her that because she ate too much in the womb and her sister gave her the nutrients, she should compensate her.”

“Is that something you should say to a child? How awful must the older sister have felt hearing that? How old was she? Yet she was made to bear the guilt, feeling terribly remorseful, thinking she owed her sister and caused her to end up like that. But what does a fetus in the womb know? Did she intentionally kill her? She told me she wished she were the one with poor health.”

“Everyone revolves around the younger sister, and she doesn’t dare act spoiled or ask for anything. She has a lively personality and likes to go out, but because her sister can’t, she has to accommodate and take care of her, often forced to stay home, only able to enviously watch other kids go out and play. Under such a twisted environment, I admire her for not growing up crooked. If it were me, I would have gone to extremes long ago; no one in the world truly loves her.”

Both people spoke with intense emotion, highly subjective, speaking up for their respective friends. At the same time, however, quite a bit of information could be gathered.

Following that, a third interviewee appeared.

This time, it was a young, thin boy wearing round glasses, exuding a scholarly aura. He looked somewhat reserved and nervous, clearly the type of well-behaved, studious student in class.

The reporter asked: “What do you think of the twin campus beauties?”

The boy glanced at the camera, quickly looked away, lowered his eyes, and said shyly: “I-I don’t know much about those things, I don’t know what to say.”

“But didn’t you speak up for the older sister in class last time? Because someone was badmouthing her.”

“The things they said were too awful…”

The boy frowned, seeming quite disgusted just thinking about it.

The reporter handed him a phone to look at a forum post, then asked: “Based on what you know, would you support the older sister or the younger sister?”

The boy put down the phone and said softly: “You shouldn’t actually ask me this question.”

“Why?”

He looked up, pursed his lips in a small smile, and said: “I can’t view it objectively. The older sister helped me once when I was stopped and robbed by people from outside the school.”

The reporter let out a “Wow,” “Beauty saves the hero?!”

The boy looked down at the ground, hiding his emotions. After a while, he nodded and added: “Of course, I think the younger sister is also great—gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous. She is a goddess in everyone’s heart.”

The reporter hummed in acknowledgment, looking as if they were saying: I know what you’re trying to hide; I get it, you like the older sister.

The boy’s face turned red, but a suppressed smile remained on his lips, growing wider and wider, completely immersed in his own thoughts, oblivious to the outside world.

Outside the TV, Pei Liu sat on the sofa, earnestly watching the tape, his lips unconsciously pressed tight, clearly deep in thought.

In stark contrast, the certain entity sitting beside him paid no attention at all. His gaze wasn’t on the TV, utterly unconcerned. Instead, he held Pei Liu’s hand, playfully massaging it with great interest, as if kneading a cat’s paw, totally addicted.

He slowly stroked Pei Liu’s fingers, sliding down from the tips to the base, then slipped between the fingers, intertwining them gently yet firmly, pressing down on the back of the hand and pinning Pei Liu’s hand to the sofa. After a while, he flipped the hand over, supporting Pei Liu’s palm from underneath, and reached forward to grasp his wrist.

It could be described as incredibly leisurely and lazy.

However, there was indeed nothing here that required his attention; Pei Liu’s presence was an exception. He had originally planned to leave, but stayed because of this. He had also grabbed the tape in passing, thinking Pei Liu might need it.

Suddenly, Pei Liu gripped his hand back, holding it tightly, inextricably.

Xie Wuyu looked up at him.

Pei Liu pointed at the boy on the TV and said in disbelief: “This guy is the nanny!”

Hearing this, everyone froze, looked at Pei Liu in disbelief, and then turned to stare closely at the TV to examine him.

“Damn, they really do look alike. With a wig and some makeup, they’d be the same person.”

The boy’s makeup was meticulous, concealing and modifying his facial bone structure. Furthermore, his features were somewhat delicate to begin with, so dressing as a woman wouldn’t look out of place. Laypeople might not notice, but since those present were celebrities with some understanding of makeup, they could tell if they looked closely.

Although Pei Liu wasn’t truly an industry insider, he was observant, had good eyesight, and a great memory. He had found the boy familiar at first glance, and after staring and thinking for a while, he remembered the source of that familiarity.

The group began to discuss. The older sister being accused of almost killing the younger sister referred to her absorbing nutrients in the womb, causing the younger sister to be frail and near death. Later, due to their parents’ excessive favoritism toward the younger sister, resentment and jealousy accumulated over time, leading her to kill her sister.

At the same time, they suspected the boy, deeply in love with the older sister, cross-dressed and forged a nanny identity to enter the villa for her sake, and was very likely an accomplice to the murder.

This was a crucial clue; everyone discussed it excitedly, anticipating a major breakthrough.

Only two people remained silent.

One was Jian Yongge.

In fact, ever since he had inexplicably shoved Pei Liu, he seemed to have become much more subdued, even appearing to avoid him and looking quite afraid.

Pei Liu found it hard to understand, but ultimately, it was a good thing. He wouldn’t have to be distracted by other messes and could focus entirely on finding a way out as quickly as possible.

With Jian Yongge staying quiet, Pei Liu was happy with the outcome, but the other person was different.

From beginning to end, Xie Wuyu hadn’t participated in the speculation. Like an outsider hovering on the edge, belonging nowhere, he watched indifferently, his gaze like an endless, lifeless white desert.

Pei Liu suddenly reached out and tugged at him, looking at him and asking: “What do you think? Any thoughts?”

Xie Wuyu’s eyes flickered, and he turned to look, his expression somewhat cold. From the moment Pei Liu focused entirely on the discussion, he had remained expressionless.

Seeing him stay silent, Pei Liu was a bit puzzled: “If you have a different perspective, you can share it. You’re the one who provided this key clue, after all.”

Because of this, the others looked over, feeling very nervous. They didn’t understand why, but even going on stage to receive awards hadn’t made them this anxious; yet, facing Xie Wuyu inexplicably made them cower.

The next second, they saw Xie Wuyu smile—refined, elegant, and warm as a spring breeze—and they almost instantly relaxed.

“I have no thoughts,” Xie Wuyu said gently. Even though he knew the story’s cause and effect perfectly well, he had no intention of sharing.

The others were slightly surprised.

Pei Liu was about to say something when a sudden beep sounded from somewhere.

“Congratulations on discovering the nanny’s true identity. To draw out his soul, your sincere efforts are required. The prop to assist you is in the third drawer of the cabinet on your right. Good luck.”

Pei Liu wanted to go get it, but because his hand was held by Xie Wuyu, he was a step too slow.

Wu Kai walked over to the cabinet, pulled open the drawer, and pulled out… a dress?

A dress???

Wu Kai’s head was full of question marks.

It was a burgundy long dress with an asymmetrical, large hemline, spaghetti straps so thin they looked ready to snap, and a deep V-back plunging all the way to the waist and hips. The waistline was perfectly tailored to accentuate a slender waist and perky hips. The burgundy color flattered the skin, making one look fair and delicate like a handful of fine snow. Wrapped in the long dress, one would look like a blooming rose surrounded by layers of petals.

It was a very beautiful dress, waiting for the right person to wear it.

Wu Kai reached out to Tong Jiaqi, shaking the dress: “You want to change into this?”

After all, she was the only woman present.

Tong Jiaqi had no interest in changing clothes in a haunted house, let alone into a red dress. She shook her head decisively, offering a very solid reason for her refusal: “The nanny cross-dressed as a woman, so to complete this task, a man definitely has to step up. That’s the only way to resonate with the ghost and draw him out.”

“…”

That makes so much sense I actually can’t argue with it.

Wu Kai furrowed his thick brows, finding it hard to imagine that scene. His gaze swept the room, landed on Pei Liu, and he asked: “This dress is quite small, why doesn’t Little Pei try it?”

Pei Liu immediately shook his head. Just thinking about it was an eyesore; it would definitely look weird on him.

Wu Kai looked at Zhao Hai and Jian Yongge again, but unsurprisingly, no one wanted to wear it.

“We can’t complete the task like this, and we can’t move forward,” he said.

Hearing this, Pei Liu hesitated, wondering if he should try it for the sake of the task. Looking a bit ridiculous was nothing; getting out was more important.

Seeing his hesitation, Wu Kai immediately struck while the iron was hot: “Little Pei, go for it! You’re the best!”

Pei Liu felt a bit speechless. He was just about to stand up when he felt a resistance; his wrist was grabbed, and he was pulled back, even accidentally half-sitting on Xie Wuyu’s lap.

Pei Liu was stunned, a blank expression on his face.

Xie Wuyu gripped his hand and said coldly: “He’s not wearing it.”

He had no aversion to Pei Liu wearing a dress, but he disliked Pei Liu wearing clothes prepared by others. He also disdained the fabric of the dress, which was visibly cheap. If Pei Liu were to wear one, it should be one he prepared.

A bizarre silence fell over the room.

Earlier, while pushing the dress onto each other, they had all subconsciously ignored Xie Wuyu, for some unknown reason. Now that Xie Wuyu suddenly spoke up, they were all startled.

Following that, Xie Wuyu looked at Wu Kai and continued: “It fits you. Go for it, you’re the best.”

He repeated Wu Kai’s words from earlier, only changing the subject, and his tone sounded more like a cold, monotonous reading.

Wu Kai felt his hair stand on end under that gaze, wanting nothing more than to hug his chubby self. He didn’t need any prodding and quickly ran off to change.

The result, naturally, was highly comedic.

Wu Kai was muscular, so when he put on the sexy, glamorous dress, the seams stretched to the breaking point. He looked like the Michelin Man, making everyone roar with laughter.

They snorted with laughter while covering their eyes, acting as if they had been blinded.

Pei Liu also shook with laughter, and Xie Wuyu, pressed against him, could clearly feel the subtle vibrations coming from him.

But regrettably, even though Wu Kai sacrificed himself to create this dark history, he failed to draw out the ghost.

By now, it was very late. Outside the window, it was pitch black, and the villa was entirely enveloped in darkness.

They had no choice but to return to their rooms to wash up and sleep.

Pei Liu naturally left with Xie Wuyu.

Watching their retreating backs, Wu Kai couldn’t help but say enviously: “They have a really good relationship.”

“Yeah,” Tong Jiaqi nodded, though the meaning behind her words was completely different from Wu Kai’s.

Wu Kai added: “I want to share a room with Little Pei, then I wouldn’t have to be so scared.”

Tong Jiaqi turned her head, her expression somewhat complex: “No, you don’t.”

Wu Kai: “…?”

Because of Wu Kai’s cross-dressing stunt, Pei Liu had been amused and was in a good mood; he remained relaxed after returning to the room. For the past two days, no paranormal events had occurred in the room, making it feel like a safe house. Pei Liu relaxed significantly and even dared to take a shower.

The white mist slowly spread, enveloping the entire bathroom, making everything look hazy and surreal.

Pei Liu took a comfortable shower, dried himself, put on his clothes, brushed his teeth, and then walked out.

He saw Xie Wuyu sitting at the head of the bed reading a book.

Pei Liu said casually: “You can go wash up now.”

Xie Wuyu hummed in response, lifted the book in his hand, and asked: “Do you want to read?”

It was the horror novel prepared by the production team.

Pei Liu shook his head decisively. The house was full of ghosts, and the immersive experience was scary enough; there was no need to read a fake novel.

Xie Wuyu smiled: “Weren’t you reading it quite engrossed before?”

Pei Liu’s face turned a bit red, and he retorted seriously: “No, it’s not good.”

Xie Wuyu didn’t argue with him. He casually placed the book on the nightstand, got up, grabbed his clothes, and went to the bathroom.

Left alone, Pei Liu found it very quiet, as if he could only hear his own breathing.

He sat on the edge of the bed, absent-mindedly drying his hair. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the nightstand, saw the female ghost on the novel’s cover, and quickly looked away.

After a moment, he reached out, pulled open the drawer, swiftly tossed the book inside, and returned to his original position, as if nothing had happened.

When Xie Wuyu came out, he immediately noticed the difference on the nightstand.

“Where’s the book?”

Pei Liu said nonchalantly: “Did you still want to read it? It’s pretty late, shall we sleep?”

Xie Wuyu looked at him without speaking, making Pei Liu feel nervous, before finally nodding.

The lights went out.

The two lay in bed.

Xie Wuyu naturally pulled the person into his arms, but this time Pei Liu blocked his hand.

By the bright moonlight spilling through the window, one could vaguely see Xie Wuyu frown, his expression turning somewhat cold.

Pei Liu: “I want to talk to you about something.”

Xie Wuyu: “Speak.”

His hands didn’t stop, reaching over to rest on his waist, then pulling the person into his embrace. He apparently didn’t see any conflict between chatting and cuddling, acting exactly as he pleased without any reservations.

As a result, the two grew even closer, face-to-face, their noses almost touching, able to feel each other’s breath.

Pei Liu felt a bit uncomfortable and leaned his head back slightly to create some distance. As for the hand on his waist, he figured he probably couldn’t reason with Xie Wuyu, who clearly treated him as a human body pillow, so he temporarily ignored it and got down to business.

He said: “Actually, I suspect a ghost here has its eyes on me.”

His voice was very low, as if afraid of being overheard. Even though it was just the two of them in the room, who knew where a ghost might be hiding?

“Who?” Xie Wuyu’s voice dropped.

Pei Liu frowned in memory, briefly describing the previous encounters: “I can’t see it, and I don’t know what it looks like; we’ve only had a few interactions. It choked me, licked my face, like a wild beast; I feel like it wants to eat me alive.”

Xie Wuyu realized he was talking about him. His displeasure at his possession being coveted and touched faded, replaced by calm, which then turned into confusion: “Eat you alive?”

He certainly didn’t have such thoughts; what would be the good in eating him?

“Yeah.” Pei Liu nodded seriously, “The way it acted, if it didn’t want to kill me, what else could it be?”

Xie Wuyu fell silent for a moment. He didn’t understand the reason behind his actions either; he just did as he pleased. He had the capital to act willfully and didn’t need to overthink it.

Not hearing an answer, Pei Liu thought he was agreeing with him. According to what Senior Zhao Hai said, he shouldn’t be discussing ghosts with others to avoid causing panic, but he really wanted to share this with someone, and subconsciously felt that Xie Wuyu wouldn’t be shaken by it.

“But thankfully, I haven’t run into that ghost for the past two days. Besides, the day after tomorrow is the tenth day; once filming is done, we can leave.”

By the end, Pei Liu’s tone had lightened considerably, his eyes shining.

“Leave here?” Xie Wuyu retorted, his dark eyes fixed on him, his tone somewhat unreadable. “Do you really want to leave?”

Pei Liu said without hesitation: “Of course. There are ghosts here; who would want to stay? If I could, I’d leave right now.”

Saying this, Pei Liu patted Xie Wuyu’s arm and said affectionately: “But we’re friends; even after the show ends, we should keep in touch often.”

Xie Wuyu smiled: “Naturally, you still owe me a painting.”

Pei Liu nodded unsuspectingly: “I remember, I won’t forget. I’m a person who keeps my promises.”

The corners of Xie Wuyu’s mouth curled up, the moonlight casting a shadow over his profile, making it hard to see clearly.

“Even if you forget, I’ll remind you.”

Pei Liu nodded again, let out a yawn, and said lazily: “So sleepy, I’m going to sleep.”

Xie Wuyu hummed in response, holding him and watching him fall asleep.

Not long after, Pei Liu’s steady, shallow breathing could be heard.

Xie Wuyu reached out to gently stroke his face, his voice low and hoarse: “To actually tell me there are ghosts… have you ever thought that the one lying beside you is the very ghost you’re talking about?”

His fingertip brushed over the seam of Pei Liu’s lips, pressing slightly, creating a small dent in the soft, light-pink petals.

Allowing Pei Liu to devour his yin energy, taking a keen interest in feeding him.

He rested his chin on his hand and drawled: “You really trust me. But I don’t want to keep pretending; it’s boring this way.”

“If you found out I was the ghost, how would you react?”

The entity recalled how he had sat powerlessly by the wall, curled into a ball, crying pitifully.

His eyes flickered, a hint of excitement rising within him.