Chapter 55: A Tracking Device Called Love

But what he couldn’t comprehend was… why was Xie Wuyu unbuttoning his shirt?

Did he want him to change into a different outfit and then act as a model?

It was probably best to keep promises made to ghosts, otherwise, there was no telling what the consequences would be.

Just painting a picture wasn’t a difficult task, so Pei Liu prepared to cooperate.

He grabbed Xie Wuyu’s cool hand and said: “I’ll do it myself.”

As he undid the buttons, he asked casually: “Where are we painting? Do I stand or sit? I’ve never been a model before, so I might not be able to stay still for long…”

Halfway through, he couldn’t help but stop, because Xie Wuyu didn’t move, his gaze locked unblinkingly on him, staring so intently that Pei Liu felt a bit uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you going to get the brush and paint?” Pei Liu couldn’t help but ask.

Hearing this, Xie Wuyu said: “No need.”

No need?

Wait… is it what I think it is?!

He could respect art, but having it done on him was still a bit difficult.

Pei Liu quickly understood that the “painting you” Xie Wuyu spoke of was not the same as what he understood.

Xie Wuyu didn’t make him take off his clothes; he merely unbuttoned his shirt fully.

Then, he picked Pei Liu up, placing him on his lap to sit.

Black mist materialized out of thin air, slowly condensing into a classic carved wooden table. On it lay a brush, ink, and inkstone—but notably no paper. Because he had already chosen his canvas.

He pulled the shirt down, letting it hang loosely around the crook of Pei Liu’s arms, revealing the beautifully curved lines of his neck and shoulders, his thin back, and slightly hollowed scapulae.

Xie Wuyu placed his hand on Pei Liu’s left shoulder, dipped his brush in ink, and began to paint.

Rose vines intertwined gracefully, cornel flowers blooming quietly, tinged with a soft pink hue.

Xie Wuyu’s artistic skill was superb, his brush strokes without a single hesitation. The outline gradually emerged, lifelike and breathtakingly beautiful.

An stunning painting unfurled slowly before Pei Liu’s eyes, and as it entered his sight, his heart was deeply touched. His fingertips trembled, and he unconsciously gripped Xie Wuyu’s sleeve, wrinkling the fabric.

Pei Liu lowered his eyelashes, but his gaze was filled with panic and unease, having no place to settle. It was as if he had closed his eyes, unwilling to look. But clearly, he wasn’t asleep; his thick, long eyelashes trembled uncontrollably.

After an unknown amount of time, the painting was finally complete.

Xie Wuyu lifted his brush, and Pei Liu couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. A bead of crystal sweat rolled down his cheek and met the tip of a rose vine on his neck, but it didn’t cause the ink to smudge at all.

This ink was condensed from black mist, not the ordinary ink used daily, leaving no way to know what it was actually composed of. When Pei Liu’s mind wandered earlier, he had wondered how to wash it off later and if it would be difficult, but later, he realized there was no need to worry.

Xie Wuyu gently wiped away that bead of sweat on his neck with his thumb, leaving only a faint trace of dampness.

After admiring his work for a moment, the intricate patterns slowly faded, as if sinking beneath the skin.

Pei Liu was stunned: “This…”

Xie Wuyu grabbed the shirt collar, pulled it up to its original position, and helped Pei Liu put it on, systematically fastening the buttons one by one with unhurried ease.

“It’s a type of spectral mark. Don’t worry, it’s harmless to your body. It’s just that from now on, no matter where you go, I’ll know.”

Xie Wuyu offered a casual explanation.

Pei Liu did some simple reading comprehension. On the surface, it was a painting, but in reality, it was not only beautiful but also came with a built-in tracking function.

However…

“Then how did you find me back then?”

He asked this question suddenly, but Xie Wuyu instantly understood he was referring to how he had located him the night he saved him from Gao Wenhao.

Xie Wuyu picked up the small deity statue necklace and helped him put it on.

Pei Liu looked down at it, suddenly understanding: “This deity statue… is also you?”

Xie Wuyu hummed noncommittally.

“But this, a deity… aren’t you a ghost? Can ghosts also become deities?” Pei Liu was confused.

Xie Wuyu: “I never said I was a ghost.”

Pei Liu froze. Come to think of it—that was actually true.

Once he knew he was a deity, the fear in Pei Liu’s heart faded a bit more. However, ordinary deities wouldn’t devour human souls, would they? Even if Xie Wuyu was a deity, he was likely an evil one, belonging to a chaotic neutral alignment at best, not a righteous one.

After the painting was finished, Pei Liu stepped off the edge of the sofa, crawled down from Xie Wuyu’s lap, and lazily sank into the soft cushions, looking like a soft blob of jelly.

Xie Wuyu stood up, rolled his sleeves to his elbows to reveal his pale, slender forearms, walked into the kitchen, and began preparing lunch with practiced ease.

Pei Liu glanced toward the kitchen, his expression turning somewhat subtle.

Initially, when Pei Liu learned he didn’t have to die for the time being, he felt very fortunate. But immediately after, he discovered the entity intended to stay by his side and live in his home.

Coexisting with a ghost—just thinking about it was hair-raising.

Whether he wanted to or not, his home quickly filled with signs of another resident.

In the bathroom, there were identical towels, toothbrushes, slippers, and pajamas…

His private space had been forcefully intruded upon. He had no choice but to bear it and adapt.

Of course, Pei Liu had felt panicked and uneasy, terrified that one day he would wake up to find a bite taken out of him and his soul aching terribly. He even wanted to ask Xie Wuyu every morning upon waking: Are you going to eat me today?

An answer of “yes” would mean the end of everything, welcoming death. An answer of “no” meant he could spend the day relaxed and carefree.

But once the life of coexisting actually began, it was vastly different from what he had imagined—one could even say it was the exact opposite.

Xie Wuyu wasn’t human; the black mist that appeared around him out of thin air at any time could condense into various shapes to do anything. For instance, trivial housework could be cleaned to pristine condition in the blink of an eye, like some magical cleansing spell.

Watching this, Pei Liu was highly tempted. If only he could do this too.

He couldn’t help but observe the black mist as it cleaned—some large, some small, resembling clumps of black cotton candy.

Once, a small clump of black mist cleaned up to his feet, extending two tiny tentacles to meticulously sweep the dust from the floor.

Pei Liu cooperatively lifted his foot to make way for it.

The little black mist actually let out a squeak, as if saying thank you.

Pei Liu: “…”

Damn, that was cute.

In the end, Pei Liu couldn’t resist scooping up the little thing, pinching and kneading it, making it squeak in protest as its two tiny tentacles flailed and struggled in the air.

Even cuter!

But unfortunately, after he had only played for a short while, a figure walked over.

Xie Wuyu stood before him, his shadow falling over him, as if trapping him within.

“Fun?”

Pei Liu’s heart skipped a beat, and he froze instantly.

The little clump of black mist, no longer being pinched, stopped flailing its tentacles, looking a bit confused: “…Squeak?”

It reached out and poked Pei Liu’s fingertip, tickling him.

Then, it accidentally made eye contact with its master, froze as well, and fled swiftly in the next second, vanishing in the blink of an eye to sweep the floor with utmost enthusiasm, kicking up dust.

Pei Liu apologized guiltily: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have played with it.”

Xie Wuyu said nothing, appearing to have no intention of pursuing the matter, and turned to leave.

Pei Liu secretly let out a sigh of relief, his tense nerves finally relaxing.

Not only did he handle the housework, but Xie Wuyu also took over the cooking.

Although Pei Liu could cook, he didn’t actually like doing it very much because it was exhausting, left his fingers smelling of raw meat, and left his body smelling of grease. Therefore, he only cooked delicious food to reward himself when he was in a good mood.

He hadn’t expected Xie Wuyu to be so skilled at cooking; the taste was practically on par with an imperial chef. He made different dishes every day, and they looked complex and troublesome to prepare—many of which Pei Liu had never even heard of.

Before the first meal, he hadn’t dared to eat, but after trying a bite, he was completely won over.

It was so delicious that even if it were poisoned and he would die after eating, he would die without regrets.

At times like this, Xie Wuyu didn’t seem like an evil spirit, but had instead turned into a “snail gentleman”—practically the most ideal roommate imaginable.

Today, not long after Xie Wuyu entered the kitchen after finishing the painting, an enticing aroma drifted out.

Pei Liu was so lured he couldn’t sit still. Finally, he got up, walked over to the snack cabinet beside the kitchen, opened the door, pulled out a box of milk, poked in a straw, and began to sip.

He leaned against the kitchen door frame, watching Xie Wuyu cook.

Xie Wuyu probably enjoyed the cooking process; he didn’t use his abilities but worked with his own hands like a human.

Flowing and effortless, it was highly pleasing to the eye.

Pei Liu watched entranced, sipping his milk in small intervals.

Before he knew it, Xie Wuyu had walked up in front of him, and he hadn’t even noticed.

When Pei Liu snapped out of his daze, he suddenly realized the distance between them had become extremely close, their breaths almost intertwined.

Xie Wuyu reached out toward him, about to touch his face.

Startled, Pei Liu instinctively backed away, his grip loosening on the milk carton, causing it to fall to the floor. The straw he had been sucking on was pulled out as well, splattering a few drops of milk on the corner of his mouth. On the floor, the milk flowed out along the straw, forming a white puddle.

Xie Wuyu’s hand stopped in mid-air, his eyes narrowing slightly: “Why are you dodging?”

Pei Liu felt a bit panicky: “…I didn’t dodge.”

Xie Wuyu lowered his hand, grabbed his wrist, and led him to the counter. Pei Liu’s skin crawled, feeling a dangerous sensation as if he were about to be prepared on the counter.

Fortunately, he had just overthought it.

Xie Wuyu picked up a shrimp and offered it to him to try.

Trembling, Pei Liu ate one. It was fresh, tender, and crisp, instantly conquering his taste buds, and his body unconsciously relaxed.

***

While they stayed at home, Gao Wenhao’s case was systematically going through trial, continuously trending.

Gao Wenhao seemed to be under some sort of curse; he would trip and fall heavily just walking, leaving his head bloodied and bruised, and his injuries never ceased. He confessed fully to his crimes, pouring everything out like beans, hiding none of his twisted and horrifying thoughts, nor did he feel the slightest remorse or guilt.

Therefore, the judge sentenced him harshly, ultimately handing down a life sentence without the possibility of parole.

For some reason, the cellmates assigned to him would get irritated the moment they saw him, beating him up without a word. Even when the guards continuously changed his cells, it remained the same.

Gao Wenhao’s life in prison was worse than death. He tried to commit suicide several times, but failed every time. The female ghost who had stayed by his side—Li Xiyue—smiled with relief upon seeing him get his deserved punishment, finally letting go of her obsession and leaving this world.

But all of this was for later.

At this moment, Director Chen and the producer were busy running around, seeing if this drama could still be filmed. After all, four-fifths of it had already been shot, and it was close to wrapping up; they couldn’t bear to just give it up.

If the script had been written by Gao Wenhao, Director Chen would have naturally felt disgusted and would rather throw the money away than film it. But this was Li Xiyue’s final work. He had liked Li Xiyue very much, and his affection for Gao Wenhao was merely extending his love for her; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so persistent about filming it in the first place.

Ultimately, Director Chen received an answer. Filming was allowed, but the censorship from above would be very strict, so they had to be careful with the boundaries.

Thus, after a gap of more than two months.

The entire cast and crew gathered once again to continue filming.

The first time Director Chen saw Pei Liu, he froze and blurted out: “Did you… gain weight?”

Pei Liu: “…”

His heart suddenly felt guilty.

He had indeed, apparently, probably… gained a tiny bit of weight.

Staying at home all the time with three excellent meals a day, he had accidentally eaten too much.

Pei Liu was annoyed, planning to lose weight, but Director Chen said it wasn’t obvious, there was no change in his face, and since he wore thick winter clothes in the drama, it couldn’t be seen. However, during the subsequent filming, he must remember to control his diet.

Pei Liu responded obediently, turning to whisper to Shen Jin: “From now on, I want to eat low-calorie food.”

Shen Jin was noncommittal: “You should exercise more.”

Standing nearby, Qin Wu wondered if there was something wrong with his mind, because the more he listened, the more suggestive it sounded.

In the dressing room.

Pei Liu lowered his head, and the stylist helped him style his hair, creating a perfectly messy look.

Inadvertently, the stylist noticed vine-like patterns climbing and wrapping beneath Pei Liu’s back collar, spreading all the way to the skin of his neck, looking like some unique mark of ownership.

But in the next second, those mysterious patterns vanished, his skin fair and flawless.

The stylist froze, assuming her eyes had played tricks on her.