Chapter 63: Immortal Body

Tan Xueci’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson. He didn’t know a thing! Reaching out, he began hitting He Xunye, shoving the man’s shoulders several times with enough force that it probably hurt a bit.

But He Xunye didn’t even try to dodge. Half of the man’s pale face was obscured by the dim night, hiding even that trace of gentleness and making him look somewhat rogue and unbridled.

Tan Xueci grew tired, the strength leaving his hands. The dead ghost, however, lifted his deep eyes and suppressed a laugh, teasing in an irritating tone, “Baby, hit harder. Why doesn’t it hurt? Do you feel bad for me?”

Unable to win the argument, Tan Xueci’s eyes welled up with mist from sheer frustration, and he aggressively delivered two solid punches to He Xunye’s chest.

Instead of getting angry, the dead ghost let out a low laugh. That deep, attractive voice felt like it carried a tiny hook, making one’s ears burn just listening to it.

Tan Xueci truly detested him. He hated how He Xunye retained absolutely no sense of propriety even after death, and he loathed his seemingly indifferent attitude toward everything. He loudly declared that the person he hated most in the entire world was He Xunye.

Tan Xueci retracted his hands, refusing to strike any further—his hands were starting to hurt, and he didn’t want to accidentally give this dead gay guy any pleasure. Slumping his small face, he secretly rolled his eyes.

Yet before he could even finish the gesture, the evil ghost’s pale, greenish face suddenly materialized right in front of him, their noses practically brushing against each other.

“Little Sheep,” the evil ghost crouched before him, its pitch-black, ink-like eyes staring intently at him as it said, “Don’t roll your eyes at your husband, alright?”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Caught completely off guard by the sudden face-to-face confrontation, Tan Xueci broke into a cold sweat, nearly unable to roll his eyes back to normal.

He swallowed hard. Locking eyes with He Xunye’s grim, ghost-energy-laden face, he very easily chickened out and stammered, “O-Okay.”

He Xunye stood up. Even late at night in a hospital, he still wore a formal suit, his pure black leather shoes polished to such a mirror shine that it made the high-class little sheep find it incredibly pretentious.

In truth, the evil ghost had already become much more merciful to him. Had it been before, He Xunye definitely would have smiled and told Tan Xueci that if he ever rolled his eyes again, he would gouge out the little sheep’s beautiful eyes.

But right now, the evil ghost paused. Reaching out, it poked Tan Xueci’s cheek, the corners of its lips curving up as it said, “If you roll your eyes again, Little Sheep can just continue counting, alright? You can already count up to a hundred now, right?”

Being poked made Tan Xueci’s hairs stand on end. With a completely flushed face, he sputtered for a long time but couldn’t squeeze out a single word.

He Xunye would do it once and make him count once. When he cried and refused to count, He Xunye would stop, leaving him completely hanging in mid-air. But if he kept counting, he would constantly mess up the numbers.

In the end, he could only pitifully count on his fingers.

He didn’t understand why He Xunye insisted on bullying him like that.

Tan Xueci’s math skills were worse than anything else; he could barely do any arithmetic at all. When buying things, he only recognized the unit price—if he bought several items, he would lose track of the total cost and have to use his phone to calculate. But if something was too expensive and had too many digits, he wouldn’t be able to tell how many figures there even were.

For the many things He Xunye bought for him, he only recognized the long string of numbers at the end but had no concept of how much money that actually represented.

When Tan Xueci was first cast out by his family, he had been very happy. But he had no money and knew how to do absolutely nothing. After searching for several days, he finally managed to find a small restaurant that was willing to keep him to wash dishes.

He had never washed dishes before. On his first day, his wage was thirty yuan, but he broke three plates and had to pay sixty yuan in compensation. Fortunately, things looked up later, and he was able to earn thirty yuan every day.

He had actually thought he was about to start living a good life. Right next to that small restaurant was a malatang shop. Every day, catching the fragrant scent of the malatang, he would bite his finger and gaze over longingly from beside the dishwashing sink.

Past eleven o’clock at night, the malatang shop would still be open, and he would still be washing dishes. The warm, yellow, lonely light of the late night reflected in the depths of the beautiful boy’s eyes like a pair of tiny lamps, illuminating a future that even he didn’t know where it would lead.

He was filled with envy for every single person who walked into that malatang shop, feeling they were all wealthy people far beyond his social standing.

But the good times didn’t last. After he had worked for only a few days, the owner noticed he was good-looking and reassigned him to the front to work as a waiter.

He was illiterate and couldn’t quite understand what the customers were saying. After being scolded for an entire day and even angering a regular customer, the boss fired him in a fit of rage and told him to get the hell out.

Tan Xueci endured countless cold glares. When he returned home that night wiping away his tears, Tan Chongchuan was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. He merely cast a glance at him, his face grim, with no intention of striking up a conversation.

Tan Chongchuan also felt an intense ache for his deceased child. However, he wasn’t as obstinate as Gao Ying, and rationally, he also understood that even though Tan Xueci had been playful and A-Yan had drowned in the water trying to save him, it couldn’t truly be blamed on Tan Xueci.

Because at that time, Tan Xueci was only a little over three years old, and A-Yan was only seven. They were both children who required supervision.

If blame had to be assigned, the one who deserved it most was the servant who had been arranged to look after Tan Yanning and Tan Xueci that day.

But the servant he had arranged to look after Tan Yanning back then was the son of a nanny in their household—a young man in his early twenties.

Perhaps because seeing the employer’s child die left him too terrified, he hanged himself that very night. The nanny’s husband had already passed away years prior, and she had been surviving solely with her son. Her son was her only living relative. Seeing that her son had also died, she was driven to utter despair and went completely insane, eventually running off to who knows where.

Tan Chongchuan let out a deep sigh.

What could he do? Who else could he possibly blame?

He was embittered, but he hadn’t planned on abusing Tan Xueci either. His plan had been to raise Tan Xueci until he reached university age, and then have him leave the household forever.

However, he never expected that Tan Xueci would be able to see ghosts, and his own career subsequently took a massive nosedive. The small amount of resentment he held against Tan Xueci began to fester.

Tan Xueci didn’t speak, and Gao Ying was even less likely to. Only Tan Yanning stood up. Seeing Tan Xueci’s crumpled little face and his tear-reddened eyes, a flicker passed beneath his lenses. He then asked gently, “Xiao Ci, what’s wrong?”

Before Tan Xueci could even open his mouth, Gao Ying walked over, her face masked in frost and the atmospheric pressure around her terrifyingly low. She glared at Tan Xueci and spat out a single word, “Idiot.”

“A-Yan,” Gao Ying gathered her cashmere shawl tightly around herself, then frowned as she called out to Tan Yanning, “Let’s go. Didn’t I tell you not to speak to him? Be careful, or he’ll bring harm upon you too!”

Tan Yanning didn’t know why the Tan mother always felt Tan Xueci would harm him, but he was more than happy to see it play out. He offered an apologetic shrug to Tan Xueci and followed his mother away.

Tan Xueci bit his lip. In a spot hidden by the sleeve of his hoodie, his fingernails uncontrollably dug into the inner side of his wrist, scoring line after line of bloody gashes as beads of blood vied to ooze outward.

Lowering his head, he walked toward the attic. The attic was completely unlit. He stood leaning against the door, his fingertips tracing the surface behind him.

On the old wooden door of the attic, there were countless jagged, uneven gouges. Grim and horrifying, stained with darkened blood, they were all scratch marks he had dug out with his own fingernails.

Tan Xueci’s long, thick eyelashes drooped, casting a heavy shadow beneath his eyes. His complexion appeared even paler than a moment ago. He pursed his lips, forcefully precluding himself from dwelling on those memories any further.

It was better to think about He Xunye instead.

His snowy white face turned increasingly grim. Fine, let’s just go through with this marriage. Once it’s done, I’ll face the physical toll every single day.

Previously when they were with the crew, Yu He would read medical books at night. He had leaned over to take a look himself but couldn’t understand them. Yu He had told him he was reading about penetrating injuries, and Tan Xueci felt that he himself had sustained a massive penetrating injury!

Something that severe!

With tears hanging damp and sticky from his eyelids, the more Tan Xueci thought about it, the more he felt he was practically an absolute pity. A sudden wave of sorrow rushed from within him, and with tear-blurred vision, he stared spookily at He Xunye.

Tan Xueci began assaulting He Xunye, forcing the dead ghost to stand up. He Xunye seemed to let out a soft laugh. The man’s long, powerful legs were enveloped in tailored black suit pants as he lazily took a few steps backward, eventually leaning against the wall.

He didn’t try to dodge anymore, simply waiting for Tan Xueci to hit him.

Tan Xueci had originally wanted to give him a few more solid punches, but upon lifting his head and meeting He Xunye’s eyes, nothing remained except a powerful surge of grievance. With reddened eyes, he stood rooted to the spot and stopped his assault, calling out in a very soft voice, “Husband…”

He had learned to complain; whenever he was unhappy, he would call out for his husband.

“Tired?” The evil ghost’s tone remained just as annoying, but those pitch-black peach-blossom eyes were like an endless night sky, carrying a drowning gentleness as he extended a hand and said, “Come here and let your husband hold you.”

Tan Xueci shuffled a step forward and was instantly pressed into a embrace as He Xunye locked his shoulders. The man’s freezing yet powerful arms held him tightly, and Tan Xueci’s tears instantly cascaded outward completely out of control.

Dizzy and muddled, Tan Xueci looked up into the evil ghost’s deep, striking features, feeling as though he had truly been bewitched. The male ghost was gorgeous and gentle—it was honestly a bit too difficult to resist.

No wonder scholars in stories were always seduced by female ghosts. Since He Xunye looked this beautiful, he could practically pass as Nie Xiaoqian.

The hospital at night was exceptionally quiet. Aside from the occasional groan of a patient, almost no sound could be heard. Tan Xueci and He Xunye stood in the dark corner, quietly embracing.

Until a low cough suddenly echoed from not far away.

Only then was Tan Xueci jolted awake. He pushed He Xunye away and turned his head, discovering it was Yu He.

Yu He stared at the two of them with an unutterable expression. As a monastic person, he had never witnessed such an indecent and morally corrupt scene in his entire life.

The bases of Tan Xueci’s ears turned completely red, and he secretly kicked the heel of He Xunye’s shoe. He didn’t care; either way, he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

It was all He Xunye’s fault.

Tan Xueci had initially assumed the hospital wouldn’t allow them to stay too late. Inpatient departments already enforced strict management, let alone the psychiatric ward. However, He Xunye placed a phone call to someone unknown, and that person seemingly spoke to the hospital director, granting them completely unimpeded access for the night.

Furthermore, the director mentioned he was coming to find them, so they waited right outside Grandpa Wang’s ward.

Jin Chen was being discharged today. Hearing Tan Xueci say he was going to catch a ghost tonight, he dragged Lu Qi along to broaden his horizons.

Lu Qi was on the verge of tears. Please don’t think of me for this kind of thing, okay? I don’t need to broaden my horizons in this way at all!

But Jin Chen’s arms were strong and lean, catching him like a little chick. Lu Qi was dragged over with absolutely no capacity for resistance.

However, no matter what, he refused to tag along any further, adamantly insisting on staying in the ward with Grandpa Wang and Wang Yong.

“I’ll paste a few talismans in your ward,” Yu He used Grandpa Wang’s hospital bed as the epicenter and drew a large circle, telling the three of them to stay inside. He instructed, “But in case tonight’s ghost is exceptionally fierce, these few talismans might not hold it off. Something might enter the ward. You guys stay inside the circle and don’t come out, understood?”

Lu Qi and Wang Yong nodded repeatedly. Grandpa Wang was still throwing a tantrum, his old face fallen in a huff as he ignored everyone.

Yu He walked out after pasting the talismans, just as the hospital director arrived. However, the director had brought someone along behind him—a person wearing a deep blue Taoist robe, looking to be around seventy or eighty years old. His hair and beard were completely white, his cheekbones high, and his eyes like cold stars; he was a very lean old Taoist.

He lifted his head, and upon locking eyes with Yu He who wore an identical Taoist robe, his face instantly darkened. He questioned the director, “What is the meaning of this?”

One doesn’t trouble two masters for a single matter. Inviting another Taoist besides him—wasn’t that explicitly distrusting his abilities?!

“A misunderstanding,” the director looked well advanced in years himself and was slightly plump. Running those few steps had left him panting and breaking into a sweat. He raised his hands and said repeatedly, “A misunderstanding, please allow me to explain, everyone.”

He first looked toward He Xunye, speaking with some trepidation, “My apologies, Mr. He. I didn’t know you were coming. The hospital has been plagued with incidents lately, so I had already invited Daoist Master Fan over beforehand, which is why we ran into each other.”

“No matter,” He Xunye’s tone was indifferent, entirely unbothered.

The director hurriedly apologized to Yu He and Daoist Master Fan again. Only then did Daoist Master Fan let out a cold snort, no longer pressing the issue.

He glanced askance at Yu He and the tattered compass in Yu He’s hand, speaking with a touch of disdain, “An Illness Ghost is causing trouble in this hospital, which is no small matter. It will be fine as long as you people don’t get in the way.”

Seeing how the man’s eyes were practically glued to the top of his head, Yu He had initially assumed he was just a flamboyant fraud. But since he could tell an Illness Ghost was involved, he likely possessed at least some degree of genuine ability.

However, this person didn’t seem to recognize He Xunye, which was highly unusual. Anyone who had truly entered the circle of Feng Shui and metaphysics couldn’t possibly have never heard of He Xunye’s name.

After mocking Yu He, this Daoist Master Fan narrowed his eyes to look at He Xunye, his gaze dark and sullen, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Tan Xueci pursed his lips, quietly moving to shield He Xunye behind his back.

The evil ghost, completely devoid of any sense of shame, leaned down in front of everyone present and wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist. Burying his face against his wife’s back, he whispered into Tan Xueci’s ear, “Xiao Xue, protect me.”

Tan Xueci grew increasingly tense, yet he couldn’t resist cursing He Xunye in his heart. Why on earth did this dead thing grow so tall? I can’t block him at all!

Jin Chen wore an expression of sheer constipation, clearly already regretting staying at the hospital tonight. Yu He also closed his eyes in distress.

Perhaps because Yu He’s expression was too distorted—looking as if he had suffered a sudden acute illness—Daoist Master Fan glanced at him again. His tone carried a hint of contempt as he asked, “This young Daoist, which mountain did you train under?”

Yu He let out a tragic smile, “Mount Kongtong.”

Daoist Master Fan: “…”

Daoist Master Fan: ???

What kind of heterodox path is that?

“Let’s not talk about this,” Yu He had no desire to associate with male homosexuals and simply wanted to conclude this matter quickly. He asked the director, “How exactly did that male doctor die? Does your hospital know the details?”

“It’s precisely because we aren’t quite clear that we’re terrified,” the director’s face was filled with misery. “At the time, Xiao An, the young prince of Xiao’s Film Industry, went out street racing with several of his brothers. It had just snowed recently and the roads were very slick. Several of them piled up in a chain collision and encountered a car crash. Two died on the spot, and including Xiao An, three were injured.”

Xiao An’s family also owned a private hospital, which happened to be very close to where they were street racing. Therefore, Xiao An was initially sent to his own family’s hospital for emergency treatment.

The male doctor who died at their hospital was surnamed Li. Dr. Li was acquainted with the Xiao family. It was unclear what situation arose over there, but in short, they called Dr. Li and asked him to go over overnight to help.

Xiao An’s injuries didn’t seem particularly severe, and he was discharged to return home within a few days. Immediately following that, strange things began to happen.

Xiao An’s parents summoned Dr. Li once more to treat Xiao An’s illness, and then Dr. Li accidentally fell from the third floor of the Xiao family villa.

The fall was incredibly precise. He sustained open comminuted fractures in the femurs of both legs, and his blood vessels were completely severed.

The Xiao father and mother hurriedly rushed Dr. Li to their own hospital for emergency treatment, only to be informed that amputation was required. Right during the amputation surgery, Dr. Li suffered hemorrhagic shock and died on the operating table.

By the time the director rushed over, Dr. Li was covered under a white sheet, his legs already gone. The Xiao father and mother stood beside him with sorrowful expressions, seemingly having never expected such an accident to occur either.

The director called the police. After the police investigated the scene, they stated no signs of murder were found, and it appeared Dr. Li had simply lost his footing and plunged from the building.

But the matter created quite a stir. In a place like a hospital, gossip actually spreads incredibly fast. Many doctors and young nurses discussed it privately, claiming the Xiao family had caused a medical disturbance and Dr. Li had been pushed down.

Only after the director strictly prohibited it several times did people gradually stop speaking like that. However, the hospital began frequently encountering ghosts. For several nights in a row, doctors and nurses on duty claimed to see someone leaping from the building.

Yu He’s brow locked tightly, unable to make sense of it. Lifting his peach wood sword, he said, “Let’s go to that doctor’s office to take a look first.”

Having his words preempted by Yu He, Daoist Master Fan’s expression turned increasingly displeased. Lifting his head, he took the lead and strode toward the top floor of the hospital.

Jin Chen couldn’t say he wasn’t afraid of ghosts, but his courage was still relatively substantial. Clutching several talismans provided by Yu He, he walked alongside Tan Xueci, when he suddenly cried out, “Holy shit!”

“What’s wrong?” The director was startled, turning his head in a shiver, looking as if he wished nothing more than to dive into Daoist Master Fan’s embrace.

Jin Chen’s face was unsightly as he recalled his experience at the bar that night. His voice tightened as he said, “Didn’t you guys notice? Just now the triage desk was on the left, but now it’s shifted to the right.”

The Yin-Yang borderland.

Tan Xueci knew they had once again stepped a foot into the underworld, and he tightly clamped He Xunye’s arm against his chest.

Jin Chen’s palms sweat slightly, feeling a mix of terror and a strange, inexplicable excitement. After all, such thrilling events weren’t frequently encountered. But before he could finish his excitement, he was scared to the point of nearly leaping into the ceiling, cursing furiously, “f*ck your ancestors, what kind of ghostly thing is that?!”

Tan Xueci: “…”

In his heart, Tan Xueci silently doubled his level of dislike for Jin Chen. Jin Chen was likely one of those teammates you least wanted to encounter in a horror movie—though courageous, he was incredibly reckless and constantly jumping out of his skin, scaring people even more than the ghosts themselves.

Following Jin Chen’s line of sight, they turned their heads, only to discover a little girl hiding in the dim corridor of the hospital.

The little girl was still carrying her backpack, her hair even more disheveled than before, wiping her tears as she looked at them timidly.

Jin Chen had only caught a dark shadow just now and assumed it was a ghost, nearly kicking out at it, fortunately stopping himself just in time.

“Xiao Man?” Tan Xueci blanked for a moment and said.

Xiao Man was the little girl who had been looking for her mother earlier. It was unknown how she had managed to run into the hospital again.

“Brother,” Xiao Man seemed to like Tan Xueci very much. She initially cast a fearful glance at the tall, large men beside him, then approached Tan Xueci, whispering, “I came to look for Mommy.”

Yu He raised his peach wood sword, testing it against Xiao Man’s brow. The yin energy was very heavy, but she appeared to be a living human.

An Illness Ghost had manifested in this hospital, and just like in Yanjia Village back then, the yin energy was overly dense, clouding his judgment.

Yu He massaged his forehead in a headache and said, “Forget it, let’s bring her along for now, and we’ll call her dad once we get out.”

They had already entered the Yin-Yang borderland, and this place wasn’t somewhere one could easily access every time.

While the others wanted to find that male doctor, he also planned to capture him, but what he wanted to catch even more was the Illness Ghost.

A hospital was already filled with patients to begin with; if entangled by countless illness threads, the number of deaths over the next few years would skyrocket in a straight line.

The director led them to the office. The hospital at night was dead quiet and ominous everywhere. Even though he had been the director at this hospital for over a decade, tonight he felt inexplicably terrified.

Finally reaching the office door, he shuddered as he pushed it open, gesturing for He Xunye and the others to enter, “This is Dr. Li’s office…”

Daoist Master Fan was already over seventy, but his movements were highly agile. He charged inside a step ahead of everyone else.

Following Dr. Li’s death, this office had been left vacant and locked up with no one entering. At this moment, however, the windows were wide open. The night sky outside was deep and heavy, and the cold wind rustled the curtains, adding an extra layer of chill.

“This is way too cold.” Jin Chen’s teeth chattered violently, his face turning blue from the freezing temperature. He lifted weights year-round and had a body fat percentage of only 8%. Even with such a stellar physique, he was shivering from the cold. But glancing to the side, Tan Xueci surprisingly showed no reaction, his face merely slightly pale.

He parted his lips, just about to ask if the others weren’t cold, when his spine instantly stiffened as he realized something was wrong.

He slowly turned his head, discovering a deathly pale hand resting on his shoulder, which was the source of all the freezing energy.

The entity’s skin was green-white, and it wore a blood-stained white lab coat. Its legs, however, were currently still intact.

This time, Jin Chen truly let out a howl and leaped straight into the air.

Yu He and Daoist Master Fan struck simultaneously, both somewhat anxious. Their peach wood swords collided with a loud thud, and in that split second, the ghost had already vanished without a trace.

“Foolish!” Daoist Master Fan’s eyes flashed with cold rage as he barked furiously, “I told you long ago not to get in the way!”

Yu He’s expression wasn’t pleasant either, but he didn’t engage with the man, striding out in pursuit.

Tan Xueci and He Xunye also walked out. Tan Xueci was still holding Xiao Man’s hand, and Jin Chen closely followed them.

“Ah,” the director turned his head and realized he was the only one left in the office. Terrified out of his wits, he hurriedly gave chase, panting heavily as he called out, “Mr. He, wait for me!”

The window behind them remained open, and the bitter wind blew in fiercely, making it difficult to even stand firmly.

The director was also a bit portly, which made the sight rather eyesore—under the dark night sky, he looked like a slab of pork dancing in the wind.

Tan Xueci furrowed his brow, his small face grim. Not only did he not wait, but he even pulled He Xunye to walk a bit faster.

The previous incident with the Taboo Pig had left him with a deep psychological shadow. Even though he understood absolutely nothing back then, he still felt that being pinned down on the bed and snouted by the Taboo Pig was an incredibly disgusting and terrifying experience, causing him to detest all pigs.

The evil ghost’s voice carried a low, suppressed laugh. Entirely unbothered by whether the director lived or died, he very gladly accompanied his wife in performing this small mischief.

Yu He pursued all the way to the rooftop entrance, but the rooftop door was shut, and the ghost had already vanished.

“Open the door!” Yu He turned back to call for the director.

The director complained bitterly as a massive ring of keys hung from his waist. Supporting his old back, he finally managed to run over.

But running had left him utterly exhausted; his vision swam with black and red flashes, and his hands shook violently. He simply couldn’t identify which key opened the rooftop. Cold sweat poured down his neck as he said with a trembling voice, “What do we do, masters? My rooftop key seems to be missing.”

“Does anyone else have a key?” Daoist Master Fan finally found an opportunity to interject, asking in a heavy voice.

The director thought for a moment and said, “Yes, the security room, and the doctor on duty over there also has one.”

“Let’s go,” Daoist Master Fan made a decisive judgment, “downstairs to fetch the key.”

They were currently on the seventeenth floor, and the office of the doctor on duty was on the thirteenth floor. Left with no alternative, they could only head down first.

Walking further down, it was completely different from when they came up. For the first time, the director realized his hospital could be so bustling at night.

He spotted a doctor ahead. Clearly having instructed everyone not to wander around casually tonight, the person was still loitering outside. In a surge of anxiety, he wanted to shout a reprimand, but the person turned around, their mouth split open in a bloody gash that practically tore open the lower half of their face.

The director’s legs went entirely soft. Unable to even make a sound, he collapsed straight into the embrace of the person beside him.

As luck would have it, the person beside him was Jin Chen. Jin Chen let out a tragic shriek, nearly throwing the old man in his arms right down the stairs.

The director could only wipe his tears and run forward on his own. But after taking only a few steps, he spotted a patient sitting in a wheelchair with their head lowered.

The entity let out a giggling laugh. Upon lifting its head, the features on its face were broken and shattered, looking as if its head had slammed face-down onto the ground, and it had then picked up the flesh to paste back onto its face itself.

Even its eyes were pasted unevenly—one high and one low—its nose was crooked, and its mouth was split vertically from the center. It looked distorted and deeply uncomfortable, yet despite being ruined to this extent, the makeup from when it was alive was still painted on its face.

Director: “…”

What kind of demons and monsters, what kind of beautiful woman’s painted skin?

Jin Chen also spotted several ghosts wearing hospital gowns standing by the base of the wall playing the four-corners game. He accidentally locked eyes with one of the ghosts and instantly scrambled to Tan Xueci’s side.

Suddenly, he felt he wasn’t that homophobic after all.

If only Tan Xueci were willing to hold his hand.

The evil ghost’s lips had maintained a smile throughout the night. It couldn’t perceive any fear, merely feeling that dating its wife outside made it feel exceptionally happy. But right now, its pale, gloomy face suddenly darkened.

Fortunately, Tan Xueci was still holding Xiao Man and didn’t have a spare hand to offer Jin Chen, allowing Jin Chen to escape a disaster.

He grabbed Xiao Man’s other hand instead, treating it as an indirect contact with Tan Xueci to reluctantly glean a sliver of a sense of security.

f*ck.

These ghosts truly aren’t something a human should encounter.

He used to assume Tan Xueci had a mental illness, but he never expected ghosts to genuinely exist. Swapping places, even with his substantial courage, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

They endured the hardships to reach the office, finally obtaining the key, and then headed back toward the rooftop.

The lights in the hospital had all extinguished for some unknown reason, leaving only the eerie green emergency lights in the corridor. In the blurred illumination, numerous white figures could faintly be seen drifting about.

Listening to the rapid, anxious breathing of his companions beside him, Tan Xueci’s palms also grew wet and sticky, sweat breaking out unconsciously.

He released He Xunye’s hand, wiped it slightly, and then immediately grabbed it back again.

Hoo… Hoo…

Tan Xueci wasn’t afraid of death. He knew he couldn’t die—after all, Gao Ying had already killed him once before.

Xie Yun actually knew as well.

Back then, Xie Yun’s mentor had heard Gao Ying claim he possessed an immortal body. Intensely interested in him, the mentor had him hospitalized, keeping him inside his research laboratory and subjecting him to electroconvulsive therapy.

The first time, wanting to test whether he truly was immortal, the voltage was adjusted exceptionally high—the kind of current that could pierce a heart in a single second.

Tan Xueci’s limbs grew paralyzed, his entire body convulsing violently, his small pale face completely drenched in cold sweat. He was electrocuted to death right on that chair.

And then he came back to life again.

Xie Yun’s mentor grew even more ecstatic, beginning to experiment on his body with all sorts of different currents. Tan Xueci’s internal organs were entirely blackened from the electrocution, rotting away and then fusing back together. He died time and time again, and came back to life time and time again, with Xie Yun recording beside them every single time.

Consequently, Tan Xueci had once been entirely at a loss as to why Xie Yun later adamantly insisted he had a mental illness.

He hadn’t initially believed he was sick. But as time went on and everyone kept repeating that he was ill, his own conviction began to waver—did he truly not have one?

Perhaps he really was a mental patient, his mother had never tried to kill him, and everything was merely an illusion born of his own illness?

Seeing that Tan Xueci simply wouldn’t die no matter what, Xie Yun’s mentor adopted a method of slow death, utilizing lower voltage currents and attaching dozens of patches to his body to torture him bit by bit.

The other doctors nearby remained utterly indifferent. At that time, Xie Yun was considered relatively kind to him; he would bring him candy, lend him a phone to call home, and sit beside him reading books to keep him company.

Xie Yun was very fond of reading books. A wave of daze washed over Tan Xueci’s mind, and for some reason, he suddenly recalled Chen Qing. Back then, Chen Qing had also brought many books and kept muttering something about a monster.

“Xiao Ci,” Xie Yun adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses. Holding a copy of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, he looked very gently at Tan Xueci on the electric chair and asked him, “Have you heard the story of the bell tower monster?”

With a pale face and eyelashes soaked in sweat, Tan Xueci completely failed to understand what he was talking about, his fingers twitching in agony.

“There was a person who was as ugly as a monster,” Xie Yun wiped the sweat from his forehead, the emotions in the depths of his eyes inscrutable. Knowing Tan Xueci was a little illiterate, he used the simplest method to recount it to him slowly, “who fell in love with a girl who was as beautiful as a princess.”

Tan Xueci had shown absolutely no reaction upon hearing it at the time. His ears were bleeding, and blood was slowly trickling from his nose as well.

He was about to undergo another death very soon.

“A monster falling in love with a princess,” Xie Yun let out a low laugh, “isn’t that incredibly laughable?”

Tan Xueci was a bit tired from running. Chen Qing’s entirely forgettable face inexplicably began to merge together with Xie Yun’s.

Only then did he realize that no one beside him had spoken for a very long time, and He Xunye hadn’t spoken either.

His breath hitched, cold sweat trickling down his lean jawline, as he suddenly sensed that the hand he was holding was ice-cold and stiff.

He Xunye’s hands were also cold, but they would never be this stiff.

He slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with the ghost doctor’s green-white, swollen face, which was covered in purplish-red livor mortis.

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