Chapter 14: The Haunted Fever

Pei Liu had long since sensed his own physical condition, so he wasn’t surprised.

Tong Jiaqi stood up without a word. “I’ll go get the medicine kit.”

Zhao Hai frowned, looking apologetic. “Little Pei, you were already feeling unwell earlier, weren’t you? It was tough on you to lead us out.”

Pei Liu closed his eyes wearily and took a breath; his voice was even raspier. “It’s fine, my body is just like this; I get fevers often. It’s not serious.”

Zhao Hai: “Stop talking; it’s hard on your throat. Do you have the strength to stand up? I’ll support you.”

Pei Liu wanted to say it wasn’t necessary and waved his hand to try and stand on his own, but he truly lacked the strength; as soon as his backside left the chair, his legs went weak and he sat back down.

Zhao Hai was his senior and much older, with white in his hair, so Pei Liu felt bad about troubling him—after all, he was the one who should be showing respect to his elders.

But in the end, he was still supported, a feeling as subtle as a young man being helped across the street by a grandfather. He lowered his head, feeling very embarrassed.

Wu Kai wanted to support Pei Liu’s other side, but the long-forgotten ghost infant seemed dissatisfied; it crawled over using its hands and feet and took a bite out of his hand, scaring him so much he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was painful and frightening, but most importantly, he was just plain terrified.

He hurriedly tossed the ghost infant to Jian Yongge and said: “You watch it; I’m going to help.”

Jian Yongge suddenly found himself holding a pale, blueish ghost infant, instantly promoted to “Ghost Dad,” and his expression was anything but pleasant. Furthermore, the moment the infant was in his arms, it started wailing again, its limbs flailing wildly and hitting his skin painfully. The infant even grabbed his clothes, opened its mouth wide, and tried to bite down on his chest to nurse.

Jian Yongge pressed his hand over its head, wishing he could choke it to death, but it was already a ghost—it couldn’t die twice.

Pei Liu sat on the chair beside the dining table, leaning against the backrest; it was hard and prodded at his flesh, which was very uncomfortable, but he was so exhausted he couldn’t be bothered to move.

Tong Jiaqi soon brought the medicine kit, placed it on the table, and looked up the instructions for the fever medication: “It needs to be dissolved in warm water and taken three times a day.”

Hearing this, Wu Kai headed toward the kitchen: “I’ll go get a cup and pour the water.”

Including Zhao Hai, all three busied themselves around Pei Liu, one concern after another; they subconsciously lowered their voices, discussing how it was almost lunchtime and that after he ate, they would send Little Pei upstairs to rest, that he shouldn’t participate in searching for clues in the afternoon, and they would see how his health was tomorrow.

Jian Yongge stood to the side, uttering a few words that sounded like concern, but his eyes were cold; he felt immense disgust at the way Pei Liu was being treated like a star.

‘Why does he deserve to have everyone revolving around him? He should be the one being rejected as a useless vase who drags everyone down; no one should like him.’

‘Look at me, you all should be looking at me!’

‘It shouldn’t be him!’

A few wisps of dark red energy drifted from Jian Yongge, cold, foul-smelling, and resembling overflowing pus and filth.

The living people present couldn’t see it, but the ghosts saw it clearly and were overjoyed; they floated over to greedily feed on it. Several ghosts clung to him, opening their giant maws, wishing they could bite off his flesh.

Jian Yongge felt a vague pain and grew restless, a trace of ferocity surfacing in his expression.

At lunch, knowing Pei Liu was sick, the production team sent over a portion of mild, light food.

Zhao Hai and the others took turns using serving chopsticks to pile food onto Pei Liu’s plate, urging him to eat more.

Pei Liu’s face was flushed, his eyes brimming with a hazy, wet mist, making him look like a sick little animal—fragile and pitiful.

He curled the corners of his lips and whispered in a soft, raspy voice: “Thank you.”

Seeing this, Tong Jiaqi felt an instant surge of protective instinct. She was several years older than him and completely thought of him as a younger brother, feeling an endless sense of doting affection.

Wu Kai felt the same, viewing himself as an older brother. He felt that since he was tall and sturdy and Pei Liu was so frail, yet he had relied on this younger brother for the past few days, he felt guilty for not noticing he was sick today: “After you finish eating, I’ll carry you upstairs.”

Pei Liu felt a warmth in his heart and smiled: “Brother Kai, I’m not that weak.”

“You couldn’t even stand up earlier; don’t be so polite with your brother.”

Pei Liu felt helpless; he didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either.

Halfway through the meal, Pei Liu looked toward a nearby corner, where the ghost infant was chewing on the table leg, and pointed: “What is it doing?”

“Probably hungry,” Wu Kai replied casually, chewing on a large chunk of lamb. Humans are truly mysterious; after being scared half to death in the basement, they arrive in a brightly lit dining room as if in a “safe zone,” where nothing matters but filling their stomachs.

Pei Liu was curious: “Is it a robot? Is technology this advanced now?”

Tong Jiaqi nodded: “Must be. A baby this small couldn’t possibly crawl like that. But it’s really realistic; I was scared by it and don’t dare get too close now.”

She sat at the far end of the dining table, the farthest spot from the ghost infant.

The ghost infant seemed to understand; it suddenly looked up as if it had heard someone talking about it.

It grinned, drool dripping down, and stared fixedly at Pei Liu, as if it had spotted something delicious.

“Wow, it looks like it wants to eat you,” Wu Kai remarked, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the ghost infant’s gaze.

Pei Liu took a bite of soft pumpkin and replied indifferently: “Oh, it can’t eat me.”

The ghost infant’s attitude was representative of all the ghosts in the vicinity. Pei Liu being sick was the perfect window of opportunity; the yang energy of a sickly person is weak, making it easier to see ghosts than usual.

A whole crowd of spirits was incredibly excited, as if it were a festival.

They shook their heads, swayed, drifted around, and danced wildly.

Pei Liu ate his meal slowly and deliberately, accidentally raising his eyes to see a blurred black shadow flickering by the wall. His gaze stalled, and he squinted, scrutinizing it for a few seconds.

…Must be light and shadow.

Pei Liu shifted his gaze away and continued eating with relish. But this small action caused an explosion of excitement among the ghosts.

The ghosts in the area he had looked at began to twist like pretzels, incredibly agitated.

“He looked in my direction just now—did he see me?!”

“Bullsh*t! He was clearly looking at me!”

“It was me; we made eye contact!”

“I said it was me, it was me! Anyone who dares to chirp another word, do you want me to crush your skull?!”

…

It was a chorus of “me, me, me,” sounding incredibly lively. To an outsider, it might have sounded like a scene from a dramatic idol drama where the heroine appears and the background characters start fawning over her.

But in reality, these were all ghosts, each more vicious than the last. They weren’t like simple passersby fawning over a handsome face; they were hungry for Pei Liu’s soul and body.

Now, whoever was seen had the advantage and could further weaken his spirit, allowing them to inflict actual harm or even consume his soul.

So, the ghosts began to brawl, bones and severed limbs flying everywhere. In the ghost realm, might makes right; whoever’s fist is hardest gets the first bite of meat, and the most powerful could even dominate the whole “Tang Monk.” That was true bliss.

After finishing his meal, Wu Kai sent Pei Liu upstairs. Wu Kai had originally wanted to carry him, but Pei Liu insisted he didn’t need it and proved he could walk, so Wu Kai ended up supporting him instead.

Wu Kai watched him sit on the bed, giving him a long-winded, brotherly lecture before gently closing the door and leaving.

The room was quiet, dim, and had a hint of a chill—just right for sleeping.

However, it was uncomfortable to lie down immediately after eating. Pei Liu leaned against the headboard, looking at the nightstand. There were a thermometer, a thermos, and fever medicine that Wu Kai had just brought up for him, along with an alarm he’d set to remind him to take his medicine.

Pei Liu smiled slightly, half-closing his eyes. With his head feeling heavy and his feet light, he was drifting off, his thoughts wandering.

He inexplicably remembered that he had left the rattle in the basement—would the wine god statue pick it up and play with it? Thinking about it, the image was quite funny.

By the way, were those statues robots, or were they people in costumes? They were too agile, just like the real thing. An immersive horror experience—this variety show is really not bad. Coming here was a good idea…

Ghosts crouched by the bedside, their pitch-black eyes staring fixedly at Pei Liu.

“What is he doing? Why isn’t he sleeping yet?”

“Is he looking at us? What should I turn into? Hanging from the ceiling?”

“Is having half a head missing scary enough?”

The ghosts began to bicker again, seriously contemplating how to effectively and successfully scare Pei Liu. There were too many competitors; the spot close to Pei Liu was a VVVVVVIP seat, and every ghost wanted to snatch it. They fought to grab the position—the winners stayed at the front, while the losers ended up on the edges or were pushed out into the corridor to queue.

They made the curtains flutter without wind, the wardrobe creak eerily, the bathroom light flicker…

A long-haired female ghost rested a pale hand on the foot of the bed and slowly climbed up, a scarlet eyeball vaguely visible through her black hair, her mouth emitting a spine-tingling laugh.

Pei Liu frowned impatiently, muttering: “So noisy…”

With his head spinning and ears ringing, he just wanted to sleep.

Thus, he simply lay down, closed his eyes, lazily burrowed into the quilt, and kicked at the covers, flattening the piled-up blanket.

The female ghost: “…???”

Wait, did I just get kicked?

The damage wasn’t much, but the insult was astronomical.

The female ghost was mocked by her peers and flew into a rage. Forget watching—everyone attack at once!

A crowd of ghosts surrounded the bed, their ghostly energy overflowing.

They leaned down to stare at Pei Liu, grinning wide, with blood-red, ominous energy drifting out in wisps, slowly descending and swirling around the “fires” on Pei Liu’s shoulders and head. As the wind blew, the flames flickered and grew weaker.

Success was within reach.

The ghosts’ eyes gleamed.

Be afraid, beg for mercy; then we can torture and devour you to our hearts’ content.

Pei Liu suddenly felt cold—an extreme chill invading his bones, spreading recklessly, appearing everywhere.

It was too unbearable; all the bones in his body felt like they were being sliced, the pain making his fingertips tremble.

He curled into a ball, forced to open his eyes, confused and in pain.

Within his field of vision, the room had turned incredibly dark at some point, as if it were deep night. More bizarrely, there were many blurred figures by his bedside, their faces distorted, their features unidentifiable, their limbs swaying like seaweed, making him dizzy.

“What the hell are these?”

“Dancing dolls?”

Pei Liu blinked slowly, trying to think hard: ‘Did I eat colorful poisonous mushrooms during dinner?’