Little Dog held its breath.
It was so scared.
It didn’t know what it was scared of, but it was terrified all the same.
What had started as a casual question went unanswered by Mr. Ghost for a long time.
A subtle unease crept into Shen Leyuan. He felt like he’d overlooked something.
Huo Tingfeng lay comatose. He’d run into Mr. Ghost at the hospital. The Tibetan Mastiff and the other dogs back at the villa showed no major anomalies. The most off thing was…
He looked down and met Little Dog’s round, shiny eyes.
Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick. As if sensing his bad mood, Little Dog affectionately lapped at the back of his hand, curling its little tongue around his fingers and letting out a few soft whine-whine sounds in a tender, milky puppy voice.
—First, rule out Huo Tingfeng transmigrating into Huihui.
Shen Leyuan thought calmly.
Tall and upright with impressive pecs—that was his understanding of Mr. Ghost’s build; upright and gentle but not great at comforting people, prone to embarrassment—that was his guess at Mr. Ghost’s personality; possibly met before, and either he had Mr. Ghost’s WeChat or a friend’s—that was his inference about Mr. Ghost’s identity.
His brows furrowed tighter and tighter. Shen Leyuan typed: Mr. Huo, you there?
Little Dog’s heart skipped a beat.
An invisible hand seemed to cover it. Shen Leyuan didn’t know if it was Mr. Ghost or someone else—or if “Mr. Chu” even existed—but he grew much more tense than usual, straining to recall the feel of Mr. Ghost’s palm from before.
His fingers moved across the screen, typing out two words: Sorry.
Could it be… Shen Leyuan’s heart tightened. Before his suspicions could solidify, more words popped up on the screen.
Huo Tingfeng: [Just went to throw down in a fight.]
Shen Leyuan: ???
Huo Tingfeng: [That’s why I couldn’t reply right away.]
He didn’t ask who “Mr. Huo” was. Pretending otherwise, he typed back: You got beef with someone named Huo?
Shen Leyuan: [You two know each other?]
Huo Tingfeng: [Just met.]
He wasn’t sure if he could pull off the deception. After sending that, he anxiously awaited judgment—and heard a sentence full of concern: “Are you okay? Ying…”
Cough cough!
Shen Leyuan half-covered his phone and sneakily typed: Did you win?
Such a tough question to answer. Win or lose, neither sounded great. Huo Tingfeng mulled it over and replied: Narrow victory.
So badass—he actually won!
That Tibetan Mastiff took on jobs no one else in the country could touch. His true form was just as fierce, able to snatch people right under the bodyguards’ noses later on, and every time they went at it for real, he could handle several rounds.
So he typed: Mr. Chu, don’t argue with him. The guy’s pretty vicious—pushy, shameless, and a total perv. Watch out he doesn’t take advantage of you.
Vicious… pushy… perv…
Huo Tingfeng felt stab after stab to the chest. Trembling, he asked: Didn’t you say neurofunctional disorder?
Shen Leyuan: [He wasn’t any good before getting knocked out either.]
Huo Tingfeng: …
Shen Leyuan: [He helped me at first sight, so I liked him back then. But when I asked for his WeChat, he cracked dirty jokes. He always got too close, and later even tried sweet-talking Little Deer into bed. None of that’s got anything to do with neurofunctional disorder.]
After the stabs to the chest came arrows to the knees.
What the hell kind of thirsty idiot was I back then?
Started off with good feelings… which meant no good feelings now…
Someone steeled his resolve to keep hiding.
A new message refreshed: Mr. Chu, is Mr. Huo still there? He can’t see the phone, right?
After a pause, Huo Tingfeng replied: He can’t.
Then added: I’ll go chat with him. You sit tight and don’t move.
Shen Leyuan’s eyes flickered. He nodded lightly. “Mm.”
The next second, he opened WeChat and tapped the local beat cop’s chat. With Mr. Ghost possibly busy fighting, he spam-poked the guy: You there you there you there? Did something happen to Mr. Chu? Is he okay now??
Local Cop: [?]?
Local Cop: [How’d you know?]?
Gotcha! The armed police guy from the neighborhood!
Surname Chu, tall and ripped with pecs for days. Never met or added on WeChat, but he had Chu’s friend’s contact. Personality unknown, but compared to Huo Tingfeng, the cop fit “upright, gentle, easily shy” way better.
Still needed confirmation. Shen Leyuan asked: Qinshui Central Hospital?
Mr. Chu knew about Huo Tingfeng’s “neurofunctional disorder,” so he’d likely been there—maybe that was their first meeting spot.
Instant reply: Yeah, didn’t make it through rescue.
Didn’t make it… Shen Leyuan suddenly lost all desire to keep asking.
Right then, Huo Tingfeng hovered close to his own body, inspecting it carefully. The dogs had taken good care of it—just a bit thinner. Maybe because Little Dog’s body wasn’t dead yet, he didn’t feel that sucking pull drawing him away.
Glancing back, the young man sat obediently on the bench, scrolling his phone.
Not bad, Huo Tingfeng thought. Anyway, I’m not planning to go back yet. Wait till he’s safe, then figure out next steps.
For some reason, the young man stayed kinda down for the next few days.
Little Dog licked and nipped at him, even played ball, but nothing worked. He seemed to have a ton on his mind—hesitant in chats, typing slower.
One day, Shen Leyuan asked, “Mr. Chu, don’t ghosts need to reincarnate?”
Alarm bells blared in Huo Tingfeng’s head. Cautiously, he typed: You want me to reincarnate ASAP?
Shen Leyuan: [No, just curious.]
He breathed a sigh of relief and started half-truth, half-bullshitting: Never seen ghost cops or the underworld. Only run into a few like me, and they vanished quick.
Maybe ghosts are just magnetic fields or energy or whatever. Over time, field fades, soul’s gone.
This was prep for a future exit, so Shen Leyuan wouldn’t hunt for him.
The guy was too stubborn. He’d keep looking.
Just like how he’d wait forever for replies sometimes.
Shen Leyuan’s eyes stung. He hung his head to hide from Mr. Ghost, thinking, Finally got a friend, and he’s got an expiration date?
No response for ages. Huo Tingfeng grew uneasy.
He sneaked over and squatted by Shen Leyuan, craning his head up stealthily. He saw eyes wet and red.
!!!!!!!!
Don’t cry.
I didn’t say I’d vanish soon.
Wasn’t meaning that.
Those few I saw might not have vanished. Coulda met their fated person like me.
Please, ancestor, pretend I just farted, okay?!
Huo Tingfeng was breaking down a bit.
Shen Leyuan pursed his lips and typed: If you ever have to leave someday, can you tell me ahead of time?
It took forever, but Mr. Ghost replied.
No more “might not vanish.” Just: Mm.
They both fell silent.
Days passed ordinarily. In a blink, over a month gone.
Shen Leyuan found his rhythm: classes by day, streams by night. Occasional chats with Director Hao about Little Deer’s status, plus coaxing the moody Little Dog lately.
Fresh from the hospital with Little Deer and with sky still light, Shen Leyuan messaged Director Hao.
Little Deer’s all hyped up, more excited than usual, but won’t admit it. Like he’s brewing something sneaky. Any clues?
Director Hao: [Picked up a few godbrothers to fake him some school records.]
Shen Leyuan: [. ]
Director Hao: [You want him in school? ]
He did, but no way—not ready to let out.
Shen Leyuan had once thought of having Little Deer live with him, planning to apply to Director Hao post-hiring. But next day at the hospital, A Si was gone, bodyguards fully armed—idea scrapped.
Now raising it with Director Hao, he added: National Day’s in a few days. I’ll stay over a bit, see if it calms him. If he acts normal enough around me, I’ll apply to cohabitate for a while.
Director Hao: [[Fist pump][Thumbs up] Good.]
Director Hao: [I’ll poke Lin Yuan for updates, but I’m in review now. He reports straight up, might not get intel.]
Shen Leyuan: [No need, I know a bit.]
Director Hao: [? ]
Shen Leyuan: [emmmmmm Ties into some super personal relationship drama. Hard to say.]
Director Hao shocked: [Those bodyguards really broke up?! ]
Now Shen Leyuan sent the question marks: How’d you know???
Director Hao: […… ]
Director Hao: [If not for review period, I’d log their whole emo arc and analyze with the stinky brats.]
Shen Leyuan stared at his phone in silence. Just then, a bodyguard buddy messaged: I swear! I just glanced at Young Master, no falling for him!
But he says I called Young Master cute before! Says I’m off!!
I think he’s off! Young Master this, Young Master that. On dates, he drops outta nowhere: ‘Young Master never goes out, kinda sad.’
Madam!! How to fix this??
Before Shen Leyuan finished, one message got yanked.
Bro!! Save me save me, how to fix??
Shen Leyuan: …
Hoped he’d never learn his love life had an audience—with analysis charts.
No reply to Director Hao or the bodyguard. Shen Leyuan tapped into video with Little Deer.
No clue what the kid had been up to—sweat-drenched all over.
Flower Market twink sweating wasn’t greasy; his little face flushed rosy, like a dew-kissed rose, even fresher.
The little rose grinned wide: “Teacher~”
Off-schedule chat—like a surprise gift. Little Deer loved it!
Shen Leyuan eyed him warily. “What’ve you been doing?”
He’d meant to probe other stuff, like if the kid craved going out and roped in bodyguards. But Little Deer’s state right now mattered more.
The boy happily shifted, showing off workout gear behind him: “Little Deer’s training abs!”
Shen Leyuan: ???
Little Deer said, “Brother says Teacher doesn’t like Little Deer like this—likes ones with abs more. Showed pics, said that’s hot. Little Deer thinks brother’s right!”
Knew it. Kid goes quiet, must be plotting chaos.
Lin Yao behaved half a month? Just scheming behind the scenes?
So helpless, he said, “Beauty comes in all kinds. Abs are hot, but skinny pretty boy like Little Deer is great too…”
Little Deer cut him off, accusing aggrievedly: “Teacher likes pecs and abs more! Touched Brother’s, touched A Si’s! Never touched Little Deer’s!”
Shen Leyuan: “Never touched A Si’s. Your brother’s was a wound check.”
He tallied another black mark for Lin Yao in his head.
Little Deer eyed him suspiciously. “Teacher doesn’t like touching pecs and abs?”
Well…
Little Deer was sharp on emotions, so Shen Leyuan answered straight: “Like ’em, but liking doesn’t mean touching. Not every set of abs I wanna feel.”
He’d just sent it when his hand got grabbed.
Words popped on his phone, echoing Little Deer’s new ones.
Wanna feel mine?
If Little Deer had ’em, would Teacher wanna feel?
