Chapter 28

Another two or three days passed peacefully. No one knew if it was because of Jing Chi’s arrival, but the gruesome murders that should have occurred during this period failed to happen on schedule.

Jing Chi knew it was time for him to make some preparations. After all, the gong protagonist would arrive in just a few days.

“Jing Chi, the teacher wants to see you.”

Nan Musheng walked over and knocked on Jing Chi’s desk, his expression tinged with complexity.

Jing Chi politely replied, “Thanks.”

He said a quick word to Yu Xingzhou first, then left his seat and headed to the office.

Seeing Jing Chi gone, Nan Musheng moved to sit in his spot.

But Yu Xingzhou was quicker. He stepped right in front of him, blocking the way.

“Class Leader, sorry, but my deskmate doesn’t like others touching his things.”

The young man’s face was calm, as if he were simply stating a plain fact. He then pushed Jing Chi’s chair back into place.

If Jing Chi had witnessed the scene, he surely would have been delighted. The boy had changed so much.

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Nan Musheng’s face. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he loomed over Yu Xingzhou, scrutinizing him before leaning in close and whispering,

“Those bizarre incidents from before—are they connected to you?”

Though phrased as a question, his tone carried absolute certainty.

Yu Xingzhou’s eyes darkened abruptly, though his expression remained unchanged. His voice cooled as he feigned ignorance.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Class Leader.”

“It doesn’t matter if you deny it. I’ll find the proof.”

Nan Musheng stood tall on his imagined moral high ground, his gaze fixed on Yu Xingzhou with unwavering conviction.

He was determined to unmask Yu Xingzhou’s true nature in front of Jing Chi—to show him exactly what kind of demon he was dealing with.

Nan Musheng shot Yu Xingzhou one last glance before stalking off, unwilling to linger.

Once he was gone, Yu Xingzhou set down his pen and let his gaze drift to the view outside the window.

He drew a deep breath.

The Evil Spirit, meanwhile, was fuming.

“I told you we should have killed him. But no—you insisted he was innocent, that he just stumbled in by accident.”

“But weren’t we innocent back then, too?”

Yu Xingzhou lowered his eyes. “I just don’t want you taking action again.”

Every time it happened, his resentment grew a little stronger—not to mention the cost of claiming a living soul.

He feared that if it built up too much, one day he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. He’d spiral into endless slaughter. How could he ever face Jing Chi then?

The Evil Spirit sighed. It knew this wasn’t the moment. In the end, it faded away.

Jing Chi still hadn’t returned by the time evening self-study began. Yu Xingzhou grew anxious. Just then, a small scrap of paper fluttered in through the window.

Unsure who had tossed it, Yu Xingzhou unfolded it. The familiar handwriting belonged to Jing Chi:

“Meet me on the rooftop.”

Just those five simple words.

Rooftop.

Yu Xingzhou’s grip tightened on the note.

He knew that place all too well.

He had been locked inside it for an entire night once. And there, he had…

Yu Xingzhou shook his head, banishing the memories. In the end, he left the classroom and made his way to the rooftop.

He climbed the stairs, step by step.

Unbidden, the same scene flooded his mind: that year, a desperate boy dragging himself up to that high platform, one agonizing step at a time.

Yu Xingzhou slowly pushed open the door. It creaked as it swung wide.

The moment felt like an echo of the past. Back then, the boy had faced a world of utter despair.

This time, Yu Xingzhou faced the one and only light in his world.

He walked forward and spotted Jing Chi at once, standing right at the rooftop’s edge.

Jing Chi waved to him with a bright smile. “Xingxing, over here.”

Yu Xingzhou took a deep breath, then approached Jing Chi.

This was the one place he had always shunned. But because of Jing Chi, he had climbed the stairs anyway.

Jing Chi knew Yu Xingzhou’s heart wasn’t light right now. Even so, this was something he had to endure.

He pulled the young man close, his fingers brushing cool fingertips.

The night breeze carried a chill, but Jing Chi knew that wasn’t the cause.

He frowned, then clasped Yu Xingzhou’s hand in his own. He rubbed it warm, then looked up into the young man’s eyes and asked softly,

“Better now?”

Yu Xingzhou smiled and nodded. “Much better.”

He kept the tangle of emotions in his chest to himself. He had no intention of sharing them.

Casually, Jing Chi slipped the young man’s hand into the pocket of his coat.

He glanced at the pitch-black sky, then back at Yu Xingzhou. With a mysterious air, he said, “Do you know why I asked you to come here?”

The young man shook his head.

Jing Chi didn’t keep him in suspense. A smile lit up his eyes as he explained, “I heard there’ll be a meteor shower tonight.”

Anticipation shone in his gaze as he looked at Yu Xingzhou.

Jing Chi had no idea if there would actually be a meteor shower here, but he knew that the moment he said those words, there definitely would be one.

And sure enough, things unfolded just as he anticipated. How could Yu Xingzhou ever disappoint him?

Just a few minutes after he spoke, bright streaks of light suddenly appeared on the horizon.

One meteor after another sliced through the sky, trailing shimmering silver arcs that lit up the heavens in an instant, bright as daylight.

The sight was utterly breathtaking.

Down in the classroom below, the students noticed the phenomenon too, and the room erupted in excited chatter.

Jing Chi glanced at the meteors, then nudged Yu Xingzhou’s arm. “Quick, make a wish.”

With that, he closed his eyes first, clasping his hands over his chest.

Caught up in the moment, Yu Xingzhou followed suit and shut his eyes.

In the past, if he’d made a wish, it would have been to turn back time. But now, his one and only wish was…

Yu Xingzhou stole a glance at Jing Chi, then silently formed the words in his heart:

He hoped Jing Chi would stay by his side forever.

That was his sole extravagant desire.

When he opened his eyes, Jing Chi was gazing at him with a warm, affectionate smile. “What did Little Yu Classmate wish for?”

Yu Xingzhou shook his head at once, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Amid Jing Chi’s expectant stare, he teased, “I’m not telling you.”

Jing Chi let out a playful huff, then his eyes brightened as an idea struck him. His voice took on a tempting lilt. “But I want to tell you mine. Want to hear it?”

Yu Xingzhou was instantly hooked. His eyes widened, brimming with curiosity. “I do.”

Yet Jing Chi started toying with him again, pursing his lips and simply watching the young man in silence.

After about five minutes with no further word from Jing Chi, Yu Xingzhou deflated a little and looked away, convinced he wouldn’t get an answer—until Jing Chi spoke up.

“Since you’re so eager to know, here’s the deal: call me ‘Brother.'”

Amusement danced in Jing Chi’s eyes.

Brother?

The word surfaced in Yu Xingzhou’s mind, stirring an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Familiar or not, though, saying it to Jing Chi felt embarrassingly intimate.

He wrestled with himself for a long moment, curiosity finally winning out. Biting his lip, he murmured softly, “Bro… Brother.”

In his previous life, Jing Chi had tossed “brother” around casually every day without a second thought. But hearing it directed at him for the first time? That was a whole new sensation.

Grinning wickedly, he feigned innocence. “Too quiet. I didn’t catch that.”

Summoning his courage, Yu Xingzhou tried again, his voice clearer and more crisp. “Brother.”

It rang out nicely this time, but Jing Chi wasn’t done pushing. Cool as ever, he said, “Still can’t hear you, Little Yu Classmate.”

Yu Xingzhou frowned, genuinely stumped now, though there wasn’t a trace of annoyance at the teasing.

At last, he rose slightly on his tiptoes, steadied himself with a hand on Jing Chi’s shoulder, and leaned in close to his ear. In a soft whisper, he breathed, “Brother.”

Then he stepped back quickly, avoiding Jing Chi’s gaze.

Jing Chi’s ear tingled from the warmth of the young man’s breath, and the sight of Yu Xingzhou’s flushed ear tips left him utterly pleased. “Perfect. Now I’ll tell you.”

In the fading glow of the meteors, Yu Xingzhou watched as Jing Chi looked at him tenderly and revealed the wish that had so intrigued him.

“I hope Xingxing can always be a happy young man!”

With those words, the spectacular meteor shower came to an end.

Darkness reclaimed the sky, mercifully concealing the sting in Yu Xingzhou’s eyes.

When the young man fell silent, Jing Chi prodded his cheek. “What’s wrong? Not happy with my wish?”

“No… nothing,” Yu Xingzhou replied softly.

How could he not be happy? He simply hadn’t expected Jing Chi’s wish to be about him.

For him.

Jing Chi smiled, thoroughly satisfied. “Good, as long as you approve.”

A gentle breeze stirred the air, rustling unseen hearts.

Then Jing Chi grew serious. “What if I said I wanted to take you away from here? Would you come with me?”

Abandoning all thoughts of revenge, letting go of past bitterness, leaving this prison that had trapped Yu Xingzhou—and following him instead.

“Leave?” Yu Xingzhou echoed faintly.

Could he choose to leave?

He glanced downward. So many people he resented were there, but right beside him stood the one he loved most.

One against a multitude.

It was the simplest choice imaginable, so of course Yu Xingzhou would pick Jing Chi.

The rooftop had once been a painful memory for Yu Xingzhou, but now the young man only remembered watching a meteor shower here with the person he liked most.

His eyebrows curved slightly in relief, and his tone was light and cheerful. “I’m willing.”

As the words left his mouth, the evil spirit let out a soft sigh, though an indescribable joy stirred in his heart.

If they had a choice, no one would want to linger in the abyss forever.

.

After the rooftop incident, Jing Chi immediately began preparing for Yu Xingzhou’s departure from this place.

What he needed to do was nothing like what the original host would have done—exorcising Yu Xingzhou. If he did that, where was he supposed to find a wife?

Jing Chi’s plan was to collect the young man’s soul body into a special artifact, take it back home to nourish it, and once it had reached a sufficient level, reshape a physical body for it.

This was the method he had found with the System’s help, and it had been his intention from the start.

However, he hadn’t brought the soul-storing artifact with him.

He could only say to Yu Xingzhou, “Xingxing, there’s some family business I need to handle. I have to take four days off. Will you wait here obediently for me to come back?”

Jing Chi had already calculated it carefully: four days inside equated to just two days outside, more than enough time for him to return.

A trace of unease flickered in Yu Xingzhou’s heart. Since they had met, he had never been apart from Jing Chi for so long.

Jing Chi gently patted the young man’s head and soothed him. “Will you be good for me, Xingxing? Trust me—I’ll be back before you know it. And when I return, we can leave together.”

Jing Chi didn’t spell out where he was going, but he was sure Yu Xingzhou would understand.

Yu Xingzhou nodded, though his eyes reddened despite himself. Still, he replied obediently, “I understand. I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Jing Chi brushed the corner of the young man’s eye with his fingertip and let out a soft sigh.

If he had a choice, he wouldn’t leave either. But there was no helping it.

Jing Chi followed the proper procedures to request time off. To the people in this world, it simply seemed like he had gone back home for family matters. In truth, he returned to his real home in the waking world.

According to the System’s investigation, the artifact capable of storing a soul body without harming it was in the possession of Father Jing—the current head of the Celestial Master Family.

Jing Chi raced home at top speed and headed straight for Father Jing’s study. “Dad, I’d like to borrow the Soul-Storing Casket.”

Father Jing looked up, eyeing his son who had suddenly appeared after such a long absence. Curious, he asked, “What do you need it for? Ordinary soul bodies can just be exorcised on the spot.”

Jing Chi couldn’t very well say it was to bring your daughter-in-law home, so he replied with utmost seriousness, “Dad, there’s a soul body with a deep attachment. It can’t leave its location. I want to take it away, help it resolve that attachment, and then perform the exorcism.”

Of course, exorcism was the last thing on his mind.

Father Jing was only half convinced, but he had always trusted his son. Jing Chi was steady and reliable; he wouldn’t misuse a family artifact.

After a short wait, Father Jing returned with a small black casket made of thousand-year-old sandalwood. Its surface was etched with intricate patterns that might look like mere decoration to an outsider—but any expert would recognize them as a formation array.

Father Jing handed the casket to Jing Chi with a warning. “Take good care of it. If you lose it or damage it, I won’t be able to explain things to the clan.”

Jing Chi nodded at once, accepted it with a grateful smile, and said, “Thanks, Dad. I should head back now.”

Father Jing sighed helplessly. “Can’t you stay a few more days?”

Jing Chi felt a little guilty but replied, “Next time. I’m in a rush this time.”

As he left, he unexpectedly ran into the gong protagonist.

“Bro,” Jing Shao called out in greeting when he spotted Jing Chi.

Jing Chi was forced to pause. He sized up the young man before him—around twenty years old, with handsome features and a brilliant smile.

Jing Chi couldn’t fathom how such a sunny, wholesome guy had ended up on that dark path in the novel.

“You’re back too?” Jing Chi asked casually, probing for information.

At the mention of it, Jing Shao’s eyes darkened with worry. He sighed. “To be honest with you, Bro, one of my classmates has gone missing. My investigation showed he vanished in some creepy place, so I came home to grab some gear.”

Jing Chi’s heart jolted, but he kept his expression perfectly calm. “He might’ve just gone off somewhere for fun without telling you. No need to worry so much.”

Jing Shao shook his head firmly. “No, Bro. We were in touch right up until less than a month ago, and then he suddenly dropped off the grid. I’m certain something happened there—our last contact had his location pinned right at that spot.”

Jing Chi rubbed his forehead, a faint headache brewing behind his eyes. In the end, he could only sigh helplessly.

“Prepare well at home then. No rush—safety first.”

The young man nodded earnestly, mistaking Jing Chi’s words for genuine concern. He felt a swell of emotion; his cousin was usually cool and distant with everyone, yet here he was showing rare warmth.

Once Jing Shao was sent on his way, Jing Chi turned and hurried back.

~~~

In the Illusion Realm.

Yu Xingzhou capped his pen as the bell signaling the end of Evening Self-Study rang out once more.

He glanced at the calendar where he’d carefully marked off the days. Of the four that Jing Chi had mentioned, today was the final one.

A spark of light finally flickered in the boy’s eyes.

Stepping out of the classroom, he discovered a heavy rain had begun to fall.

Raindrops hammered the ground in a relentless torrent, splashing up tiny blooms of water with each impact. Yu Xingzhou watched his classmates depart one by one, umbrellas blooming like dark flowers, until he stood alone.

For a fleeting moment, he thought Jing Chi might appear.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” he murmured, staring into the unyielding downpour.

This was the last day Jing Chi had spoken of. Anticipation twisted in Yu Xingzhou’s chest alongside a gnawing fear.

He longed for Jing Chi’s return—yet dreaded that it might never come.

The Evil Spirit gazed out at the storm with him and replied softly, “I don’t know.”

Human hearts were fickle things, impossible for them to predict.

“But he’s different,” Yu Xingzhou pressed. “So he has to come back, right?”

The Evil Spirit nodded. Without another word, Yu Xingzhou hoisted his backpack over his head and dashed into the rain.

The familiar path home had never felt so endless.

Before, walking it side by side with Jing Chi, it had always seemed to fly by.

At last, he reached the elevator, water streaming from the sodden hem of his clothes in steady drips.

September’s end brought rain that cut like ice. The boy shivered, his fingertips numb and tinged blue, but he refused to head home. Stubbornly, he jabbed the button for the third floor.

Jing Chi’s floor.

These past few evenings, after returning from school, Yu Xingzhou had lingered at Jing Chi’s door until ten o’clock sharp.

He had watched the elevator doors slide open and shut, time and again, but the one person he yearned for never appeared.

Just like those other nights, Yu Xingzhou sank into a squat outside Jing Chi’s door.

He curled into himself, arms wrapped tight around his knees, eyes fixed hopefully on the elevator.

A soft ding echoed down the hall. His gaze brightened—only for disappointment to crash over him as the doors parted to reveal an empty car.

Yu Xingzhou bowed his head in silence.

Minutes ticked away. It was already 9:50 now; he’d been waiting twenty minutes.

He stifled a yawn and chafed his chilled arms, but he refused to leave.

Just ten more minutes.

Inside the apartment, Jing Chi—dead to the world from exhaustion—jolted awake at the System’s urgent prompt.

“Host! Wake up! Yu Xingzhou’s waiting for you outside!”

Jing Chi bolted upright. “What did you say?”

The System recounted how the boy had shown up at his door every single evening these past few days.

A dull ache bloomed in Jing Chi’s chest.

He’d planned to break the news of his return come morning. The trip had worn him out, and he’d crashed the moment he got back.

It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Yu Xingzhou would brave the rain just to wait for him.

Jing Chi flung back the covers and rushed from the bedroom.

Five minutes to ten.

Yu Xingzhou was on the verge of standing when the door beside him creaked open from within.

A ribbon of warm light and cozy heat spilled into the hall.

Slowly, hesitantly, the boy lifted his head—half-convinced it was a trick of his weary mind.

Then he saw it: that familiar face, the one he’d dreamed of ceaselessly. Tears pricked hot at the corners of Yu Xingzhou’s eyes.