The air seemed to quiet down.
Xu Qinglai subconsciously loosened a button.
After realizing what he was doing, the gentleness in his eyes faded a bit.
Although he knew answering the video call might show Bo Ting himself, he hadn’t expected to see such a face.
It was completely different from what he had imagined, yet—surprisingly well-suited to him.
On that aloof, distant, and stern face, there was actually a pair of peach blossom eyes.
Beneath the raven-black lashes, under the candlelight, the entire cold expression seemed to turn affectionate.
Unfortunately, it was only surface-level.
Xu Qinglai snapped back to his senses and suppressed his odd thoughts after hearing Bo Ting’s voice again.
“What’s wrong?”
He casually angled the phone camera away, not showing himself.
Bo Ting wasn’t surprised.
It wasn’t time for a face-to-face meetup anyway; he just had something urgent that needed Mr. Xu’s check.
He looked at the video, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“I’m really sorry for disturbing you so late. I just had no other choice.”
“Were you about to rest, Mr. Xu?”
Xu Qinglai, leaning against the bathroom wall, lowered his eyes.
“It’s fine.”
“The timing is just right.”
Any later, and he would have been in the bathroom.
Bo Ting didn’t think too much about it. He frowned and organized his words.
“Um, Mr. Xu, could you check my shoulder for me?”
“I can’t see it in the mirror myself.”
With that, the person in the video switched the camera.
Xu Qinglai suddenly saw that face again. He shifted his gaze from the cold, pale, soft skin and looked at Bo Ting’s puzzled spot.
—Nothing on the sapphire-blue pajamas.
Perfectly clean.
He shook his head slightly. Remembering that Bo Ting couldn’t see without the camera on, he said, “Nothing there.”
What?!
Nothing?
Bo Ting was surprised, but the shadow had definitely vanished when he placed the lamp behind him.
Could Mr. Xu not see it?
Bo Ting hesitated. He spun around in front of the camera for a while, like a clumsy cat chasing its own tail.
Xu Qinglai had been holding back a bit, but now he couldn’t help laughing.
“Stop looking.”
“I’m very sure there’s nothing.”
Even if that Light Shadow Anomaly was bold, it wouldn’t dare climb onto the shoulder of the person in front of him. Unless it wanted to die faster.
That said, after the initial shock of his appearance, Xu Qinglai pondered something.
He seemed… unable to discern Bo Ting’s weirdized form.
Those weirdized porcelain dolls, Human-Faced Willow, Bone Dog—he could identify them at a glance.
But Bo Ting alone, from the first look until now, appeared as a complete human. As if the person opposite was just an ordinary, handsome young man.
Xu Qinglai thought thoughtfully.
Bo Ting spun around and felt embarrassed again.
“Really nothing?”
“Then I’m relieved.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mr. Xu; it was a matter of life and death—or rather, air conditioner life. If the main unit broke, it’d be trouble. So he had to be cautious.
Bo Ting had just exhaled in relief and was about to explain to the invisible Mr. Xu on video when he suddenly remembered something.
Wait, had he forgotten… that he was an air conditioner?
He hadn’t worn a mask or hat earlier—just pajamas—and video-called Mr. Xu directly.
Didn’t that mean… Mr. Xu had seen his true form completely?!
Oh no!
Bo Ting held his breath and carefully glanced at the other side of the video, but it was too blurry to see anything.
He could only recall Mr. Xu’s earlier tone.
Bo Ting: …
“Ahem.”
“Mr. Xu, do you think… I look a bit strange?”
As he said this, Bo Ting grew bashful.
Xu Qinglai waited a while, then heard this out of nowhere. His fingertip paused slightly.
Look a bit strange?
He instinctively glanced at those beautiful eyes again, not understanding Bo Ting’s self-perception.
Was he not used to human aesthetics?
He raised an eyebrow slightly, but his tone remained unchanged.
“How could that be?”
“I don’t feel that way at all.”
Ah.
Mr. Xu was so nice.
Bo Ting couldn’t imagine his reaction if someone with an air conditioner head asked him the same.
But Mr. Xu remained unfazed, even gentle, without making him uncomfortable.
Bo Ting’s heart raced with emotion. Sadly, his tear glands weren’t developed, so no teary eyes.
He decided: Mr. Xu was now his best best friend—no one else!
Just for not minding his true form, Bo Ting was set on this great brother.
“Great.”
“I didn’t notice earlier and was afraid I’d scare you, Mr. Xu. I’m glad you don’t mind.”
“So now…”
Since they’d been honest with each other, Bo Ting shifted his square, handsome air conditioner face back a bit.
“Does that make us good friends?”
Under these circumstances, if Mr. Xu didn’t mind him, what else could it be?!
Xu Qinglai paused slightly.
Good friends.
So, this weird entity opposite saw him as a “good friend”—a very intimate relationship in human social networks.
He’d thought they were just online friends.
But… it didn’t feel repulsive.
He didn’t dislike the young man opposite, after all.
Xu Qinglai accepted the label more easily than he expected.
Cold light hit his straight nose bridge as he lifted his eyes slightly.
“If you like, of course we can be good friends.”
Even the best.
Xu Qinglai glanced sideways at the moonlight outside. The bright moon shone through the night sky, casting a slowly spreading shadow in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.
Bo Ting was thrilled.
Awesome!
Mr. Xu saw him as a good friend too.
Bo Ting cleared his throat lightly, feeling his already racing heart nearly leap out from excitement.
In a flash—
He excitedly ended the video call in one second.
Xu Qinglai: …?
Hadn’t they just been talking about being good friends?
Why hang up?
And so abruptly.
That inexplicable feeling from yesterday returned.
Xu Qinglai stared at the video for two seconds, convinced his earlier grasp of Bo Ting’s logic was an illusion.
After hastily ending the call, Bo Ting paced the living room anxiously, his excitement with nowhere to go.
Damn.
He finally! Finally had a “good brother” he could casually chat with online!
Before transmigrating, Bo Ting had no such close male friends, and he felt a bit nervous now.
Thinking of those forum users who casually mentioned their bros, Bo Ting wanted to post instantly and tell them.
—He had a bro too!
And one who didn’t mind he wasn’t human.
Wasn’t that better than their “watching games at night, sleeping in the same bed, hooking shoulders for morning runs” bros?!
He took a deep breath. Ultimately, Bo Ting couldn’t contain his excitement.
On the Netizens Exchange Forum—the site of their first “good friend” encounter—he opened a new post.
And heavily typed three “!!!”s.
At midnight in the Resurgence Management Office:
Lu Jingshan waved his hand, telling the others to rest while he stayed on duty. Turning, he saw the Ability Users Exchange Forum refresh.
“Which brat stays up late posting on the forum?”
Muttering curiously, Lu Jingshan sipped coffee and clicked in. The next second, he spat it out.
“What the hell?”
Why did this poster’s account show a special signal source?
Suspecting Taiping Luxury Garden preyed via the internet, the Resurgence Management Office had marked all anomalous network signals lately. Any with weird vibes appeared flagged for them.
But the earliest Ability Users Exchange Forum had slipped through.
Bo Ting’s first post with Xu Qinglai had been hidden by Xu Qinglai, so even rechecks missed it.
Now, seeing this account topped with “Weird Signal Source,” Lu Jingshan felt numb.
Wasn’t this guy posting in the dead of night for?
Didn’t it have things to do?
Hadn’t the Light Shadow Anomaly appeared in Taiping Luxury Garden already?
Countless questions flooded Lu Jingshan’s mind.
Even after accepting he didn’t understand weirds, tonight’s oddity left him baffled.
Especially clicking in to find this weird had posted in the Ability Users Exchange Forum at midnight… just three exclamation marks.
Lu Jingshan: …
“I must’ve stayed up too long; my mind’s messed up.”
The Third Esper Squad captain muttered, turning to a teammate. “Hit me to test.”
Wang Dong: …
Look what it’s done to the captain.
He scratched his head awkwardly.
“Captain Lu, pull yourself together!”
Lu Jingshan: …
“Fine.”
“Mark this post. See what he updates later.”
Wang Dong nodded. As the on-duty guy, he starred it heavily, then stayed with the captain to watch.
One hour passed, two, three— the sudden post stayed silent, like it popped up just to exist.
Even Wang Dong wanted to curse the nutjob.
Not just the Resurgence Management Office duo—Xu Qinglai saw the post that night too. He choked slightly, baffled.
So, Bo Ting logged off so hurriedly… to post these “exclamation marks”?
Staring at the three symbols, Xu Qinglai could only tell Bo Ting had been excited then. Nothing else.
He hesitated, then followed the post?
…
Waking up, Bo Ting hadn’t expected his anonymous post to draw two groups’ attention—one not even asleep.
No matter; he’d posted randomly at night.
After stretching lazily, he happily grabbed his phone and sent Mr. Xu an emoji.
Now that they were good friends and bros, daily chats couldn’t stop.
Bo Ting stared at the screen, regretting the chat app lacked a “keep the spark alive” feature. Otherwise, he could’ve renewed it daily with Mr. Xu—such a friendship booster!
No worries; he persisted purely on willpower, ignoring indicators.
The good morning emoji sent perfectly.
Bo Ting felt his perseverance +1, satisfied. He set the phone down and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
Xu Qinglai went downstairs, sat in the car, and saw Bo Ting’s message.
Good morning?
This guy called this morning?
Glancing at the noon sun outside, Xu Qinglai shook his head. He hadn’t planned to reply to such pointless images, but remembered they were now “friends.”
He paused, lowered his eyes, picked an image from his phone, and forwarded it.
The nutrientless exchange instantly felt like bot chat.
Whatever.
He rubbed his brow lightly. As the driver glanced back, he said moodily, “To the company.”
“Yes, Mr. Xu.”
The driver turned and left.
In the bathroom:
Bo Ting hummed happily. Flicking on the light, he suddenly spotted something—his gaze froze.
Wait, had he just seen something flash by when he turned on the light?
By the floor drain?
He held his breath slightly. Eyes wide, he pretended not to notice, finished washing up.
Then, he spun around and slammed the bathroom door shut.
Damn damn damn!
That scared him.
He realized why the shadowy head from last night wasn’t on his shoulder anymore—it had hidden in the bathroom.
It must have been waiting to ambush him while he was washing up!
Bo Ting’s expression turned serious as he felt a chill run down his spine.
He had come so close to disaster.
Now that he had discovered it, though, he had to deal with this thing once and for all. Otherwise, what if it kept coming back?
After locking the bathroom’s glass door from the outside, Bo Ting sat on the sofa gripping his phone. His first instinct was to search online for folk remedies against supernatural events.
But as his finger hovered over the screen, he remembered this was a strange world.
He had transmigrated here.
Where would he find any folk remedies?
The spark of excitement faded, and Bo Ting sighed, feeling troubled once more.
So what now?
Maybe he should give it a try himself?
He recalled that in horror novels he’d read, virgin urine or blood from the tip of the tongue were effective against malicious entities.
Ahem.
There might be some truth to it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t human, so he couldn’t use either.
But then Bo Ting had a sudden thought and turned to Doudou.
If he remembered correctly, Doudou was still a virgin dog, right?
Would its virgin urine work?
A few minutes later.
Doudou was lazily grooming its bones on the balcony when a figure appeared in front of it.
The human who should have been on the sofa ordering takeout had shown up out of nowhere and circled it, observing for a long time.
Doudou: ???
Gouzi’s eyes filled with confusion, and it let out a “woof” from its mouth. The next second, the human patted its dog head.
“Good Doudou.”
“Nice!”
“Come on!”
“Follow me to the bathroom!”
Doudou: ???
As a dog, Doudou naturally couldn’t comprehend the connection between the two.
Why would a good dog go to the bathroom?
Bo Ting offered no explanation. He led Doudou carefully to the bathroom door.
Of course, to play it safe, he made his footsteps deliberately casual, as if he were just passing by, to avoid alerting the malicious entity inside.
Sure enough, there was no movement from the bathroom.
Bo Ting breathed a slight sigh of relief, though his heart still raced. But there was no other choice!
He shielded Doudou as they walked ahead, charging straight toward the spot where he had spotted the shadowy figure earlier.
But just as they rushed past, he suddenly heard a “scream”?
Huh?
Where had the sound come from?
Bo Ting looked down in bewilderment and abruptly noticed… the scattered light orbs on the ground. After he stepped on them, they let out a sudden “scream,” as if… they had died?
He called it a “scream” because the moment they made contact, a sound like some insect dying rang in his ears.
Bo Ting stepped back in shock and took a closer look. The scattered light orbs finally revealed their true form.
It was actually a roundworm glowing faintly all over its body?
The roundworm lay miserably on the ground, its fine glowing lines dimming inch by inch until, visibly, it was dead.
Bo Ting hesitated for a moment.
Then he gestured for Gouzi to step on it again.
Doudou: …
Doudou started to move forward but was suddenly grabbed by Bo Ting.
“Wait, I remember now—this is a parasite, right?”
“Tsk tsk.”
“I’ll do it.”
Gouzi wasn’t wearing shoes. What if it picked up something unhygienic?
Bo Ting reverted to his usual demeanor. Once he saw the true form of the “malicious entity,” he wasn’t afraid at all.
It was just a bug. No wonder.
So those people who died before must have had the bug burrow into their hearts, causing the accidents?
But this roundworm was definitely different from ordinary ones.
Even if parasitism explained that part, the fact that it could transform into an identical shadow right under everyone’s eyes was beyond science, inexplicable.
Bo Ting frowned slightly, put on gloves, and picked up the flattened roundworm, intending to examine what made it different from regular ones.
But upon seeing its gruesomely mangled corpse, which looked especially disgusting from the death scene, he shuddered and tossed it straight into the trash bin.
Bo Ting: …
Whatever.
He wasn’t a researcher anyway. Better to report it with one click.
Once the Mengjia City staff saw the photo of the bug, they should handle it, right?
Resurgence Management Office:
Lu Jingshan had just picked up his jacket to change shifts and catch up on sleep during the day when he heard the technician beside him speak up.
“Captain Lu, hold on—the data’s in.”
“The ‘Light Shadow Heart-Shatter Incident’ hasn’t appeared in the last two cycles.”
“And the report shows that just now, the detectable eerie aura from the ‘Light Shadow Incident’ completely vanished.”
The technician’s first statement didn’t surprise Lu Jingshan, since he had predicted it yesterday.
But the last one made him turn back.
“Vanished?”
That meant the malicious entity had been completely dealt with at Taiping Luxury Garden?
Lu Jingshan sucked in a breath, sat back down, and decided sleep could wait.
But was there no news yet from Taiping Luxury Garden?
The technician glanced at the screen again, and the next second, a new message appeared on the Citizens Exchange Platform. It was as if it had read Lu Jingshan’s mind the moment he wondered.
Lu Jingshan rubbed his arms, feeling a chill.
“Creepy.”
He muttered to himself, realizing this message was likely related to the recent “Light Shadow Incident.” He opened the file.
It was a short report from an enthusiastic citizen, urging Mengjia City to pay attention to hygiene and greening in public areas and clear out nearby bugs.
Bugs?
Lu Jingshan’s gaze quickly scanned the text before landing on the attached photo below.
That was the only image in the message.
A bug that had died next to a floor drain in the sewer, its shape miserably grotesque.
“This Light Shadow Incident was related to a bug?”
Lu Jingshan frowned slightly, suddenly understanding.
A parasitic bug connected to shadows—no wonder it was so hard to find.
The pieces of the puzzle clicked together. Lu Jingshan exhaled, then grew curious about how the malicious entity had killed the shadow bug.
The technician zoomed in on the photo at the right moment.
The two of them huddled close, studying it for a while, until Lu Jingshan oddly eyed the shoe print on the shadow bug.
“Damn.”
“Wait, was it… stepped on to death?”
