Chapter 2: Little Ghost Sneakily Reads the Storybook

After Xie Ningwan finished washing the clothes, he made a cup of coffee and went to the study to continue handling work.

Song Yaoyao floated after him, quietly approaching and carefully reaching out to cling to the back of Xie Ningwan’s chair. He stuck close behind him and poked his head out.

He tilted his head to look at the complex tables and data on the computer screen, completely unable to understand them. Instead, he turned his head to observe Xie Ningwan.

Xie Ningwan was browsing the data with a serious expression, his gaze calm. The light from the screen illuminated his face, making his features appear even more profound and handsome.

“As expected of the protagonist,” Song Yaoyao sighed softly.

In the original book, Xie Ningwan had relied on his superior work ability to fight his way out from the covetous relatives of the Xie Family who bared their fangs and seized power, developing the group bigger and stronger.

Song Yaoyao sprawled on the back of the chair and tentatively waved his palm in front of Xie Ningwan’s eyes.

Xie Ningwan was completely unaware of the little ghost’s presence and continued to focus on the data report on the screen.

Song Yaoyao suddenly felt playful and mischievously blew a breath of air toward Xie Ningwan’s ear.

He had no physical body now, so the breath he blew out wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. A faint, cool flow of air brushed past lightly, but Xie Ningwan still didn’t notice and remained fully focused on his work.

Song Yaoyao amused himself by causing a bit of chaos on his own before getting down to “business.” He looked around the study, searching for items that Xie Ningwan had touched, things he could use to absorb fortune from.

A black-and-gold fountain pen gleaming on the desk caught his attention.

The Xie Family had been restless lately, with undercurrents surging. After Xie Ningwan finished reading the report submitted by his assistant, his eyes darkened slightly.

He tapped the keyboard to reply to an email, then began flipping through the files on the desk.

The contents of the files were strict and important, with many places requiring Xie Ningwan’s personal decisions.

During a break from browsing the files, Xie Ningwan reached out to pick up the pen to sign, but from the corner of his eye, he saw that his commonly used fountain pen was missing from the desk.

“?”

Xie Ningwan’s fingers paused, and he lifted his eyelashes, lightly furrowing his brow.

Before he could puzzle over it, he suddenly felt a blur in front of his eyes. He closed them and opened them again: the fountain pen was right there in its original spot, unchanged.

…

It must have been another hallucination.

Xie Ningwan raised his hand to rub his brow, picked up the pen, and signed a few words on the file in front of him.

“Doo doo doo…” Song Yaoyao silently pouted and hummed a few little tunes, floating innocently beside the desk with his hands behind his back.

The moment he saw Xie Ningwan’s gaze return to the desk, he had quickly put the pen back.

Worried that doing this too many times would arouse Xie Ningwan’s suspicions, Song Yaoyao temporarily stopped touching things on the desk. He settled down obediently and leaned beside Xie Ningwan to “accompany” him at work.

He sprawled on the back of the chair for a while and grew a little bored. He wanted to watch TV, but with Xie Ningwan at home, he didn’t dare turn it on.

“I really want to watch SpongeBob SquarePants. I didn’t finish that episode earlier,” he muttered to himself, resting his head on the back of the chair and looking at Xie Ningwan’s profile. “One look at you and I can tell you’ve never watched SpongeBob SquarePants.”

A protagonist like Xie Ningwan must have been strictly educated from childhood, proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, and mathematics, with no time to watch cartoon animations.

Song Yaoyao was actually the same, but his situation differed from Xie Ningwan’s.

Song Yaoyao was an orphan who, from the time he could remember, had grown up under the care of various relatives and sponsors, shuttling between foster homes with few opportunities to watch TV. He could only catch a little when the foster family’s children watched animations occasionally.

Because he had no attachments in the original world, he accepted his death and transmigration into the book very calmly.

While Xie Ningwan was focused on work, Song Yaoyao stood up and floated around the study again, shuttling through a pile of obscure professional books, looking for any leisure novels or storybooks—even essays would do.

Unexpectedly, he actually found some on the bottom shelf of the bookcase: a few literary storybooks. Song Yaoyao’s eyes lit up.

There was a thin layer of dust on the bookcase, indicating it hadn’t been touched in a long time—probably from Xie Ningwan’s teenage years.

Song Yaoyao hid in the corner, keeping an eye on Xie Ningwan’s movements while carefully pulling out a storybook.

He gently flipped open the pages and sprawled on the floor to read.

In the study, one human and one little ghost soul each occupied a corner, getting along in surprisingly “harmonious” fashion.

After handling part of the files, Xie Ningwan paused to take a sip of coffee and stretch his joints.

As he turned his head, he noticed a book splayed open next to the neatly arranged corner of the bookcase.

Had it fallen down?

Xie Ningwan frowned slightly and got up to walk over.

In the book, the story was just unfolding, with a tumultuous and bizarre background.

Song Yaoyao was concentrating intently on deciphering several obscure foreign names, immersed in the plot, completely unaware of Xie Ningwan’s actions—until the book in front of him was pulled away.

Song Yaoyao: “!”

He turned his head and realized Xie Ningwan had somehow appeared behind him.

Startled, Song Yaoyao quickly darted to the top of the bookcase and sprawled above Xie Ningwan’s head, watching him nervously.

Xie Ningwan picked up the book from the floor, stood there, casually flipped through it, and glanced at the bookcase.

He hadn’t touched the books in this corner for a long time; they must have loosened after sitting there too long.

He hadn’t heard any falling sound earlier because he had been too focused on work.

Xie Ningwan put the book back on the shelf and turned to return to the computer for work.

Song Yaoyao lay in ambush on top of the bookcase. Seeing no unusual expression on Xie Ningwan’s face, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief and slowly floated down.

He didn’t dare touch the storybook for the time being and returned to behind Xie Ningwan’s chair, hanging himself on the backrest.

It was already late at night now. Song Yaoyao had never studied until this late even during school days, but Xie Ningwan was still working, showing no signs of resting.

Ghosts weren’t supposed to need sleep by rights, but Song Yaoyao was different—his soul power was unstable, and he often felt fatigued.

He still retained his human habits and grew sleepy at a certain time.

Song Yaoyao sprawled on the back of the chair, watching the complex numbers on Xie Ningwan’s computer screen and listening to the sound of keystrokes, and began to doze off.

He had been clinging to the backrest at first, but as he slept, his body tilted and fell onto Xie Ningwan’s shoulder.

Xie Ningwan worked until midnight and inexplicably felt his shoulder growing heavy, so he raised his hand to rub it.

He didn’t know that as he moved, a little ghost tumbled off his shoulder.

Song Yaoyao was having a sweet dream of turning back into a human when he fell through the air. He woke up a bit dazed, floated back up, sprawled on Xie Ningwan’s back again, nuzzled against it, and continued sleeping.

At dawn, Xie Ningwan finally shut down the computer and headed back to the bedroom to sleep.

As he took the coffee cup to the kitchen counter to wash it, he rolled his shoulders and neck. For some reason, his shoulders had felt unusually heavy tonight.