The next day, Song Yaoyao woke up and, as usual, floated around the living room once, treating it as his morning run. Then he sat in the dining room, accompanying Xie Ningwan for breakfast, and finally stood at the door, watching Xie Ningwan head out.
Once Xie Ningwan’s car drove out of the courtyard toward the company, the entire house became Song Yaoyao’s domain!
He could lie on the living room sofa, hugging a small pillow, turn on the TV to play SpongeBob SquarePants for himself, and pick up right where he left off the day before, watching until Xie Ningwan returned.
That was Song Yaoyao’s day.
Clattering sounds of bowls and plates came from the kitchen, where Xie Ningwan prepared breakfast. The sweet aroma of buttered toast wafted out, and a little ghost followed the scent into the kitchen.
“It smells so good. What are you making?”
Xie Ningwan’s culinary skills were excellent; even his simple meals looked particularly appetizing.
He finished toasting the bread and moved on to frying eggs and ham, with washed lettuce set aside nearby. It looked like he was making sandwiches, while a pot of thick soup simmered on the other side.
Song Yaoyao pursed his lips, floating to Xie Ningwan’s left for a moment before switching to his right, leaning over the counter and staring eagerly at the plates on the surface.
He really wanted to eat.
In the brief pause while frying the eggs, the thick soup was ready. Xie Ningwan wiped his hands, ladled a bowl of soup, and placed it on the dining table before turning back to assemble the sandwiches.
Song Yaoyao’s gaze followed the soup bowl. His eyes darted around, and he floated over.
Xie Ningwan quickly assembled the fried eggs, ham, lettuce, and toast, picked up the plate, and headed to the dining table.
He had just turned around when he noticed the water level in the soup bowl on the table seemed to drop a little under his gaze.
Xie Ningwan: “……?” He paused mid-step.
Was he still half-asleep?
Xie Ningwan narrowed his eyes, walked to the table, and looked at the soup again. No further changes occurred.
Perhaps it was just surface foam dissipating or ingredients settling at the bottom.
Xie Ningwan convinced himself otherwise, sat at the table, and began breakfast as usual.
Song Yaoyao’s cheeks bulged as he gulped down a big mouthful of soup.
A soul body wouldn’t feel pain from scalding, but he could sense the heat, feeling like his entire ghostly form was about to burn up.
He zipped back and forth across the dining room several times before finally swallowing the mouthful, let out a breath of relief, slowly descended, and sat across from Xie Ningwan. “Phew.”
Xie Ningwan ate with proper posture, while Song Yaoyao rested his arms on the table, thus “accompanying” him for breakfast.
After breakfast, Xie Ningwan’s driver had already arrived at the villa’s entrance.
Song Yaoyao stood at the courtyard gate, watching Xie Ningwan leave with the driver for the company.
“Bye-bye.”
Song Yaoyao, a lone little ghost soul floating in midair, waved at the car’s taillights before turning back to the living room and eagerly switching on the TV.
Song Yaoyao couldn’t leave the house for now; his maximum range was limited to this courtyard because he needed to survive on the fortune lingering here from Xie Ningwan.
The System said that once he absorbed more fortune and his soul power stabilized a bit more, he could follow Xie Ningwan out—as long as he stayed close to him.
It seemed he needed to take more action.
He had to work hard.
Song Yaoyao lay sideways on the sofa, pillow under his head, cheek propped on one hand, watching the cartoon while pondering.
The plot of this world had now progressed to the point where Xie Ningwan had initially taken over the family business and was gradually investigating the truth behind his parents’ deaths.
After this, Xie Ningwan’s villainous relatives would start acting, repeatedly framing and attempting to murder him. Economic disputes, leaked secrets, staged car accidents… all the tropes of a business war novel would unfold.
“……Two and a half cents a blow, sir!”
“Who would pay two and a half cents to blow a bubble? ……Here’s two and a half cents for you.”
Since he had come here, lived in Xie Ningwan’s house, ate his food, slept in his space, and needed to absorb Xie Ningwan’s fortune to recover his adult form, he should repay Xie Ningwan and help him.
Song Yaoyao secretly resolved.
“Technique! You need technique! First do this, this, this—swoop left and right, then…”
But for now, the most important thing was to absorb more of Xie Ningwan’s fortune…
“……Hmph, have you ever blown bubbles like this?”
“Squidward is a genius!”
“Aaaah, Squidward!”
Song Yaoyao’s attention was completely drawn to the cartoon.
.
“President Xie, here are today’s meeting minutes.” In the president’s office, just before clocking out, the assistant handed the folder to Xie Ningwan.
“Mm.” Xie Ningwan nodded slightly and took it to flip through.
Finding no issues, he set the folder down and dismissed the assistant.
His condition at the company today was good; the dizziness from last night and the heavy shoulders from this morning hadn’t recurred. Xie Ningwan wrapped up his work, closed his eyes to relax for a moment, then notified the driver to head home.
Right before Xie Ningwan returned, Song Yaoyao turned off the TV.
“You’re back.” Song Yaoyao floated to the entryway, happily circling around Xie Ningwan.
As yesterday, Xie Ningwan “ignored” him, took off his coat after entering, and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Song Yaoyao followed suit, stealthily lurking near the bathroom door just like before.
He sat on the vanity, hands braced at his sides, legs swinging lightly, admiring the sight of Xie Ningwan removing his clothes one by one.
Once Xie Ningwan set his clothes down and entered the shower, Song Yaoyao sneaked into the laundry basket. “Lend me these for a bit.”
He sat in the basket, burying himself in Xie Ningwan’s clothes as usual, then watched the shower door.
The glass door was frosted, further obscured by steam and water mist, automatically pixelated, allowing Song Yaoyao only a vague glimpse of Xie Ningwan’s silhouette.
Song Yaoyao liked to sing in the shower, but as the domineering CEO protagonist, Xie Ningwan naturally wouldn’t sing while bathing. Bored, Song Yaoyao sang for him.
“I want a sweet sweet taste, I want fragrant bubbles…”
This was the theme song from another cartoon he’d watched the past couple of days.
As he sang, Song Yaoyao tapped the rhythm on the sides of the laundry basket. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shiny glinting on the vanity nearby.
He stretched out his arm, picked it up, and saw it was the dark blue sapphire cufflinks Xie Ningwan had just removed from his shirt.
Jackpot! A little light bulb lit up over Song Yaoyao’s head. Maybe he could sneak away one of Xie Ningwan’s cufflinks? Having been worn all day, it must carry plenty of his fortune.
Such a small item—missing one probably wouldn’t be noticed, right?
A mischievous impulse struck Song Yaoyao.
No sooner said than done.
While Xie Ningwan was still in the shower, he took the cufflink back to his “room.”
Song Yaoyao floated out through the door crack and pushed open a room on the second floor not far from the study.
Xie Ningwan’s house was huge, four stories tall with many rooms. Aside from a few fixed ones, he hardly used the others—it was the kind of place where even a thief could hide for half a year undetected.
No thieves had broken in here, but a little ghost had.
This room was one Song Yaoyao had specially picked for himself that afternoon: spacious and clean, with minimal decorations. From the windowsill, he could see the tall magnolia tree in the courtyard. It was March, and the magnolias bloomed vigorously—Song Yaoyao loved it.
He carefully buried the cufflink under the pillow, hiding it away.
In the bathroom, Xie Ningwan finished showering, draped in a bathrobe, and stepped out.
His gaze fell on the laundry basket. He focused for a moment, but this time, no clothes moved on their own.
It really had been his imagination last night.
Xie Ningwan picked up the basket and shifted his gaze to the vanity, intending to store today’s accessories in the cabinet—
Xie Ningwan stared at the missing cufflink—only one remained—and fell silent.
“……?”
Before entering the bathroom, he was certain he’d placed both cufflinks there. No mistake. Xie Ningwan checked around: the vanity and floor were spotless, gleaming white, with no sign of the other cufflink.
It was as if it had vanished into thin air—or been stolen.
