Lin Yao didn’t quite know how to be a good kid.
Though he had tried.
A long, long time ago, two little boys hid in a corner, chatting idly.
Lin Yao said that his dad’s friend had come to visit, bringing along a kid in a skirt with pigtails. Dad had picked up that kid, and Lin Yao said enviously, “I want Dad to hold me too…”
Little Deer yawned, responding casually, “Then just go hug him.”
He had received so many hugs and so much affection, yet it hadn’t cultivated any empathy in him. This delicate, pale little bundle sat hugging his knees, tilting his head to watch birds in the distance, already thinking about who to beg to catch one for him and lock it in a cage.
Lin Yao turned his face to look at him, mimicking his cute pose.
No one disliked Little Deer—it was like moths forever drawn to flame. Lin Yao’s faint glow was overshadowed, invisible to anyone.
But he didn’t understand that. He didn’t realize his neglect stemmed from Little Deer drawing all eyes. He only knew Little Deer was popular, and he genuinely liked this little brother, so he clumsily trailed behind, basking in the faint spillover light.
He asked Little Deer’s opinion. “If I wore a little skirt like that, would Dad like me?”
Little Deer thought for a moment and egged him on. “You could try.”
He did try.
Dad said, “Get lost.”
That look of disgust was like staring at a sewer rat.
Later, whenever Lin Yao recalled it, he cringed at his younger self. He’d wake from nightmares in the dead of night, ashamed of that little skirt, vowing never to fawn over anyone again.
Yet here he was, full circle, dressing in drag again as an adult.
This time was even worse—he’d deliberately made himself a clown, hoping the teacher would spot him without getting too mad, maybe even laugh and talk to him more.
But the teacher hadn’t spotted him.
Or rather, the teacher was tired and fed up, unwilling to play this game anymore.
It felt like the sky was crashing down on Lin Yao.
What hurt most wasn’t the teacher’s distance—it was that even knowing he was a mess, a total idiot, the teacher had still been gentle, saying he didn’t hate him, explaining it was just a lack of time and energy.
Where had that time and energy gone?
To Little Deer.
The little idiot in the group chat was bragging again, posting pics of his collection of rewards, not forgetting to @ his brother and A Si, saying the teacher would go to an amusement park soon and then video call him all day.
Minutes later, the hyped-up deer turned into an enraged one: [Bad brother! Bad brother! Stealing my stuff!!!]
Deer: [@Sheng Shisi go beat him up, you go!!!]
Lin Yao snapped a photo too and sent it to the group—a cat-paw pillow that Little Deer had swiped before, which had circled back to him now.
Parents Both Deceased: [Why @ that loser? He’s on extended leave.]
Parents Both Deceased: [For real, I’m curious what you two did behind my back. The old man treats him like his own son, but this time he’s dead set against letting A Si come back.]
Parents Both Deceased: [@Deer @Sheng Shisi wanna chat?]
Little Deer went silent instantly.
Lin Yao had just tossed it out to stir trouble, but seeing this, he narrowed his eyes.
Something was off. The little idiot was feeling guilty.
Good. He’d look into it later.
Who says I don’t know how to be good? I can just expose Little Deer’s fake obedience!
Little Deer was indeed feeling guilty.
But not for what happened that day—for what he wanted to do in the future.
That day, Dad had said, “You know what’s wrong with you, right?”
Little Deer panicked instantly.
Yes, he knew.
He not only knew but felt no shame. In fact, a dark thought bubbled up: Why can’t Dad be as obedient as A Si? Why can’t Brother like me like before? Why are they all fighting me for Teacher?
If only they—especially Dad—would just disappear.
Murderous intent surged again. Little Deer stopped checking the group chat and poked A Si privately: [One more time, okay? I just want to see Teacher’s school, just once, just a peek!]
He switched to his alt account to chat with others: [Thanks, you’re the best. Except for that one accident last time, I’ve never left the villa. Hope this works! [Anticipation.jpg]]
Far away in the hospital, Huo Xiaoqi stared at his phone, growing angrier by the second.
He wasn’t brainless or incapable. But precisely because he could hack the Lin Family’s surveillance, he believed Little Deer’s innocence and pity, getting played for a fool.
What decent person records a kid’s every second?
Thousands of cameras!
He typed quickly: [Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Me and the bros will all help.]
Little Deer curved his lips slightly and said: [I need a gun.]
Huo Xiaoqi shouldn’t have agreed, but as if possessed by a ghost, he replied: [Okay. Need anything else?]
Little Deer: [Nope. Just help me escape this cage.]
[I really want to see the outside world… ]
Huo Xiaoqi’s heart ached.
About to reply, a WeChat message popped up—Shen Leyuan’s avatar, but clearly not his tone.
[Get ready. I’m heading back in three days.]
It was his second brother.
Huo Tingfeng gripped Shen Leyuan’s hand, sending the message to his dear seventh brother, then reminding him to delete it thoroughly—best if even he couldn’t recover it.
Huo Xiaoqi was no fighter physically, but in the digital world, he was a king.
The brothers chatted briefly. Huo Xiaoqi wanted to tell second bro about Little Deer but remembered he seemed to dislike the kid now, so he held back and probed: [Second bro, is… Teacher Shen actually my second sis-in-law?]
Huo Tingfeng’s arm tightened, lips curving: [Mm.]
“Even Little Seven figured it out.” He chuckled lowly to Shen Leyuan. “Once I’m back in my body, will you spot me right away?”
Then he muttered to himself: “Nah.”
You’re so oblivious…
Today, the Leyuan personal narrator had been used a lot, always in this cuddling embrace. By the time Huo Tingfeng finished chatting with his brother, Shen Leyuan was drowsy, eyes barely open.
Their skin contact felt so vivid. At some point, they’d grown used to this embrace.
While his beloved slept, Huo Tingfeng sneaked a kiss to Shen Leyuan’s forehead.
He typed: “Good night.”
But Shen Leyuan refused good night. Half-asleep, he still thought of Mr. Ghost, rolling over to bury himself in that broad chest, fumbling blindly with closed eyes until he found that familiar hand, then giving up. Mumbling incoherently, he asked, “Are you leaving soon?”
That scorching hand trembled slightly.
In an instant, Shen Leyuan snapped fully awake, sitting up and flicking on the light.
Under the bright glow, nothing was there—as if Mr. Ghost had been a dream.
But the embrace behind him burned hot.
Shen Leyuan turned off the light and slowly lay back down.
[You’re leaving, aren’t you?] he typed.
Mr. Ghost stayed silent for a long time.
Silence itself was admission. Shen Leyuan lost all sleepiness.
Today, Mr. Ghost lingered in bed unusually long—so long that Shen Leyuan grew warm from his body heat. When those large hands reached his face, trembling as they caressed, he realized tears were streaming down his cheeks.
He wiped them in panic. “It’s nothing.”
Then a hint of petulant resentment crept in. “Didn’t you say you’d tell me before leaving? If I hadn’t asked, were you just gonna keep hiding it?”
Huo Tingfeng didn’t know how to reply.
His beloved’s next words softened from stiff reproach, choked and willful: “Can’t you… not go?”
Logically, no.
But Huo Tingfeng couldn’t bear to say it.
A crazy idea bubbled up, and he excitedly typed: [It’s not impossible. I could possess the vegetable’s body.]
He hadn’t finished when the slender, pale hand he held went still.
“Forget it,” Shen Leyuan said. “Take care on your way out. Don’t make me exorcise you.”
Huo Tingfeng: …
Huo Tingfeng tried to explain: [Not stealing someone else’s body.]
Shen Leyuan didn’t know ghost rules, but if it were possible, Mr. Ghost would’ve done it ages ago—why bring it up now?
He hugged tighter, whispering, “No.”
Huo Tingfeng probed: [I could talk to that Huo guy, borrow his body temporarily. He can’t return anyway.]
He hadn’t thought it through, but it hit him as a great idea.
Huo Tingfeng: [We went from enemies to friends. He’ll agree, really!]
He’d swear on it if he could.
But Shen Leyuan buried his face in his chest, murmuring, “No. I don’t want Mr. Chu turning into a bad Mr. Ghost for me.”
Huo Tingfeng’s heart melted.
The urge to confess surged again, but the little dog’s corpse was still under the bed.
And Shen Leyuan said he didn’t want a bad Mr. Ghost.
Did that mean if Mr. Ghost was “Huo Tingfeng,” he’d “not want” him too?
Huo Tingfeng hugged him tighter, stroking his eyes.
Their silent signal: It’s late. Sleep.
The room quieted. Shen Leyuan’s lashes fluttered, then he tilted his face up, asking seriously, “Can I have an extra goodnight kiss today?”
Huo Tingfeng froze.
—”Can I have an extra goodnight kiss today?”
The husky invitation echoed, amplified in the monitoring room.
Lin Yuan had planned to restrain himself, stop spying on Shen Leyuan—but only after Huo Tingfeng returned to his body.
A guy who’d lick wildly as a dog—what good could he be?
He feared Shen Leyuan getting hurt.
But what did he just hear?
If his legs worked, Lin Yuan would’ve bolted upstairs without doubt.
Powerlessness cooled him. Expressionless, he watched the sheets shift on screen, hearing the youth’s soft gasps—maybe wet sounds, or perhaps illusion. He couldn’t be sure what happened below.
It was just a light goodnight kiss, yet Lin Yuan’s mind flashed bizarre scenes.
Lin Yao. Little Deer. Huo Tingfeng. Even a long-haired figure.
Gone without trace one moment, crystal clear the next—then vanished, leaving only seething anger and grievance.
Won’t let me watch so you can do this?
Veins bulged on Lin Yuan’s hand. He wanted to hit buttons, grab the gun from the drawer, rush downstairs, yank the covers, and coldly interrogate the youth.
But he just watched. Kept watching.
