Pretending to be a ghost
Ever since the video call with Bai Maomao, the uneasy feeling in her chest grew even stronger.
The Panlong Jade Pendant in her arms began to tremble faintly, and the video on her phone suddenly cut off.
But Su Yao had no mind to care about her phone anymore.
Because—
Rong Xiao was right outside the window.
For the first time in two hundred years, she saw Rong Xiao so clearly.
He smiled at her, but half his face was shrouded in shadow.
The interplay of light and darkness gave rise to an inexplicable sense of eeriness.
Su Yao didn’t care about any of that.
She rushed desperately to the window, but just as she reached it, Rong Xiao’s figure flickered and dissolved into mist, vanishing like water vapor.
“Rong Xiao—”
Su Yao shouted, stumbling as she chased after him.
It was New Year’s Eve.
The streets were ablaze with lanterns, but the pedestrians were unusually sparse.
Only Su Yao’s anguished cries echoed across the empty street.
Rong Xiao’s figure disappeared just like that, but Su Yao refused to give up.
She ran through alley after alley, calling out again and again.
Her cries were like a cuckoo’s blood-soaked wail—watching the person she’d yearned for day and night appear before her eyes, only to vanish in an instant.
Such a blow was even more torturous than never having seen him at all.
Occasional passersby, seeing her crazed appearance, detoured in fear.
Su Yao collapsed in despair on the ground, shoulders trembling.
She finally couldn’t hold back and buried her face in her hands, sobbing.
All the grievances and fears she’d suppressed for over two hundred years had no one to confide in.
She’d waited so many years, finally found him, only to watch him disappear like a mirage, vanishing at the slightest touch.
Her muffled sobs echoed on the street.
Su Yao sat wretchedly, hugging her knees, burying her face deep in her arms.
It was a long while before she recovered from the violent surge of emotions.
She wiped her tears, straightened her clothes, and returned to the Hotel with a heavy heart.
There was a crowd gathered at the entrance of the Hotel.
Su Yao walked numbly through the people, but her gaze inadvertently landed on the face of the person lying on the ground…
“Rong Xiao?!”
Su Yao pushed through the onlookers and helped the person up, brushing aside the dirty, tangled hair from his forehead.
That face…it really was Rong Xiao.
Doubt flooded Su Yao’s heart and all her rationality instantly returned.
Reason told her something was wrong, but seeing that face she’d dreamed of for so long, she couldn’t help but pick him up and hurry toward the hospital.
No matter what schemes lay behind this, Rong Xiao—she would never give up.
This was her vow with Rong Xiao: to share life and death, to rest together in the same grave.
If she couldn’t find Rong Xiao’s body, she didn’t even dare to die.
Now, after so many years, she’d finally found him again.
Even if there were layers of conspiracy behind it, what was there to fear?
New Year’s Day, a good day for Ancestor Worship.
Bai Maomao and Lang Junxian went early in the morning to offer incense to the Headmaster.
After worshipping the Ancestor Master, Lang Junxian took out the Red Envelopes he’d prepared in advance, giving one to Bai Maomao and, after they came out, another to Yan Miao.
Yan Miao hadn’t expected to receive Shousui Money too.
His eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
Bai Maomao patted his head, “You’ll have it every year from now on.”
Yan Miao nodded vigorously, cherishing the Red Envelope as he put it away, silently vowing to treat Maomao even better in the future.
Feeling happy, Yan Miao spun around twice, then rolled up his sleeves and headed into the Kitchen to cook Dumplings.
He’d wrapped them all yesterday, each plump Dumpling standing upright on the chopping board, looking especially inviting.
Warm.
Eating Dumplings on New Year’s Day was a sign of good fortune.
Yan Miao brought the Chicken Soup to a boil and dropped in the round, plump Dumplings.
The Kitchen instantly filled with steam, just like his mood—moist and warm.
This kind of New Year was something he’d never experienced in his sixteen years of life.
The Dumplings were soon cooked.
As soon as the three of them were about to eat, the doorbell rang.
Yan Miao ran to open the door.
“Hi, baby~”
Mo Qin stood at the door, grinning so widely his eyes disappeared.
Yan Miao blushed and softly greeted, “Happy New Year,” letting him in.
“How come you’re here?”
Bai Maomao asked in surprise.
“I came all this way just to wish you all a Happy New Year. Sincere enough for you?”
Mo Qin crossed his legs on the sofa, pulled out a Red Envelope, and tossed it to Bai Maomao without hesitation.
He handed another to Yan Miao, “Here, Shousui Money.”
Yan Miao had just finished cooking Dumplings and hadn’t had time to wash his hands.
Embarrassed, he wiped his hands on his apron before taking the Red Envelope.
“Thank you.”
Mo Qin looked him up and down.
Yan Miao was small, dressed simply in sportswear with a puffy coat over it, making him look even more petite.
His features weren’t particularly outstanding, but put together, he looked especially delicate—especially those eyes, always soft and glistening, making anyone’s heart melt.
“Come here,” Mo Qin reached out and pulled him close, sitting him beside himself and wrapping an arm around his neck affectionately.
“Be good, call me ‘Ge’—let me hear it.”
Yan Miao’s face turned bright red.
Held in Mo Qin’s arms, he didn’t know what to do.
His mouth opened and closed several times, but he just couldn’t say it.
Seeing this, Mo Qin wanted to tease him even more.
He scooted closer and, noticing Yan Miao’s pink pig apron, teased, “That apron’s nice—makes you look especially…tasty.”
Yan Miao was left helpless by his teasing, blushing all the way down his neck, flustered and unsure what to do.
Lang Junxian enjoyed watching the show from the side, but Bai Maomao couldn’t stand it and pulled Yan Miao to his side.
“Alright, one more word and he’ll cry.”
Yan Miao lowered his head, his ears red as if bleeding.
He muttered, “I’ll go get bowls,” and dashed into the Kitchen.
Mo Qin laughed heartily behind him, while Bai Maomao gave him a sidelong glance, thinking this guy was a real fool.
When the “fool” finally finished laughing, Yan Miao came out slowly with the Dumplings.
The four of them gathered around, eating Dumplings in lively harmony.
That night.
With one more person, there weren’t enough rooms at home, so Mo Qin shared a room with Yan Miao.
Mo Qin showered, then sprawled shirtless on the bed, scrolling Weibo.
Yan Miao changed into his pajamas and stood hesitantly by the bed.
Mo Qin couldn’t stand seeing him act like a shy little bride.
Every time he saw him like this, he couldn’t help but tease him, and this time was no exception.
He pulled Yan Miao into his arms and rubbed his face against the fluffy pajamas.
“This pajama is so soft, it feels great.”
Yan Miao felt like he was burning up again, but couldn’t escape, so he obediently let Mo Qin hug him.
Mo Qin hugged him, teasingly patting him a couple of times, then fell silent.
Yan Miao sensed something was off.
He wanted to turn around, but Mo Qin hugged him even tighter.
“Don’t move. Let me hold you for a bit.”
Even through the thin layer of fabric, he could feel the warmth behind him.
Yan Miao’s heartbeat quickened with each passing moment.
“Did you…have a fight with your family?”
Yan Miao bit his lip and asked cautiously.
Mo Qin paused.
“What makes you say that?”
“I just feel like…you’re not very happy.”
Mo Qin rubbed his chin against Yan Miao’s soft hair, making him squirm with laughter.
“It’s nothing really. I just ran away from home, that’s all. It’s not the first time anyway.”
Yan Miao gently patted the back of his hand to comfort him.
“If you’re upset, you can talk to me.”
Mo Qin was silent for a moment, then turned Yan Miao around to face him, leaning in with a puzzled look.
“Why are you so hot? Your face is all red too.”
Yan Miao’s eyes widened, looking even more watery.
“R-Really?”
“You’re not…”
—Mo Qin poked his cheek, teasing—
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me?”
Yan Miao froze like a startled deer, his eyes wide, the blush draining from his face until he was deathly pale.
“Hey,” Mo Qin saw his reaction and, thinking he’d scared him, quickly tried to comfort him.
“Don’t take it seriously, I was just joking.”
Yan Miao still stared at him, pale-faced, lips moving but saying nothing.
In the end, he silently turned away and lay down with his back to Mo Qin.
Mo Qin scratched his head, bewildered.
After rushing over and making a fuss all evening, he was tired too, so he stopped thinking about it, lay down next to Yan Miao, and fell asleep.
But Yan Miao couldn’t sleep at all.
Mo Qin’s words were like a sharp blade, piercing through the hazy veil in his heart.
—He liked Mo Qin.
He couldn’t remember when it started.
Was it when he instinctively hugged him upon meeting the Huo Hudie, or when Mo Qin showed up like a hero to save him during a kidnapping…
In any case, he liked him.
Yan Miao blinked in the darkness, his heart both joyful and sour.
Mo Qin was the first person he ever wanted to approach on his own initiative—even though he was a Cultivator.
But the warmth Mo Qin gave him made him want to throw caution to the wind and rush into his arms.
He’d always been a timid person.
No companions, stumbling through life on his own, bullied by so many people.
The only ones who ever reached out to help and protect him were Bai Maomao and Mo Qin.
The former was of his own kind, making him want to draw close and follow.
The latter made him feel warm and want to possess.
But…it seemed Mo Qin didn’t feel the same about him.
Yan Miao sniffled quietly and inched closer to Mo Qin, feeling the gentle warmth.
Only then did he smile contentedly, close his eyes, and finally fall asleep.
But it didn’t matter, Yan Miao comforted himself.
He doesn’t like me, but I like him…and that’s enough.