Futile Devices Scans

Never having told a lie did not mean never having concealed anything.

Thanks to his parents’ example and guidance, Qin Shu understood better than most what could truly be called the art of speaking.

Even when someone spoke nothing but the truth from beginning to end and revealed only genuine information, that did not necessarily mean they had presented the absolute truth.

When certain pieces of information were isolated and interpreted on their own, they could easily be understood in a way entirely different from reality. A tiny deviation at the beginning could lead to an enormous error in the end.

But at least Pei Zhao was willing to reveal those minor abnormalities. At least he could promise that he had never lied. That was enough.

Qin Shu had also been observing him carefully. At such close range, the veins along Pei Zhao’s neck were clearly visible, appearing blue-green beneath his excessively pale skin. Fine fuzz covered his cheeks as well. It was very cute and thoroughly human.

More importantly, Qin Shu could feel his pulse. He deliberately kept a tight grip around Pei Zhao’s cold wrist and refused to release it for a long time.

As he felt the artery beneath his fingers beating again and again, the stifling agitation inside Qin Shu’s chest gradually transformed into a faint concern. Like a narrow stream flowing outward, it dispersed and, for the moment, ceased threatening to become anything more serious.

Only then did he finally loosen his grip. Still looking wronged, he glared at Pei Zhao and muttered quietly, “Something happened last night. A police officer will speak with you after evening self-study, and he’ll also check the records of you entering and leaving the dormitory. He’s a good person. He wouldn’t deliberately hurt me, and he won’t hurt you.”

Qin Shu rarely displayed negative emotions. Even when they appeared, he usually restrained them again within an instant. Precisely because of that, Pei Zhao froze in unfamiliarity after being glared at. Only after a moment did he lower his eyes slightly and answer, “I understand. Thank you.”

Receiving that thank-you somehow made Qin Shu feel even more aggrieved. “Pei Zhao, what should I do? I’m still a little unhappy.”

“…All right. What should I do, then?” Pei Zhao fell silent briefly, confusion appearing in his eyes.

It was completely genuine confusion.

“Ah, I don’t know either…” Qin Shu considered it, then discovered that he was equally confused.

He had no idea where this small temper of his had come from. Even more bafflingly, he could not determine what he wanted Pei Zhao to do.

Did he genuinely expect Pei Zhao to coax him? How was Pei Zhao supposed to do that? A hug might be enough, but what if that failed?

Both of them fell helplessly silent once more, unable to figure out how to end the situation. After all, they truly had very little experience with disagreements of any kind.

However, this inexplicable stalemate was quickly broken by a familiar, deliberately affected voice.

“Oh my, secretly holding hands in the classroom today… How sweet.”

Qin Shu’s temple throbbed. He knew instantly who was being obnoxious.

“Tang Rui Cheng, are you sick?” He turned around speechlessly and looked the grinning boy up and down. “Your shoulder is still in a brace. Why were you discharged already? Wouldn’t it be better to stay in the hospital and recover? Auntie Su didn’t object?”

Tang Rui Cheng curled his lips and sat on the desk in the row before them. With one hand, he expertly opened a carton of milk, caught the straw between his teeth, and lowered his head hard enough to drive it precisely into the carton.

After completing the smooth sequence, he raised an eyebrow. “See? I’m not going to die just because I only have one working hand. My mom said I can commute for now. You’ll keep an eye on me at school during the day, and a caregiver will look after me at home at night. She’s quite reassured.”

“She’s treating me like your caregiver? I don’t believe that. Auntie Su treats me better than she treats you. Old Tang, tell me the truth. What actually happened?” Qin Shu immediately sensed something wrong and questioned him.

Tang Rui Cheng seemed slightly hesitant. “…Cough. It concerns the hospital. Is your Zhaozhao allowed to hear it?”

Qin Shu clicked his tongue. “Do you even need to ask? Of course he is.”

“I actually don’t have to listen.”

Pei Zhao quietly interjected, only for Qin Shu to pinch his cheek rather forcefully.

Pei Zhao stared blankly. Qin Shu also froze, unable to understand how his hand had somehow reached Pei Zhao’s face on its own.

But Qin Shu quickly recovered. Before Pei Zhao could stop looking dazed, he immediately demanded even more, sounding completely shameless. “No. You have to listen. From now on, you have to hear about everything that concerns me.”

“…”

“Zhaozhao~ Promise me. Once you agree, I won’t be unhappy anymore today.”

“…All right.”

Pei Zhao agreed.

Meanwhile, Tang Rui Cheng could barely continue listening. The longer it went on, the more uncomfortable he became, until his expression twisted.

He had never heard Qin Shu speak in that tone before—not to anyone.

“Old Qin, seriously. You’re always complaining that the way I talk is disgusting. Have you ever listened to yourself? You’re putting on the most affected voice of all now. Oh my god, what possessed my brother? This is revolting!”

“None of your business. I’ll talk however I like. It isn’t directed at you.” Qin Shu’s mood had already cleared from cloudy to bright, so he could not be bothered arguing. Comfortably wrapping an arm around Pei Zhao, he smiled. “So what exactly happened at the hospital?”

“Ah, cough. Well… all four doctors died. The doctor who operated on me died first, and it was horrifying. When the nurse went to check his room, she discovered that his head had already rotted. There was a huge hole in the back of his skull, and it was completely filled with maggots.” As Tang Rui Cheng spoke, he raised a hand to cover his face and sighed mournfully. “It was seriously, unbelievably terrifying. My mom was frightened out of her mind and refused to let me remain in the hospital. She said I might as well return to school.”

The smile gradually disappeared from Qin Shu’s face.

He remained silent for a moment before becoming thoughtful. “If their bodies were already severely decomposed and infested with insects when they were discovered, then many of the things I did at the hospital… might have been meaningless.”

Judging from the timeline, the four doctors had probably already died before Qin Shu intervened.

Perhaps it had been a special curse from Yuncheng, or perhaps Zhang Mei Jiang had placed lethal Gu poison inside the staff cafeteria after breaking in. Qin Shu had never studied that kind of knowledge and genuinely could not understand it.

Naturally, Xu Qian—the obedient eyeball currently resting inside Qin Shu’s pocket—had never been anything pure or harmless.

Liu Yang Yang’s undisguised terror earlier that day made it obvious that she was probably the kind of horrifying vengeful ghost who could kill an ordinary person with the slightest contact. Qin Shu did not know how to dispel evil or cure supernatural afflictions. Even though he had personally removed the filthy objects from Doctor Liang’s body, that did not mean he had saved the man’s life, much less that everything would immediately end happily.

The four men deserved to die. Their fate was entirely their own fault.

But Qin Shu could not feel much satisfaction. He was worried.

The important question was not the dead people before him, but the future… What was he supposed to do in the future?

What if a completely innocent person was deliberately harmed through the same method? What could he do? What was he capable of doing?

During his trip to Yuncheng, he absolutely had to learn something genuine and practical. Ideally, he would also meet the doctor from Brother Liu’s village. He needed to prepare in advance and perhaps ask Old Fu for several additional days of leave. Otherwise, a rushed journey might waste precious opportunities to learn…

“Academic Representative, look at how completely Old Qin has spaced out. I give up. The two of us could keep talking and he still wouldn’t hear anything.”

Meanwhile, Tang Rui Cheng had already begun speaking with Pei Zhao. Looking at Qin Shu, he frowned and started complaining. “This isn’t the first time he’s stared into space for ages lately. It’s already been several days since that supernatural incident, hasn’t it? From what I can tell, Daoist Priest Xu didn’t help much. Why has Old Qin become increasingly strange and superstitious? He’s even more dramatic than my mom! Academic Representative, the two of you have practically become conjoined twins lately. Do you have any idea what’s going on with him?”

“Too many things have come looking for him. He’s tired.” Pei Zhao did not participate in Tang Rui Cheng’s complaining and merely offered a brief explanation.

“No matter how many things he has to deal with, could it possibly be more than what happened to me, the unlucky bastard who was nearly crushed to death? Reporters have been everywhere at First Municipal Hospital for the past two days, chasing me for no reason and asking for interviews. Even when I went to the bathroom, someone shoved a microphone over from the neighboring stall…”

Tang Rui Cheng poured out a flood of grievances before realizing that Pei Zhao had long since stopped listening. Pei Zhao took a stack of test papers from the desk drawer, carefully selected several, and placed them on Qin Shu’s desk.

“…Academic Representative, what are you doing?”

This time, Pei Zhao answered. His tone remained cool, but he was quite patient. “Assigning Qin Shu homework. His foundations are strong, but his weak areas are obvious. Targeted practice will be more effective.”

“Huh? He’s willing to complete this enormous pile of papers?”

“Mm.” Pei Zhao nodded calmly, seeing nothing unusual about it.

Tang Rui Cheng sucked in a breath and marveled. “Academic Representative, Old Qin’s safety genuinely depends on you now. This guy has had a strange personality since childhood—he was already like this in kindergarten. He’s normally extremely easygoing, but when he becomes stubborn, he’s like an ox. From what I can see, you’re the only one he listens to now. If someone else tried persuading him about certain things, it would be completely useless. If he starts acting crazy in the future, please help stop him.”

When Tang Rui Cheng mentioned Qin Shu’s childhood, Pei Zhao abruptly stopped drifting away and listened with considerable attention. His golden-amber eyes stared directly at Tang Rui Cheng as he seriously asked, “What does ‘acting crazy’ mean?”

Tang Rui Cheng froze and scratched his head. “For example, if he suddenly saw someone jumping into the river to kill themselves, Qin Shu would probably rip off his shirt, charge over, and leap from the bridge after them… I remember during summer vacation five or six years ago, when the two of us went swimming at a reservoir, he did something similar. He nearly frightened me to death.”

“I see.” Pei Zhao became thoughtful. “Then it doesn’t matter if he acts crazy.”

“How could that not matter? Fortunately, the bridges in the village weren’t very high, and Old Qin is ridiculously tough. Someone else might have broken bones the moment they hit the water. For heaven’s sake! He acts like his life means nothing.”

Tang Rui Cheng’s voice grew louder, startling Qin Shu out of his immersion in his phone. He had been messaging Liu Yang Yang and asking about Gu poison. Unfortunately, the customs surrounding Gu in Yuncheng were rather unusual, and Liu Yang Yang did not know very much.

Corpse-herding techniques were passed to men but not women, while Gu-raising techniques were passed to women but not men. It had been that way since ancient times. Knowledge and resources in their village were always distributed evenly. Men and women each possessed methods of earning a living and protecting themselves, and they had to maintain friendly cooperation so they could assist one another and maximize their mutual benefits.

Qin Shu had been reading intently when Tang Rui Cheng’s shout dragged him back to awareness.

“…What are you talking about?” He lowered his phone, and his gaze landed on the mountain of test papers before him. His expression slowly stiffened.

Pei Zhao seemed to smile. The corner of his lips rose in an almost imperceptible curve. “We were saying bad things about you.”

“Fine, fine. Say whatever bad things you like. But Zhaozhao… this chemistry paper…”

“Finish all of them before we go to the church.” Pei Zhao’s expression was genuinely softer than usual, but his attitude did not yield in the slightest. “Concentrate and stop playing with your phone. You’ll finish by the end of evening self-study.”

Qin Shu could not refuse him and agreed in misery. Tang Rui Cheng immediately began gloating again. “Oh my~ How sweet. I knew someone like you was born with a severe case of ‘bronchitis’—completely henpecked~”

“What does bronchi—”

Pei Zhao curiously began asking, only for Qin Shu to interrupt in a fluster.

“Hey, hey! Old Tang, shut your mouth. Stop occupying someone else’s seat. Go away, go away!”

Qin Shu’s face felt slightly warm. He hurriedly chased Tang Rui Cheng away as though swatting a fly. Meeting Pei Zhao’s puzzled gaze, he awkwardly added in a low voice, “Zhaozhao, there’s no need to pay attention to him. Tang Rui Cheng is the kind of person who fears the world isn’t chaotic enough. He talks nonsense all day. He’s simply sick.”

“His personality is actually all right.” Pei Zhao unusually considered the matter before offering a fair assessment.

Qin Shu frowned. “Is it better than mine?”

“No.”

“That’s more like it.”

The minor conflict, worry, and agitation gradually faded through their casual conversation.

Qin Shu spent the afternoon completing test papers. After finishing the ones Pei Zhao assigned, he still had to complete work from every subject teacher. Whenever he could not solve a difficult question, he dragged Pei Zhao over and asked for further explanation. Once he became busy, Qin Shu instead discovered that his mind felt exceptionally clear. None of his earlier drowsiness from insufficient sleep remained.

How could someone become more energetic the busier they were? That made no sense.

After casually punching several eagle-bodied little ghosts that had been peeking around the corner to death, Qin Shu entered the bathroom during the break and looked into the mirror.

His dark circles had disappeared. They had still been present when he woke that morning, yet now he looked radiant. Something stirred inside Qin Shu. He raised a hand to move the loose hair from his face and carefully examined the areas normally concealed beneath it.

Then he discovered…

Even the patch of skin on the side of his neck that had been injured while playing ball during the summer had inexplicably faded. The scar left by a cleat scraping across it had vanished completely.

His entire complexion seemed a shade paler, and his skin felt slightly smoother. Yet the change had happened so naturally and subtly. Qin Shu knew his own appearance better than anyone, but without the scar for comparison, even he might not have noticed.

“Nine Nether Purgatory Scripture… what exactly are you? Is this something inherent in my constitution, or is it a change you caused?”

Qin Shu leaned closer in astonishment and murmured, “Am I genuinely cultivating and becoming stronger? Does it happen while I’m asleep? I still need to find concrete evidence somehow. Otherwise, I’m going to keep thinking I’ve gone insane…”

“Student Qin, repeat what you just said. The first sentence.”

At that moment, a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar suddenly came from one of the bathroom stalls.

At least to Qin Shu, it was exceedingly familiar.

Even more astonished, Qin Shu stiffly turned his head. “Brother Yong, what are you doing?”

“Searching for abnormal phenomena and crucial clues. Also, repeat the first thing you said—the Nine Nether something…”

“Nine Nether Purgatory Scripture. I’ve searched online too, but you probably won’t find anything useful.” Qin Shu sounded faintly speechless as he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Brother Yong, how long have you been hiding in the bathroom?”

Faced with the suspicious question, an awkward cough emerged from the stall. “…Not very long. Just the entire day.”

Qin Shu became even more speechless. “Why? Aren’t you afraid a student will report you as a pervert?”

Xing Yong remained silent for a moment before replying with increasing embarrassment, “Because I don’t think ghosts use the bathroom. Even if they pretend to come inside, they wouldn’t actually produce anything.”

Qin Shu: “…”

He opened his mouth but stopped himself from speaking. Xing Yong cautiously pushed open the stall door. The two stared at one another in silence for a long time, each wanting to speak but hesitating.

The embarrassment became almost tangible and spread wildly through the room. Qin Shu closed his eyes. “Brother Yong, I understand that you suffered considerable trauma last night. But I still need to confirm this. Were you genuinely planning to hide inside the bathroom all day and secretly observe whether Pei Zhao would…”

“You’re his deskmate and close friend, right? During two and a half years of high school, the two of you must have gone to the bathroom together, right?” Xing Yong took a deep breath. “Qin Shu, tell me honestly. Have you ever seen his…”

“Who stands deliberately close enough to look while using the bathroom? We aren’t elementary-school boys gathering together to compare sizes!”

Xing Yong thought about it. “Fine. Even if you’ve never seen anything, you should at least have heard him…”

“Who would be perverted enough to deliberately listen for that kind of sound?”

Qin Shu was genuinely about to explode. His face was hot enough to fry an egg, and a rare flush spread across it.

He no longer had the energy to care about Xing Yong’s unconventional investigative direction. His mind suddenly contained only one thought.

What would Pei Zhao look like without his clothes?

He remembered that during an outdoor training trip in their first year, Pei Zhao had indeed undressed once because everyone was going swimming in the lake.

At the time, he had worn properly fitted racing swim trunks. The light, thin fabric clung tightly to his thighs, outlining proportions that were balanced to perfection. His exposed skin was cool, pale, and translucent, like droplets of water rolling across fine white jade. Beneath the sunlight, it had been almost dazzlingly beautiful.

Qin Shu had been too embarrassed to look for long. He grabbed Pei Zhao’s slightly cool wrist and hurried into the lake, seemingly by accident placing himself where he could hide him from view.

It had been the height of summer, yet even after soaking in the cold lake for a long time, heat continued rising from Qin Shu’s entire body.

“Forget it. This was only a desperate measure. Now that you’ve said it aloud, even I think something is wrong. It genuinely isn’t appropriate…” Xing Yong sighed. “Qin Shu, return to class first. If tonight’s interview reveals nothing, I’ll investigate through other methods. It could be someone besides him. I’ll keep looking.”

“…”

“Qin Shu, wake up! What kind of daydream are you having?” Xing Yong patted his shoulder, abruptly returning him to reality.

“Ah, it’s nothing…”

Qin Shu turned on the tap and fiercely splashed water over his face. Only then did the burning heat finally begin to recede.

He sternly warned Xing Yong not to continue devising such sinister methods of identifying ghosts, then returned to the classroom with a faintly guilty conscience.

Throughout the entire afternoon, he barely dared look at Pei Zhao. Somehow, he muddled his way through all the test papers. Dinner was something he bought casually and swallowed without tasting, and the instant he finished, he forgot what it had tasted like.

Only after evening self-study ended, when he watched Pei Zhao return from the teachers’ office and calmly begin packing his desk, did Qin Shu finally regain his composure and suppress those strange, incomprehensible emotions.

“Zhaozhao, Brother Yong didn’t make things difficult for you, did he?”

Pei Zhao gently shook his head, put on his backpack, and left the classroom together with Qin Shu.

They walked side by side along the wooded path leading toward the dormitory. As usual, Qin Shu slowed his pace and secretly tilted his head to study him.

The emotions within the boy’s lowered eyes were impossible to determine, hidden beneath dense lashes like raven feathers. His pale golden pupils were steeped in moonlight and darkness, revealing a faint, strange hue that was almost inhuman.

An inexplicable ache rose within Qin Shu’s chest, and he suddenly found it slightly difficult to breathe. The exceptionally strange sensation disappeared in an instant without reason, leaving him unable to understand what had happened.

So he confirmed it once more. “Zhaozhao, you truly weren’t bullied, were you?”

“…How could I be?”

“Then suppose that detective and I are very close, and we stay in contact more often in the future—perhaps becoming increasingly close… Would that bother you at all?”

“No. His wife is pregnant.”

“Hm? Oh.”

Qin Shu froze briefly. He did not quite understand the logical connection between Pei Zhao’s two sentences.

But it did not matter. As long as Pei Zhao did not mind, everything was fine.

At that very moment, the silent classroom building reflected the figures of the two walking away.

Inside the darkened office after the lights had been turned off, Xing Yong stood alone beside the window. Cold sweat flooded his entire body as he gasped heavily.

Given the unusual circumstances, Xing Yong naturally had not come to Jiangcheng No. 2 High School relying solely upon independent investigation and surveillance. Nor had he brought only weapons in the conventional sense, whether blades or firearms.

His wife’s surname was Chang. Her maternal ancestors belonged to the renowned “Heavenly Dragons of the Chang Family” in the north—or, as they were known in legend, ancestral serpent immortals.

Xing Yong had never believed a word his wife said.

Then he returned home in a miserable state the previous night and frightened his wife so badly that her eyes revealed a pair of vertical pupils.

Xing Yong had no choice but to believe.

He seized the opportunity to discuss everything carefully with his wife. Together, they devised numerous countermeasures, only to reach the conclusion that ordinary serpent immortals were incapable of confronting such an entity. Their ancient ancestor would have to appear personally before there was any chance—at the very least, of communicating on equal terms.

According to legend, that ancestor of the Chang family had already crossed through the Dragon Gate and undergone a complete transformation. Once manifested, it possessed terrifying power capable of overturning rivers and seas.

Xing Yong wanted to try.

After obtaining Captain Wu’s approval, he personally carried an extraordinary serpent scale that glittered like a multicolored gemstone and placed it tightly against his chest.

It was a physical token belonging to the Chang family’s immortal deity. Even someone with no knowledge of Daoist arts could borrow its power for protection. Since Xing Yong was the family’s son-in-law, it would supposedly work especially well for him.

With the ancestor protecting him, his heart surely could not be removed so easily again.

That was what Xing Yong had secretly thought when he sat in the office, which had been cleared in advance, and waited for Pei Zhao’s gentle knock upon the door.

The facts proved that Pei Zhao was an emotionally stable student.

Although he was somewhat cold toward everyone and remained polite, concise, and distant throughout their conversation, Xing Yong could not produce even the slightest hostility toward Pei Zhao himself.

His vigilance and suspicion dissolved inch by inch. Xing Yong smiled and allowed him to leave. Only when he prepared to pack up and return home did he abruptly realize…

He had not managed to ask Pei Zhao anything at all.

His memories of their conversation were also hazy. The more he tried to recall them, the blurrier they became, until he could remember absolutely nothing. Only a single line of sharp, forceful handwriting remained in his notebook.

May you soon be blessed with a son, and may both mother and child remain healthy and safe.

It was not Xing Yong’s handwriting.

His heart tightened. He hurriedly raised a hand toward his chest, only to release it instantly when something burned him, cold sweat erupting across his entire body.

The iridescent serpent scale that could have commanded an astronomical price in the ghost market had been reduced to nothing but charred powder.

It looked as though a bolt of heavenly lightning had abruptly descended and casually shattered it to pieces, even scorching a ridiculous red mark around Xing Yong’s chest.

Even the ancestor’s manifestation had been useless.

The ancestor had not dared to appear at all.

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