After lunch, everyone sprawled across the sofas, full and satisfied, their eyelids gradually growing heavy as they slipped into a post-meal carb coma.
Fortunately, Uncle Tang brewed a pot of tea, so everyone drank and chatted about several topics that had recently been trending online.
One of them was the string of accidental deaths among the bullies, beginning with Tang Ran. Although Song Qian Li’s soul had already dissipated, for some unknown reason, half the people who had once bullied him were now dead. It did not matter how far across the country they had scattered—they still could not escape. And all of this had happened in barely a week. Far too many people had died.
No. 2 High School was doing its best to suppress the media attention, but rumors were still spreading. Apparently, some witnesses claimed to have seen supernatural phenomena, while the police had begun investigating whether someone might be committing copycat crimes behind the scenes.
Qin Shu made a mental note to ask Captain Wu or Brother Yong about it when he had the chance. For now, though… he needed to immerse himself in the ordinary world and do something ordinary.
Su Ting Lian dragged Pei Zhao into a mahjong game with her husband and son, but explicitly forbade Qin Shu from joining.
That was right. Even Tang Rui Cheng, with half his arm broken, was allowed at the mahjong table, but Qin Shu was not. During the previous Spring Festival, Qin Shu had won five huge hands in a row, and every single time, it had been Su Ting Lian who discarded the tile that gave him the win. She had nearly fallen backward from sheer rage.
Elio’s Notes: In mahjong, 点炮 means discarding the exact tile another player needs to complete a winning hand. Because Su Ting Lian repeatedly “fed” Qin Shu his winning tile, she was directly responsible for several of his victories.
Su Ting Lian had complained about the incident all the way into this year, and Qin Shu still felt immensely proud whenever he remembered it. It was not that he particularly loved mahjong; he simply loved that invincible feeling of winning again and again.
Smiling, Qin Shu helped Tang Rui Cheng arrange his mahjong tiles, then comfortably pulled over a chair and sat beside Pei Zhao. While watching the game, he generously helped Tang Rui Cheng grind out a few ranked matches and complete a good number of his daily game quests.
To everyone’s surprise, Pei Zhao actually knew how to play mahjong, and his ability to keep track of the tiles was frighteningly precise. Even when he could not win himself, he could hold on to the tiles other players needed and drag the hand all the way to an exhaustive draw.
Elio’s Notes: In mahjong, an exhaustive draw occurs when the available tiles are used up without anyone completing a winning hand. Skilled players may deliberately withhold tiles they know their opponents need.
Su Ting Lian had originally planned to teach him once they sat down, only to lose the very first round herself. Since Pei Zhao spoke little, kept a cold expression, and barely showed any emotion, no one could read his face to guess what tiles he was holding… As a result, the next two hours became an unexpectedly fierce battle with completely unpredictable outcomes, leaving even Qin Shu stunned several times.
Su Ting Lian finally got her fill of mahjong this time. And when she saw Pei Zhao sternly hand Tang Rui Cheng several mock exam papers as well, she only liked him more.
She insisted that the two boys stay for dinner, and afterward everyone watched the New Year’s gala together for a while. By the time dusk had fully settled, more and more people outside had begun setting off fireworks, and Qin Shu finally grew restless and wanted to go out.
“Dress warmly. Do both of your coats have hoods? Put them up before you go to the river, and don’t let the wind blow on your heads until you catch a cold, understand?” Su Ting Lian knew perfectly well how restless Qin Shu could be, so she followed them to the door and continued fussing as he said goodbye. “If it starts snowing, don’t stay out too late. Come straight home and take a hot shower. You’re tough enough to take a beating, but Xiao Pei isn’t built like you.”
Qin Shu patiently listened to her nagging, then curved his lips and tattled on Pei Zhao right in front of him. “Got it, got it. But Zhaozhao isn’t afraid of the cold either. Auntie Su, I’m telling you, he actually likes eating frozen things in winter. His tastes are really weird.”
“What’s weird about that? Stop talking nonsense.”
Su Ting Lian glared at him, then turned around and rummaged through the refrigerator. She returned with an ice cream for each of them and smiled warmly at Pei Zhao. “Good boy. Come visit again during winter break, all right? Have Xiao Qin bring you over.”
Pei Zhao’s eyes brightened slightly. “Okay. Thank you, Auntie.”
“You should smile more often. You look so lovely when you smile.”
“…Okay.”
By the time they left the Tang residence, the moon hung high overhead, partially obscured by clouds and smoke illuminated by fireworks.
They had both eaten far too much, so after discussing it, they decided not to ride their bikes that night. Instead, they leisurely followed the lamp-lit road toward the river, treating the walk as a chance to digest their dinner.
Qin Shu gave his own ice cream to Pei Zhao as well. Draping an arm over Pei Zhao’s shoulders, he leaned closer and whispered, “When we were playing mahjong earlier, did you secretly go easy on Auntie Su and let her win a few times?”
“Mm.” Pei Zhao was concentrating on enjoying his frozen dessert and, for the moment, did not mind Qin Shu slinging an arm around him and practically wrapping him into an embrace. “She really wanted to win, so I let her.”
Qin Shu chuckled and solemnly warned him, “You should go easy on her less often in the future. At this rate, every time you visit, she’ll grab you and make you play mahjong for two hours. Then you won’t even be able to escape.”
“Why would I want to escape when you’re there?”
Pei Zhao tilted his head toward him in genuine confusion, only to abruptly realize how close they were. Qin Shu’s eyes were bright as he looked at him, like obsidian that had swallowed the night, with a faint dark-red sheen glimmering beneath the hazy moonlight.
“You like having me around too, right? You have the most fun when you’re with me, right? We’re the best friends in the whole world, right?”
Those were not really questions. The smile on Qin Shu’s face only deepened, and he made absolutely no attempt to hide how pleased with himself he was—because he was, in fact, extremely pleased.
Pei Zhao looked away. “Childish.”
“Childish is fine. As long as you’re not denying it. Heh-heh.”
“…You’re too warm, Qin Shu. Stop pressing so close.”
“Nope! I’m an all-natural, pollution-free superheater. What, are you dissatisfied?” Qin Shu immediately took advantage of the situation and became even more shameless. “You should be secretly delighted that I cling to you every day.”
“…”
Since Pei Zhao’s objections accomplished nothing, the two of them continued walking crookedly along, practically stuck together, chatting about one thing and then another. By the time they finally reached the riverbank, the fireworks show had already been underway for five minutes.
Along the way, Qin Shu discovered something rather remarkable. Whenever he held an ice cream, it melted easily; no matter how quickly he ate, some would inevitably drip onto his hand. Pei Zhao, however, never seemed to have that problem.
Pei Zhao had been eating especially slowly tonight, one ice cream in each hand, savoring them leisurely like a little cat. Yet the ice cream remained frozen solid, and even the crisp chocolate coating on the outside was perfectly intact.
It should have been adorable—pure, concentrated cuteness—but Qin Shu could not fully lose himself in appreciating it.
Instead, several memories came to mind. For example… whenever Pei Zhao sat behind him on his bicycle and voluntarily leaned forward to hug him, Qin Shu would feel a chill spreading across his back and waves of cold air brushing the nape of his neck.
Even earlier than that, during the height of summer, Pei Zhao would sometimes come to school wearing his long-sleeved uniform without showing the slightest discomfort or breaking a sweat.
Qin Shu had once worried that he might get heatstroke, only to touch his hand and discover that Pei Zhao’s skin was still icy cold.
That evil spirit possessing him must be affecting his body way too much. I need to find someone who can help and get rid of it safely as soon as possible. According to traditional Chinese medicine, if this continued, it might affect Pei Zhao’s sleep and mental state, perhaps even his Kidney Meridian… What if he can’t have children someday?
Elio’s Notes: In traditional Chinese medicine, the Kidney Meridian belongs to a traditional system of channels through which qi is believed to circulate. It is associated with functions broader than the anatomical kidneys, including vitality, development, and reproduction.
But then again…
Why should Pei Zhao have children with someone else in the first place?
The thought inexplicably irritated Qin Shu, though he could not explain why.
So he deliberately asked, “By the way, Zhaozhao, do you like children? How many do you plan to have someday?”
Pei Zhao: “…”
At that moment, the two of them were sitting side by side on a grassy slope beside the river, having deliberately chosen a spot on higher ground.
Qin Shu had taken off his coat and spread it beneath them as a cushion, shielding them from the prickly wild grass.
Looking down, they could see the neon lights of the bridge spanning the river, scattering brilliant colors across the rippling water at night. Farther away, both riverbanks were packed with Jiangcheng residents craning their heads upward, every face washed in the shifting colors of the fireworks.
Children carrying snap pops ran back and forth below them, but their laughter and shouts were swallowed by the constant explosions overhead, so they did not seem particularly noisy.
Elio’s Notes: Snap pops are tiny novelty fireworks wrapped in paper that make a sharp popping sound when thrown against a hard surface. They are commonly played with by children during festive occasions.
It was a beautiful scene filled with the warmth and bustle of ordinary human life, perfect for quietly watching and enjoying the liveliness of the moment… or at least that was what Pei Zhao thought.
So he turned toward Qin Shu, expressionless. “I hate children.”
“So you don’t want any?” Qin Shu’s arm once again settled across his shoulders, pressing them close together. “What if your partner really wants children? What would you do?”
Although this was not exactly a topic suitable for two seventeen-year-old high school students to discuss, Qin Shu asked anyway. Better to ask early than late. He needed to make certain psychological preparations in advance.
Pei Zhao remained silent for a long while. He turned his head toward the endless bursts of brilliant fireworks across the night sky, their light reflected in his pale-golden eyes like cold, iridescent glass.
He seemed utterly indifferent to the subject, yet there was also something deliberately suggestive in his tone when he answered calmly, “It wouldn’t be possible. Even if they wanted children, there wouldn’t be any.”
Qin Shu froze. “Hm? You can’t?”
“Mm. I really can’t.”
“…Oh.”
That shut Qin Shu up.
Even if he still had other questions, he no longer dared to ask them.
After all, Pei Zhao did not currently have a partner, and Qin Shu knew that better than anyone. So if Pei Zhao said he could not have children… there had to be a serious reason behind it.
Whether it was caused by the evil spirit possessing him, because his health had already been poor for years, or because he had once suffered some severe illness, there was no way the explanation could be anything good.
Until Pei Zhao chose to explain the reason himself, it was absolutely private, and Qin Shu would not touch the subject again. There was only one thing he needed to do: find a safe way to drive out the evil spirit as soon as possible.
For now, Qin Shu got up and bought some barbecue skewers and drinks. He and Pei Zhao listened to a singer performing with a guitar at an open-air bar while watching firework shells whistle upward from the riverbank, streaking brilliant lines of light through the air before bursting into dazzling blossoms.
The hastily sold barbecue was surprisingly decent. Qin Shu casually ordered the reliable staples—pork ribs and beef skewers, along with a few vegetables. It was hard to go wrong with those. As for the drinks…
Pei Zhao specifically requested an iced lemon sweet tea with extra ice. Qin Shu chose a cup of hot mulled wine with almost no alcohol in it. The dark-red wine carried the fragrance of freshly cut fruit, while a small piece of cinnamon and a sprig of rosemary rested at the rim of the glass, steam curling upward.
Qin Shu had never tried mulled wine before. He had only bought it because it looked nice and seemed suitably atmospheric for deep winter. It certainly looked good.
Unfortunately, it also tasted terrible.
He had more or less expected that. After eating two skewers of meat, Qin Shu treated the drink like bitter Chinese medicine and swallowed more than half the cup in one go. The tips of his ears immediately turned faintly red.
Pei Zhao instantly became alert and tugged at his sleeve. “Qin Shu, if it tastes bad, stop drinking it. Have mine.”
Qin Shu shook his head, then finished the remaining half in one gulp and laughed. “It cost thirty yuan. I might as well drink it.”
“You care about thirty yuan, but not five million.” Pei Zhao stared thoughtfully at his ears.
“That’s different. Liu Yang Yang offering me five million was completely excessive compensation. I was basically a hired fighter who left halfway through the job. I didn’t even help him herd the corpse all the way home. Why would I take that much money?”
As Qin Shu spoke, half his body gradually leaned against Pei Zhao. His steadily rising body heat seeped through their clothes, making even the cold wind blowing off the river seem to disappear.
He was getting hot. His face felt unbearably warm, so he burrowed around until his head found Pei Zhao’s neck. Pressing his cheek against that cool skin, he gave a comfortable sigh.
Pei Zhao’s pupils contracted in shock.
Qin Shu, however, still had no idea what he was doing and simply continued the conversation. “Money that doesn’t belong to me isn’t something I should covet. But that thirty yuan was mine, so of course I couldn’t waste it. And also… like that huge amount of money I got from the bad guy at Yunli Metro Station last night—stole from him, no, wait, tricked him out of. That money belongs to me too, so I have to plan carefully how to spend every last cent.”
Qin Shu had not actually told Pei Zhao about what happened at Yunli Metro Station the previous night. He had only mentioned his suspicion that something might have happened to Liu Yang Yang. Even the little centipede named Yuanbao had only met Pei Zhao today.
Running out alone in the middle of the night to confront an unknown enemy was, admittedly, something Qin Shu felt rather guilty about. He had originally been afraid to mention it and had even wondered how he should phrase the explanation later… but now he had forgotten all about that concern. Clinging to Pei Zhao, he spilled the entire story in one breath without the slightest hesitation.
Pei Zhao raised a hand and pushed at his head.
It did not budge.
“…Qin Shu, sit up straight…”
Sitting up straight was impossible. Qin Shu practically wanted to lie directly on top of him. And now that he had finished telling the story of last night, his thoughts immediately jumped somewhere else.
“After tonight, I can basically say I’m eighteen. Only half a month until I’m officially an adult! Zhaozhao, do you think I should ask Auntie Su about buying some investment products with her?”
Pei Zhao sighed and simply went along with him. “Sure.”
“Then on my birthday, should I treat the whole class to dinner, or just take you out? Auntie Su did say she wanted to organize a coming-of-age celebration for me, but that sounds like such a hassle. Adults always ask where my dad is and what he does. Every year, somebody tries to pry. And the people who know even less about the situation start rumors that my parents divorced and each ran off somewhere, leaving me alone in Jiangcheng…”
“Who spread those rumors?” Pei Zhao suddenly became more serious. Taking advantage of Qin Shu’s hazy, tipsy state, he immediately pressed him. “Give me names.”
“Some people are just nosy. They don’t really mean anything by it. But some of them… some distant relatives aren’t very nice.”
Pei Zhao looked thoughtful. “When did this happen? I never saw it. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I’d only just started middle school then, so of course you didn’t know, Zhaozhao. It was a few Spring Festivals ago. They came to Jiangcheng on vacation and showed up at my house saying they wanted to visit for the New Year. When they saw I was home alone, they actually started eyeing my family’s house. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
Qin Shu could not help laughing at the memory, then continued with some helplessness. “I was still young, so all I remember is that they wanted to take advantage of my parents being away and steal some of my mom’s gold and silver jewelry. Auntie Su eventually chased them out with a mop… Hahaha. Everyone in the neighborhood saw it, so they completely humiliated themselves. They didn’t dare offend Auntie Su, though, so they held the grudge against my family instead and went around badmouthing us to anyone who would listen.”
“I understand.” Pei Zhao stroked his hair and looked down at Qin Shu’s dazed, foolish expression, his voice very soft. “They won’t say those things anymore.”
“Really?” Qin Shu abruptly lifted his head.
“Really.”
Pei Zhao’s lips curved slightly. His pale face was illuminated by the brilliant fireworks, alternating between light and shadow. His expression seemed subtly different from usual, carrying an indescribable thread of danger alongside a rare warmth.
Qin Shu stared for a moment, suddenly unable to think of anything to say. He only wanted to keep looking at Pei Zhao, to believe him, and to see that smile for a little longer.
They quietly held each other’s gaze for several moments, their breaths mingling at close range while the ice cubes packed into the lemon sweet tea slowly melted.
For one brief instant, even the crowds surging along the riverbank seemed to fall silent.
Then an even louder barrage of fireworks erupted overhead, and everyone burst into cheers, the sound deafening.
At almost the same moment, the phone in Qin Shu’s pocket began vibrating violently. New messages poured in like a flood, one after another without pause.
Explosions thundered above and all around him. Qin Shu startled so badly that more than half of his warm, hazy tipsiness vanished in an instant, his heart pounding hard against his ribs.
He looked around in confusion before finally coming back to his senses. Then he spread his arms and pulled Pei Zhao tightly into his embrace again, leaned close to his ear, and shouted over the fireworks, “Zhaozhao, Happy New Year! It’s way too loud here—can you hear me? I want us to be the best in the whole world this year too!”
“Mm. Happy New Year.”
This time, Pei Zhao did not push him away.
He gently tilted his head and leaned against him.
“I can hear you.”
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