Qin Shu had genuinely never realized before that Pei Zhao had such a… such a twisted side to him.
Calling it perverted seemed a little unkind.
It would be more appropriate to call it distorted thinking and cognitive dysfunction requiring intervention from a professional.
“You’re allowed to like being treated that way. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. It can count as a personal preference. Cough… Mm, although it would probably be better to wait until you’re an adult before liking it. Honestly, neither of us should be exploring this too deeply right now.”
And so, on the way to the village chief’s house for dinner, Qin Shu was still continuing the conversation with extreme caution while repeatedly sneaking glances at every tiny shift in Pei Zhao’s expression.
“If there’s nothing wrong with it, why do I need regular counseling?” Pei Zhao had eventually agreed, but he was clearly somewhat unhappy about it.
“Because it can only be a personal preference. Zhaozhao, you can’t believe that this is normal behavior.”
Qin Shu fell silent for a moment. He raised one hand and smoothed out a tiny wrinkle beneath Pei Zhao’s scarf while slowly organizing his words. “Violence and control in any form are not proper ways to solve problems or maintain a relationship. Things like threatening you or imprisoning you should never have been options in that conversation to begin with.
“More importantly, you should never have been the one to suggest them. You definitely shouldn’t be able to list them so casually, set them in front of me as though nothing were wrong, and let me choose.”
Pei Zhao gently took his hand and considered this thoughtfully. “So I’m abnormal. I’m sick.”
Qin Shu paused, then tightened his fingers around Pei Zhao’s hand. “…You can’t talk about yourself like that either. You’re not sick. Besides, I’m hardly some wonderful person myself.”
“But if you suddenly grabbed my throat right now and tried to kill me, I would only find it exciting. I like seeing you behave aggressively toward me.”
“Wait, wait—huh? Zhaozhao, you… wait…”
Pei Zhao’s abrupt bluntness nearly startled Qin Shu back to life on the spot.
He was suddenly very grateful that his heart could not currently beat, allowing him to maintain the greatest possible degree of emotional stability. Qin Shu looked around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, then hurriedly lowered his voice. “Shh. We’re outside.”
Pei Zhao moved closer of his own accord, lowered his voice, and remained perfectly calm in stark contrast to Qin Shu. “I don’t care if anyone hears, and I’m not joking. Qin Shu, as long as you stop trying to reason with me, I want to listen to anything you tell me to do. Does that count as my personal preference, or am I sick?”
“…Then—then have you ever felt this way about anyone else? Anyone at all, at any point in time.” Qin Shu stared at him and asked quietly.
Pei Zhao thought about it and answered seriously. “Not in any of my lifetimes. Only you. If anyone else dared treat me like that… they’d already be courting death.”
That was more like it.
Qin Shu quietly breathed a sigh of relief, inwardly despised himself for the bizarre sense of satisfaction he felt, then cautiously said, “If it’s only me, then I suppose it can still count as a personal preference.”
“Then can I skip counseling?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Pei Zhao obediently stopped protesting. Before, an obedient Pei Zhao had only ever looked cute. Now, however, something faintly sour and aching spread through Qin Shu’s chest at the sight.
He suspected Pei Zhao had gone through something extremely bad in the past. This looked like a trauma response.
When pain became too intense, the brain could automatically beautify it, washing away the parts of the memory it was unwilling to revisit and leaving behind what looked like an “exciting” personal preference. It could also make someone extremely prone to entering an apparently calm dissociative state… That was not right.
What bastard had done this to his Zhaozhao?
Qin Shu could not find them now, but sooner or later he would. And the next time he encountered Pei Zhao’s father, Qin Shu was absolutely going to punch him.
What kind of parents could leave a child whose mental state was clearly not quite right alone in Jiangcheng, ignoring him day after day without asking questions or keeping him company?
Qin Shu worked himself into righteous fury for a while, only snapping out of it when Pei Zhao pulled him to a stop. He then realized he had become so immersed in his thoughts that he had nearly walked straight over the edge of an apparently bottomless cliff.
The stones crushed beneath his toes rolled down into the darkness on the wind. A few faint impacts sounded, but no final echo of them striking the bottom ever came.
“Whew. Good thing you were here… Did we take a wrong turn?” Qin Shu paused, then abruptly became alert. “No. Something’s wrong.”
Phoenix Village stood deep in the mountains, surrounded by dense forests of towering trees. Where had this cliff come from?
Qin Shu abruptly turned around and discovered that almost everything within sight had somehow become pitch-black. Only a few scattered blue-white flames flickered across the ground, isolated beneath the moon’s cold light.
The winter sun set quickly, and night had already fallen without them noticing, but Qin Shu knew perfectly well that Phoenix Village was not some poor, backward settlement cut off from civilization. It was extraordinarily wealthy.
Air conditioners, televisions, refrigerators—everything was available. Something as basic as streetlights and household lighting would certainly have been installed thoroughly.
Yet Qin Shu could not see so much as a single streetlight now, much less the brightly illuminated houses and buildings that should have filled the village.
“The blue-white flames are ghost fires,” Pei Zhao quickly answered his unspoken question. “We’re in a cemetery.”
“Phoenix Village’s cemetery is beside a cliff? But why aren’t there any gravestones…?” Qin Shu narrowed his eyes, rapidly adjusted to the dim light, and carefully examined the earth beneath their feet.
It was an unusually flat stretch of grassland. Nothing more.
The weeds and leaves were perfectly ordinary. There were no conspicuous burial mounds and no traces of digging… nor was there the unusually lush grass that often grew where bodies had been buried beneath the soil.
Pei Zhao disagreed. “The cemetery probably isn’t here. It’s below the cliff. Someone in one of the tombs wants us to do something for them, so they brought us to their doorstep.”
“…That really is possible.”
Before setting out on the journey, Qin Shu had deliberately researched some relevant information. Yun City, with its vast mountain ranges, still preserved many burial practices different from modern conventions.
Cave burial was one example. Familiar and yet unfamiliar cave burial—Qin Shu had already experienced it once in Living Water Village.
But Hai City and Yun City had different customs and traditions. Although both appeared to descend from ancient forms of witchcraft, their geographical separation meant the traditions passed down over time naturally differed in countless small details.
Perhaps Phoenix Village still preserved an old burial tradition. But that created another problem.
“Even if someone wants our help, shouldn’t we meet first and communicate? How are we supposed to get down there?”
Qin Shu crouched beside the edge, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted into the black abyss. “HEEEEY! I CAN’T GET DOWN THERE!”
No echo answered him. There was only deathly silence.
The clusters of blue-white ghost fire, however, were multiplying. They silently swayed around Qin Shu, radiating waves of cold air as more and more continually emerged.
Like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, they seemed to grow madly from the earth in the blink of an eye.
“…According to scientific principles, ghost fires appear in cemeteries because human remains release phosphorus while decaying. Phosphine spontaneously combusts, producing white flames.”
Qin Shu spoke faintly as he stood and took Pei Zhao’s hand, his expression somewhat strange. “Zhaozhao, if this many ghost fires are appearing at once… doesn’t that mean a huge number of corpses are currently decomposing around here? That’s a little strange.”
“Mm. Are you scared?”
“Not really. I suspect the cemetery is directly underneath us. There might be enormous caves built into the cliff face specifically for storing coffins.” Qin Shu pointed toward the place where the ghost fires gathered most densely. “Probably somewhere around there. The fires are part of the path guiding us in.”
Pei Zhao nodded and wrapped both hands around Qin Shu’s arm. “If you’re not afraid, then we’ll know once we go down. Come on.”
“…? Huh?”
In the next instant, an intense sensation of weightlessness slammed into Qin Shu like a hammer striking his chest.
The wind generated by their fall was bitterly cold and blew Qin Shu’s hair into complete disarray. All the little creatures in his pockets fell out in a chain, then silently grabbed his clothes and climbed back up by themselves with an impressive degree of self-management.
Of course, Qin Shu had no attention to spare for Yuanbao and the others right now. Managing his own expression was already enough work.
Being abruptly dragged off a cliff by Pei Zhao had shocked him beyond description. He realized he was not frightened at all. He was simply stunned.
What stunned him was just how little he guarded himself against Pei Zhao.
Pei Zhao had genuinely only given him the gentlest tug, hardly using any force, yet Qin Shu had somehow followed him straight over the edge in a daze. Even with a bottomless abyss beneath his feet, not a single instinct for risk prevention had surfaced.
His body was equally hopeless. All the muscle memory that should have activated automatically had vanished. He had not made even the slightest defensive movement.
Time seemed to freeze. Qin Shu watched his own body instinctively reach out, pull Pei Zhao completely into his arms, wrap both arms tightly around his waist, and then take the opportunity to admire Pei Zhao’s hair flying wildly in the wind.
Yes. That was all. Apparently, that was the entirety of his body’s instinctive response.
Pei Zhao also froze slightly when Qin Shu suddenly hugged him so firmly, but he did not appear panicked in the slightest. He merely reached out quietly and returned the embrace.
The cliff was extremely deep. The black rock walls on either side rose higher and higher around them, rapidly swallowing the stars and moon until nothing remained but thick darkness. They were still falling.
“Screeeech!”
The only one genuinely panicking was Coalball. It was producing an enormous amount of noise inside Qin Shu’s head, but unfortunately Qin Shu had subconsciously tuned all of it out.
Coalball really had seen very little of the world. Terrified that Qin Shu was about to fall to his death, it hooked its tiny claws into the collar of Qin Shu’s jacket and desperately flapped its miniature fluffy wings.
Every time it managed to lift them one centimeter, gravity dragged everyone downward another dozen meters. It was an extraordinarily pathetic sight. Qin Shu could practically see invisible sweat pouring off the tiny black fluffball.
“Hahahahaha…”
Qin Shu could not hold back his laughter. He lowered his head beside Pei Zhao’s ear and said quietly, “All right, you menace, have mercy on it. Where exactly are you taking me?”
A faint, unfamiliar warmth brushed Pei Zhao’s ear. Qin Shu’s lips. Pei Zhao paused slightly, turned his face away, and quietly said, “Coalball, turn left.”
The tiny black fluffball froze too. Then it desperately beat its wings and pulled at them, taking advantage of a gust of mountain wind to charge headfirst toward the dark cliff face on the left.
Bang!
Sure enough, a hidden cave entrance was concealed there. Coalball flung Qin Shu inside by the collar with considerable force. Carried by momentum, Qin Shu rolled several times across the cave floor before finally coming to a stop.
Qin Shu lay flat on the icy stone and looked up at Pei Zhao sprawled on top of him.
They stared silently at each other for a moment. After confirming that neither of them was missing an arm or leg, Qin Shu finally relaxed and flopped back again.
“Hiss. It doesn’t hurt much… Coalball, you’re actually pretty impressive. But couldn’t you have been a little gentler?”
Hearing Qin Shu’s laughing complaint, Coalball trembled all over, burrowed into his pocket, and refused to show itself again no matter what happened. That heroic feat had exhausted every last scrap of courage and strength it possessed.
The kid was timid. Forget it. Qin Shu stopped bothering it and remained lying perfectly straight on the ground for a while, letting his mind go blank.
Then he thought for a moment, raised one hand, and landed another smack on Pei Zhao’s backside as he abruptly sat up. With his other hand, he pinched Pei Zhao’s soft cheek and narrowed his eyes. “When you jumped off the dormitory roof before, were you getting me used to this in advance?”
Pei Zhao was sitting on his lap. He shifted awkwardly, apparently wanting to stand and retreat, but Qin Shu was pinching his face firmly enough this time that he could not move away.
“…Mm,” Pei Zhao could only answer quietly while remaining tucked against him.
Qin Shu lifted his chin and asked in a low voice, “Do you really like the feeling of weightlessness that much? If you wanted a thrill, couldn’t you find some other way?”
“No. I wasn’t looking for a thrill. Walking is troublesome and wastes time…” Pei Zhao lowered his eyes and explained in a soft voice, seemingly deliberately trying to placate him. “Jumping down is better. It’s faster too.”
“Mm. You weren’t looking for a thrill, but you absolutely wanted to give me one. Convenient, right? You even asked whether I was scared first… Zhaozhao, do you actually want me to be afraid, or do you want to watch me get angry?”
Pei Zhao froze. His lips moved as though he wanted to continue explaining, but apparently he had not figured out these small details himself. For some reason, he fell silent.
Qin Shu laughed, helped Pei Zhao slowly stand, then took his hand and began walking deeper into the cave, his tone as ordinary as ever. “Seriously, my temper isn’t that bad, is it? I already got angry once. I’m not going to get angry with you again now.”
“Then right now…”
“Pei Zhao, whatever you need, just tell me. I’m very willing to listen to you. Weren’t you doing a good job before? If you were thirsty, hungry, or uncomfortable, you told me honestly. You can explain clearly what you like and what you don’t like…”
Qin Shu paused, hooked one finger around Pei Zhao’s, and swung their hands lightly. “So you should say what you want emotionally too. Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve had so many strange, wildly imaginative ideas before, and you never disliked me for any of them. It works the same way in reverse.”
“But most of the time, I don’t know what I want.”
“So that’s how it is.” Qin Shu tilted his head toward him. “Don’t you want me?”
“You were already mine to begin with. That doesn’t count.”
Qin Shu’s eyes immediately brightened. “Now that’s more like it. I love hearing that. Keep going, keep going.”
Pei Zhao thought carefully before answering. “I only know what I’m supposed to do. Once I’ve finished the things I’m supposed to do, all the free time left afterward makes me feel completely at a loss…
“Because I don’t know what to do with myself, I listen to you. If you want hotpot, if you want to watch a movie, if you want to play games, I do those things with you. Then I don’t have to think about what I want.”
Qin Shu listened just as seriously and immediately asked, “Are you happy when you do those things with me?”
“Mm.”
“Then that’s enough. You don’t need a reason to do something that makes you happy.”
“But sometimes I do things that I don’t understand myself.” Pei Zhao looked at him, his pale-golden eyes extraordinarily beautiful in the darkness, faintly glowing. “I don’t know why I provoke you like this. Qin Shu, it’s true that you need stimulation to become stronger… but there are clearly other, more stable and conventional methods, and yet I chose this one.”
“You chose to drag me off a cliff with you,” Qin Shu repeated quietly.
Pei Zhao lowered his eyes. “Mm.”
“Jumping off a cliff really is stimulating. It’s fun too. As long as we can guarantee safety, it’s basically free tandem bungee jumping. It even trains Coalball’s courage and flying ability while saving time, so it accomplishes two things at once.”
Qin Shu considered it and slowly analyzed the matter. “Other than not warning me beforehand, which meant I could’ve gotten frightened and become angry with you… there actually isn’t much wrong with choosing this method of getting downstairs, is there? Mm. There really isn’t. The more I think about it, the more reasonable it seems.”
“Reasonable?” Pei Zhao raised his eyes again, the gaze that had sunk earlier returning to Qin Shu’s face. “You pinched my face very hard. And you hit me.”
There was the faintest trace of grievance in his voice.
Just a trace. Not much.
“…Cough. My fault. Want to hit me back?” Qin Shu immediately felt guilty. He caught Pei Zhao’s wrist, pulled his hand backward, and landed it solidly against his own lower back. “I’m very hard to hurt. Hit me however you want.”
“No.”
“Then squeeze me hard a few times instead. Don’t you think my butt’s pretty firm? Feels good, right? Heh heh…”
Pei Zhao somehow ended up having his wrist dragged around by Qin Shu, touching here and there. Left with no alternative, he really did move closer and give him a few squeezes before Qin Shu finally let him go.
His face had turned red. Very obviously red. It looked like a vivid streak of blood seeping through creamy white jade, and even in the pitch-black depths of the cave, there was absolutely no hiding it.
Because Qin Shu could see everything.
“Doing something like that to you voluntarily is worse than making you angry and having you pin me down and slap me.” Pei Zhao was completely at a loss. He tugged quietly on Qin Shu’s sleeve. “Don’t make me do that again next time. I don’t want to.”
“Mm. That’s a very strange thought, and the way you phrased it is strange too.” Qin Shu touched Pei Zhao’s burning cheek and frowned slightly. “Zhaozhao, do you feel more justified and secure when you’re the relatively passive victim while the two of us are together?”
Qin Shu continued thoughtfully, “Leaving aside your, cough, personal preference for now… let’s talk only about the subtle identity of being the victim. Does that position make you more comfortable, more at peace with yourself, so that no matter what you do, you feel more relaxed?”
“…I don’t know.” Pei Zhao stared blankly for quite a while. Even after thinking about it, he could only answer in confusion. “I don’t know.”
“Has anyone hit you before?”
“…Hm? Yes.”
They slowly walked deeper into the darkness. Their footsteps echoed through the deathly silent cave, spreading outward in layer after layer of faint reverberation. Qin Shu gently interlaced their fingers. “Badly?”
“Very badly.”
“When you remember what happened before, does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Pei Zhao thought about it. “Because things are pretty good now… and you’re pretty good too.”
“How can you be like that? I’m different from you. I hold grudges. Even if I’m ridiculously happy now, I still have to hold grudges. Just tell me who did it, and I’ll beat everyone who ever bullied you into pulp. Even if I can’t beat them now, I can always do it later!”
Seeing Qin Shu suddenly filled with righteous indignation, Pei Zhao laughed very softly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I can beat them. I already got revenge.”
“But you’re obviously still being affected by what happened, which means we need to get revenge one more time.” Qin Shu gave a dissatisfied hum. “Drag those people back out of the underworld, beat them into paste again, and send them right back.”
“…”
“What? Isn’t that good? We can’t?”
“Good. We can.” Pei Zhao seemed to have something else he wanted to say, but in the end he chose to go along with Qin Shu. That faint smile remained at the corner of his lips, carrying some difficult-to-read meaning.
“That’s more like it… Zhaozhao, smile more often. You look especially good when you smile. Really, really.”
Qin Shu smiled too and was just about to wrap an arm around Pei Zhao and continue talking when he abruptly stopped. The eyeball in his pocket suddenly bounced, as though desperately eager to get out. Then, in the very next instant, it went completely still and silently remained where it was.
After walking blindly through the darkness for so long, they had finally reached their destination. Qin Shu followed the direction in which the eyeball had jumped and discovered a woman floating in midair. A translucent woman.
Wet hair hung all the way to her waist. She wore a long-sleeved nightdress and looked as though she had also been soaking in water for a very long time. Her face was deathly pale, and the wound across her left wrist was deep enough to expose bone. The blood dripping from her fingertips was thick and viscous, staining her sleeve and the hem of her dress bright red.
She was practically the textbook image of a female ghost who had died by slitting her wrists. In fact, she was so textbook that she somehow looked comparatively approachable.
Receiving Qin Shu’s curious stare, the female ghost slowly floated closer. Then, displaying an impressive respect for boundaries, she stopped at a proper social distance and spoke faintly.
“You two, could you take the flirting somewhere else? There are far too many ancestors here. If you say something you shouldn’t and offend one of the more old-fashioned ones… I might not be able to keep their coffin lids down.”
She really was a friendly-looking, normal female ghost!
“Miss, are you Zhang Mei Jiang?” Qin Shu immediately gave her a friendly smile without correcting her misunderstanding. “Sorry. We’ll be more careful from now on.”
“Hello. I’m Zhang Mei Jiang.” The female ghost nodded. She did not appear to notice the eyeball at all, and her emotions remained remarkably stable. “What are you doing here?”
“Weren’t you the one who brought us here?” Qin Shu froze. “I thought you couldn’t wait any longer and wanted to see your girlfriend early.”
The female ghost froze as well. Two streams of bloody tears suddenly flowed from her pitch-black eyes as she murmured almost blankly, “How could I possibly have the face to see her anymore? No. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”
“…Then who was it?”