Chapter 3

Outside the door stood a tall man clad in a black trench coat, his nose sharp and straight, his dark eyes deep and mysterious, and his beauty unparalleled.

Those who had seen Xue Tinghe noticed the man bore about a thirty-percent resemblance to him but was even more upright and handsome, with an aura that was nobler and more enigmatic.

He opened his arms toward Gu Yunshuang, his profound, dark eyes softened with a gentle smile that made hearts race as if falling in love. “Hey, darling, I’m back. Did you miss me?”

Everyone was stunned to see Gu Yunshuang—the man who usually remained composed no matter what, as if nothing could touch him—suddenly with reddened eyes. He took a few quick steps forward, grabbed the man’s coat collar fiercely, yet his voice was soft and a little choked with emotion: “You still remember to come back? Where the hell have you been all these years?”

In that moment, Gu Yunshuang shed all his usual cold and aloof labels. Like a little cat who thought its owner had abandoned it, he was both fierce and adorable, pitiful yet endearing—so cute that anyone watching would want to scoop him up and squeeze him tight.

Seeing Gu Yunshuang like this, not only the staff but even the live broadcast viewers were dumbfounded.

They were utterly shocked, and… somewhat charmed—what was going on?

Qi Yue also wanted to wrap his arms around the wronged Gu Yunshuang, comfort him, and tell him that he was back and would protect him forever, never letting him get hurt again. But this excitement sparked a surge of ghostly energy within him, nearly causing him to lose control of his human form.

He quickly withdrew his arms and took a large step back, putting some distance between himself and Gu Yunshuang.

Gu Yunshuang was stunned by his sudden coldness, staring blankly at him, as if trying to confirm whether this person before him was truly the one he had longed for and searched for all these years.

Feeling guilty, Qi Yue hastily offered an excuse: “It’s raining outside, pretty hard. I didn’t bring an umbrella, see, I’m soaked through. If I got your clothes wet too, that wouldn’t be good.”

Finally, Gu Yunshuang snapped out of the reunion daze. Seeing droplets still clinging to his hair, he frowned with concern. “How did you get so wet? Your health’s always been fragile. What if you get sick? Come in quickly, take a hot shower and change your clothes.”

“All right.” Qi Yue stepped inside, pretending to be casual but nervously evading Gu Yunshuang’s reaching hand.

Gu Yunshuang’s hand hung suspended for a moment before retreating as if nothing had happened, but anyone could see the fleeting loneliness in that instant.

[“Hahaha, this is hilarious. Poor Gu Niupi is giving such a passionate performance, going above and beyond. They even found an actor who looks a bit like Master Xue, but the guy just won’t cooperate. Did you see how nervously he dodged? Like he was avoiding the plague!”]

[“Damn, I thought that childhood friend was real when Gu Niupi acted so well. Turns out he’s a fake. This actor—such a man with hands, feet, and looks—why choose to help Gu Niupi deceive everyone? Be honest, how much did Gu Niupi pay you?”]

[“But seriously, don’t you think this actor is even better looking than Master Xue? Whether he’s an actor or not, that face and body are amazing! I’m hyped. Forget the childhood friend role, come play my husband! I’ll pay you double.”]

[“There’s no way they just happened to find someone who looks like Master Xue and is even slightly better looking. It’s all plastic surgery! I wonder if these two cosmetic surgery freaks can really satisfy their big sponsor, considering how lavishly he’s spending.”]

Although Gu Yunshuang’s fans were shocked by his change, they couldn’t deny that Qi Yue was clearly avoiding Gu Yunshuang.

The haters became even more brazen, flooding the comments with humiliating jeers.

Just as Qi Yue stepped into the living room, he suddenly glanced toward the camera. His eyes were strikingly black and white, with more black than white, deep and eerie.

The live viewers locked eyes with that gaze and their hearts skipped a beat—they forgot to send any messages in the chat.

“Are you live streaming?”

The staff instinctively replied, “Ah, yes, we’re filming a paranormal livestream.”

“Paranormal? Since you believe in the supernatural, you should also believe in the Tongue-Pulling Hell, right?”

Qi Yue’s voice was slow, ethereal, and strange, “Those who speak ill will descend into Tongue-Pulling Hell.”

At that moment, the viewers felt a chill down their spines, their scalps tingling.

The livestream suddenly fizzled out into static. In that stunned moment, blood slowly dripped down the screen, forming a line of words: “Those who speak ill will descend into Tongue-Pulling Hell.”

Then came a crackling sound, and the livestream went completely black.

Those who hadn’t experienced online bullying felt little, just startled for a moment before angrily cursing the director for making the next livestream so terrifying.

But the haters felt differently. Even with the screen dark, it was as if a pair of cold, dark eyes were watching them from the screen, making their bodies freeze as Qi Yue’s words echoed hauntingly in their minds.

“Those who speak ill will descend into Tongue-Pulling Hell.”

After Qi Yue’s eerie words, the crew felt a chill creep down their spines, an inexplicable growing fear that reminded them of the suddenly extinguished talisman for warding off evil.

Their survival instinct urged them to leave immediately. They dared not ponder the meaning of Qi Yue’s words any longer.

At this point, they didn’t care why the livestream had shut down on its own. They said it was late and, since the broadcast was over, they’d leave first. Then they hastily packed up and left.

Only when the elevator descended, carrying them away from Gu Yunshuang’s floor, did their panicked heart calm.

With the danger gone, the staff regretted his sudden fear. He should have seized the chance to interview the mysterious childhood friend and expose his actor’s identity, making Gu Yunshuang even more embarrassed!

But alas, he missed it.

The elevator stopped slowly. He looked up and saw the eighteenth floor.

A woman in a red dress entered the elevator. Her head bowed, long black hair covering half her face. The doors closed quickly behind her.

The staff thought this building housed New Wave Entertainment’s artists, so she was probably a somewhat famous celebrity. She looked vaguely familiar.

He wanted to greet her but suddenly realized this apartment only had sixteen floors. Where did the eighteenth floor come from?

The woman in red slowly lifted her head, revealing a face he recognized. She smiled faintly at him.

“Mu, Mu, Mu Ju.”

The staff’s eyes widened in terror—wasn’t this the actress who recently jumped off a building after being exposed in a scandalous party by the paparazzi?

“Now you know how I died.”

Mu Ju’s bright almond-shaped eyes rolled out from their sockets, hanging in the eye sockets as blood dripped down her head and body.

“A ghost!—”

***

Gu Yunshuang frowned. “I thought I heard someone calling out? It was pretty pitiful, like a pig being slaughtered.”

Qi Yue smiled calmly. “No one’s calling. It’s probably the wind. You must have misheard.”

Gu Yunshuang thought so too and continued rummaging through the closet. Eventually, he pulled out the largest size of his pajamas, held it up against Qi Yue from a distance, then put it away with a helpless yet slightly proud complaint, “What have you been eating these past few years? How did you suddenly grow so tall? I bought you a size bigger pajamas, but you might not even fit them. Tonight, just wear my bathrobe. I’ll ask my manager, Sister Hua, to bring you some clothes that fit tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a response, he shoved his bathrobe into Qi Yue’s arms, a hint of shyness even he didn’t notice: “Go take a shower, get out of those wet clothes. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

When Qi Yue finished bathing and came out, Gu Yunshuang’s sharp, clear eyes sparkled as they scanned his face and the slight exposure of chest muscles beneath the bathrobe. When their gazes met, Gu Yunshuang froze, then quickly looked away, his ears flushed.

Qi Yue seemed to see the shy, obedient little Yunshuang from childhood again, the one who’d blush and shy away when teased. His heart softened, wanting to tease him like before, but he held back, looking away and urging, “You haven’t showered yet, right? Hurry and wash up, go to bed early. Staying up late is bad for your health.”

Gu Yunshuang lowered his head, gave a careless nod, and hurried into the bathroom, washing twice as fast as usual.

Only then did he confirm that after all these years, Qi Yue had finally come back.

Though Qi Yue had changed a lot—his figure taller, features more defined and mature—he was certain this was the Qi Yue he had been waiting and searching for.

He looked forward to lying beside Qi Yue again, whispering softly in the dark about the years they’d missed.

But when Qi Yue finished bathing and stepped out, full of excitement and expectation, he was nowhere to be found.

Only a note remained on the table, written in familiar, strong, sharp handwriting, telling him Qi Yue had an urgent matter and would return tomorrow.

Gu Yunshuang stared blankly at the note.

His mind felt numb, as if he’d thought deeply about many things but also nothing at all.

After a long while, he rubbed his reddened eyes and dove under the covers like an ostrich burying its head, as if that would make tonight’s events disappear—Qi Yue never returned, never awkwardly avoided him, and never left without a word.

Before, all he wanted was to find Qi Yue, to know if he was well, and whether he had gotten into trouble during those years of silence.

Now, what he feared even more was that Qi Yue had come back, but was no longer the Qi Yue who belonged solely to him.

He finally had to face the truth: seven years of estrangement lay between them. Seven years enough for a familiar person to grow into a stranger, forgetting the promises they once made.

He dreaded the day Qi Yue might look at him coldly and say it was just childish nonsense, not worth taking seriously. He didn’t know how he’d react then.

What Gu Yunshuang didn’t know was that Qi Yue hadn’t left. He sat lightly, weightless, on the air conditioner outside the window, separated from Gu Yunshuang by only a wall.

Leaning against the wall, he looked up at the dark sky, holding a cigarette pinched between his fingers—stolen from the crew—but didn’t light it. He just held it, his thoughts filled with the person inside the room.

Yunshuang, hiding sadly under the covers, wept quietly.

Whenever Yunshuang used to cry under the covers, it was Qi Yue who would dig him out, hold him tight, pat his back gently, and tell him not to be afraid, that he was there, that he would stay with him.

Those moments became rare after Yunshuang started elementary school, until the day he received news of Old Master Qi’s passing, and once more, on the night before Qi Yue’s departure, Yunshuang hid under the covers and cried again.

Qi Yue still remembered vividly how the child clung to his waist, tightly holding on, voice trembling with tears, repeatedly asking, “You’ll come back, right? No matter how long you’re gone, we’ll always be the best in the world!”

Qi Yue’s heart ached, knowing full well this trip was like going to war—he might fall gloriously like Old Master Qi. Yet he stroked Yunshuang’s back and feigned lightness, saying, “Yes, yes, yes. Don’t worry. I’m just going abroad to study. I’ll come back when I graduate. I’ll write you letters.”

He longed to hold Yunshuang tightly at their reunion, to shout firmly, “I’m back. I’m never leaving again.”

He wanted to lie with him now, let him nestle in his arms, listen to him ramble about the years lost.

But none of that was possible.

Because he was no longer human.

He had thought he could control it well, but when Yunshuang grabbed his collar, he nearly lost control of the ghostly energy. If he touched Yunshuang, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t lose control entirely.

Yunshuang was human—so fragile—and if he lost control, he might hurt him. That was absolutely unacceptable.

Yet, by awkwardly avoiding Yunshuang’s embrace, he had already hurt him. There was no way to cruelly refuse to share a bed with him.

He could only flee hastily.

But that only caused Yunshuang greater pain.

Qi Yue felt helpless.

The rain continued to fall softly and incessantly. Soon it soaked the cigarette, whose stem broke under the added weight of moisture—just like their severed fate.

In the end, humans and ghosts walk different paths.