Jing Nian packed a full bag of leftovers, stood up, and waved his hand. “You two chat, I’m heading back first.”
Time to make a quick escape—he had no intention of becoming part of their little drama.
Jiang Jue sneered as he locked eyes with Qiu Huai. “There are indeed some things we need to discuss.”
Qiu Huai, clinging to Jing Nian like a shadow, whimpered pitifully, “What’s there left to discuss? It’s not safe to go home alone at night. Let me walk you back, Nian Nian…”
Jing Nian put on his coat, picked up the takeout bag, and walked out without even glancing back, showing no concern for his boss’s fate.
Suddenly remembering something, Jiang Jue felt a rush of urgency. The words “A’Nian” nearly slipped out before he quickly corrected himself.
“Wait…”
Jing Nian paused mid-step, turned around, and tilted his head slightly, his beautiful deep brown eyes filled with a hint of confusion. “Hmm? What is it?”
Jiang Jue lowered his lashes, masking the turbulent emotions in his gaze, and asked gently, “My name is Jiang Jue. Could I add your contact?”
There’s always a hidden cost!
Do I really look like someone with money?
Jing Nian’s lips pressed together, the corners of his mouth drooping slightly. Just as he was about to shake his head, a figure suddenly darted out from beside him.
“What’s with all the hesitation! Our Nian Nian has a kind heart and never turns anyone down!”
Qiu Huai deftly pulled Jing Nian’s phone from his pocket, unlocked it with a quick facial scan, and swiftly added Jiang Jue as a friend.
Jing Nian: “…”
Forced kindness is still kindness, I suppose.
Qiu Huai knew all too well that tonight’s dinner had been a disaster. If they didn’t even manage to exchange contact information in the end, Jiang Jue would surely tear him apart.
Out of respect for the meal they’d just shared, Jing Nian didn’t make a scene on the spot. Instead, as he passed Qiu Huai, he subtly tripped him.
We’ll settle this later!
Stumbling, Qiu Huai nearly fell flat on his face, barely managing to steady himself by grabbing the wall.
The two figures disappeared at the end of the hallway.
Jiang Jue fought back the urge to chase after them, his fingers tracing the darkened screen as he remained lost in thought for a long while.
“A’Nian…”
I’m back.
…
By the time Jing Nian left the hotel, it was already 2:30 a.m.
He’d finished work at midnight, mooched a meal, and endured all the commotion afterward. The streets were mostly empty, with only the occasional car passing by.
Qiu Huai trailed behind him in his car, driving at a crawl. He rolled down the window and leaned out, pleading earnestly, “Nian Nian, give me another chance, will you? This time, I’ll keep the window open—you can breathe!”
“The sidewalk offers more freedom to breathe than your car.”
Jing Nian snorted lightly, striding ahead with his takeout bag held high, completely ignoring him—like a proud little cat with its tail held up to the sky.
Another successful hunt, another day returning with a full haul.
Dejected, Qiu Huai glanced up at the building. Behind the floor-to-ceiling window, someone stood watching. He could only resign himself and pull his head back inside. “Well, be careful on your way home.”
With that, he stepped on the gas and sped off.
Jing Nian headed to the nearest subway station and returned to his residential complex. The apartment was rented—a decent location, close to Qiu Huai’s company.
He used to live in the underworld, but times had changed too quickly in recent years. People’s minds had evolved along with the era, producing all sorts of bizarre souls. The endless stream of trivial matters became too much to handle, and he couldn’t bear being an on-call, 24/7 problem-solver with no days off.
To separate work from life, he’d resolutely moved out.
Only workaholics live at the office. He was all about taking it easy.
Of course, rent was an issue. Without a salary, he had to find other ways—like taking advantage of his position to engage in a bit of embezzlement or bribery.
The landlord who rented him the apartment was a celestial master, handling cases involving evil spirits every now and then. With connections to the underworld’s ghost envoys, things could be arranged much more conveniently.
It was only later that Jing Nian learned that his two salaried colleagues had long been raking in profits through corruption, and Qiu Huai turned a blind eye to it all, never interfering.
When Jing Nian angrily confronted his colleagues, demanding to know why they hadn’t told him about such things, they were utterly surprised.
“…We thought you knew.”
He didn’t!
Jing Nian wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.
He was the one who had joined the underworld first—the other two were practically his protégés. How had he ended up as the supposedly shrewd one who couldn’t even figure this out?
Walking downstairs to his apartment building, he instinctively glanced up. The lights were on at home.
Jing Nian paused mid-step, his heart sinking.
Oh no.
What had he forgotten?
On the windowsill, a small rabbit-shaped shadow stood upright, its front paws pressed against the glass, silently staring at him like a resentful spirit.
Staring…
Jing Nian averted his gaze, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. But when he opened the door, he realized this wasn’t going to be resolved easily.
The door creaked loudly. Even though the living room was brightly lit, the small, fluffy lump blocking the entrance rug made the whole atmosphere feel like a scene from a horror movie.
Jing Nian blinked, attempting to charm his way out of it. “Little Rabbit, let me explain.”
“I! Don’t! Want! To! Hear! It!”
The rabbit kicked its hind legs, launching itself into the air, and began flailing its paws wildly at Jing Nian’s face. The punches were soft, but there were so many of them—pitter-pattering down—that they actually stung a little.
“Jing! Nian! Nian—! You finally remember to come home—! Who was it that called and threatened to turn me into a hand towel?! You made me stay home all night, starving and flattened, without even a glimpse of you—!!”
Jing Nian shielded himself with his hands as he made his way inside. “…Qiu Huai treated us to a meal today. I forgot to tell you.”
The rabbit paused its punches. “Treated you?”
“Mhm.”
“Was there food?”
Jing Nian quickly handed over the takeout bag. The rabbit stopped its attack, hopped onto the table, and peeked inside.
“It’s! All! Meat!”
It kicked Jing Nian in the head, roaring in a tiny, milky voice, “What kind of good rabbit eats meat?!”
Jing Nian sat on the floor, rubbing his head, his eyelids drooping in a sulky expression as he muttered, “I like meat.”
But with the rabbit still fuming, this wasn’t going to blow over unless it was fully resolved. So, before the rabbit could throw another tantrum, Jing Nian pulled out his phone to show the train tickets.
“Don’t be angry. I’m resigning in a month, and then I’ll take you to the seaside. How about that?”
“You’ve always wanted to see the ocean, right?”
The rabbit’s eyes widened.
Staring at the flight booking on the phone screen, its two short ears twitched. “Really? You better not be lying.”
Jing Nian swore with his palm raised. “I promise I’m not lying.”
“Hmph, that’s more like it!”
The rabbit turned its head haughtily, then dove into the takeout bag, fishing out two lettuce leaves meant to accompany the meat and stuffing them into its mouth, munching away. That was its way of forgiving him.
Jing Nian breathed a sigh of relief, slipped into the bedroom to grab a light pink bear-print pajama set, and headed to the bathroom to shower.
Soon, the sound of rushing water filled the air.
Steam drifted through the room, fogging up the mirror. Jing Nian stood under the showerhead, hot water pouring down from above, washing away the exhaustion of the day.
He closed his eyes, thinking back to his recent visit to the psychologist.
He had always believed that his personality issues stemmed from his job. After all, Gu Yehan used to praise him as the most well-behaved child—soft, gentle, and sweet. How had he become a terrifying ghost envoy that even spirits avoided once he stepped outside?
It must be the job’s fault.
At first, the doctor also attributed it to work-related stress, suggesting he switch to a lighter job or even resign and travel to ease his mind.
But when the doctor learned that Jing Nian had a job with a one-day-on, one-day-off schedule and the freedom to accept red envelopes at will yet still suspected he was depressed because of it the doctor scratched his thinning hair, downed the coffee in his cup in one gulp, took off his white coat, and declared he was quitting to go clear his head on the rooftop.
See? Even the doctor couldn’t stand such favorable conditions and felt indignant on his behalf.
In the living room, Little Rabbit finished chewing two lettuce leaves and licked his lips.
Delicious as they were, it was a pity there were only two leaves. The rest of the food was nothing but meat.
The fluffy little ball sighed as he sat on the table, then leaped gracefully onto the sofa. With a tap of his foot, he turned on the remote control and expertly switched to a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
Little Rabbit wasn’t Jerry, but like Jerry, he particularly enjoyed watching the cat’s flustered and furious expressions after being outsmarted. Every time Tom suffered a setback, he would roll around on the sofa with laughter.
Just as he was engrossed in the show, a sudden vibrating ringtone startled him, nearly making him jump.
It was Jing Nian’s phone.
Little Rabbit glanced toward the bathroom. The sound of running water was still audible, meaning Jing Nian wouldn’t be out anytime soon.
A message notification popped up on the screen, but due to privacy settings, the content remained hidden.
Little Rabbit waved his paw and entered the password to unlock the phone.
Jing Nian’s previous phone had fingerprint recognition, which even registered rabbit prints. But after switching to this new model with only facial recognition, the system refused to recognize a rabbit’s face, forcing him to painstakingly enter the password every time.
Once the screen unlocked, the WeChat interface appeared. A contact named “Jiang Jue” had sent a message.
【Are you home yet?】
【Remember to put the shrimp in the fridge. Don’t eat the fruit if it’s been left overnight. You had quite a bit of meat tonight, so drink some warm hawthorn water before bed.】
Little Rabbit frowned at the screen. This person was so naggy—couldn’t they have a little more sense of boundaries?
Jing Nian’s social circle was narrow; he hardly interacted with anyone. Little Rabbit knew all his friends, and judging by the timing, this Jiang Jue had just been added tonight.
He tapped on the contact’s profile picture.
Blank.
After trying several times, even switching from Wi-Fi to mobile data, Little Rabbit finally accepted that it wasn’t a network issue—the profile picture was genuinely just a white screen.
The Moments feed was also empty.
It looked exactly like a scammer who had just registered an account.
Little Rabbit scratched his head.
“Hiss… Who is this? Could Nian Nian have run into another scammer?”
He remembered the last time Jing Nian added a friend. It was after his privacy was leaked on some online shopping platform, and he ended up connecting with a tea seller.
Although Jing Nian always wore a stern expression that screamed “strangers keep away,” he was actually kind-hearted and empathetic. The scammer’s smooth talk had nearly convinced him to hand over money.
If not for Little Rabbit’s quick wit and timely intervention, Jing Nian would have experienced his first online scam.
At this thought, Little Rabbit’s vigilance instantly shot up. Without another word, she tapped open the profile of the person named Jiang Jue.
Then deleted him as a friend.
…
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Jiang Jue stood by the window, gazing out at the night.
Jing Nian hadn’t gotten into Qiu Huai’s car and had walked away on his own.
He watched that figure grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. The city’s early morning was still brightly lit, but that retreating back seemed exceptionally lonely in Jiang Jue’s eyes.
Perhaps Jing Nian’s life now wasn’t as bad as he imagined, but he stubbornly believed that without him by his side, the child couldn’t possibly take care of himself.
In the morning, no one would help him wash up or get dressed, no one would feed him or give him water. If he liked getting into fights, no one would back him up. He was afraid of the cold, the heat, the rain, and thunder, and at night, no one would soothe him to sleep.
And besides, A Nian was still so young. What if he couldn’t resist temptation, or if someone with ill intentions…
Jiang Jue didn’t dare continue that train of thought. He clenched the screen in his hand, but the grip was a bit too tight, and the wound that hadn’t yet healed split open again.
A streak of crimson slid down his arm.
“…Your Majesty!”
A subordinate nearby gasped in alarm.
Jiang Jue shook his head, signaling that it was nothing, and opened the only phone that could connect him to Jing Nian. He typed out many words, then deleted them.
In the end, only two sentences remained, deliberately maintaining a sense of distance.
Ignoring the bleeding wound, the wait for a reply was agonizing. Every few seconds, he reopened the phone to check, only to close it again in disappointment.
After some careful consideration, he typed out another message.
[Get some rest early. Good night.]
This time, a response finally came—a red exclamation mark.
Jiang Jue: …?
He double-checked several times, then looked at the subordinate beside him. “What does this mean?”
The subordinate leaned over to look, took a sharp breath, and silently wiped a cold sweat from his forehead.
“Uh, well… this is…”
Jiang Jue’s expression gradually darkened.
The subordinate decisively passed the buck. “Maybe you should ask Lord Ghost?”