Jing Nian sat at the dining table, eating the leftovers he had brought home the night before.
The microwave had reheated the leftovers, but he hadn’t listened to the usual warnings—he still stuffed overnight fruit into his mouth.
He ate a strawberry while scrolling through the soul-reaping tasks for the next day on his tablet. There weren’t many, so he could finish early.
Xiao Tu squatted by the door, waiting for his takeout, but even after Jing Nian had finished eating, it still hadn’t arrived.
Angrily, Xiao Tu hopped onto the dining table, ready to vent his frustration, only to see Jing Nian’s expression suddenly change.
“Did the overnight fruit go bad?”
“Look at this.”
Jing Nian pointed seriously at the electronic Book of Life and Death on the screen, his gaze fixed on one particular name.
The person’s death location was in the very neighborhood he lived in.
And it was in the building right across from his.
Time: thirty seconds from now.
He looked up and peered through the glass window.
Outside, snow had begun to fall at some point, delicate flakes drifting down in a flurry. On the rooftop of the building opposite, a figure stood at the edge.
The name in the Book of Life and Death suddenly switched from black to red.
Red meant the person’s fate was not yet sealed.
The figure leaped off the edge.
Jing Nian slammed down his water glass and dashed out, still wearing his soft, pale pink bear-print pajamas. His body passed straight through the transparent glass window.
Snowflakes landed on his shoulders, then drifted right through him. Just before the falling figure was about to hit the ground, Jing Nian grabbed the person by the collar and flung them back onto the rooftop.
Leng Yinan crashed into the thin layer of snow on the rooftop, dazed for a moment before realizing he wasn’t dead.
He looked toward the person who had pulled him back from the brink of death.
It was a young man in his early twenties, wearing soft, pale pink bear-print pajamas. His skin was somewhat pale, but his features were delicate and beautiful. He was panting slightly, glaring at Leng Yinan with an extremely displeased expression.
To save this person, Jing Nian had expended some of his spiritual energy, and his tone was far from friendly. “Why did you jump? Were you trying to see if you had invisible wings or something?!”
“…What wings?”
Leng Yinan was taken aback, but there was no trace of panic in his eyes from having just skirted death, nor any relief at having survived.
This person was suspicious. He needed to be reported and investigated.
Last month, after a meeting, the Underworld had issued a strict order: regardless of whether it was work hours or not, any anomalies appearing near underworld personnel must be detected and resolved promptly, or else wages would be docked.
For those like Jing Nian, who didn’t receive wages, their resignation would be delayed.
The ghost officials were outraged by this but still couldn’t defeat the ugly, exploitative face of capitalism.
Before Leng Yinan could open his mouth to make excuses, Jing Nian swiftly drew a Soul-Binding Chain and knocked him unconscious with a strike to the head.
Then, he erased the memory of being rescued from the man’s mind and went back to notify the on-duty ghost official to clean up the mess.
His slippers were stained with melted snow and mud, and the wind made them feel chilly. He glanced down and noticed a small dirty patch on his pajamas—it was an eyesore.
Jing Nian puffed out his cheeks, feeling indignant on behalf of his slippers and pajamas. He gave the unconscious man a hard kick, adding another entry to his complaint file.
His favorite pajamas! Ruined!
From the twentieth floor, he could look down and see his own apartment clearly, along with Xiao Tu pressed against the window like a flattened bunny pancake.
Still thinking about the takeout.
Jing Nian left the rooftop and took the elevator downstairs. As luck would have it, just as he reached the entrance of his building, he ran straight into Jiang Jue, who was delivering the takeout.
The man held three exquisitely packaged kraft paper bags in his hand, with a few snowflakes dusting the shoulders of his black overcoat.
Jiang Jue paused when he saw Jing Nian, his gaze lingering on the thin pajamas, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
In the next moment, he took off his overcoat and draped it over Jing Nian’s shoulders. As he did so, his arm naturally encircled Jing Nian for a brief moment, discreetly checking his body temperature.
It was cold.
How could it not be, wearing such thin clothes?
He couldn’t help but feel distressed, his tone growing urgent. “On such a cold day, how could you run out dressed like this? What if you catch a cold and get sick again?”
Jing Nian: ??
Who are you, old man, to be so nosy?
In the blink of an eye, the man’s still-warm overcoat was already wrapped around him.
And, did he just hug him a moment ago?
In the past, whenever someone tried to take advantage like this, he’d slap them without hesitation.
“What do you mean again?”
An awkward atmosphere hung in the air. Jiang Jue cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth, averting his gaze. “Kids your age often don’t take good care of themselves.”
The pajamas Jing Nian was wearing bothered him inexplicably, stirring up an old memory.
When Jing Nian was little, he once woke up and couldn’t find him. The soft, doughy little boy had wailed, running out in just a robe to look for him, and ended up falling ill from the cold.
That incident had always weighed on Jiang Jue’s conscience, blaming himself for not taking better care of the child.
Jing Nian eyed him skeptically. “Oh, you do look older than me.”
Older people always love to meddle.
The overcoat carried a faint scent of sandalwood. Jing Nian glanced at the three bags in his hand.
Forced sales—order a serving of vegetable leaves and get three bags as a bonus.
He pulled the coat tighter, pretending to be a poor, clueless soul. “Are these freebies? If not, I can only afford the vegetable leaves. You can take the rest back.”
Jiang Jue chuckled helplessly. “They’re on me.”
“That’s too much trouble for you,” Jing Nian said, though his eyes were practically glued to the bags, as if daring him to take them back.
A high-end sugar daddy knows how to play the long game—small investments for high returns.
But Jing Nian was a high-risk investment.
A money-swallowing beast that only took and never gave.
This clearly wasn’t the address Jing Nian had given. Jiang Jue offered a gentle smile and asked again, “What was so urgent that you ran out without even dressing properly?”
Jing Nian made up an excuse on the spot. “Nothing much. My landlord lives in this building. I came to see him.”
“Even so, your health is more important,” Jiang Jue paused. “Let me walk you back.”
Jing Nian didn’t refuse.
A cold wind mixed with snowflakes blew against them. On the way back to the apartment building, Jing Nian suddenly spoke up. “Don’t you delivery guys have uniforms?”
Jiang Jue thought he was wearing the wrong clothes again. “What uniforms?”
What else?
Either a yellow robe or clothes plastered with ads.
Jing Nian shook his head, deciding not to call him out just yet. He stole a sidelong glance at Jiang Jue.
Yesterday, he’d been too focused on eating to really look closely. Now, he realized that with looks like that, it was a shame whether he worked as a male model or a waiter.
The biggest shame was that he couldn’t serve him.
He admitted he’d been too pretentious last night.
Jing Nian sighed inwardly. If he were still a wealthy young master, he’d definitely hire Jiang Jue for some one-on-one drinking company.
Since Gu Yehan no longer cared about him, the old man was as good as dead.