Wen Yaozhi had already taken off his hat. “Wait a little longer. Transfer to the cold storage first.”
Meng Yili: “Alright.”
Wen Yaozhi brushed the hair back from his forehead, revealing a pair of aloof eyes. His pupils were heterochromatic; the right eye was a common color, but the left eye flowed with a dark gold light, appearing exceptionally eerie and striking in a crowd.
Coupled with that heavy black motorcycle, his head-turn rate was 100%. He put on his helmet, started the engine, and vanished into a cloud of dust.
Meng Yili watched his retreating back and picked up his phone to dial a number.
The hospital was very quiet in the latter half of the night, with only the occasional sound of a nurse’s footsteps on patrol echoing in the corridor.
In the VIP ward on the top floor, Du Ye was not asleep; he was still scrolling through his phone in the dark. He was so focused that he failed to notice the subtle rustling sounds beside him.
Suddenly, he felt a chill on his shoulder. His wrist jerked, and his phone slipped, the screen light illuminating a pale, ghastly face by the bed.
Du Ye gasped. “Brother Xin, you scared the life out of me!”
Lu Xincheng took another bite of an apple and leaned in curiously. “What good stuff are you looking at in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”
Du Ye panicked for a second and tried to grab his phone, but it flew into the air as if by magic. Lu Xincheng caught it and sat on the edge of the bed.
Frontline gossip: A major incident had occurred in an S+ drama production—a massive one. Filming had been halted, and the project was likely to fall through.
Lu Xincheng scrolled down to the comments section.
“Someone died. I heard it from a friend.”
“I was an extra on set; it was terrifying. Even the police came.”
“Poor little actor. He was a nobody, but he was very handsome and quite young.”
Lu Xincheng’s hand paused for a moment before he tossed the phone back. “I did not realize you were such a gossip.”
Du Ye caught the phone awkwardly. “I could not sleep, so I was just browsing to help me drift off.”
“Doing that will only make you feel more awake,” Lu Xincheng said. He finished his apple and reached for a bunch of grapes, his gaze lingering on the fruit basket. “Did you eat the fruit?”
Du Ye froze, then looked at the extra-large fruit basket that was now more than half empty. He shook his head. “I have not touched it.”
The basket had been delivered that afternoon. He did not like fruit and had not touched a single piece; Lu Xincheng was the only one eating.
Lu Xincheng mouthed: “A little mouse has entered the room.”
Seeing his serious expression, Du Ye felt a shiver run down his spine. Lu Xincheng slowly crouched down. Du Ye quietly got off the bed and turned on his flashlight in coordination.
Under the bed, a dark shadow was huddled in the corner. In the white beam of the flashlight, the shadow’s constricted pupils appeared white. He was halfway through a piece of fruit, with a banana peel dangling from his mouth.
When the boy emerged from under the bed, he was still trembling with fear, but he still managed to gulp down the rest of the banana in one go. Judging by his size, he was an adolescent, sallow and thin—a picture of extreme malnutrition. He wore a striped hospital gown and stood trembling in the corner, not daring to look up, though his eyes darted toward the fruit basket from time to time.
Lu Xincheng and Du Ye exchanged a look. Lu Xincheng placed the fruit basket in front of the boy. After a whirlwind of eating, not a single peel or scrap of fruit remained.
Du Ye looked at the boy with concern. “How did you get this hungry? Where is your family?”
The boy did not speak, but he seemed a bit bolder. He licked his lips and looked at Lu Xincheng; his pupil color had returned to a normal black.
“Want more?” Lu Xincheng saw through the boy’s lingering hunger. The boy’s eyes lit up with anticipation.
“What, he is still eating?” Du Ye was shocked. Even if it was just fruit, the basket had been huge and the variety was immense. Forget a child—an adult would have been stuffed after eating that much in one sitting.
“Tell you what, there is nothing else good to eat here. Come with me, I will treat you,” Lu Xincheng said.
Lu Xincheng led the boy into the kitchen of the hospital cafeteria. “Take whatever you want.”
Looking at the frozen meat in the large freezer, the boy swallowed hard. He hesitated for a few seconds and then took half a step back. “I will not eat.”
“Aren’t you still hungry?”
The boy replied honestly, “Papa told me I cannot eat things without permission.”
Lu Xincheng stared at the boy, who was beginning to turn red. “Then what was that just now?”
“I am sorry. I was just so hungry. I will pay for the things I ate.”
Lu Xincheng’s face and words showed no sign of blame, but the boy dared not look into his eyes. Lu Xincheng let out a soft sigh. “Then let me take you back.”
The boy told Lu Xincheng his name was Dai Sui. He was also a patient in this hospital, staying in the room right next to Du Ye.
Du Ye was staying on the top floor, which consisted entirely of private VIP rooms. Aside from special cases like Du Ye, the other residents were either wealthy or influential.
Lu Xincheng followed the boy into his room. On the bed lay a boy covered in various tubes, his breathing rhythmically fogging up his respirator. Lu Xincheng looked at the boy on the bed and then turned to the person beside him.
Their faces and clothes were identical, but the boy before him was sallow and thin. In contrast, the one on the bed, despite being in a coma, looked much more robust.
“The doctor said I have been in a deep coma for a long time. I might wake up at any moment, or I might never wake up. Papa was very angry when he heard that; he told the doctor very fiercely that he had to cure me.”
“Papa really loves me. If he knew I disobeyed him and stole food again, he would definitely be very sad. I do not want to see him unhappy, so could you please not tell him, Brother?”
Lu Xincheng scanned the room. Compared to Du Ye’s room next door, this one was noticeably more spacious and had better lighting. However, the entire room was empty. Unlike Du Ye’s room, which was filled with flowers and fruit, this one was bare.
Lu Xincheng picked up a picture frame standing on the bedside table. It was a crystal frame, the brilliance of the white crystal dazzling and luxurious.
“Is this your father?”
Lu Xincheng looked at the man in the photo. He had seen that face in the memories of the original owner of his body.
“My papa is a famous director. He has filmed many, many great TV shows and movies. He is really amazing.” The boy’s eyes suddenly lit up. He paused, and his gaze darkened. “But he is too busy with work and has no time to visit me. Last month, no, maybe ten days ago, he came to see me. I think he might come today too.”
Lu Xincheng sat down on the sofa. “Then I will wait with you.”
The latter half of the night was long, but just before the first light of dawn, the person they were waiting for arrived.
The person walking into the room behind the doctor was in a hurry. He was wrapped tightly from head to toe in a hat and mask, with the collar of his light trench coat hiding his neck completely. Once he entered, the accompanying doctor shut the door tightly.
Only then did Dai Shengfan remove his disguise. He stood at the foot of the bed with a somber expression, looking at the sleeping boy.
The moment Dai Sui saw him, he jumped up with joy and ran to the man’s side. He had grown quickly and was now almost as tall as his father. However, upon seeing the deep gloom in the man’s eyes, Dai Sui’s face showed clear fear. He sat back down dejectedly on the sofa with Lu Xincheng. “Papa is unhappy again.”
“The child’s condition is still the same; it is not getting worse, but it is not improving either.” The person accompanying him was the hospital’s deputy director, who informed the family of the situation. “Our suggestion is to let the child go home. Home is a familiar environment where he will be more comfortable. Perhaps his condition will improve there.”
“Alright, let him be discharged next week.” The speed at which Dai Shengfan accepted the suggestion surprised the deputy director. The man continued, “Starting today until twenty-four hours before discharge, someone must be with him at all times. Inform me immediately if there are any changes.”
The child’s state was actually very stable, but the director nodded, understanding the concern of a family member. “No problem.”
After giving his instructions, Dai Shengfan did not stay long and left the hospital.
Dai Sui and Lu Xincheng leaned against the window and watched him get into a nanny van. The man had come and gone in a rush, departing just as the sky was beginning to brighten. Dai Sui’s eyes were full of longing, but Lu Xincheng’s gaze was sharp.
Dai Shengfan was shrouded in an aura Lu Xincheng had never seen before. A thick black mist enveloped him, making his entire being appear exceptionally sinister and terrifying from head to toe.
It was already daylight by the time Lu Xincheng returned to Du Ye’s ward. Du Ye seemed to have just fallen asleep; the phone screen next to his pillow was still lit. Lu Xincheng walked over and saw it was still on the entertainment gossip page:
A twenty-year-old unsolved mystery: Was the mine disaster on the set of “Tears of Yearning” an accident or intentional?
Lu Xincheng shook his head. This kid really loved gossip. He left a note in the phone’s memo app and turned off the screen.
When Du Ye woke up the next morning, he saw the message Lu Xincheng had left for him:
“I have some things to take care of, so I had to leave. I will find you to hang out later when I am free!”
Two days later, Du Ye was discharged. He first returned to his hometown. The wild pond in the village was now surrounded by a fence, with warning signs nearby prohibiting swimming.
On a summer night when he was eleven, Du Ye and his friends had been playing until midnight. Passing by the pond, they heard faint cries for help. They shone their homemade paper lanterns toward the water and saw a girl who had fallen in.
Now that he was back at the old place, seeing the actual scene brought back the details of that year.
The water in the pond was mixed with mud, very murky and dark. Du Ye could only swim toward the girl’s general location. He did not know how long he had been swimming, it felt like several minutes, and his lungs were nearly out of oxygen, but he still could not see the girl. The fear in his heart grew stronger.
Suddenly, he saw a light in the water. He thought the adults on the shore had arrived with flashlights. Approaching the light source, he saw a red awning boat. A boy was sitting on the boat, waving at him.
Du Ye was terrified, but then he saw the girl right in front of him, seeming to want to get on the boat. He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the shore.
This memory had always been deep in his mind, though it became blurry as he grew older because everyone told him he had not actually saved her. On that night, shortly after Du Ye entered the water, adults passed by and pulled him out. The girl’s body was not recovered until the following day. He had assumed that memory was just a dream.
Now, he realized that he had taken her prey right under the nose of the evil spirit.
Du Ye found the girl’s tombstone on the mountain. She had been less than ten years old when she passed away. The tombstone was small, engraved with the name “Su Qin.” Du Ye laid down a bouquet, opened his backpack, and burned some items, including a newly bought small white dress and a parasol.
On the bus back to the city, Du Ye scrolled through his phone out of boredom. A subscription account pushed a new piece of gossip.
Title: Famous Director Keeps “Little Things,” Leads to Death of Actor on Set.
He clicked in and saw it seemed to be the same incident he had read about two nights ago, just with more exaggerated and mysterious details. Du Ye read it like a novel, then slid down to the comments section.
The top-voted comment: “Insider info, actor’s last name is Lu, early 20s, very young.”
Du Ye read it again. Suddenly remembering something, he immediately opened a search engine.
Actor Lu Xincheng. Height, age, acting experience.
Looking at the photo attached to the entry, Du Ye felt the blood in his body turn to ice. He read the article again, this time not missing a single word. It said the production was set to resume filming soon, and they were going to invite a master to settle the soul on the seventh day after the death to prevent the vengeful spirit from causing trouble.
Du Ye’s palm holding the phone was unknowingly wet with sweat. At that moment, he suddenly remembered something. He pulled a black business card out of his pocket. After a moment of thought, he dialed the number on it.