Lin Zhushui unzipped Zhou Jiayu’s down jacket after speaking.

Zhou Jiayu thought that was the extent of it, but then Lin Zhushui lifted his sweater and thermal undershirt, exposing his pale stomach. In such cold weather, having someone slip their icy hand under your clothes would normally be agonizing, but Zhou Jiayu wasn’t in pain—in fact, he felt a tiny thrill.

“Sir touched my stomach,” Zhou Jiayu said to Ji Ba.

Ji Ba’s face couldn’t show much expression, but if it could, it would’ve been pure indifference. “You’re so pathetic. You’ve already had much closer contact before.”

Zhou Jiayu blinked. “Have we?”

Ji Ba replied, “Forgot the tattoo on your waist?”

Zhou Jiayu suddenly remembered.

His body wasn’t particularly muscular. He had a faint six-pack, but the muscles were thin, giving a pleasant texture to the touch. As Zhou Jiayu’s mind wandered with chaotic thoughts, he felt Lin Zhushui’s grip intensify, a steady stream of warmth radiating from his palm.

“Ah!” Zhou Jiayu, unprepared, yelped.

“Bear with it,” Lin Zhushui said, pulling a thin silk scarf from his pocket and placing it near Zhou Jiayu’s mouth. “Bite this so you don’t hurt your tongue.”

Zhou Jiayu didn’t protest and obediently bit down on the scarf. It carried a rich sandalwood scent, likely something Lin Zhushui often kept with him. The pain in his lower abdomen grew sharper, and Zhou Jiayu bit harder.

Shen Yiqiong and Lin Jue watched as Lin Zhushui worked. His fingers pressed on Zhou Jiayu’s dantian, purple flames flickering at his fingertips. Zhou Jiayu’s skin began to bulge, as if something inside was trying to break free.

“Mm…” The pain was intense. Cold sweat beaded at Zhou Jiayu’s temples, his body trembling.

“Almost done,” Lin Zhushui soothed softly.

Judging by his movements, Lin Zhushui was forcing the gu insect in Zhou Jiayu’s dantian upward inch by inch. Soon, it reached his navel.

Zhou Jiayu, drenched in sweat, whimpered in pain. Shen Yiqiong crouched beside him, comforting, “It’s okay, Guan’er. Hang in there; it’ll be out soon.” He scratched his head, muttering to himself, “Feels like you’re giving birth or something…”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Hei Zhi, you’re dead meat!!

Not a child, but the gu insect, under Lin Zhushui’s control, began to emerge from Zhou Jiayu’s navel, its pointed head poking out. Lin Zhushui pinched its tip and, with a firm tug, yanked the insect from Zhou Jiayu’s body.

The searing pain nearly knocked Zhou Jiayu out, but once the insect was removed, the agony started to subside. He slowly released the scarf, letting out a faint groan.

Lin Zhushui held the insect between his fingers. It writhed briefly before going still. With a slight flick, a flame sparked on the insect’s body, reducing it to ash.

Shen Yiqiong wiped Zhou Jiayu’s sweat. “It’s out, it’s out. You’re okay now.”

Zhou Jiayu exhaled, letting out a weak whimper.

With the insect removed, attention shifted back to Xu Jinghuo, who lay on the ground. He’d fainted earlier from shock and, upon waking, saw his gu insect turned to ash in Lin Zhushui’s hand.

Lin Zhushui approached Xu Jinghuo, his voice cold. “Your last bargaining chip is gone. Still not talking?”

Xu Jinghuo let out a sudden laugh. “Lin Zhushui, I did underestimate you. But so what?” His voice dropped to a murmur, almost self-directed. “Everything I’ve done, I have no regrets.”

Lin Zhushui sneered. “You’ve taken so many lives and still claim a clear conscience?”

Xu Jinghuo retorted, “What do you know?”

Lin Zhushui tilted his chin slightly, growing impatient. “Anything else to say?”

Xu Jinghuo fell silent. Just when everyone thought he’d given up on survival, a sudden change occurred—white frost rapidly spread over his body, hardening it like stone.

Lin Jue gasped. “What’s this?”

In the brief moment it took her to ask, Xu Jinghuo’s body seemed to freeze solid, turning translucent—he had transformed into an ice sculpture.

The group was stunned, even Lin Zhushui frowning.

“What, he turned into an ice statue?” Lin Jue asked. “Who is he?”

Lin Zhushui replied, “A member of the Sheshan Xu clan.”

Lin Jue’s expression cleared at the mention of the Sheshan Xu clan. “No wonder. But…” Her eyes clouded with doubt. “Didn’t they say Xu clan members lose their abilities once they enter the secular world?”

Lin Zhushui said, “He seems to have followed a different branch.”

Lin Jue’s expression was odd, and Zhou Jiayu later learned why. The Xu clan had a secret escape technique: freezing their body to flee, after which their physical form would reappear on the ancestral tree, essentially a rebirth.

This method could only be used once in a lifetime and was unavailable to those abandoned by the ancestral tree. Lin Zhushui hadn’t expected Xu Jinghuo to still have access to it.

If Xu Jinghuo could use it, it meant the ancestral tree still recognized him as a Xu descendant, contradicting Elder Xu’s earlier claims. They’d seen Xu Jinghuo sever a branch of the ancestral tree himself—yet the tree still protected him. It was unthinkable… unless Xu Jinghuo’s actions hadn’t violated the Xu clan’s ancestral rules.

The entire situation was shrouded in mystery, the truth temporarily out of reach.

For now, their priority was wrapping up the school’s affairs.

Zhou Jiayu was wheeled out by Shen Yiqiong. He’d thought he could manage to stand with some effort, but Shen Yiqiong pressed his shoulders, insisting he not push himself.

After a brief struggle, Zhou Jiayu lost and was forced to stay in the wheelchair, pushed out of the basement by Shen Yiqiong.

Outside, Zhou Jiayu realized there was no library. They were in a dilapidated old teaching building, long abandoned, with “demolish” painted on the walls, likely slated for imminent destruction.

Lin Jue and Lin Zhushui didn’t look surprised, as if they’d anticipated this.

Shen Yiqiong, puzzled, asked, “Was Li Jinjiang replaced by Xu Jinghuo from the start?”

Lin Jue replied, “No, it was the real him at first. Remember the night the resentful spirit mimicked his appearance to knock on your door?”

Shen Yiqiong and Zhou Jiayu nodded. That incident was too vivid to forget.

“That’s probably when he was switched,” Lin Jue said. “I didn’t notice at first either, but Zhushui picked up on something off. So we decided to play along and check out their lair.”

Lin Zhushui said calmly, “The changes in Xu Jinghuo’s body are a unique secret technique of the Xu clan, typically reserved for the clan leader. However, the current leader, Elder Xu, never expected Xu Jinghuo to do those things.”

According to Lin Zhushui, Xu Jinghuo was likely the next clan leader, yet no one understood the motives behind his actions. Judging by Xu Jinghuo’s behavior, though, the person backing him must be extraordinarily powerful.

When they emerged from the dilapidated teaching building, the sky had already brightened. The heavy snow from the previous night had stopped, and a faint red glow lined the horizon.

Shen Yiqiong pushed Zhou Jiayu in his wheelchair as the group headed toward the school gate.

The security guard at the entrance looked surprised to see them and asked, “When did you guys get in?”

Shen Yiqiong replied, “Last night.”

The guard’s eyes widened. “I was on duty last night, watching the gate the whole time. I didn’t see you!”

Lin Jue chimed in, “We’re friends of Teacher Li, here to investigate that matter. It was probably too dark when we came in, and you didn’t notice.”

Hearing Lin Jue’s explanation, the guard dropped the subject and waved them through. Clearly, the school staff were quite superstitious about the ghost rumors.

“The real Li Jinjiang is probably still at the hotel,” Lin Jue said once they were outside. “Let’s go find him first.”

The group returned to the hotel and had the front desk open Li Jinjiang’s room. Sure enough, he was lying on the bed, completely unaware, still fast asleep. Lin Jue checked his breathing and pulse, saying, “He’s fine, just drugged.” She borrowed a silver needle from Lin Zhushui and pricked Li Jinjiang’s philtrum.

Li Jinjiang slowly opened his eyes. Upon seeing Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong, he jolted upright, pointing at them and shouting, “Ghosts—!”

Shen Yiqiong, oddly pleased, said, “Looks like you did open the door for us!”

Li Jinjiang was utterly confused. It took him a while to calm down and realize he was looking at people, not ghosts.

Shen Yiqiong briefly explained the situation to Li Jinjiang, who listened in a daze, grasping only one key point: “The dirty thing’s been dealt with?”

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong nodded.

“That’s… that’s great,” Li Jinjiang said, elated for a few seconds before his mood sank again. “Forget it, I’m resigning. This school’s given me too much trauma.”

With the matter resolved, they prepared to leave.

By some twist of fate, at the airport, they ran into Master Zhang, the same guy who, terrified by a ghost at the school, had jumped from a building and broken his leg.

For reasons unknown, Shen Yiqiong’s mischievous streak kicked in. He insisted on bringing the wheelchair to the airport, claiming he wanted to take it home, and even tried to make Zhou Jiayu sit in it.

Zhou Jiayu resisted a few times to no avail and eventually gave in, thinking he might as well humor his “idle, pain-in-the-neck son.” So, he let Shen Yiqiong push him around in the wheelchair.

And thus, two people in wheelchairs met outside the airport.

Master Zhang, seeing Zhou Jiayu also in a wheelchair, got emotional. “Did you guys go into the teaching building too? Ugh, ‘don’t heed the elders, and you’ll pay the price!’”

Zhou Jiayu couldn’t be bothered to explain. Seeing the elevator ahead, he simply stood up and told Shen Yiqiong to carry the wheelchair himself.

Master Zhang watched Zhou Jiayu walk away, stunned. “His legs are fine?”

Shen Yiqiong: “…Uh, it’s a hobby. Just a hobby.”

Master Zhang stared, speechless.

On the plane, Shen Yiqiong and Zhou Jiayu chattered endlessly, and Zhou Jiayu finally understood why Shen Yiqiong was so insistent on bringing the wheelchair back.

Zhou Jiayu asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Shen Yiqiong replied, “Are you willing to do it for me?”

Zhou Jiayu sighed, “…As long as you’re happy.”

Shen Yiqiong was thrilled, practically radiating joy. Zhou Jiayu deeply felt the essence of “the boundless delight of a dimwitted child.”

Back home, Shen Yiqiong hopped into the hard-won wheelchair and had Zhou Jiayu push him inside. Lin Jue trailed behind, eyeing them like they were idiots. She barely spoke to Lin Zhushui, likely curious about what nonsense these two were up to.

Zhou Jiayu wheeled Shen Yiqiong into the house.

All three senior brothers were home. Zhou Jiayu had expected them to be playing cards or something, but his imagination was far too tame. Instead, he found them gathered around a mahjong table, with the weasel filling in a corner. The little paper figure, which had been clinging to Zhou Jiayu, was perched on Shen Musi’s shoulder. The atmosphere was surprisingly harmonious.

Seeing Zhou Jiayu push Shen Yiqiong in, they looked surprised. Shen Musi asked, “Yiqiong, what happened?”

Shen Yiqiong said, “Senior Brother! You have no idea how perilous this trip was!”

The three brothers gathered around, their faces showing varying degrees of concern.

Then Shen Yiqiong launched into a wild, fabricated tale about his heroic deeds, culminating in defeating the villain at the cost of his leg.

As he spun his story, Zhou Jiayu, Lin Jue, and Lin Zhushui sat on the couch listening. At first, Zhou Jiayu played along with a few responses, but he soon gave up, noticing that as Shen Yiqiong’s nonsense escalated, the brothers’ worry faded into blank expressions.

Shen Musi’s face was especially telling.

“Leg’s broken, huh?” Shen Musi said.

Shen Yiqiong sensed something off. “Senior Brother…”

Shen Musi turned to Shen Erbai. “Erbai, your junior brother’s leg is broken.”

Shen Erbai, cracking his knuckles, approached Shen Yiqiong. “Yiqiong, buddy.”

Shen Yiqiong: “Yeah?”

Shen Erbai: “A man’s gotta be honest. Say you broke a leg, you gotta break a leg, right?”

Shen Yiqiong went quiet, his eyes darting to Zhou Jiayu for help. Zhou Jiayu ignored him, sneaking glances at Lin Zhushui, utterly smitten by his beauty.

Realizing Zhou Jiayu’s indifference, Shen Yiqiong opened his mouth to speak, but Shen Erbai grabbed him from behind while Shen Musi and Shen Chao grabbed his legs.

Shen Erbai grinned wickedly. “Let’s break that leg!”

Shen Yiqiong: “AHHHHHH!!” Hoisted up, his crotch made intimate contact with the living room’s central pillar—after all, isn’t the “third leg” a leg too?

Lin Jue burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face. Her gaze softened as she looked at Zhou Jiayu, stroking the weasel with the paper figure on his shoulder. She said softly, “In all these years, this might be the liveliest this place has ever been.”

Lin Zhushui gave a faint hum, his tone neutral but his expression gentle.

In the room, Shen Yiqiong, set back down, clutched his crotch, wailing. The other three coldly ignored him and returned to their mahjong game.

The paper figure gleefully clung to Zhou Jiayu’s shoulder, nuzzling his chin. The weasel grumbled jealously, glaring with its beady eyes.

Lin Jue rolled up her sleeves. “Need a fourth? I’ll play a couple rounds.”

“Come on, Master!” Shen Erbai called cheerfully.

Clack, clack, clack. The lively sound of mahjong tiles filled the room. Zhou Jiayu said, “You guys play. I’ll make dinner. What do you want tonight?”

The players at the table eagerly called out their orders.

Zhou Jiayu noted down the dinner orders and headed to the kitchen. Lin Zhushui, who had been quietly sitting on the sofa, stood up. At first, Zhou Jiayu thought he had something to do, but to his surprise, Lin Zhushui followed him into the kitchen.

“Sir?” Zhou Jiayu was startled.

“Nothing to do,” Lin Zhushui said calmly. “Just lending a hand.”

Zhou Jiayu’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Great! What would you like for dinner, sir?”

Lin Zhushui replied, “Anything’s fine.” After a brief pause, he added, “No wood ear mushrooms or carrots.”

Zhou Jiayu suddenly found the seriously picky Lin Zhushui utterly adorable…

Dinner was lavish, and everyone was in high spirits—except for a certain someone who, due to his own antics, spent the afternoon clutching his crotch in misery.

Shen Musi asked about their recent adventure, and Zhou Jiayu cheerfully recounted the entire ordeal.

After hearing the story, the three senior brothers sighed, saying it hadn’t been easy and that they deserved a few days of rest.

Lin Jue, tasting Zhou Jiayu’s cooking for the first time, looked astonished after her first bite. “No wonder Zhushui likes it so much.”

Zhou Jiayu, flustered by the praise, responded with modest politeness.

After dinner, everyone retired to their rooms. Unable to sleep, Zhou Jiayu leaned by the window, gazing at the snowy scenery. With temperatures rising, the snow was starting to melt, green buds sprouting from the grass and trees, signaling the earth’s awakening from its slumber.

Knock, knock, knock. Someone rapped on the door.

“Who is it?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

“It’s me,” Lin Jue’s voice came through. “Asleep yet?”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “Uh… not yet.” He opened the door to find Lin Jue smiling warmly at him. “Something up?”

“Nothing, just wanted to chat,” Lin Jue said. “Got time?”

Zhou Jiayu nodded. “Sure, I do. Here?”

Lin Jue suggested, “Let’s go to the tea room next door.”

Only then did Zhou Jiayu learn there was a dedicated tea room in the courtyard. Despite being here for so long, he realized he still didn’t know much about the place. Usually, he just followed Shen Yiqiong between his and Lin Zhushui’s residences, a two-point routine.

Lin Jue brewed tea and lit two incense sticks. Her striking beauty gave an initial impression of someone hard to approach, but in reality, she was surprisingly tolerant and easygoing—an excellent older sister figure.

“You’ve been here for half a year, right?” Lin Jue started the conversation.

For some reason, Zhou Jiayu felt a twinge of nervousness. He nodded and murmured an affirmation.

Lin Jue continued, “So… what do you think of Zhushui?”

Zhou Jiayu immediately sat up straight, answering earnestly, “I think sir is a good person.”

Lin Jue’s hand, holding the teacup, trembled slightly.

Zhou Jiayu, dead serious, added, “A really, really good person.”

Lin Jue: “That’s it?”

Zhou Jiayu: “Well… what else?” Mentioning Lin Zhushui made him so nervous he feared he’d let something slip.

Lin Jue sighed deeply. “Mind if I smoke?”

Zhou Jiayu shook his head.

Lin Jue pulled out a slim lady’s cigarette from her bag, lit it, and took a gentle drag. “Zhou Jiayu, have you ever been in love?”

Zhou Jiayu himself hadn’t, but this body likely had, so after hesitating, he nodded.

Lin Jue, skeptical, pressed, “Really? I mean, the serious kind.”

Zhou Jiayu admitted, “Not that kind…” He looked down at his teacup, sensing something ominous.

Lin Jue exhaled in relief, noticing his tension. Realizing her topic had spooked him, she无奈ly shifted gears, dropping the subject of Lin Zhushui to talk about everyday matters.

This helped Zhou Jiayu gradually relax.

The tea was exquisite—slightly bitter at first, with a lingering sweetness. Zhou Jiayu and Lin Jue chatted about his experiences since arriving: the paper figure, the weasel, and all sorts of bizarre incidents.

The atmosphere between them eased, and Zhou Jiayu’s tension faded, a smile creeping onto his face.

Sensing the moment was right, Lin Jue stubbed out her cigarette and spoke softly. “Zhou Jiayu, actually, about Zhushui…” She barely got his name out before the young man in front of her stiffened, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff, every hair on his body standing on end.

Lin Jue: “…” What on earth did Lin Zhushui do to get this reaction?

Gritting her teeth, Lin Jue went for it. “I just wanted to ask—do you like Lin Zhushui?” She thought her question was blunt enough, but Zhou Jiayu nodded vigorously, saying earnestly, “I do! I really like sir. He’s such a great person…”

Lin Jue: “…” She silently mourned for three seconds on behalf of Lin Zhushui, who had inexplicably received two “good person” cards in one night.

Zhou Jiayu continued, “Sir is the most amazing person I’ve ever met! I like him so much!” His eyes sparkled with admiration, so obvious even Lin Jue could see it.

Seeing Zhou Jiayu like this, Lin Jue began to doubt her own judgment. For a moment, she couldn’t tell whether his admiration for Lin Zhushui was that of a junior for a senior or… something else.

Zhou Jiayu was still listing Lin Zhushui’s virtues.

Forget it, Lin Jue thought, watching him. Some things couldn’t be rushed.

Author’s Note:

Zhou Jiayu: Yo, sir, all the other kids got picked up. When are you coming for me?

Lin Zhushui: All the other kids have confessed. When’s your confession?

Zhou Jiayu, whining: I’m nervous…

Lin Zhushui: If I confess, will you say yes?

Zhou Jiayu, delighted, nods eagerly.