Cheng Huanzhen’s gaze gradually dimmed.

Lin Chen held the cup in both hands, sipping the water in small mouthfuls. Through the light mist of steam, he studied Cheng Huanzhen thoughtfully.

He had been in this world for four years.
He had lived in four different households, and Cheng Huanzhen was the only one who kept searching and investigating for so long even after his “commission” was over.

The fact that Cheng Yiming had never been conclusively declared dead was indeed an important reason.

But—

“I’m guessing you don’t need money as thanks,” Lin Chen said. “Then… perhaps you or your family might have some need for a spirit medium?”

He spoke sincerely. “Souls that return to nature too early can’t be contacted directly, but through a ritual it’s possible to learn about their current state—for example, whether the soul is robust, whether their fate after reincarnation is smooth… If you need it, I can perform a ritual for you.”

Cheng pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Thank you. But… I don’t need that.”

—More than half a year had passed since the medical time of death calculated for Cheng Yiming. At this point, did Cheng still truly believe Cheng Yiming was alive, or had he simply manually deleted the possibility of ‘Cheng Yiming will die’ from his mind?

Lost in thought, Lin Chen accidentally drank a normal-sized mouthful of water.

The warm water had barely entered his stomach when the system’s belated, panicked shout—“Ahhh, host, your stomach isn’t fully healed yet, you can’t drink that much at once—” arrived at the same time as the stomach cramps.

His face went white from the pain. Failing to hold the cup steady, he spilled the entire thing over the quilt, then curled onto his side, clutching his abdomen and hissing through clenched teeth.

Cheng snapped back to himself. With a roll of his sleeves, he swiftly flipped the quilt over, sending both quilt and unabsorbed water to the floor.

Then he braced one knee on the bed, leaned over to grab Lin Chen’s shoulder, frowning tightly. “What’s wrong? Stomach problems? If even drinking water hurts, you really should be in a hospital! …I’ll take you.”

Lin Chen’s heart was trembling. He asked the system in disbelief, “I can’t even drink water now? Then when can I eat? Am I going to starve to death, AC9999?”

The system, busy with repairs and scrambling like mad, protested, “…Of course not, host! Please rest assured, your digestive system will be functioning normally again in just two hours!”

Lin Chen let out a long breath of relief.

He grabbed Cheng’s wrist, stopping him from calling the driver.

Still forcing a smile, he said, “Please don’t worry, it’s an old problem. I just need to ride it out.”

…An old problem?

Against his will, Cheng thought of his little uncle.

His little uncle had been the same—no matter how badly his health was affecting his daily life, he still refused to go to the hospital.

Back then, even when he’d finally dragged his uncle to the hospital, they hadn’t been able to offer any truly effective treatment.

But still…

If he had taken his little uncle to the hospital earlier—
Would he have discovered the signs of the brain tumor worsening sooner?
Would there have been time to think of some way to stop everything from deteriorating, to stop all that followed?

If everything had been earlier, just a bit earlier…
Might it all have been changed?

Cheng lowered his eyes.

The young man on the bed was pale, drawing breath between his teeth, his features twisted with pain—yet when he spoke, he still tried to offer a comforting smile.

The color in his eyes always seemed calm, untouched by the suffering.

When Cheng leaned in and their gazes met, he was briefly struck by the sight of himself reflected clearly in those limpid eyes.

It was just like when he’d looked into his little uncle’s eyes. When his uncle spoke to him, he would always look at him so seriously, his eyes holding only him.

Cheng jerked back as if shocked, his body locked in midair.

Strange. Strange. So strange.

This person had already explained who he was.
All the suspicious points about him had been rationally cleared away.
So far, there weren’t even that many places where he resembled his little uncle.

So why… why did Cheng’s eyes keep catching glimpses of his uncle’s shadow in him?

Was he really seeing his little uncle’s shadow?
Or was it just the fevered hallucination of someone who hadn’t found him for too long?

Sensing something was off, Lin Chen asked, puzzled, “Huanzhen?”

“…”

Little uncle. Little uncle. Little uncle…

Cheng forced his rigid body to move.
His voice sounded stiff, the effort to make it sound normal obvious.

“…I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said. “If there’s something wrong with your body, you have to treat it promptly. Don’t drag it out. If you’re worried about the cost, I can front it for you—just treat it as a loan.”

The young man shook his head.

Struggling to sit up, he panted softly. “It’s not about the money. The reason’s just… not convenient to say…”

“You’ve already helped me a lot last night. Now that I can move on my own, I should go home. I’ll send a proper thank-you gift later.”

Cheng’s eyes widened. In that moment he seemed to see his uncle, refusing to go to the hospital, and also Li Shuyun, who had gone in only to be told he was already in the late stage.

And with that came that same complex, unforgettable feeling of “loss.” It stung so much that he snapped, unable to hold back—he pressed Lin Chen down by the shoulder and forced him back onto the bed.

“If you won’t go to the hospital, at least let the family doctor have a look!” he said, more than a little angry. “I’ll call him up right now!”

The movement made the young man stare at him, dumbfounded.

After a few quiet seconds, the curled-up figure suddenly gave a soft laugh.

“So you’re actually this kind, Huanzhen,” he said. “Counting that day at the funeral, this is only our second time meeting, isn’t it?”

His gaze was curious but polite. “Are you always this concerned about other people?”

“…”

Cheng came back to himself and slowly, stiffly released his grip.

“I just…”
His tone was wooden, as if he needed a reason even for himself. “…want to help to the end, that’s all.”

The young man blinked, then burst into laughter.

The laugh made him curl up tighter, his hand pressing harder over his abdomen.

After a bit, as if he’d used up his strength, he panted lightly and said, “With you being this kind, it doesn’t seem right for me to keep turning you down, does it?”

Cheng turned his eyes slightly away so he wouldn’t have to meet that gaze.

“My family happens to have a live-in doctor. The rooms are usually empty,” he said. “If you stay a few days, it won’t be any burden to me.”

He paused. “Just as well—my family members are all away on business trips right now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He finished and waited patiently for three seconds.

Getting no reply, he couldn’t help sneaking another look at Lin Chen.

What he saw for a flash was a pair of cool, measuring eyes, as if weighing something carefully.

It lasted only a moment. By the time Cheng’s gaze fully met his, Lin Chen’s expression was normal again, gentle and polite, with a hint of a smile.

…Strange.

Strange.

Had he really seen that look just now?

…Was it his imagination?

Expressionless, Cheng added, “I just can’t stand watching someone who’s clearly unwell refuse treatment. Letting you stay is only so the doctor can examine you properly. There’s nothing more to it.”

With the words laid out like this, turning him down again would be impolite.

Lin Chen thought it over seriously, then finally nodded slightly with a smile. “Since you’ve invited me so sincerely… then I really will trouble Young Master Cheng for a while.”

He had yet to feel anything about ending up living in the Cheng house again when the system cried out in panic.

“Host!! How can you stay at Cheng Huanzhen’s place? He’s investigating you right now—if you move in, isn’t that the same as sleeping in the enemy’s base camp?”

Lin Chen found this baffling. “I’m not panicking, what are you panicking for? The eunuch more anxious than the emperor?”

Aggrieved, the system protested, “Host, I’m clearly just worrying before you do!”

“Oh?” Lin Chen said mildly. “Then worry about this for me: if I go home now missing a kidney and half a stomach, what happens if I’m cooking one day and suddenly fall headfirst into the pot?”

The system’s imagination kicked in, and it started making horrified gulping noises.

“Such a coward,” Lin Chen commented, amused.

The system, near tears, tried to object. “H-host!”

Cheng had already gone to find the butler and the doctor.

Lin Chen, having finally recovered from that wave of stomach pain, had regained a bit of strength—enough to push himself up in bed.

It happened to be a sunny day. He shuffled himself slowly toward the other side of the bed, into the patch of sunlight. Closing his eyes, he let the warmth wash over him, ignoring the system’s protests.

“Lately I’ve been thinking about something,” he said mildly.

“What is it, host?” the system asked, confused.

“I’ve been working here for four years,” Lin Chen said slowly. “I’ve earned quite a bit. It feels like… I should start thinking about retirement.”

“?” said the system.

Outside the window, today’s good sun had already melted most of the snow in front of the Cheng residence.

Thinking as he watched, Lin Chen said, “Settling the fee one job at a time, settling the favors one job at a time—this kind of life can’t go on forever.”

“If I keep doing this, heaven knows that someday, if I ever hold a party, every guest I invite will be some grandpa at retirement age. One by one.”

The system was a bit lost. These words felt far too steeped in human concerns for a system creature to fully grasp.

“This… is that bad?” it ventured.

Lin Chen considered. “Not exactly bad. But if that’s all there is, then it’s not very good either.”

He went on talking to himself. “Still, retirement is retirement—money still has to be made. To protect my biggest current investment, I can’t exactly be truly unemployed.”

“So I’m thinking…”

He blinked cheerfully. “I should find myself a long-term client. That way retirement won’t get in the way of my income.”