Chapter Sixty-One: The Yang City Mystery (3)

As the sole survivor, Jun Lu'an often thought he should have vanished into the heavens alongside his parents, rather than being the only one left after a fire that consumed hundreds. He was young then, but he understood much—after all, he was Gu Zhiheng’s neighbor. Perhaps it was precisely because of this that he became the lone survivor.

“I’ll take care of it. I don’t know exactly how yet, but don’t be so miserable you wish to die,” Gu Zhiheng said, his words blunt and unvarnished; comforting others wasn’t his forte.

Jun Lu'an understood what he meant, so he didn’t argue.

“Get some sleep. Tonight I’ll stay with you, so if you die, I’ll feel the pain.” He patted Gu Zhiheng’s shoulder and turned to sit on the sofa.

He kept watch over Gu Zhiheng, lest some other ghost snatch him away while he slept.

Truthfully, it wasn’t affection—he just felt comfortable around Gu Zhiheng. The air seemed fresher; even breathing felt easier.

“Do as you like. Just don’t disturb me—I want to sleep in peace.” Gu Zhiheng tossed a pillow at him and lay down.

Within minutes, steady breathing emanated from the bed; Gu Zhiheng had drifted off with ease.

Jun Lu'an glanced at him, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV—on mute, so as not to disturb him.

He could watch television without bothering Gu Zhiheng; a win-win.

He’d known from the start that Gu Zhiheng would turn up in Yang City, but the wait had been so long he’d nearly lost patience.

To pass the time, he wandered the streets daily, hoping to run into him.

He’d grown from a little ghost into a mature one, while Gu Zhiheng had only now come to Yang City.

Sometimes, impatience got the better of him, and he’d do reckless things—occasionally stirring up panic in the city.

He didn’t mean to, but Gu Zhiheng had taken so long to find him, and he couldn’t leave. Of course he felt uneasy.

When he was unhappy, he’d throw tantrums, and sometimes, unable to restrain himself, he harmed others.

It wasn’t intentional. He hadn’t realized how strong he’d become as a ghost, killing people by accident.

He grew like a normal person—there was little difference from the living.

The only difference was that no one could see him, though he could see everyone.

For years, neither humans nor ghosts had talked or played with him—ghosts couldn’t see him either.

He’d spent so many years in isolation, driven to madness, occasionally lashing out and hurting innocent people.

He knew this well, yet couldn’t control himself. He didn’t want to, but something compelled him.

He only wanted to wait for Gu Zhiheng, but in these fifteen years he’d committed many wrongs, causing many deaths.

Every year in Yang City, incidents—suicides, drownings, and so forth—increased without reason, all seemingly tied to him.

Those were the unintended outcomes of his fits of madness. He regretted them afterward, but it was too late.

He blamed himself, trying to compensate the victims’ families, but he couldn’t bring them back.

All these years, he swung between madness and remorse.

The longer it went, the worse he became, his mind often teetering on the edge of insanity.

If Gu Zhiheng had appeared a few years earlier, he wouldn’t be as he was now, and wouldn’t have committed so many sins.

Time passed swiftly; evening came in a blink.

Gu Zhiheng stirred awake, seeing Jun Lu'an engrossed in the television on the sofa. His brow furrowed in disbelief.

What on earth was this guy watching? Was this even something fit to watch?

There were only the two of them in the room—couldn’t he restrain himself? If he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t he go elsewhere?

“Jun Lu'an, are you out of your mind? What the hell are you watching?” Gu Zhiheng shouted, flinging the remaining pillow from the bed.

Jun Lu'an was unfazed, as if nothing had happened.

“What? Got an idea?” His words were casual, yet their meaning was anything but.

Jun Lu'an was a real oddball, watching such things in broad daylight—and with two men, no less.

Gu Zhiheng had barely glanced at the screen upon waking and nearly retched, while Jun Lu'an watched with relish.

“If you want, I can make a sacrifice and let you vent,” Jun Lu'an said, looking at him hopefully, as if completely oblivious to the implications.

“Get out! Sacrifice your uncle! Are you insane?” Gu Zhiheng was on the verge of tears.

Why did such shameless people exist? Jun Lu'an was utterly exasperating.

“Enough, I’m hungry. Take me to eat.” Jun Lu'an found teasing Gu Zhiheng amusing, but he knew not to push it too far.

With Gu Zhiheng here, he could finally eat real food—he hadn’t tasted anything from the human world in fifteen years.

Correction: he hadn’t eaten human food. For fifteen years, he’d survived on evil spirits and wild ghosts.

They tasted bland, sometimes downright revolting.

The only advantage was that one meal lasted a whole year, and he could continue growing.

“You can eat? Aren’t you unable to—” Gu Zhiheng’s words were interrupted as the shameless one suddenly kissed him.

Damn it, he wasn’t clean anymore!

Gu Zhiheng’s mind was filled with indignation and curses aimed at Jun Lu'an.

“If you’re going to die, get treated for your illness, what the hell is wrong with you?” He scrubbed his face vigorously, thoroughly disgusted.

Jun Lu'an explained, a little aggrieved, “I just wanted to prove to you that with you here, I’m just like a normal person. Why are you shouting?”

He was honestly aggrieved—it was hard to explain. Rather than wasting time with words, he thought a demonstration was more efficient.

“I carry your aura. As long as I’m near you, I become just like a normal person.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t have all these inappropriate thoughts.

“Fine. I’ll change clothes and we’ll go out. I’m starving too.” Gu Zhiheng rolled his eyes, ignoring Jun Lu'an’s pitiful look.

He couldn’t muster any affection for Chu Xingran, let alone a man.

It was all just banter; he’d never believe Jun Lu'an truly liked him—it was absurd.

He quickly changed clothes and took Jun Lu'an out.

First, they’d get something to eat; later, they’d wander the city together, searching for any clues about the past.

So much time had passed—most evidence was gone, making the investigation all the more troublesome.