As the girl gradually approached, the already unpleasant air turned damp, the smell of mold and rot pouring in to fill the entire classroom.
Zhang Xueji could hear his own heart pounding wildly, wishing he could just turn and run away; but Xie Qiaoqiao was still standing steadily by his side, holding his hand.
Although he had no idea what Xie Qiaoqiao was going to do, as long as she didn’t move, he felt he shouldn’t run either, so he forced himself to stay where he was.
In the Ghost’s eyes, the young man standing motionless was no different from a piece of Tang Monk Meat left unattended by Sun Wukong; his soul shone with light, and people with this kind of soul usually had a stable aura, making it hard for ghosts or monsters to disturb them.
But for some reason, the young man’s aura was weak, as if something had disturbed and damaged it.
This gave a Ghost like her a chance.
As for the girl beside him—her soul was gray and her aura ordinary, probably scared silly and too frightened to even run. But that was a good thing, as it helped her hold down the “food” for the Ghost.
She showed Zhang Xueji a smile, her gaunt cheeks swelling and rotting in an instant, teeth falling from the corners of her mouth; she was pleased to see Zhang Xueji’s face turn pale with fright, cold sweat crawling down his neck.
“You were able to turn back in time, I’m quite pleased… Come, let Senior teach you how to dissect a corpse—”
Xie Qiaoqiao moved like lightning, swiftly drawing the Wooden Sword and thrusting it into the Ghost’s mouth; wherever the Wooden Sword touched the spirit, sparks of electricity exploded, lighting up the red talisman script carved into the sword.
The Ghost’s face was blasted charred and black, and with a miserable scream, she twisted off her own head and threw it aside, her body crawling along the ground toward the vent!
The head, pierced by the Wooden Sword, cursed from the throat: “Idiot! After throwing me away, how are you going to think? Want to become a snack for some other monster? Hurry up and come back to save me!”
The body paused for a moment at the head’s curses, but Xie Qiaoqiao stepped forward and leapt up lightly, driving the Wooden Sword—still skewering the Ghost’s head—into the body’s back, pinning her to the wall.
The head wailed and howled again from the throat: “It hurts, it hurts!”
The body struggled desperately to break free from the Peachwood Sword, but no matter how she thrashed, the sword remained firmly nailed into her spine.
Realizing she couldn’t escape, the body pounded the head furiously with hands and feet, while the head spat out venomous, sharp curses, the red talisman script on the Peachwood Sword glowing in tandem.
The spirit burned and smoked, giving off the smell of roasting flesh and rot, until finally, beneath the Peachwood Sword, it melted into a puddle of pale yellow filth, slowly trickling down the wall.
The once blinding lights returned to normal brightness.
Xie Qiaoqiao pulled out the Peachwood Sword and held it in her hand. The crimson runes on the blade gradually dimmed and disappeared, and the Peachwood Sword looked once again like an ordinary sword, except for a slight dampness on its surface.
Zhang Xueji blinked hard; everything in his vision was still a bit blurry, and the approaching Xie Qiaoqiao seemed to split into three.
Zhang Xueji: “So that’s… how you dealt with it?”
Xie Qiaoqiao had handled it so effortlessly—it was worlds apart from the Ghost Films Zhang Xueji had seen. She hadn’t even drawn a Red Talisman Script, nor used Glutinous Rice, Chicken Blood, Black Dog Blood, or anything like that.
Xie Qiaoqiao walked over and took Zhang Xueji’s hand. His hand was cold, as if it had lost all warmth, probably from being frightened by the Ghost just now. She gave a gentle squeeze, and Zhang Xueji, like a well-behaved puppet on strings, followed her out.
Xie Qiaoqiao said, “It was just a very ordinary Ghost.”
She knew what Zhang Xueji was thinking—after all, he was the kind of person who’d worry about turning into a Zombie or Vampire in the middle of the night.
Xie Qiaoqiao added, “There are ways to drive away ghosts using talisman scripts, formations, or things like Chicken Blood, Black Dog Blood, or Boy’s Urine, but I’m not that type.”
Those methods were for exorcising ghosts, but Xie Qiaoqiao killed ghosts. That’s why she rarely took action, and never worked for free—her rates in the industry were quite high.
The two of them held hands as they entered the elevator. The Square-Hole Copper Coin dangling from Xie Qiaoqiao’s wrist brushed against the back of Zhang Xueji’s hand. The cold, hard edge of the coin was surprisingly smooth, clearly a charm often worn by its owner.
Zhang Xueji’s frantic heartbeat gradually calmed, but suddenly another thought occurred to him: “There’s surveillance on the basement level, will it…”
Xie Qiaoqiao was calm: “It won’t catch anything.”
When the elevator reached the first floor, Xie Qiaoqiao let go of Zhang Xueji’s hand.
The elevator doors slid open, and a rush of damp, chilly air swept in from outside, accompanied by the sound of thunder.
It was raining outside, and neither Xie Qiaoqiao nor Zhang Xueji had brought an umbrella. What’s more, it was pouring—far too heavy to just dash out with a jacket over their heads.
The whole sky was so dark that only flashes of lightning remained; even the nearby streetlights were blurred by the curtain of rain, and the raindrops were so heavy it was as if someone in the sky was dumping water down with a hose.
Water pooled on the ground, rising to calf depth, soaking the steps and part of the lobby floor. Mixed with the torrential rain was a damp, cold wind. Xie Qiaoqiao and Zhang Xueji stood side by side by the closed window, but the wind that rushed in through the main entrance still puffed up their short sleeves like balloons.
They looked like two balloon people standing side by side.
Zhang Xueji tried sticking his head out the door, but in less than two seconds he came back with a soaked head and half-drenched shirt, sneezing, and came to a conclusion: “There’s no way we can leave. There’s still a long way to go to get back to the apartment complex, and without an umbrella, we might as well swim home.”
“I’ll message my friend to see if he can bring us some umbrellas.”
He said this unusually calmly, showing no sign of the terror he’d just felt from the Ghost.
The sudden downpour had disrupted Zhang Xueji’s atmosphere of fear, so he no longer felt afraid.
Xie Qiaoqiao nodded without speaking.
She untied the red string and put it into her crossbody bag, then took out a pack of wet wipes, tore it open, and began wiping down the damp parts of the Peachwood Sword.
Zhang Xueji leaned over to watch her clean the sword. In the light, the Peachwood Sword looked just like any ordinary sword—no more bright red talisman script, no lightning effects.
A sudden thought struck him: “Can I touch this sword?”
Xie Qiaoqiao looked up at him, only to find that Zhang Xueji wasn’t looking at the Peachwood Sword at all. Their eyes met, and Zhang Xueji was looking right at her.
His short hair was dripping, clinging to his forehead and cheeks, water droplets still trailing from the tips, and the scent of rain clung to him. Even his eyelashes were wet.
He looked like a drenched puppy—a smart and obedient one, without a single bad bone in his body. Even when he was soaked, he wouldn’t shake himself off near others.
Xie Qiaoqiao looked away. “You can.”
With her permission, Zhang Xueji curiously reached out and gently touched the blade of the Peachwood Sword. He still remembered how the sword had scorched the Ghost until it smoked, so he thought of it as “hot.”
But when he actually touched it, he found it was just polished, smooth wood. And since Xie Qiaoqiao had just wiped it with a wet tissue, it still felt a bit damp.
Zhang Xueji’s fingertips were damp as well.
His gaze moved from the Peachwood Sword to the owner’s lowered face, rainwater gathering on her eyelashes and tracing the delicate lines of her face.
His vision was blended with rainwater, the air was thick with humidity, and to him, the girl who had just slain a ghost was as unpredictable and irresistible as the storm itself.
“I mean, what the hell is with this rain, just drown me already! Hey, Zhang Xueji, you owe me milk tea tomorrow! I came out in this rain to bring you an umbrella—if I didn’t treat you like my own son, I’d never come!”
A young man in a raincoat burst through the downpour, stomping water everywhere as he came in, grumbling loudly.
Xie Qiaoqiao sheathed the Peachwood Sword, the wooden blade brushing quickly past Zhang Xueji’s fingertips, the speed even making his fingers feel a bit hot.
He straightened up and looked away, his heart still pounding.
Yuezhang Yan had two umbrellas tucked under his arm. When he looked up and saw Zhang Xueji standing with an unfamiliar girl, he froze.
He’d just gotten a message from Zhang Xueji to bring two umbrellas, so Yuezhang Yan had assumed he was stuck here with a classmate—never imagining the other person might be a girl.
His gaze shifted subtly between Zhang Xueji and Xie Qiaoqiao, confirming that this girl was neither Zhang Xueji’s classmate nor anyone he recognized.
Usually, when Yuezhang Yan started with his father-son nonsense, Zhang Xueji would play along out of respect; but today he didn’t—he glanced at Xie Qiaoqiao from the corner of his eye, wanting to see her reaction.
Xie Qiaoqiao still stood calmly by the window, the dark rain casting somber light across her pale, indifferent profile.
She acted as if she hadn’t heard Yuezhang Yan at all, not even glancing his way—her attitude was ten times colder than it was toward Zhang Xueji.
Zhang Xueji took both umbrellas from under Yuezhang Yan’s arm. “Thanks for bringing the umbrellas. And stop saying such childish things.”
Yuezhang Yan: “?”
Yuezhang Yan was so shocked he almost thought Zhang Xueji in front of him was a fake.
Zhang Xueji handed one of the umbrellas to Xie Qiaoqiao and opened the other for himself. Before he could step out, Yuezhang Yan suddenly hooked an arm around his neck.
Zhang Xueji was pulled down a bit, elbowing Yuezhang Yan in the chest with an exasperated, “What’s wrong with you?”
Yuezhang Yan lowered his voice, full of admiration: “From the first to the third floor of Minsi Building, it’s all for clinical case studies and real dissections, and there are still lots of Cadaver Teachers in the basement. You actually picked this place to go on a date with a girl? I’m honestly impressed by your courage.”
Zhang Xueji: “Don’t use your filthy thoughts to guess what I’m doing. I’m not here for a date.”
With that, he pushed Yuezhang Yan away. Yuezhang Yan’s raincoat was covered in water droplets, and that grab had left Zhang Xueji’s already half-wet shirt completely soaked. He tugged at his damp collar, feeling uncomfortable.
Yuezhang Yan didn’t believe him at all. “Out with a girl in the middle of the night—if it’s not a date, what is it? Playing catch-the-ghost?”
Zhang Xueji:
You actually guessed right. We really came to catch a ghost.