It’s a bit of a challenge for a shop to sell both fried chicken and herbal tea at the same time.
But before Zhang Xueji could remind Xie Qiaoqiao of this, he heard her say, “Found it.”
Zhang Xueji was greatly surprised and leaned in, wanting to see which shop could be so magical.
Before he could get a clear look at Xie Qiaoqiao’s phone screen, she had already looked up and asked him, “Do you want Iced Black Tea, or Oolong Green Tea?”
Though the current atmosphere was hardly suitable for laughter, Zhang Xueji still let out a chuckle because of what Xie Qiaoqiao said: “So that’s the tea?”
If it’s not this kind of tea, then what tea would it be?
Xie Qiaoqiao looked at Zhang Xueji in confusion.
Zhang Xueji didn’t correct her, simply answered, “Oolong Green Tea, I guess.”
Cleaning the kitchen was exhausting, especially dealing with that pool of blood on the floor.
Now that he could finally relax, Zhang Xueji felt a dull fatigue wash over him, and couldn’t help but slump against the wall.
He did his best to avoid looking at the corpse on the ground and asked, “Does this monster have an identity in human society too?”
Without even looking up, Xie Qiaoqiao answered, “Yes, she was a surgeon.”
Zhang Xueji was taken aback. “Why would she choose to become a surgeon?”
He always thought monsters, having their powers, should at least be a hospital director or something. But she was only a doctor—a surgeon at that.
Xie Qiaoqiao said, “Because the body she possessed specialized in this field. Didn’t you notice how familiar her face looked? This body belonged to the Clinical Department Female Ghost.”
Zhang Xueji clutched his chest. “How would I dare look at her face? Just getting her stacked up neatly almost scared me to death.”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have had coffee. Caffeine is already bad for my heart.”
“But if she has a social identity, this gets troublesome. The police probably won’t believe in ghosts in this world… I wonder if those extra four arms can be used as evidence…”
Terrified of the corpse, Zhang Xueji muttered to himself, unconsciously glancing at the pile of bodies, his brow furrowed, face full of worry.
Sick people shouldn’t brood.
Xie Qiaoqiao wanted to comfort him but had no experience doing so.
She pondered for a long time with her phone in hand, then walked up to Zhang Xueji and, copying what he’d done in the living room earlier, gripped his wrists with both hands.
But Xie Qiaoqiao’s hands weren’t large enough to wrap around his wrists as easily as he did—his complexion was poor, pale, on the verge of collapse, yet his skin still felt hot to the touch.
With a serious face, Xie Qiaoqiao said, “Don’t worry about it, there won’t be any trouble, because I’m a Public Servant.”
Zhang Xueji: “…?”
The surprise and faint embarrassment of being grabbed by Xie Qiaoqiao quickly faded at her words.
Sometimes Zhang Xueji really found Xie Qiaoqiao remarkable—how she could say things that made no logical sense but were still somehow reassuring.
Xie Qiaoqiao misunderstood his silence, thinking he was still worried, so she ran to the living room, dug out her work ID, and held it up in front of Zhang Xueji to prove she was telling the truth.
Special Folklore Research Department, with an official seal, title, Xie Qiaoqiao’s ID photo and name—all present. Zhang Xueji even checked on his phone, and sure enough, it was a real government department, a Law-abiding Civil Servant post.
Just as with a math formula where seeing the equation means you know the result, Zhang Xueji saw the work ID and the monster’s corpse on the floor and immediately understood that this so-called “Special Folklore Research Department” was probably the official body in charge of studying and controlling monsters and ghosts.
Since ghosts and monsters exist in this world, it’s only natural for the Government to have a dedicated department.
Zhang Xueji accepted this fact with ease, linking together various past events in his mind.
Xie Qiaoqiao put away her work ID without explaining the special nature of her job. She had always abided by the confidentiality principle that Hua Lingyue taught her.
“About monsters, now that you know, you must keep it secret and never tell anyone else.” Xie Qiaoqiao’s expression was blank, but her tone was serious as she admonished Zhang Xueji.
Zhang Xueji nodded honestly, immediately guessing this was a requirement from the “Special Folklore Research Department”.
Zhang Xueji asked, “If ordinary people witness you fighting monsters, will you erase their memories? That’s what those supernatural TV dramas always show.”
“Depends on the situation. Only if we really can’t talk our way out of it, then—”
Xie Qiaoqiao stopped mid-sentence, fell silent for two or three seconds, and reiterated, “I can’t tell you about this.”
Zhang Xueji raised his hands, “I get it, I get it, confidentiality.”
Looks like they do erase memories.
Suddenly, the pale arm on the floor jerked—a severed arm, as if alive, shot upward, struggling like a fish out of water.
But it was too weak. Even after using all its strength, it only managed to wriggle a little closer to Zhang Xueji.
Frightened, Zhang Xueji took a giant step back to Xie Qiaoqiao’s side, grabbing her shoulder with a face on the verge of tears.
If he could, he would have liked to swap bodies with Xie Qiaoqiao, but compared to his size, Xie Qiaoqiao’s shoulders were a bit too slender, barely covering half of him.
“Ali—Ali—”
Before Zhang Xueji could finish shouting, Xie Qiaoqiao strode over, picked up the arm, and it instantly went limp, hanging lifeless in her grasp.
Forced to stand next to the corpse, Zhang Xueji was both terrified the pile of bodies would move on its own and too scared to let go of Xie Qiaoqiao’s sleeve, looking like he was about to cry.
Xie Qiaoqiao said, “It’s not alive, just a final twitch. But I discovered something.”
Zhang Xueji was baffled. “What is it?”
Xie Qiaoqiao grabbed his wrist and pressed his palm onto the corpse’s skin.
The once-rigid flesh softened instantly at his touch, and on its surface, a half-formed mouth split open.
A mouth with no lips or tongue, just teeth.
It was clearly trying to bite Zhang Xueji, but lacking energy, could only sprout teeth before swiftly fading away.
Zhang Xueji was so shocked, he couldn’t even be afraid. “What is this? Teeth? A mouth? This is the back, right? A mouth growing on the scapula?”
Xie Qiaoqiao released his wrist. “It really likes you.”
Zhang Xueji quickly withdrew his hand, turned on the tap, and scrubbed his hand vigorously under the strongest stream of water. “No, no, no, this kind of ‘like’ is too terrifying.”
Xie Qiaoqiao added, “It’s just like how humans like fried chicken.”
Zhang Xueji: …
Speak of fried chicken, and the delivery guy called Xie Qiaoqiao.
Xie Qiaoqiao answered the phone while grabbing Zhang Xueji’s hand.
Though the corpse, corroded by the monster, was nearly dead, Xie Qiaoqiao still wasn’t comfortable leaving Zhang Xueji—this little fried chicken drumstick—alone with it, so she dragged him along to get the takeout.
His freshly washed hand wasn’t dried, so water droplets dampened Xie Qiaoqiao’s palm, their skin pressed together with no distance between, their difference in body temperature mingling through their hands.
After collecting the food and returning to the living room, Xie Qiaoqiao let go, and Zhang Xueji considerately pulled a few tissues from the coffee table for her to dry her hands.
After wiping her hands, Xie Qiaoqiao casually reached out her clean hand and touched Zhang Xueji’s forehead to check his temperature.
Xie Qiaoqiao said, “It’s not as hot as before, but you still need to take a fever reducer.”
She spoke matter-of-factly, leaving Zhang Xueji no room to object.
Leaning against the sofa back, he nodded and took a sip of Oolong Green Tea as Xie Qiaoqiao went to get the medicine.
The fever symptoms crept up on him alongside his fatigue, and he couldn’t taste the Oolong Green Tea nor smell the fried chicken on the coffee table.
The fever reducer worked fast.
After taking it, Zhang Xueji felt dizzy and, just before passing out, wondered if he had eaten too much random stuff today.
He had no idea what would happen when coffee, Oolong Green Tea, and fever reducers all met in his stomach.
Eh, whatever. As long as it doesn’t kill him.
He drifted off to sleep.
After eating her fried chicken, Xie Qiaoqiao felt the living room become exceptionally quiet. She turned to look at Zhang Xueji, who was already lying on the sofa asleep, face up.
She moved over and placed her palm on Zhang Xueji’s forehead. Still hot.
The fever reducer was working so slowly.
Xie Qiaoqiao called his name twice, but Zhang Xueji kept his eyes closed, unresponsive.
Through his thin eyelids, the tangled red of his blood vessels showed, his body cloaked in Xie Qiaoqiao’s shadow.
Zhang Xueji had expended too much energy that day, and with the fever reducer’s help, finally fell into a deep sleep.
Not just two calls—at this point, even a thunderclap might not wake him.
Xie Qiaoqiao’s eyes could see a world different from that of ordinary people. For instance, at this moment, she could clearly see Zhang Xueji’s disordered, weak aura.
This kind of aura was especially likely to attract monsters and Ghosts, especially since Zhang Xueji was exactly the type that looked extra delicious in the eyes of such creatures.
Xie Qiaoqiao didn’t want to move Zhang Xueji a second time—he was actually pretty heavy. Especially when he was completely unconscious and limp, dragging him took a lot of effort.
So she turned on the living room air conditioner, then fetched her pillow and blanket from her bedroom.
She tucked the pillow under Zhang Xueji’s head and bundled him tightly in the blanket. He lay crosswise on the sofa, exhaling hot breaths that swept over Xie Qiaoqiao’s hand.
It was just before dawn, not quite bright yet. Zhang Xueji, woken by his internal clock, felt a throbbing pain at his temples.
Staring at the ceiling in a daze, his mind quickly snapped back to reality: this wasn’t his home.
Everything that happened last night replayed in order in his mind. Covering his face, he instinctively burrowed into the pillow.
It didn’t have the familiar scent of his shampoo and laundry detergent.
This pillow had a strange fragrance, unfamiliar yet faintly familiar.
It was the scent from Xie Qiaoqiao’s hair—probably lavender or some other floral, herbal aroma.
Zhang Xueji froze, his left hand unconsciously clutching the pillow.
As the scent wrapped him, his mind blanked for a few seconds.
He didn’t know what to think, but after regaining his composure, a subtle emotion crept in. He touched the tip of his nose with his fingers and, forcing himself to act normal, lifted the blanket and got up.
The house was quiet, only the hum of the air conditioner could be heard. The temperature was low, but Zhang Xueji didn’t feel cold.
He felt a little too warm, so warm his scalp tingled, unable to stand straight.
Halfway through brushing her teeth, Xie Qiaoqiao belatedly let out an “ah,” then walked out of the bathroom to glance at the living room sofa she had been ignoring.
There was no one on the sofa anymore. The blanket was neatly folded, the pillow beside it.
She had no idea when Zhang Xueji had gotten up and left; the door was closed properly, and she hadn’t heard a thing.
With her toothbrush still in her mouth, she went back to finish brushing her teeth.
After washing up, Xie Qiaoqiao picked up her phone—sure enough, there were messages from Zhang Xueji.
[ I have class today, left first. ]
[ Bought you breakfast, it’s hanging on the doorknob. ]
[ It’s really hot in summer, so don’t turn off the air conditioner after you leave. The corpse will stink, and corpse stench is really hard to clean. ]
[ Thanks for the fever medicine, it worked great. When I woke up this morning, the fever was gone ^-^ ]
There was a half-hour gap between the last two messages.
Xie Qiaoqiao replied with a [Read], then went to open the door—the doorknob had an insulated bag hanging from it, bearing the same logo as the Bolo Bun bag from last night.
She tore open the bag and looked inside, stunned. How could there be so much?
Two Bolo Buns, one Salty Pancake, one box of Fried Milk, a box of Ginger Milk Curd, and a cup of Hawthorn Malt Tea.
“For you, try it and see if you like it.”
She placed the opened bag on the table, and the sweet and savory aroma of baked goods wafted out—Qinghua Lu took a Bolo Bun, while Qiongsi Sang grabbed a piece of Fried Milk.
It was an 8 a.m. class, and everyone was half-asleep. The teacher wasn’t strict, so plenty of people secretly ate breakfast during class.
Qinghua Lu had her eyes closed at first, but after a bite of Bolo Bun, she suddenly opened them. She leaned over to paw through the insulated bag, noticing the shop’s logo on it.
Qinghua Lu said, “I knew it, this taste is so familiar—how early did you have to get up to line up?”
Xie Qiaoqiao tilted her head. “You need to line up at this shop?”
Qinghua Lu, chewing her bun, replied, “Of course. This Tea Restaurant is really popular, lots of tourists come to check in, and they don’t do delivery. If you want to eat, you have to go in person.”
Qiongsi Sang, who had been dozing off, woke up upon hearing this and immediately pulled out her phone to search social media.
Plenty of influencers had posted the menu, and though the prices were within her budget, normally Qiongsi Sang would never spend so much on a few snacks, let alone line up for ages.
But Fried Milk was really delicious.
“But I saw reviews saying their Herbal Tea really works—good for humidity, heatstroke, colds, a few drinks and you’re fine.” Qiongsi Sang showed the shop reviews she found to Xie Qiaoqiao and Qinghua Lu.
Xie Qiaoqiao was momentarily puzzled. “Isn’t Herbal Tea just Iced Black Tea?”
“Of course not!” Qinghua Lu explained. “Iced Black Tea is Iced Black Tea, Herbal Tea is Herbal Tea! In Yue Dong, their herbal tea… it’s more like a soup, you have to brew it.”
“If a Tea Restaurant tried to sell Iced Black Tea as Herbal Tea, they’d get bad reviews!”
Xie Qiaoqiao asked, “…Do people in Yue Dong care about this a lot?”
Qinghua Lu scratched her face, “I’m not from Yue Dong—but from what I see online, people there really care about it, it’s part of their food culture. Like how people in Shuzhong eat hotpot but don’t go for Yuanyang Pot.”
Actually, Xie Qiaoqiao didn’t get why people in Shuzhong don’t eat Yuanyang Pot with their hotpot.
But she realized this was nearly common sense for “ordinary people,” so she didn’t press further, just took out her phone and started searching.
But the online encyclopedia told her Yuanyang Pot was also a kind of hotpot, and people in Shuzhong eat it too.
Same with Herbal Tea.
The search engine put Wanglaoji purchase links at the top—but all Xie Qiaoqiao wanted to know was whether people in Yue Dong could accept Oolong Green Tea being called Herbal Tea.
She didn’t find what she was looking for, so she felt a bit disappointed, lying expressionless on the desk, sweeping all the Bolo Bun crumbs from the wax paper into her mouth and chewing them down.
After thinking for a while, Xie Qiaoqiao gave up on the search and messaged Hua Lingyue instead.
[ Xie Qiaoqiao: Hua Lingyue, where’s your hometown? ]
[ Hua Lingyue: Qindao ]
[ Hua Lingyue: Why? Does that corpse have anything to do with my hometown? ]
[ Xie Qiaoqiao: I’ve finished examining the corpse, find some time to come pick it up. ]