Chapter 147: Promise Kept

Chapter 147: Keeping His Word

His expression was way too weird, the soul representing "joy" in his hand nearly crushed out of shape.

You could tell just from his face that Meng Shu’s memory didn’t include him.

Lake carefully asked, "What did you see?"

Ling Qingjue pursed his lips, disappointment written all over his face, in a low voice, "Not me..."

"It’s only joy; maybe you’re in the emotion of love!" Lake scrambled to smooth things over for Meng Shu. "People have so many feelings; you mean so much to him, it’s gotta involve you!"

Ling Qingjue didn’t respond, looking down at the soul in his hand. "...I don’t understand you humans."

After losing his memory, Meng Shu was just a stranger to Ling Qingjue.

This cat was a total jerk to everyone, but when he saw Meng Shu pull two cold, hard buns from a trash can and wolf them down like they were the most precious food, he clearly felt his heart wrench, nearly shattering.

Instincts don’t lie.

What pissed him off more than not being in Meng Shu's memory was that Meng Shu had to live on garbage.

Back then, Meng Shu was only fourteen.

And such a memory could become the memory that counted as Meng Shu's "joy."

The muscles in Ling Qingjue's face twitched as he held back his temper. "How weird, why did I fall for an idiot?"

Lake didn't know what he had seen. "What did you see?"

"..."

Ling Qingjue furrowed his brows in irritation, unwilling to bring it up again. "None of your business? Why are you always so curious about him? What do you think you are?"

"..."

The Law changed the subject casually. "Aren't you gonna give his soul back to him? With joy, he’ll be able to smile at you."

"...No."

Ling Qingjue set his jaw and said stiffly, "He doesn't remember me. I'm not gonna save him."

Lake's eye twitched.

He started worrying that Ling Qingjue didn't appear in any of Meng Shu's seven emotions.

Ling Qingjue trapped the soul where it was, turned, and continued summoning spirits.

Soon, another soul slammed into him.

This soul was called Fushi, and it matched the emotion of anger.

Ling Qingjue caught it. "So this corresponds to anger?"

He looked at Lake, suddenly curious. "Have you ever seen Meng Shu angry?"

Lake thought about it. "No. He's super easygoing; even when I blow money, he doesn't get mad. Once I was cooking, got hooked on a game, and ruined the pot, but he didn’t blame me."

"...I kinda get the feeling he’s not the type to get angry." Ling Qingjue grew more curious about this emotion and shoved it into himself.

The memories tied to "anger" slowly played out.

Ling Qingjue ended up in a clean, bright little room.

He looked around; the walls were freshly painted white, and pure white curtains half-covered the light.

There was even a small vase on the table, but the flowers inside were ordinary, like they'd been picked from a field.

The place was okay, barely.

This was the memory when Meng Shu was angriest.

The door opened, and Meng Shu walked in with a cold face, gently closing it behind him.

This time, he was an adult, tall and straight, with neatly trimmed black hair, giving off this weirdly prim vibe.

He looked healthy, no longer the frail child he once was, much taller, with sharp, handsome looks.

Even the simplest white shirt looked tailor-made on him.

He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs. He sat down casually on the sofa.

The clothes clung to his body with his movements, showing off his perfect form.

Was this what Meng Shu looked like when he wasn’t sick?

Ling Qingjue couldn't take his eyes off him, feeling like he was going into heat again.

He might have contracted a strange disease called "seeing Meng Shu makes me horny," and only Meng Shu could cure him.

Ling Qingjue only saw him sitting there, slouching a little, fingers swiftly swiping across his phone screen.

He was chatting with someone.

Ling Qingjue leaned in but saw a bright red exclamation mark.

Meng Shu was sending messages to someone who'd blocked him.

Ling Qingjue sneaked a look at their chat history, fragmentary, and his face turned serious.

Meng: [Bro Xu, where did you go?]

Meng: [Bro Xu, they say you ran off with the money. I don’t believe it. Didn’t we agree to build this together? We were finally making progress; how could you do something like this?]

...

Meng: [The police came.]

Meng: [Bro, the employees haven't been paid, and the account is empty. If you don't come back next month, we're gonna go bankrupt.]

...

Meng Shu kept sending messages to the person named "Xu Qingfeng," but got no reply.

Finally, the other person finally replied: "Bro, don’t blame me. Everyone's got it rough. I needed this money."

Then Meng Shu got blocked.

Meng: [Bro, are you kidding me? If you need money, I can help. Why can't we face this together?]

Send failed.

Meng Shu stared blankly at his phone screen, the glaring exclamation mark stinging his eyes until they turned bloodshot.

Ling Qingjue watched as his body bent down inch by inch, the phone in his hand slipping to the floor.

He rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily and rapidly, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

He’d been deceived.

He’d been abandoned.

Maybe ten minutes, maybe two hours, Meng Shu didn't move at all from beginning to end. He just sat there, and in the empty room, only his breathing could be heard.

Ling Qingjue stood by, unable to resist mocking him, "What 'Brother Xu'? You called him so affectionately, but he still dumped you, right?"

Meng Shu couldn't hear him, so of course there was no reaction.

This was just Meng Shu's memory world.

Noticing his shoulders trembling, Ling Qingjue gave a short cough, sat down beside him rather awkwardly, and mumbled quietly, "I'm different. I keep my word."