Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Brother, I'm back."

A boy in a raincoat walked in from outside, first taking off his raincoat at the door, hanging the dripping wet raincoat and umbrella on the wooden peg protruding from the wall, and then hurriedly closing the wooden door to shut out the raging wind and rain outside.

It was the Qingming season, and it had been raining continuously in Yundong for over half a month.

Today the wind and rain were especially fierce. The umbrella couldn't hold up, and the raincoat could only barely provide cover. Xu Muchan was soaked through, his shoes saturated with mud and rainwater—with every step, muddy water squelched out. He looked a total wreck.

There was no response from inside the house, but he couldn't bother with that. He fumbled off his shoes in the dark first, then walked barefoot to search for the light switch.

He pressed the switch, but the light didn't come on. Xu Muchan guessed the storm had knocked out the power, so he had to feel his way in the dark to find the candles kept under the shrine.

The house always kept candles on hand. Xu Muchan found two and lit them. The flickering dim candlelight illuminated the shrine in the middle of the room. Inside the old vermilion shrine stood a stone deity statue whose face had long since worn smooth.

Xu Muchan's eyes met the statue's, and he instinctively looked away. Bracing against the damp chill, he lit three sticks of incense and bowed first, then squinted through the dim light to change.

It was April, and Yundong still hadn't warmed up, and this rough little house built into the mountain god's cave was damp and freezing. The second he peeled off his soaked shirt, he shook violently.

He rubbed the goosebumps prickling up his arms, then bent down to take off his pants. But when his eyes caught the shadow flickering on the floor, he froze mid-motion.

Beside his shadow, stretched long by the lamplight, another shadow had appeared without him noticing.

The shadow was pitch black, its body perfectly overlapping his own—only its head and shoulders jutting out to the left, like someone was crouched behind him, hunched over, resting their chin on his left shoulder.

Xu Muchan's heart stuttered. He took a slow, quiet breath to steady himself, then called softly, "Brother?"

The shadow didn't answer, but a cold, eerie breath ghosted across his bare back, like something was slithering up his spine. Goosebumps broke out all over his chilled skin. But Xu Muchan didn't dare flinch or grab his clothes. He could only stay frozen in that half-bent position, keeping his voice low as he explained: "It was pouring today, and the village roads were a mess, so that's why I'm late."

The candle by the shrine flickered, a spark popping with a soft crackle that made Xu Muchan's heart slam.

The cold breath drifted from behind him to the front. Whether from cold or fear, his too-thin waist trembled. His voice went tight, with a note of weakness and pleading: "I'll definitely be home on time next time. Brother, are you hungry? I'll go make you dinner right now."

Before that cold breath could drift somewhere dangerous, Xu Muchan scrambled away. Too rattled to change his soaked pants, he went to the kitchen and scooped a bowl of raw rice from the jar, grabbed three incense sticks, lit them, bowed, and planted them in the rice. He forced himself to stay calm as he set the bowl on the wooden table in front of the shrine: "Brother, eat first."

The thin incense burned slowly, its smoke curling around the room before settling into a thin haze that wrapped around Xu Muchan.

The shadow under the lamplight stirred, finally peeling away from Xu Muchan's and drifting toward the wooden table.

It was going to eat now.

Xu Muchan breathed a small sigh of relief. Seizing the moment, he quickly changed into dry clothes, then went into the little kitchen to start a fire and heat up some water.

The house was stocked with instant noodles. Xu Muchan couldn't cook worth a damn and never cared what he ate. At school he ate in the cafeteria; back home on breaks, when he couldn't be bothered to cook, he'd just make instant noodles.

Hot water hit the noodles, the steam and scent spreading out and chasing away the earlier chill.

After fighting through the wind and rain, Xu Muchan was starving. He scarfed down a bowl of instant noodles.

Outside, the storm was still going strong. The wind and rain thrashed the old locust tree in front of the cave, making it rattle and groan—like some creature thrashing around. Xu Muchan hated this kind of weather. He washed the dishes, took a quick wash with the leftover hot water, blew out the candles, and crawled into bed.

The worn quilt cover was soft against his skin, shutting out the cold. Xu Muchan let out a contented sigh, relaxing and stretching out—until his arm brushed against something ice-cold. He yanked his hand back like he'd been burned, going stiff and not daring to move.

He knew exactly what was in the blanket.

It was his brother.

Even after all these years together, whenever the other showed up out of nowhere, Xu Muchan's heart still went wild.

He closed his eyes, forcing his stiff limbs to relax, trying to get used to the cold presence pressing in beside him.

But this time, maybe because he'd come home too late and pissed him off, the cold presence didn't stay put. Instead, it pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

Xu Muchan kept his eyes shut, but he could feel the other hovering over him, a cold draft brushing his face.

The draft had a rhythm—a steady in-and-out, like something breathing slowly right over his face.

Xu Muchan's lashes trembled. He told himself not to think about it, that he'd just fall asleep like he had a thousand nights before.

But he soon realized something was different tonight. The cold breath lingered on his face a moment, then slowly drifted lower.

The hem of his shirt lifted, his skin exposed inch by inch to the cool air, goosebumps breaking out instantly.

A limb that wasn't his touched his sensitive waist. Xu Muchan shook violently, finally unable to take it. He opened his eyes and reached out to shove it away—

His hand was caught by something invisible, pinned above his head. The cold breath pressed against Xu Muchan's ear, and a voice—slurred and sticky, not human—said: "Achan was a bad boy today."

The shiver shot from his ear through his whole body in an instant. Xu Muchan broke out in goosebumps, jolted awake, and sat up with a gasp.

Noise flooded in from all directions like a rushing current. Xu Muchan blinked his unseeing eyes and turned his head, only then remembering he wasn't in the mountain god's cave anymore.

He was in the airport waiting hall.

Three days ago, a man named Qiu Ze who claimed to be his biological father's assistant had shown up at the hospital with two cops. They said he was the long-lost second son of the Xu Group chairman, and they wanted to take him back to the Xu family.

The Xu family lived in Jiangcheng. Xu Muchan agreed.

Before he left, he told his brother. His brother didn't seem happy, but this time, Xu Muchan wasn't going to listen.

Still, he brought the shrine along.

Xu Muchan fumbled for the backpack on the seat beside him and pulled it into his arms. The shrine inside was heavy, a solid weight that steadied his heart.

He cocked his ear, listening to the sounds around him. Qiu Ze didn't seem to be around—he didn't know where he'd gone.

So he leaned back in his seat, frowned, and kept resting with his eyes closed.

Ever since he went blind, his other senses had sharpened. The waiting hall was too loud, the smells too jumbled. Xu Muchan felt on edge.

Qiu Ze came out of the restroom and saw Xu Muchan still asleep nearby.

The airport screen showed their flight was boarding. Qiu Ze hurried over, reaching out to wake him: "Second Young Master, we're bo—"

The last word died in his throat.

The instant his fingers touched Xu Muchan's shoulder, he saw a tall dark shadow hunched over the boy, its upper body lifting, slowly turning its head to look at him—

In that moment, Qiu Ze couldn't describe what he felt—only that an icy chill shot up from his fingertips, freezing his limbs and blanking his mind.

The sleeping boy opened his eyes and grabbed his hand.

"Assistant Qiu? Are we boarding?"

Qiu Ze shuddered hard, snapping out of that frozen, blank chill. He still looked dazed: "Ah, yeah, time to board."

Xu Muchan nodded, let go, and stood—one hand holding his backpack, the other feeling for his cane.

What shadow?

Qiu Ze snapped out of his daze and rubbed his hands together hard, thinking, could all those sleepless nights finally be making him hallucinate?

After this business trip, he'd need to take some annual leave to relax properly, or he'd drop dead before he knew it.

The two of them boarded the plane and settled into their seats.

Xu Muchan took the window seat, and Qiu Ze sat on the aisle.

Seeing the kid still clutching that beat-up backpack like it was glued to him, Qiu Ze reminded him, "Hand me the bag—I'll toss it up top. You can't hold it during takeoff."

The kid didn't say much, but he handed the bag over without a fuss.

Qiu Ze reached for it, but the second he took it, his arms dropped—the thing was way heavier than it looked. Curious, he gave it a squeeze. Whatever was inside was big, had sharp corners, and gave off a weird, bone-cold chill.

It felt like holding a hunk of ice.

This strange sensation sparked Qiu Ze's curiosity. Back when they left Yundong County, the kid had only this old backpack, and he'd been clutching it the whole time without ever opening it.

What was inside?

Qiu Ze glanced over at the kid, who was facing the window. His longish bangs hung down, covering half his pale face and those dead, empty eyes.

The kid was blind, so a quick peek wouldn't hurt.

With that thought, Qiu Ze's fingers were already on the zipper. He didn't notice the crazed excitement on his own face, or how his breathing was getting heavier, or how his fingers were starting to twitch from the rush.

He inched the cheap zipper open, each pull letting out a dull click, click, and whatever was inside slowly came into view—

"Assistant Qiu, is it stowed away?"

The kid's clear voice struck like a drumbeat, hammering against Qiu Ze's eardrums. Qiu Ze jolted and looked up, dazed, the weird feverish look on his face gone. He muttered an "oh" and said, "Just putting it up now."

He shoved the backpack—zipper still slightly open—into the overhead bin, then shook out his sore arm and sat back down. That's why he missed the corner of a vermilion shrine peeking out through the gap.

Inside the shrine stood a stone idol with downturned lips, its expression cold and grim.