Chapter 2: Young Master Zhang Howled, “Brother!!! There are ghosts, damn it!!!”
The fox spirit’s entire body was trembling at a visibly noticeable frequency. He was shaking so violently that even Chu He thought that if he continued, he might just cough up his inner elixir in the next second.
However, Xiao Hu himself was unaware, his mind blank, even as the Demon Lord raised his hand and pressed it down towards his crown.
“—That’s enough,” Chu He suddenly said.
His voice was very special; the moment he spoke, it was like light cutting through chaos. The fox spirit shivered, cold surging through his internal organs, and in an instant, he woke up!
The Demon Lord’s hand stopped in mid-air. Chu He said, “Go, and serve the Second Young Master well.”
The fox spirit didn’t dare to even glance at the Demon Lord’s face. When he fled, he nearly ran into the door, but he couldn’t feel the pain, stumbling and staggering as he ran out.
The Demon Lord turned his head slightly and said blandly, “You really aren’t picky.”
Chu He laughed, buttoning his shirt one by one. His face was pale and ordinary, but while smiling and buttoning his shirt, there was an indescribable allure that made it hard to look away.
“I can even deal with you,” he said with a laugh, “so naturally, I’m not picky.”
The hem of the Demon Lord’s gold-embroidered black robe made an eerie and slight rustling sound on the carpet as he walked. Contrary to the long-standing rumors in the underworld, he neither had three heads and six arms, nor was he ugly or terrifying. If he suppressed his demonic aura and disguised himself as a human on the streets, apart from a distinct aura, he wouldn’t draw much attention.
“I’m only unclear about one thing,” the Demon Lord asked with great interest, “are you still holding a grudge against that nine-tailed fox because he really had a sharp tongue, or because you still think he had something going on with Zhou Hui?”
Chu He snorted, “Fan Luo, do you think Zhou Hui led the Sixth Squad to attack Hell’s Path because you had a sharp tongue, or because he suspected you had something going on with me?”
The Demon Lord, Fan Luo, thought for a moment, then smiled slightly. “I can’t figure it out. Maybe it’s a bit of both—if it were me, having my wife run off with a sworn enemy would be hard to stomach.”
Chu He picked up the bowl of sweet soup brought by the fox spirit and went to the washroom to pour it out, saying, “Our relationship isn’t what you imagine it to be.”
When he walked, his steps were steady, his back naturally straight, exuding an elegant and dignified presence. Fan Luo leaned against the washroom door, eyebrows raised, watching his back, his expression ambiguous in the light and shadow. However, Chu He seemed unaware and suddenly said, “By the way, tell your underworld ghosts not to enter the main house—last night one was lingering outside Zhang Shun’s room and nearly scared our cook to death. I had to get up in the middle of the night to summon her soul for hours…”
As he raised his head, Fan Luo silently appeared behind him, pressing a hand on his exposed neck.
“Continue.”
“…Today I had to throw a bucket of cold water on my brother, saying he was running around naked in the middle of the night to cover it up. Tell your underworld ghosts not to mess with Zhang Shun; he’s my only brother.”
Fan Luo’s lips pressed against his neck, and his laugh sounded muffled, “It reminds me… of the first time I met you.”
“Then you should remember what I said that time.”
“I do.” Fan Luo said leisurely, as if finding it amusing, “I wonder… if Zhou Hui knew your current situation, would he be more inclined to kill a demon again or to annihilate another Buddha?”
A strange expression crossed Chu He’s face, but before he could speak, there was a knock on the study door outside.
“Brother? Are you in there?”
Before Chu He could respond, the Demon Lord suddenly bit down on his neck!
As blood flowed, Chu He grabbed the edge of the sink and let out a muffled groan that he couldn’t suppress.
“Brother?” Zhang Shun called from outside.
Fan Luo’s fangs were deeply embedded in his blood vessels, and unable to swallow it all, a trickle of blood ran down Chu He’s half-naked, thin back, shockingly vivid against his pale skin. Chu He panted lightly, trying to speak but trembled and closed his mouth several times.
The Demon Lord bit down on a particularly tender part of his neck, saying, “Answer him.”
“…I…” Chu He took a deep, shaky breath, and called out, “I’m here! What’s up?”
Zhang Shun’s voice sounded confused, “Xiao Hu left early, saying he accidentally disturbed you and asked me to apologize! What are you doing, brother?”
“…I know!”
“What’s going on? What are you doing? Open the door!”
Fan Luo’s laugh was barely concealed. Chu He, unable to bear it, turned his head and shouted, “I said I know!”
“What are you doing? What’s going on, open the door! Brother!”
“Go to sleep!”
Zhang Shun was obviously stunned, blinking outside the door, then muttered to himself, “So angry… mastu-rbating or something?”
Though muttered, the words were clearly heard by the two inside the room. The Demon Lord almost laughed out loud, clapping his hands, “Your brother is quite the character—regardless of Zhou Hui’s feelings, I like him quite a lot, haha…”
Chu He, gasping, buttoned up his shirt. The place where he had been bitten had already healed automatically, leaving a red mark that looked like a hickey, surrounded by vivid blood vessels.
The process of having one’s spiritual power directly drawn from their inner elixir left him exhausted. After a moment, he weakly grabbed the Demon Lord’s hand, “Let go.”
His fingers were cold as ice.
Fan Luo stood while Chu He bent slightly. The Demon Lord, in this condescending position, stared at his restrained profile for a long time before saying in a low voice, “I still miss your real face…”
Chu He said, “Let go!”
—Though he had fallen to a point of having no place in the heavens or earth, even unable to retrieve his true form, the unyielding aura in his bones still vividly manifested in the smallest details.
The Demon Lord didn’t move. After a while, he slowly withdrew his hand from Chu He’s bare side.
“Alright,” he smiled, “everything as you wish.”
*
Zhang Shun returned to his bedroom, imagining the scene of his brother mastu-rbating alone in the study, and felt a bit horrified.
In his impression, Chu He was a silent, self-disciplined, calm person to the point of being cold: he was never surprised or excited, never showed great joy or anger, and rarely had emotional fluctuations. He never had contact with the opposite sex and even shunned intimacy from the same sex; the whole person was like an ice block wrapped in a finely tailored black suit, exuding a perennial chill even in the blazing summer.
Such a person would be a monk in ancient times or a Puritan in the Middle Ages. Zhang Shun had once maliciously suspected that his brother might have some unspeakable condition, but one year when the two brothers went to a hot spring, he took the opportunity to check, and everything seemed normal.
Zhang Shun was a bit afraid of his brother.
He knew that when his father was still around, he was also somewhat afraid of this adopted son with a different surname.
It was said that Chu He was brought into the family by his father’s second wife when they remarried. The reason it was said “according to legend” was that Zhang Shun had never seen his nominal stepmother—he was only five or six years old at the time and was sent abroad to live with his grandparents for a while. When he returned, he heard that his stepmother had died in an accident.
Old Chairman Zhang, widowed for the second time, gave up the idea of remarrying completely and raised the two children on his own. Although Zhang Shun was still young, he had been subtly influenced by those around him to understand that Chu He was an adopted son, and possibly a threat to his inheritance rights—he didn’t know what inheritance rights were, but he had a natural sense of guarding his territory. Encouraged by those around him, he indeed made things difficult for his adopted brother Chu He.
When the old Chairman Zhang found out, he was furious, cleaned house, and sternly lectured Zhang Shun: “Chu He is your brother! Since you called him brother once, you must treat him as your biological brother for life!”
Zhang Shun, being in his most rebellious phase, immediately retorted: “I don’t recognize him as my brother. If you want to, go ahead!”
In a rage, Chairman Zhang brought out the family discipline, whipping Zhang Shun with a belt until he cried out loud, unable to get out of bed for half a month. That wasn’t the end of it—Chairman Zhang would nag Zhang Shun whenever he got the chance, making Zhang Shun dislike Chu He even more but not daring to act out again.
Everyone said Chairman Zhang favored his adopted son so much that his own son was afraid and submissive to his brother.
Only Zhang Shun knew it wasn’t like that.
He remembered that on the night he was beaten, he woke up groggy from pain and thirst, hearing soft voices talking by his bed. He immediately pretended to still be asleep, cracking his eyes open just a bit to see the teenage Chu He sitting in an armchair, and Chairman Zhang standing, bending over, looking surprisingly… humble.
He had never imagined his father could be associated with humility, but at that moment, the first word that came to young Zhang Shun’s mind was indeed “humble.”
“…A-Shun is still young, and his pranks are limited. If you beat him like this, it makes me seem particularly intolerant…”
“Yes, yes, I understand, I won’t do it again—”
The room fell silent. Zhang Shun, afraid of being discovered, kept his eyes closed and his breathing light and steady.
“There won’t be a next time,” Chu He stood up and walked out, “—a natural Buddha bone, is that something you can beat?”
Old Chairman Zhang, drenched in cold sweat, watched Chu He walk to the door. Without looking back, Chu He pointed to Zhang Shun on the bed and said, “He’s thirsty, give him some water.”
…
Everything that happened that night was so vivid in Zhang Shun’s young memory that it later became so clear it seemed almost unreal. For many years, he couldn’t tell if the conversation really happened or if it was a hallucination caused by pain and fever. He only knew that his father never laid a finger on him again, and Chu He was always respectful to their father, never displaying that superior, commanding attitude again.
But from that moment on, Zhang Shun had a vague feeling—his father feared Chu He.
This feeling was hard to describe, even harder to prove, and sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud. Though Zhang Shun never sought confirmation from his father or mentioned it to anyone, this vague suspicion and feeling had been deeply rooted in his heart, never fading over the years.
Maybe it was because Xiao Hu left that night, and Zhang Shun was sleeping alone, but he had many confusing dreams. One of the dreams was about the time he played a dirty trick on Chu He, luring him to the warehouse at night under the pretense of getting lost in the mansion and locking him in the dark all night—he had secretly slipped back to his bedroom to sleep, while Chu He was found and released by a servant the next morning. However, in the dream, he seemed to return to the dark warehouse, quietly watching his brother in the darkness.
Chu He sat cross-legged on a brilliantly glowing lotus flower, his face peaceful and serene, emitting a gentle jade-like glow. Ghostly shadows surrounded him, bowing and prostrating, while countless more vengeful spirits dragged long wails from the vast night, rushing towards him.
Zhang Shun floated in mid-air, stunned, until Chu He opened his eyes and looked at him, softly asking, “Having a dream?”
Zhang Shun didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded.
“Zhang’s family made money from the dead,” Chu He said gently, “that night when you locked me here, I took the opportunity to release the souls in this place.”
Zhang Shun’s pupils widened slightly. His brother brushed his forehead lightly and said, “Go back to sleep.”
Zhang Shun fell into another series of chaotic dreams, and suddenly his vision shifted to a white hospital room. The emaciated Chairman Zhang was struggling to breathe on the hospital bed.
“A-Shun…” He tightly held his only son’s hand, “I have already… left the family business to you… and your brother… from now on, you must… rely on him, treat him as… your own, your own brother…”
Each word seemed to be mixed with bloody sand, and the light of life in his father’s eyes dimmed.
“You must listen to him… stay safe and sound, always… safe and sound…”
His father’s hand loosened and his eyes closed.
Zhang Shun trembled all over, wanting to cry but unable to, his throat feeling like it was clogged with bitter blood, even his saliva tasting hot and metallic.
A hand gently patted his shoulder.
“Don’t be afraid,” Chu He appeared behind him at some point, saying softly, “he’s gone to reincarnate.”
Zhang Shun choked out, “How—how do you know? How…”
Chu He sighed softly, “I just know.”
Zhang Shun’s voice was blocked, his eyes red, his temples throbbing with pain as if pierced by a needle. He gritted his teeth to hold back his tears, turning to look at his father for the last time.
—And then he saw that his father’s eyes had somehow opened, blood tears slowly streaming down.
“Zhang Shun…” He heard his father’s ghostly call, “Zhang Shun, come here, Zhang Shun…”
“Come here…
Zhang Shun, come here…”
Zhang Shun suddenly woke up from his nightmare. “Dad!”
He quickly realized it was just a bad dream. The bedroom was dark and quiet, with the clock pointing to 2 a.m.
He breathed a sigh of relief, forcing himself to ignore the sorrow and desolation in his heart, and got up to pour a glass of water from the bedside table.
Then, he froze completely—
In the moonlight, there was a figure standing silently by his bed!
Calling it a “person” might not be accurate; it was a grayish-white figure with long hair covering its face, arms hanging like dead branches, and inch-long nails dripping black water.
Zhang Shun trembled as if electrocuted. “Wh-wh-who are you?”
The “person” lifted its head, and in that instant, Zhang Shun saw its entire jaw was rotted away, with its decayed tongue falling to its chest.
“Ahhhhh—!!”
Upstairs, Chu He instantly leaped from his bed, dashed out of the door, and vaulted over the railing.
The housekeeper, who had hurriedly gotten up after hearing the commotion, saw the young master land steadily, without even a pause, and immediately burst into Zhang Shun’s room.
“Ahhhhh—!” Zhang Shun screamed, rushing forward, “Brother! Brother! There’s a ghost! A ghost!”
Chu He turned on the light with a snap, frowning. “What kind of madness is this in the middle of the night?”
The evil spirit disappeared like snow under the sun the moment Chu He entered. When the housekeeper and servants rushed in, they saw the bedroom perfectly tidy, with only the bed in disarray and the second young master screaming hysterically, clutching the eldest young master like a lifeline, who hadn’t even had time to put on shoes.
The old housekeeper felt a surge of admiration: although not related by blood, the young master, usually so aloof, showed his true colors in critical moments.
The young master in question had no time for brotherly sentiments. He waved the housekeeper and servants away, poured a glass of water and forced Zhang Shun to drink it, then pushed him back onto the bed. “It’s okay now. Go to sleep.”
“But-but-but-but there was a ghost!” Zhang Shun clung to his brother’s hand. “There really was a ghost!”
“…” Chu He said, “You were really dreaming. Go to sleep.”
“I’m not lying! It was a white ghost, with nails this long, and a tongue this long…”
Chu He, growing impatient, tried to pull his hand away, but Zhang Shun wouldn’t let go. In the struggle, Chu He caught a glimpse of a black figure in the corner of his eye. It was a man in a black robe, his face covered with blood-red patterns, looking down at them.
“…” Zhang Shun’s teeth chattered. “Bro, why is there someone there?”
Chu He turned back and met the demon lord’s gaze for a moment, coldly saying, “There’s no one.”
Zhang Shun could hardly make a sound, his face pale and shaky. “There-re-re-really is!”
Chu He repeated firmly, “There is no one.”
The demon lord finally looked away, a faint, unfriendly smile curving his lips. Then, as he had appeared, his tall figure vanished into the air as if he had never been there.
Chu He turned back, lightly tapping Zhang Shun’s forehead. “Sleep now, and you’ll forget when you wake.”
His fingertips seemed to carry a soothing warmth. Zhang Shun felt his intense fear and anxiety ebbing away rapidly. This might have been the first time the second young master found his elder brother so appealing, even feeling an inexplicable charm in his calm face.
Acting like a proper younger brother for once, Zhang Shun pleaded, “I’m still scared. Can I sleep in your room tonight?”
Chu He’s expression turned a bit strange.
“Please, brother,” Zhang Shun was close to tears. “Otherwise, I’ll go to a hotel—wait, what if that thing follows me?!”
“…Fine, come over,” Chu He finally sighed.
Zhang Shun wasted no time, grabbing his pillow and blanket and following his brother upstairs. Contrary to his expectations, his brother’s room wasn’t as bare and boring as he had imagined. Though there were indeed few decorations, the room was extremely messy, as if a storm had passed through, with pillows and sheets half on the floor, and discarded formal shirts and trousers scattered near the bathroom door.
Under normal circumstances, Zhang Shun would have teased him, but tonight he behaved, not daring to say a word. He quickly lay down and pleaded, “Can we keep the light on?”
Chu He left a warm, yellow bedside lamp on, silently lying down beside his brother.
“Brother,” Zhang Shun couldn’t help but turn his head, “Do you think I should invite a master to check the house tomorrow?”
His brother had already closed his eyes.
Zhang Shun’s gaze fixed on his brother’s neck, unmoving for a long while.
His usually silent, aloof, and unapproachable brother had a very obvious mark on his neck, almost hidden under the white pajama collar but still very noticeable due to the angle.
It was a hickey.
“…Impossible.” Zhang Shun’s last thought before losing consciousness was disbelief mixed with an inexplicable, complex feeling.
“Who the hell has the guts to—if I find out…”
“Are they looking for death? Just who is it…”
