Chapter 138
Gao Gusheng was deep in thought; he rubbed his forehead.
He had been utterly exhausted these past few days; by day, he had to be wary of Zhang Xu while sparing energy to look after his friends, and by night, he had to face the crisis of his family’s businesses coming under siege. Had it not been for Gao Shi keeping a close watch on the situation, he likely would have collapsed under the strain.
His father was incredibly busy, too. Undercurrents were swirling in City B, and the number of ghosts was on the rise; his father led teams rushing here and there to investigate the cause, all while finding time to attend classes at the university and manage the Gao family’s affairs. Furthermore, the time his father spent opening the “Reincarnation” realm each day was growing longer—Gao Gusheng worried about the toll this might be taking on his health. The last time he had seen his father, the man’s complexion was so pale it was almost translucent, as if he might simply drift away on the wind at any moment.
He felt a wave of dizziness—was it from sheer exhaustion, or was his full awakening drawing ever closer?
He stumbled and bumped into someone.
“Careful.”
The stranger steadied him by the shoulders; the man’s hands were freezing, feeling like blocks of ice pressed against him.
Gao Gusheng looked up. “Tha…”
He paused. “Thank you.”
The stranger gave a slight nod and turned to leave.
The man wore a hood—an ordinary enough look—but his face was swathed in bandages. Layer upon layer wrapped his entire head, leaving only a narrow slit visible for him to see out of.
Had he suffered some sort of accident?
Gao Gusheng rubbed his temples again.
Yet, why did the stranger give him such a strange sense of familiarity…?
Just as he was racking his brain over it, he heard someone call out to him, “Xiao Gao.”
Only Wu Qin would address him that way.
But what was Wu Qin doing here? Wasn’t he busy with an art exhibition? Gao Gusheng looked up and was startled; Wu Qin appeared to have aged more than a decade, and his hair had turned completely white.
Gao Gusheng hurriedly stepped forward to steady him. “Master Wu, what brings you here?”
Upon seeing him, the stern look on Wu Qin’s face softened slightly. “I’ve come looking for Xiao Jun. You know him well—do you happen to know where he is?”
At the mention of Sun Jun, Gao Gusheng’s eyes darkened. “No… Junzi and I…”
Wu Qin understood the situation immediately upon seeing his expression and let out a long sigh.
Gao Gusheng vaguely suspected that Wu Qin’s current state had something to do with Sun Jun; although he had lost touch with him, he still felt a twinge of worry. “What happened to him?”
“He… severed our master-disciple relationship.”
“What?!”
Gao Gusheng was so shocked he nearly dropped Wu Qin to the ground. He hurriedly steadied the old man. “Master Wu, please don’t act rashly! Junzi has been a bit… a bit impulsive lately; he might not have handled things perfectly, but you are his mentor—please don’t hold it against him! A teacher for a day is a father for a lifetime; with his talent and character, a disciple like that is hard to come by!”
Wu Qin gave a wry smile. “It’s not that I don’t want this disciple; it’s that he no longer acknowledges me as his master.”
Gao Gusheng’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“He wanted to join an art studio run by one of his seniors. At first, I was indeed a bit displeased.” He smiled bitterly; the master, usually so stern and unyielding, now looked like a frail old man, his back slightly stooped. “But he insisted, so I thought, ‘Fine, let him go.’ Yet, after examining his senior’s paintings over and over, something felt off. I wanted him to reconsider, but he resolutely severed ties with me.”
A rare look of bewilderment crossed Wu Qin’s face.
“Perhaps my temper really is terrible—my words too harsh—so that even a good-natured kid like Xiao Jun couldn’t stand me.”
He had lost his wife early in life and raised his son alone, yet his personality had created a deep rift between them. Later, after his son died in an accident—following his wife to the grave—he had poured all his energy into painting.
He truly was fond of Sun Jun, grooming the diligent, polite, and resilient young man as if he were his own son.
So, when Sun Jun announced he wanted to sever their master-disciple relationship, Wu Qin was stunned. He began to question himself: was his temper truly so atrocious that his son had never felt close to him, and that even a boy as good-natured as Sun Jun couldn’t bear to be around him? Seeing Wu Qin in such a state, Gao Gusheng hurriedly said, “Old Master Wu, please don’t lose heart just yet; I…”
Gao Gusheng gritted his teeth and continued, “Do you remember the incident with Jia Qi? Sun Jun seems to be in a similar state now—bewitched by something sinister.”
In truth, Gao Gusheng did not know Sun Jun’s actual condition, but seeing Wu Qin like this, he felt compelled to offer a comforting lie for the moment before going to confront Sun Jun and get to the bottom of things.
Gao Gusheng hadn’t really expected his tall tale to work—after all, Old Master Wu was hardly an easy man to fool—yet to his surprise, Wu Qin simply stared blankly for a moment before nodding. “To be honest, I found something odd about it right from the start.”
“I actually knew of this student, Zhang Xu; he had previously held a performance art exhibition that was well-received, yet back then, he knew absolutely nothing about painting.”
“But a while ago, he suddenly invited Xiao Jun to his studio.”
“After Xiao Jun declined, Zhang Xu showed him one of his paintings, and Xiao Jun showed it to me.”
He gave a wry smile and shook his head. “You might laugh at me for saying this, but I was actually frightened by that painting.”
“It was an excellent painting—truly superb. I can say with certainty that, throughout history, you would be hard-pressed to find a work that rivals it.”
“And to think it was painted by Zhang Xu.”
“How long had he even been studying?”
“I was deeply shaken. I couldn’t wrap my head around it; if such a genius exists in this world, what was the point of all my own hard work?”
“For a time, I shut myself away, obsessed with trying to replicate that painting. Meanwhile, Xiao Jun visited Zhang Xu’s studio, saw his other works, and confirmed that they were indeed all painted by him.”
“When he returned, he seemed possessed by the urge to go to Zhang Xu’s studio.”
“At that point, not only had I failed to replicate the painting, but I had also nearly forgotten my own style; I couldn’t hold the brush or produce any art. That was when Xiao Jun suddenly announced he was going to Zhang Xu’s studio.”
“I felt a surge of angry betrayal; I snapped, ‘Suit yourself,’ and retreated back into my own studio.”
“I didn’t paint this time; I just kept thinking about the past. As I looked through my old works, I gradually rediscovered the reason I started painting in the first place.”
“Three days passed before I could finally pick up my brush again.”
“But then I realized something: I’ve spent decades in this field and was nearly crushed by the blow. Xiao Jun is only a teenager—what if he were traumatized and gave up painting altogether?”
“Studying works that surpass one’s own level can help refine one’s aesthetic sense. However, if the gap is too wide—and the artist is of a similar age or much younger—it only serves to unsettle one’s state of mind.”
“That’s why I wanted Xiao Jun to reconsider.”
He fell silent regarding what happened next, offering no further details, and instead said, “Later on, I began to find things rather strange.”
“You were involved in the Jia Qi affair back then, so you should remember it.”
“At first, Jia Qi’s paintings were highly sought after by wealthy merchants—they were practically obsessed. But after Jia Qi was arrested and imprisoned, those paintings became worthless scraps of paper.”
“I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but I sense a resemblance between Zhang Xu’s paintings and Jia Qi’s. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, though.”
He looked at Gao Gusheng; those clear, perceptive eyes seemed to suggest he already knew the answer.
Gao Gusheng took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “Come on, I’ll take you to see him.”
He needed to ask Sun Jun exactly what had happened.
Gao Gusheng and Wu Qin walked along the road in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
In truth, Gao Gusheng had already investigated and asked questions about the unusual behavior shown by both Zhou Jing and Sun Jun.
Back when they had picked up Sun Jun, everything had seemed normal; they had been laughing and chatting just as usual. The very next day, everything changed.
Sun Jun became incredibly busy. He had always been busy before, of course, but he used to make time to grab a meal or just chat with Gao Gusheng and the others; after that day, however, he never sought them out again.
Worried that Sun Jun was overworking himself, Gao Gusheng bought a cup of milk tea for him while picking up some fried chicken, intending to drop by the art studio to check on him. To his surprise, he found Zhang Xu painting, with Sun Jun standing beside him, watching in rapt fascination.
By the time Gao Gusheng arrived, the session was drawing to a close. Zhang Xu set down his brush, and Sun Jun asked him something excitedly; Zhang Xu smiled warmly as he answered.
In just a few days, Sun Jun had lost a noticeable amount of weight. He looked as frail as he had back when he was first being bullied and framed by Jia Qi, yet his face was flushed with intense color—he was clearly thrilled, his eyes shining like bright stars.
Zhang Xu spotted Gao Gusheng outside and smiled, waving him over. Sun Jun, his moment interrupted, frowned slightly; though he smiled and greeted Gao Gusheng just as usual, anyone could see that the warmth in his smile had faded.
Gao Gusheng was so sensitive to the emotional shifts of others—how could he fail to sense that he wasn’t exactly welcome?
Zhang Xu left, giving the two of them some space. Gao Gusheng smiled as he always did and held up the milk tea. “Junzi, here’s that jasmine green milk tea you like.”
Sun Jun took it and thanked him with a smile.
They exchanged only a few words before Sun Jun said goodbye, citing a heavy workload.
Gao Gusheng wondered to himself: ‘Could Zhang Xu have made a move on Junzi?’ He summoned the Black Mist and the little squirrel and asked if they detected anything unusual about Sun Jun. Both shook their heads; Sun Jun radiated neither spiritual energy nor ghostly aura, and his presence remained unchanged—he seemed like the most ordinary of people.
Gao Gusheng remained suspicious, yet the very next moment, he received a notification that Sun Jun had sent him money for milk tea.
Gao Gusheng felt a pang of unease. [Junzi, why be so polite? (Angry Panda emoji)]
Sun Jun replied with a smile.
Gao Gusheng clutched his phone, waiting, but no further messages came.
As time went on, the group spent less and less time together. Sun Jun remained polite and smiling, yet the sense of distance in his eyes grew increasingly pronounced; eventually, he and the others became like strangers.
Gao Gusheng detested this kind of inexplicable estrangement. Without telling Yun Zhiyi or Mo Hua, he cornered Sun Jun at the doorway.
“Junzi, can we talk?”
Sun Jun politely declined. “Sorry, I have things to attend to.”
A sudden, furious rage flared up inside Gao Gusheng. “Sun Jun! What the hell is wrong with you?! If you’ve got a problem, tell us so we can solve it together. If I’ve done something to upset you, I’ll stand right here and let you hit me—but what is this attitude supposed to mean?!”
There was neither anger nor sadness in Sun Jun’s eyes; his calm gaze was like that of someone looking at a stranger.
Sun Jun offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
It felt as futile as punching a pile of cotton.
His gaze was distant and resigned—the look of the good-natured Sun Jun regarding a stranger who was making an unreasonable scene.
…
They had arrived. Before him lay the art studio where Sun Jun usually spent his time.
Yet, for some reason, a crowd was blocking the entrance.
Gao Gusheng struggled to push his way inside; he didn’t see Sun Jun, but he did spot Zhou Jing.
It wasn’t just Zhou Jing, though—there were also veteran professors from the mathematics department.
They looked just as they had when he first met them: a group of elderly men who seemed like carbon copies of one another—slightly disheveled in appearance—accompanied by students who were helping steady them.
“Do you really have to switch majors?”
“Well… never mind, then…”
A wave of panic washed over Gao Gusheng, and she hurriedly pushed forward. “What’s happening?”
A kind classmate whispered an explanation: “Zhou Jing—you know, that genius specially recruited by the math department—he’s planning to switch majors. He says he wants to study finance.”
Gao Gusheng was stunned. “What?”
The classmate sighed. “No one knows the reason. The professors came today to try and talk him out of it one last time—they want to know why he’s switching—but he refuses to say.”
Finance certainly involves mathematics, but it is a completely different world from the specific field of mathematics Zhou Jing had been delving into.
Ever since he had known him, Zhou Jing had always carried a pad of scratch paper in his arms and a pen in his breast pocket—keeping them handy so he could start working through calculations the moment inspiration struck.
He was a child favored by mathematics; his passion for the subject bordered on obsession. In the mere six months since enrolling, he had already published two papers. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, he was on track to go abroad for academic exchange during his sophomore year.
Veteran professors in the mathematics department predicted that Zhou Jing might well achieve a milestone in the history of mathematics.
He was the apple of the department’s eye—a veritable god within their ranks.
His future was limitless.
And yet, now he was saying he wanted to transfer departments?
To Gao Gusheng, the idea was utterly absurd—laughable, even.
But the sight of the professors walking away one by one made it clear that this final attempt to persuade him had failed.
As the crowd gradually dispersed, Gao Gusheng finally managed to push his way to where Zhou Jing stood. Suppressing his anger, he looked at Zhou Jing and asked, “Why are you transferring?”
Zhou Jing’s expression was indifferent. “What business is it of yours?”
Gao Gusheng’s face hardened. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to tell *me*, but at least give an explanation to the professors who have looked after you all this time.”
Zhou Jing frowned; the conversation seemed to bore him, and he wanted to end it quickly. “I lost interest, so I transferred.”
A surge of intense anger rose within Gao Gusheng. He snatched Zhou Jing’s draft notebook—a chaotic mess with formulas scrawled even on the cover. Stunned for a moment, Gao Gusheng then slammed the notebook hard against Zhou Jing’s chest. Zhou Jing, slight of build, couldn’t withstand the force of the blow; he instinctively clutched the notebook to his chest, but the impact sent him into a fit of coughing.
Gao Gusheng spat out, “I hope that when you look back on today, you won’t regret it!”
Zhou Jing turned and walked away, his face devoid of expression. Gao Gusheng took a deep breath and turned to help Wu Qin up. “Old Master Wu, let’s go look for mushrooms.”
As he said this, his heart was racing, and the formulas from Zhou Jing’s draft notebook kept flashing through his mind.
He sent a message to Gao Shi—
【Dad, come quick!】
***
Gao Shi looked up from his lesson plans and flexed his wrists.
Ying Bujie pushed open the window, walked up behind him, and stroked his hair. He massaged the acupoints on the crown of Gao Shi’s head with the familiarity of someone who had done it countless times, knowing exactly where to press for maximum relief; Gao Shi closed his eyes after just a couple of strokes.
Ying Bujie knew he had been utterly exhausted lately.
“More and more ghosts are coming to City B, and you’re keeping the ‘Reincarnation’ portal open for longer periods. How does that affect you?”
Gao Shi suddenly looked up at him.
Ying Bujie’s cool hand gently covered Gao Shi’s eyes; his long eyelashes brushed against the palm, leaving behind a tingling, ticklish sensation.
“It just drains my spiritual energy.”
Gao Shi tried to grab his hand but lacked the strength to pull it away; instead, he parted Ying Bujie’s fingers and peeked out at him through the gap. “You aren’t lying to me?”
Ying Bujie found him incredibly adorable; his eyes crinkled into a smile as he patted Gao Shi’s head soothingly, as if comforting a child. “I’m not lying.”
Gao Shi sighed inwardly. He was frustrated that he couldn’t recall the memories of his past life; in his current state, he had no way of knowing whether Ying Bujie was telling the truth or not. “Hmm? There’s a ghostly presence.”
Ying Bujie’s voice suddenly turned cold. Gao Shi stood up and looked over; it was class time, and the outdoor area was largely empty, save for two or three students passing by. The direction Ying Bujie was gazing at—
“Yun Zhiyi?”
Lele’s friend?
Ying Bujie placed a hand on Gao Shi’s shoulder, and in the blink of an eye, the two of them appeared right in front of Yun Zhiyi.
Yun Zhiyi didn’t react much to their sudden appearance. She seemed a beat slow; she lifted her head gradually, taking a moment to process the situation before finally greeting Gao Shi and Ying Bujie.
“Uncle Gao, Uncle Ying.”
Even without using his spiritual sight, Gao Shi could tell at a glance that something was wrong with Yun Zhiyi.
Whenever he had seen the young girl before, she had been full of vitality and high spirits. Now, however, her eyes were vacant and ringed with dark circles, and even her ponytail hung limply behind her head, looking as drained of energy as she was.
Ying Bujie, however, saw things even more clearly.
Yun Zhiyi had originally been surrounded by a purple aura—the mark of a destiny destined for wealth and nobility, a natural-born leader. Now, however, her brow and eyes were clouded, her innate brilliance obscured, and a faint, sinister yin energy clung to her.
The ghost haunting her wasn’t merely clinging to her body; it had burrowed directly into her heart, entangling itself with her soul. This allowed it not only to conceal its presence but also to siphon off Yun Zhiyi’s fortune.
Because the ghost was masked by the aura of the living, its ghostly presence and yin energy were faint—undetectable to anyone with only mediocre cultivation.
It was only thanks to Yun Zhiyi’s resilient nature and powerful destiny that she had survived this long; had it been anyone else, they likely would have perished by now. Gao Shi looked at Ying Bujie with a grave expression and asked, “Is it easy to handle?”
Yun Zhiyi was puzzled. “Handle what?”
Neither of them had time to answer her; Ying Bujie simply reached out and grabbed at her.
Gao Shi alone was already terrifying enough, and with Ying Bujie joining in, the ghost residing within Yun Zhiyi was so frightened—desperate to burrow deep into the safety of her heart—that it couldn’t move a muscle. Ying Bujie seized it and yanked it out just as one would pull a radish from the ground.
Yun Zhiyi felt a sudden lightness wash over her entire body, and she let out a soft sound of surprise.
She had only seen Ying Bujie wave his hand in front of her face, yet instantly, she felt a profound sense of relief and ease.
It was like stepping out of a glass enclosure after having been trapped inside.
She shook her head and rolled her shoulders; for some reason, an inexplicable joy welled up within her. She moved her body with a sense of wonder and delight, much like a living being that had just acquired a physical form.
“Thank you, Uncle!”
Whatever the case, the change in her was undoubtedly linked to Gao Shi and Ying Bujie!
She had sensed something was wrong for a while; she was easily exhausted. After resigning from the student council, she had attributed it to recent fatigue and the lingering effects of her first major setback. She had taken a week off to rest properly, but instead of improving, her condition at home had steadily worsened. Feelings of despondency and self-loathing kept rising within her; there was even a moment when, staring at a fruit knife in her hand, the thought crossed her mind: *It would be better if I could just die.*
She knew something was wrong and felt a vague sense of unease. She had even forced herself to see a psychiatrist, but the doctor found nothing amiss, simply advising her to take walks and get plenty of rest.
Any budding suspicion—or the urge to reach out to friends and family for help—was immediately stifled by a crushing sense of despondency.
Now, feeling a sudden lightness, she looked back on recent events and found them highly suspicious. While the setbacks in her career as a team leader had certainly upset her, her usual nature was to bounce back quickly and devise a strategy to deal with Zhang Xu. Yet this time, she had spiraled into a state of utter defeat—or rather, it wasn’t just defeat; every time she tried to rally her spirits, she was overwhelmed by sudden, crushing waves of self-doubt and self-loathing.
She asked, “Uncle, has something attached itself to me?”
Gao Shi looked at her with admiration. “Yes.”
“You’re incredibly strong. Anyone else might not have held on long enough for the Daoist master to find you.”
Quite apart from the fact that this particular ghost drained people’s luck, even an ordinary ghost could cause lethargy, drowsiness, and mental exhaustion if it lingered near a person for too long.
She had done remarkably well.
He fished two candies out of his pocket and handed them to her.
Yun Zhiyi accepted them with great care. She unwrapped a peach-flavored one; the sweetness filled her heart, instantly dispelling the gloom that had hung over her for so long.
Ying Bujie was turning the ghost over and over in his hands, his brows furrowing deeper the longer he examined it.
“What is it?” Gao Shi unwrapped a lollipop and popped it into his mouth. “Is there something wrong with this ghost?”
Ying Bujie looked surprised. “This ghost possesses neither accumulated merit nor personal fortune.”
So, where had the energy it drained from Yun Zhiyi gone? Gao Shi was startled; for some reason, his heart began to pound wildly, as if something was on the verge of bursting forth.
“Merit and luck… can they be transferred?”
“Then could this ghost be something someone else raised?”
The moment he uttered those words, a loud buzzing sound filled Gao Shi’s head. A violent pain made him feel as though he were being split in two, and he instantly lost consciousness.
At that very moment, his phone chimed with a notification.
[Xingxing has detected no reply to the message from “Lele” within half a minute.]
[Activating emergency alert system.]
##
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teabag On CFHE Chapter 86