The worm emitted an unpleasant squeak, wriggling under Xing Yingzhu’s foot. Despite its frantic movements, Xing Yingzhu’s step left it with no room to escape.
Unaware of this, Sheng Zhao finished the call and, turning around, nearly collided with Xing Yingzhu, startling himself.
“Boss?” Sheng Zhao expressed confusion in his voice, subtly accusing him of suddenly standing behind him.
Xing Yingzhu nonchalantly adjusted his foot on the worm, adopting a different posture. He gestured toward Sheng Zhao’s phone and asked, “How is it?”
“No one answered,” Sheng Zhao said. “Maybe Xiong ge isn’t close to his phone.”
“Then let’s go back for now,” Xing Yingzhu suggested.
“Huh?” Sheng Zhao said, “But we haven’t found Xiao Diao yet—”
“She might have already gone home,” Xing Yingzhu glanced at the ferret on the ground. “Take it with you; otherwise, being out in the rain all night might kill it.”
Sheng Zhao hesitated for a moment, but his concern for the furry creature in front of him won.
“Alright—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Xing Yingzhu gracefully bent down, pinched the fur at the back of the ferret’s neck with two fingers, and lifted it up.
The little creature hung limply, appearing almost lifeless. Xing Yingzhu held it as if it were a dirty stuffed toy.
Although Xing Yingzhu took action, he seemed disgusted. He shook the ferret in Sheng Zhao’s direction, splashing water droplets over him.
“Hey hey hey—” Sheng Zhao snapped back to reality, quickly grabbing the ferret from Xing Yingzhu and cradling it in his arms. “It’s injured; you can’t grab it like this!”
Frowning, Sheng Zhao examined the creature, thinking it seemed to be trembling. He took off his own outer jacket, wrapped the ferret in it, and hurriedly walked toward the entrance of the alley.
“We need to inform Xiong ge first,” Sheng Zhao muttered quietly as he walked. “Then we can take it to the vet.”
Following a few steps behind, Xing Yingzhu reached into his windbreaker under the umbrella, pulled out a small canned bottle like magic, and opened it with one hand. Bending down, he pinched the exposed half of the worm under his shoe and pulled it out, tossing it into the small can.
The can, about the size of half a palm, looked plain with a worn label that read “Peach Syrup.” It seemed like something randomly grabbed from the kitchen before leaving.
However, inside the can, the worm wriggled violently, creating a buzzing sound, yet the fragile bottle showed no signs of cracking. It resembled an unsophisticated yet effective talisman against evil spirits.
Xing Yingzhu calmly placed the canned bottle back into his pocket, extended his hand from under the umbrella to rinse the stains on his hand with rainwater, and then leisurely followed in the direction Sheng Zhao had left.
Back at the apartment, Xiong Xiangsong hadn’t patiently waited inside for news. Instead, he paced in the lobby, occasionally peering outside.
Xing Yingzhu’s pace was faster, and though a bit behind Sheng Zhao, he entered the building almost simultaneously.
From a distance, Xiong Xiangsong spotted Sheng Zhao cradling a dirty little ferret in his arms, and his eyes immediately lit up with joy. He rubbed his hands together, eagerly waiting for Sheng Zhao to swipe the card and rushed over to grab his hand, thanking him repeatedly.
“Thank you, thank you, little brother. You’re my savior—”
“What?” Sheng Zhao was confused by the excessive gratitude, but didn’t forget the main point. He quickly asked, “Xiong ge, has your sister returned?”
As his words fell, Xing Yingzhu also entered the building right behind. He glanced lightly at Xiong Xiangsong, then reached into Sheng Zhao’s arms, lifted the little thing from there, shook it up and down, causing the jacket covering the ferret to fall off. Then, he casually tossed the ferret into Xiong Xiangsong’s arms.
“Your sister’s pet, he found it for you,” Xing Yingzhu emphasized slightly, saying, “Your sister is back, right? Tell her not to go out looking anymore.”
Xiong Xiangsong was slightly stunned, then caught onto Xing Yingzhu’s gaze. Reacting suddenly, he nodded quickly.
“Yes, yes, she just came back. I forgot to inform you guys,” Xiong Xiangsong shook Sheng Zhao’s hand vigorously before letting go. He said, “Thank you so much, Xiao Sheng.”
“No problem,” Sheng Zhao waved his hand, then pointed to the shivering ferret in his arms. “But I think it’s injured. Take it to the vet.”
Xing Yingzhu, who had been out in the thunderstorm, already had a pale complexion, which was now even more evident. He didn’t stay to listen to the two talking, but rather, he casually tossed the wet umbrella to the side near the elevator and headed upstairs by himself.
The elevator doors closed with a light ding, and the numbers on the display began to ascend slowly.
Xiong Xiangsong shivered, subconsciously looking back at the closed elevator doors. He said with lingering fear, “Is the big boss angry?”
“I don’t think so,” Sheng Zhao patted his shoulder, saying, “He’s pretty easygoing. Don’t worry so much.”
Xiong Xiangsong: “…”
—Hope you keep feeling that way, Xiong Xiangsong sincerely wished from the bottom of his heart.
The elevator stopped on the seventh floor, and Xing Yingzhu walked out, the door to 701 creaked open by itself.
As Xing Yingzhu entered, he pulled out the glass bottle containing the worm, casually threw it on the entryway, and the glass bottle rolled to the wall, swaying left and right before stopping.
The worm inside the bottle was still unwilling to be quiet, writhing and making unpleasant sounds. Just listening to it made one’s teeth ache and scalp tingle, not to mention looking at it.
Xing Yingzhu didn’t turn on the light. He took off his rain-soaked windbreaker, threw it on the sofa, and walked to the window, looking at the rain outside through the watermarks on the glass.
He hadn’t expected Diao Leyu to be attacked near her home—more importantly, he was completely unaware of it.
Although Diao Leyu was young, she was clever. Even if something unexpected happened, there shouldn’t be any problem with her escape.
In this day and age, it wasn’t like hundreds of years ago when anything could be found on the streets. Not to mention aging demons, even ordinary spirits and monsters didn’t dare to come out and scare people easily. Saying it was a peaceful era wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Moreover—
Xing Yingzhu turned his head, focusing on the glass bottle in the entryway that kept swaying.
—He hadn’t seen something disgusting like this in nearly eighteen hundred years.
The worm continued to struggle in the glass bottle, making a harsh and irritating noise. Xing Yingzhu found it too annoying, so he flicked his finger towards it across the space.
Immediately after, a strange change occurred in the small glass jar the size of a palm. Water gushed out from the bottom like a spring. The worm outside swam in the water like a dragon, but for some unknown reason, it hesitated to touch the water inside the bottle. It desperately clung to the glass, trying to climb upward. Unfortunately, the water rose too quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it filled half of the bottle.
Half of the worm’s body submerged in the water, and almost instantly, it emitted a scream resembling a human’s cry. Its body was abruptly cut into two by the water surface.
The worm, like an ugly earthworm, hadn’t died yet despite being severed. It convulsed and wriggled in agony, still attempting to move.
It seemed to both dread and hate Xing Yingzhu, rolling in agony inside the bottle, but it didn’t dare to shake the bottle randomly.
Whether it was an illusion or not, the rain outside seemed to have lessened compared to the evening.
However, even though Xing Yingzhu was certain that the rain was unusual, he didn’t bother to care. He found it troublesome to even manage his own affairs, let alone worry about what was happening outside.
But this trip outside did bring some unexpected gains.
Because he suddenly realized that Sheng Zhao seemed to have a unique connection with supernatural entities.
Xing Yingzhu had confirmed this earlier when he was outside. Perhaps Sheng Zhao himself hadn’t noticed, but he did seem to possess a unique talent. Otherwise, relying on mere “intuition” wouldn’t have led him to find Diao Leyu.
Sheng Zhao’s instincts seemed to be influenced by something special. This influence appeared to be passive, and he might not even be fully aware of when and how it worked.
Xing Yingzhu didn’t know the “special” reason behind this—whether it was related to Sheng Zhao’s fate, his innate talent, or some past life. But regardless of the reason, this “special” aspect suddenly reminded Xing Yingzhu of something he had almost forgotten.
Eight thousand years ago, he had lost something and had been wandering the mortal realm ever since.
Back then, someone told him that recovering this lost item wasn’t possible by his own efforts. He had to wait for the “right time,” wait for his “destiny” to come, and only then would he have a chance to regain it.
Although Xing Yingzhu had been young and reckless at the time and didn’t take the words to heart, there was still some expectation in his heart. Unfortunately, after eighteen hundred years, not only did he not see any signs of “destiny,” he hadn’t even glimpsed a shadow of it.
Over time, he gradually tasted the bitterness and suspected that he had been deceived. Whether it was about “destiny” or not, it was just an excuse. So, later on, he gradually pushed this matter to the back of his mind and never thought about it again.
He had roamed the mortal realm alone for years, seeking without much success.
However, just now, he suddenly remembered this matter for no apparent reason.
Strange incidents had been happening recently, and Sheng Zhao inexplicably appeared under his nose at such a time. Not only did he appear, but he also made Xing Yingzhuo realize that he had a unique sensitivity to these strange and chaotic events.
Xing Yingzhuo had experienced disappointment many times, so encountering something unusual now instinctively made him somewhat suspicious.
—Could this be a trap? he thought.
