This question completely bewildered Xiao Hao. All those earnest, affectionate words just now were solely meant to win back his wife’s heart, which had flown off with his younger brother. Whether things could actually change was entirely beyond his control. Above him were his father, Li Taizheng, his uncle, Li Taiming, and countless unclear, indefinable responsibilities waiting for him to shoulder. Yet, Yingzi was so serious, truly demanding he abandon everything to live a simple life with her. For an undead spirit with no heartbeat, how impossibly difficult that request was.

“I meant in the future, after I have fulfilled the responsibilities bestowed upon me by the family, we will live together peacefully as a unit.” Xiao Hao skillfully changed the subject, steering toward other matters. “What we need to focus on now is taking good care of Xing’er. With Xiao Yu’s eyes, he will recover quickly, and there might even be some unexpected developments.”

A woman is a woman; when a man pacifies her with three sentences and then diverts the conversation to something she finds interesting, the devastating heartache from that previous moment is instantly tossed to the highest heavens. Her eyes widened, and she asked, half-believing, half-doubting, “Really? What unexpected changes might happen to Xing’er?”

“Mmm,” Xiao Hao playfully tapped the tip of her nose, teasing, “I don’t know either. We’ll have to wait until the bandages come off, and he’ll tell us himself. By then, the two of us will sit beside him, waiting for the first sight when he opens his eyes to be of his mother and father.” This instantly made Yingzi feel overjoyed. Her son was a piece of her own flesh; what could be more thrilling than anticipating his healing? Thus, the misty tears in her eyes vanished, and the shadowy figure that had been lingering outside the door also disappeared. Perhaps it truly was that old saying: absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Xiao Shu left Xing’er’s observation room, wandering aimlessly with nowhere to go. If Xiao Yu were awake, they could share a few words, but now he felt like a superfluous person, unwelcome anywhere, an annoyance wherever he went. As he paced about, he vaguely noticed a thin, dark shadow standing at the end of the corridor, silently watching him. By the time he focused and looked closely, the shadow had vanished like the wind.

A sense of foreboding immediately flashed through Xiao Shu’s mind. He followed where the shadow had been to the end of the hall, only to find the door to the stairwell ajar. The person must have run down the stairs. So, he looked down through the open well, finding the entire stairwell empty, with no trace of the dark figure. Looking further up, a few drops of ** fell, landing precisely on his eyelids. Xiao Shu instinctively closed his eyes, wiping the substance off his lids with his hand. It was sticky. When he opened his eyes again, it was blood! Crimson, bright blood, dripping down from the floor above.

Xiao Shu recoiled in shock. Looking sharply back up, he saw Ah Mang, clad in sterile gear, his entire shoulder slumped over the stair railing. Both eye sockets were vacant, his eyeballs gouged out, with fresh blood oozing forth.

“No!” Xiao Shu yelled, scrambling up the stairs. Just as he reached Ah Mang’s level, he was kicked by the dark shadow that appeared from nowhere, sending Xiao Shu stumbling back down several steps. When he managed to stand again, the shadow was gone, leaving only Ah Mang’s corpse, hanging on the railing like a specter. Xiao Shu quickly fumbled for his phone to call the police, but a hand suddenly shot out from behind him and pressed the power-off button.