After Ghost Marriage with My Arch-Rival - Chapter 9

“That kid doesn’t do relationships.”

Therefore, he couldn’t possibly like anyone. And even if he did, that person certainly wouldn’t be his arch-rival.

Liu Xiangyi treated Zhang Ruolan’s theory as a joke. He had just hung up when a series of footsteps echoed outside the living room—patter-patter. The sound was too light to be Zhong Qinhuai’s.

He opened his door and looked into the hallway. Standing in Zhong Qinhuai’s living room was a small child, barely a toddler, clutching a massive bag in each hand. He had another backpack strapped to his front and one more on his back.

Aside from his tiny head poking out, he was essentially buried in luggage.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

The child: “…”

The two stared at each other.

The toddler paused for a beat, then walked toward the refrigerator as if Liu Xiangyi were invisible. He dropped the four bags and opened them. Two bags of carrots. Two bags of potatoes.

Is this kid that strong? Liu Xiangyi wondered. He can carry four bags of produce?

Perhaps sensing Liu Xiangyi’s shock, the child proudly puffed out his chest. “I’m n-n-not as fragile as you are.”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Leaning against the wall, he watched the child tuck the vegetables into the fridge one by one. He gradually understood: this was food for Zhong Qinhuai. But hadn’t the village chief said Zhong Qinhuai’s mother died before he was even born?

Then this kid was, “Is he his younger brother?”

Upon hearing this, the child looked as if the natural order of the universe had been insulted. His warm golden eyes widened as he shouted, “I’m his a-a-ancestor! His great-great-great grand-uncle!”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Whether Liu Xiangyi followed or not, the child finished wiping a potato clean and shoved it into the fridge with practiced ease.

Liu Xiangyi suddenly remembered their school days. While other boys couldn’t live without meat, Zhong Qinhuai was the exception. Once, when they were late and the cafeteria had run out of potatoes and carrots, Zhong Qinhuai had sat across from him with a sullen face, looking as though he had accidentally lost a crucial round in their long-standing competition of picky eating.

“Where did all these come from?” he asked.

The child stood even taller. “I b-b-bought them!”

“Why only these?” Liu Xiangyi pressed.

The child’s expression drooped, as if remembering something unpleasant. “A-A-Huai’s grandmother died when he was little. He was too small to go down the mountain often. P-P-Potatoes and carrots don’t spoil easily. They last for m-m-many days.”

“Later, he just got used to eating them.”

The child’s explanation was vague, but combined with what Liu Xiangyi had heard in the village, he could piece together the story.

Once the fridge was stuffed to capacity, the child closed it with a satisfied thud. Then, in a puff of black mist, the toddler vanished, replaced by a little crow that flapped its wings and flew away.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

Following the crow’s flight path, he noticed a banyan tree growing within the villa’s courtyard. He had never seen one so massive; its foliage was so lush it looked like a giant green mushroom cloud. Perched among the branches were hundreds of crows, squeezed together in rows. Their golden slit-pupils glinted in the dim light, all of them staring directly at him.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

One man versus hundreds of crows. The atmosphere turned eerily still.

Recalling Zhang Ruolan’s frantic escape from a crow swarm, Liu Xiangyi tensed, fearing he was next. Fortunately, the crows remained motionless, as if waiting for an order that hadn’t come. They didn’t even emit a single “caw.”

Relieved, Liu Xiangyi withdrew his gaze and looked at the fridge. He hesitated, glanced up at the second-floor master bedroom, then opened the fridge and pulled out a carrot and a potato. He headed for the kitchen.

In the pitch-black master bedroom, Zhong Qinhuai was resting with his eyes closed when a ruckus drifted up from downstairs.

Thump, thump, thump. The sound of a knife hitting a cutting board.

Sizzle, crackle. The sound of hot oil in a pan.

Zhong Qinhuai: “…”

When he finally sauntered downstairs, he ran right into Liu Xiangyi, who was carrying a plate of potato and carrot rice. Surprise flickered across the ghost’s features. Once he saw the dish, his lips curled into a smirk.

“I thought a man as busy as President Liu wouldn’t waste time on trivialities like cooking.”

Liu Xiangyi set the plate on the table and fired back with a smile, “I wouldn’t. But what can I do? I’m ‘nurturing a secret crush’ on you, after all.”

He watched for a reaction. Sure enough, Zhong Qinhuai’s footsteps faltered. For a split second, he looked like a machine that had crashed due to an information overload.

Good.

Triumphant, Liu Xiangyi sat on the sofa with his legs crossed like a boss. He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t misinterpret this, President Zhong. My handiwork is based on the fact that your hand is injured and can’t get wet. I’m just helping out. Not a single ‘love-brain’ cell involved.”

Then, he watched as Zhong Qinhuai “rebooted.” Within a second, the ghost regained his usual languid air and strolled over.

“Since President Liu isn’t a ‘love-brain’ at all, are you going to steal another kiss tonight?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

He felt a sudden pang of guilt. He glanced down at the jade pendant on his neck—it was still a solid yellow, meaning he still needed to siphon a massive amount of yin energy.

Seeing his silence, Zhong Qinhuai’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Why so quiet, President Liu? Are you naturally a man of few words?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Refusing to take the bait, he tilted his chin up with unearned bravado, signaling for Zhong Qinhuai to eat. He had spent half an hour on this; if the kid dared to refuse, Liu Xiangyi was prepared to shove it down his throat. He would not tolerate his time being wasted.

“Just because you made it means I have to eat it?” Zhong Qinhuai sauntered closer. As he neared, he noticed two or three small blisters on Liu Xiangyi’s left index finger.

They looked like oil splatters. Against his pale skin, they were glaringly obvious.

Zhong Qinhuai paused, then sat at the table. He picked up a spoon and slowly stirred the potatoes and carrots. “Don’t misinterpret this. I’m only eating this out of a principle of not wasting food. No personal feelings involved.”

That smug tone! Liu Xiangyi scoffed. See? What did Zhang Ruolan say? Does this passive-aggressive attitude look like someone with a crush?

After finishing the meal, Zhong Qinhuai took the plate to the kitchen, where he noticed another plate of the same food sitting on the counter. The potatoes smelled slightly burnt. A glance at the trash revealed another discarded portion.

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

He walked into the kitchen with feigned confidence. “It’s my first time cooking. Success on the third try is perfectly reasonable.”

Zhong Qinhuai’s gaze landed on the blistered finger again. “It would be more ‘reasonable’ to call me next time.” He looked away nonchalantly, his lips curling into that same languid smirk. “You wouldn’t want to waste time, would you, President Liu?”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

What does that mean? Is he complaining about the taste?

Liu Xiangyi looked at the plate—he had finished it all. He wasn’t one for overthinking; since he wasn’t good at cooking, having someone guide him would certainly save time.

With Zhong Qinhuai giving directions that evening, dinner went much more smoothly. Liu Xiangyi scooped up a piece of potato with a spoon, intending to put it in a side bowl for Zhong Qinhuai to taste, but as soon as he turned around, the ghost leaning against the counter leaned in!

He tilted his head and ate the potato right off the spoon.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Zhong Qinhuai chewed slowly, his eyes half-lidded and calm. “Can we add a bit more salt, President Liu?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Since the guy was acting this cool about it, Liu Xiangyi couldn’t afford to overreact—it would make him look like a sore loser. He steadily withdrew the spoon and added salt based on the feedback.

When the meal was finally ready, Liu Xiangyi served himself a portion as well. The potatoes were soft and starchy, balanced by the sweetness of the carrots. The golden sauce gave off a rich, vegetable aroma. Simple as it was, it was surprisingly good over white rice.

In the past, whenever they met, they would inevitably end up trading barbs. Now, they were sitting at the table eating together in peaceful, friendly silence. A month ago, this would have been unimaginable.

After dinner and a shower, Liu Xiangyi returned to his study to work. Eventually, a knock-knock-knock sounded, accompanied by a lazy voice: “Not planning to sleep, President Liu?”

Liu Xiangyi looked up. Zhong Qinhuai was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Has the sun risen in the west? This kid is actually inviting me to sleep? That makes no sense.

While Liu Xiangyi was still puzzling over the anomaly, Zhong Qinhuai walked in and leaned against the desk. “Given your performance today, I suppose,”

Liu Xiangyi looked up, bewildered.

Zhong Qinhuai started to say something, but his gaze suddenly fell on those thin lips. The corners were naturally upturned; even when not smiling, they gave the illusion of a faint, perfectly beautiful curve. They were naturally flushed, and under the study lamp, they seemed to glow with a hazy radiance.

“So,” Zhong Qinhuai spoke as if possessed. “want to kiss?”

Liu Xiangyi (pupils dilated in shock): “??”

The second the words were out, Zhong Qinhuai blinked, appearing to snap back to his senses. His eyes returned to their usual calm state. It happened in the blink of an eye—so fast that Liu Xiangyi almost thought he had hallucinated it.

Zhong Qinhuai’s lips curled into a provocative smirk. “What, is President Liu scared?”

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

He knew it!

How could this kid suddenly have a change of heart? Such abnormal behavior meant he was definitely up to some new trick. But Zhong Qinhuai likely hadn’t realized that Liu Xiangyi was currently agonizing over how to find an excuse to siphon more yin energy.

Therefore, he accepted Zhong Qinhuai’s challenge without a moment’s hesitation.

“I dare!”

“In fact, I’ve been looking forward to it. After all.”

With a sharp clack, Liu Xiangyi snapped his laptop shut. He stood up and offered a thin smile. “I’m the one nurturing a secret crush on you, remember?”

The moment the words left his lips, Liu Xiangyi was satisfied to see that flicker of a subtle expression cross Zhong Qinhuai’s face again.

He was dying of laughter inside.

Uncomfortable now, aren’t you? Awkward, right? It made sense. After all, they were arch-rivals; hearing this kind of talk every day had to be twisting the guy’s insides into knots.

Just as Liu Xiangyi was basking in his triumph, he realized Zhong Qinhuai was staring at him with unnerving intensity. Those pitch-black pupils looked like two lifeless orbs of dark glass, radiating an eerie, non-human quality. Being stared at like that without so much as a blink made it Liu Xiangyi’s turn to feel uneasy.

His first instinct was to look away, but he quickly caught himself. If I look away now, won’t I be showing weakness?

No.

He grabbed Zhong Qinhuai by the collar. He closed his eyes and leaned in for the kiss.

Liu Xiangyi had just showered, and the faint scent of his body wash washed over Zhong Qinhuai. Though the fragrance was subtle, it made Zhong Qinhuai feel a momentary wave of vertigo.

The next second, their lips met.

The contact was soft and supple. Zhong Qinhuai kept his eyes closed, remaining still as he had the last two times, but this time felt different. An inexplicable, restless urge began to stir deep within him.

The sensation was novel and utterly foreign. It felt as if an ant were crawling over his heart; a faint itch began to spread from his chest to every corner of his body.

Zhong Qinhuai couldn’t help himself. He moved.

He gently captured Liu Xiangyi’s upper lip.

Liu Xiangyi noticed the shift instantly and took a half-step back without thinking. Realizing his reaction was too big, making it look like he couldn’t handle the heat, he pressed his lips back against Zhong Qinhuai’s before the ghost could even open his eyes.

He even bit down on Zhong Qinhuai’s lip in retaliation, as if to say:

See! Not only did I not back down, I’ve raised the stakes! Do you still dare to continue this “scaredy-cat” game?

Zhong Qinhuai let out a low, soft chuckle. The sound made Liu Xiangyi’s ears burn for some inexplicable reason.

Then, he was bitten back.

Liu Xiangyi was never one to take a loss. He began to bite and nip at Zhong Qinhuai’s lips in return.

Their breaths became entangled. The clean, light scent of Liu Xiangyi and the faint, ghostly chill radiating from Zhong Qinhuai gradually melted into one.