GRMFBS CH59

Spells didn’t work on Tianshi. The Wan Yan Ghost King, who was countered by the heavens, had no choice but to lower his head.

No more gossip for now. Zhan Yan returned to business and started checking the progress of the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau.

The Bureau was working on two fronts: one, researching the nature of Anomaly No. 2’s corrupted code, and two, using instruments purchased from the Artisans to trace its past path in hopes of backtracking clues.

However, since Grabled Anomaly No. 2 had roamed all over Beiling City, the trace-back effort was still stuck there.

There was another clue in this matter — the corpse-flower konjac demon. After Deep Shadow left, the remains of the demon’s clone should have ended up in the Bureau’s hands. Zhan Yan wondered how far they’d gotten with that lead.

A quick search showed that the Bureau had handed the remains over to the Wan Yao Alliance, under the pretense that it was an internal matter for them to handle. The Bureau, being outsiders, would not interfere. Still, they requested that the traitor — now in their hands — not be killed, as they needed to extract more clues from him.

Wow. You could tell how hostile they were. That move was clearly designed to drive the Ten-Thousand-Demon Alliance mad!

[After learning of this, the Chongming Demon King was furious and personally set out to capture the traitorous corpse-flower konjac demon.]

That gossip was from a few days ago.

No wonder there hadn’t been any news about the Chongming Demon King’s divine protection hovering nearby lately.

Zhan Yan continued searching:

[While hunting the traitor, the Chongming Demon King accidentally got covered in corpse-flower pollen and ended up disgustedly bathing seven times in a row.]

Oh! So the mission to chase that trouble-making corpse-flower konjac demon had fallen to the Chongming Demon King.

The corpse-flower konjac — also known as titan arum — was an incredibly unique plant. When it bloomed, it reeked of rotting flesh, the stench extremely strong and far-reaching. And this one had even gained sentience!

Just imagine: the Chongming Demon King, who was such a clean freak he needed a hot spring bath after flying over a smoggy city, now having to deal with that.

Zhan Yan felt genuine sympathy.

That evening, Ji Yueming came home, ruffled his youngest son, and after confirming Zhan Yan was indeed fine, released him with satisfaction — leaving Zhan Yan’s ears bright red.

She gave him a once-over, frowning. “You’ve lost weight.”

Zhan Yan was calm. His mom never thought he looked anything but too skinny anyway.

Still, at dinner, she hit him right in the feels.

Zhan Yunkai wasn’t home, so they were eating leftover broth noodles from the fridge with some vegetables tossed in.

Ji Yueming sighed in distress. “You can’t eat well at school. Even when you’re sick, you still have to eat cafeteria food. Now you’ve finally come home, and there’s still nothing good to eat.”

Zhan Yan: …

Wuwuwu!

Why did his dad have to be gone at a time like this?

His gossip system’s fuzzy search function was almost fully tuned. He used the task Deep Shadow gave him — investigating extraordinary factions in Yunjin City — as the test case, and after several days, both the feature and the investigation were nearly complete.

He finished compiling the data and sent it to Deep Shadow.

“Approaching Science”: “That’s about it.”

After a while, Deep Shadow seemed to have read everything and replied.

“I Just Saved The World!”: “Is that all?”

“Approaching Science”: “Can’t promise I didn’t miss anything, but that’s everything I was able to find.”

Gu Jiancheng wasn’t too satisfied. He hadn’t found any leads in there for how Zhan Yan had gotten that type of essential oil.

But looking at the data “Approaching Science” had compiled, he could tell that even if he’d asked someone else, they wouldn’t have found anything more thorough. Zhan Yan’s capabilities were already exceptional.

Zhan Yan stared at the reply. That question — it was obviously a sign of dissatisfaction. Didn’t find what he wanted?

Zhan Yan felt indignant.

“Approaching Science”: “What are you trying to find?”

If it couldn’t be found, it was not his fault! How was he supposed to know what Deep Shadow wanted with such a vague request?

“I Just Saved The World!”: “Rank the powerful anomalous healers who can counteract high-level pollution — from strongest to weakest. Skip anyone weaker than the Priest.”

The Priest was a healer Gu Jiancheng had contacted before. His abilities had some effect on the symptoms, but only barely.

If he couldn’t find a direct source, he’d trace it from the outcome backward.

“Approaching Science”: “…Can you be a bit more specific?”

“You think this is a game system?”

Did he even realize how many anomalous healers were out there? Their abilities were all over the place — not something you could just sort by healing values like in a video game!

Gu Jiancheng didn’t think he was being unreasonable at all.

“I Just Saved The World!”: “You can’t do it?”

Zhan Yan gritted his teeth.

“Approaching Science”: “Then find someone who can.”

“I Just Saved The World!”: “Name your price.”

“Approaching Science”: “?”

“I Just Saved The World!”: “Name your price — whatever it takes for you to do it.”

Such an arrogant line. Zhan Yan was left speechless.

He didn’t know whether to roast Deep Shadow for being such an over-the-top alpha… or for trusting him this much.

So he named a very high price.

If Deep Shadow couldn’t accept it, then the whole annoying task would be over. But if he could… well, who didn’t like easy points?

“Approaching Science”: “I can’t rank them, but if you give me the pollution severity, I can find people who’ve treated similar cases.”

Deep Shadow agreed.

Damn rich bastard — no wait, generous point-giver!

Coming right up! Those points are as good as mine!

The night was quiet and deep. After exiting the forum, right before bed, Zhan Yan unsurprisingly received a call from Gu Jiancheng.

“I can’t sleep,” came Gu Jiancheng’s low voice through the line, mixed with the soft rustle of wind.

“You’re not in your dorm?” Zhan Yan asked.

Gu Jiancheng paused. “…Yeah.”

He was lying on a field in the suburbs, one arm tucked under his head.

Since leaving Zhan Yan, the headaches had returned. The tiny bottle of essential oil Zhan Yan gave him was in his hand — but he couldn’t bring himself to use it.

Before they parted, Zhan Yan had asked if he had enough. If not, he’d get more.

But Gu Jiancheng didn’t want him to go fetch more. Whatever the source, something so rare must have come at a high price.

He wondered what excuse he could use if Zhan Yan asked why he wasn’t in his dorm.

Hmm… maybe a little whining could earn him some comfort. One of the “100 Classic Dating Tips” he’d read from that relationship guru mentioned sweet bedtime calls.

But Zhan Yan didn’t ask further. “Since you’re not in the dorm… how about I tell you a ghost story?”

Gu Jiancheng: ?

Zhan Yan cleared his throat, opened his stash of nightmare-fuel horror tales from capitalism, and began reading dramatically.

The sweet atmosphere Gu Jiancheng had hoped for evaporated. As he listened, he started silently critiquing the stories in his head.

That one’s not scary enough. Not as good as the haunted hospital dungeon I cleared.

That plot’s too predictable. I’ve survived worse.

After two or three stories, Zhan Yan paused expectantly. “Scary?”

“Not bad,” Gu Jiancheng said mildly. “But… why ghost stories?”

“Didn’t you say you liked horror films to build courage?” Zhan Yan replied.

It took Gu Jiancheng a moment to remember the source of the misunderstanding. That time they’d visited a haunted house, Zhan Yan had asked why he wasn’t scared, and he’d replied he’d seen worse.

Well… it wasn’t wrong, technically.

“So what did you think of those stories?” Zhan Yan asked.

Gu Jiancheng gently said, “Your voice is really nice to listen to.”

Zhan Yan: “Got it.”

Now he was curious what kind of horror Gu Jiancheng had heard before.

So Gu Jiancheng began adapting stories from the game-like worlds he’d survived and told them to Zhan Yan.

The more he told, the more distracted he became.

What kind of couple calls each other at night… just to tell horror stories?!

Gu Jiancheng, pitifully: “I still can’t sleep.”

Zhan Yan: “Then I’ll tell you another—”

Gu Jiancheng: “No!”

“Turn on your fitness tracker. Go to the heart rate monitor.”

Zhan Yan did as instructed. On the black screen, a red line pulsed rhythmically.

Gu Jiancheng: “There’s a little circle in the top right. Tap it. You’ll see the share option.”

“Share your heartbeat with me. If I can hear it, I’ll be able to sleep.”

Zhan Yan stared at the red pulse line, which was — traitorously — speeding up.

His fingers hovered above the share button, curled, then finally tapped.

Silence followed as Gu Jiancheng navigated his own interface.

Zhan Yan listened to the faint wind on the other end. That moment of waiting felt endlessly long.

Gu Jiancheng’s voice came through: “Yan Yan, your heart rate is a bit fast.”

Zhan Yan: “It—it’ll calm down in a bit.”

Gu Jiancheng chuckled softly, satisfied.

“You… what are you doing?” Zhan Yan asked quickly, changing the subject.

“I’m looking at the stars,” Gu Jiancheng replied.

Zhan Yan blinked. Was he turning into a stargazer like that old fortune-teller?

Gu Jiancheng, holding the phone in one hand, stretched the other toward the sky. His fingers spread gently, starlight filtering through the gaps, glinting in his eyes.

There was no light pollution in the countryside. The stars above were clear, bright, serene, and distant — like you could never quite reach them.

Lying under that vast expanse made all earthly pain feel far away and small.

“Whenever I look at the stars,” he said, “I think of you.”

Zhan Yan let out a quiet “Mhm.”

After they hung up, his face still felt hot.

His heart rate hadn’t calmed one bit — it was beating even faster.

And now, it was all being broadcast live to Gu Jiancheng.

He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. Didn’t work. So he gave up, flopped onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow.

So embarrassing!

Just so embarrassing.

Gu Jiancheng stared at his phone screen for a long time. The little heart shared with him pulsed steadily:

thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…

He tucked the phone beneath his head, staring up at the galaxy.

And so, he fell asleep — cradled by the rhythm of Zhan Yan’s heartbeat.