Thousands Of People Thought Of Him - Chapter 12
“Get out!”
Bai Wuchang’s pupils trembled—he felt as though struck by lightning.
The words “Lord Yama” hovered on his lips, on the verge of being uttered. But before he could speak the second word, an invisible hand flew to clamp over his mouth.
So Bai Wuchang could only freeze in place, shock plastered across his face. Though he appeared rigid, only he knew the truth—henchingers were shooting through his bones.
Damn, the rule just kicked me so hard!
“‘…What salt?’” Ying Fusang blinked, confused. Bai Wuchang had not finished his sentence.
Finally recovering from the sensation that someone had ruptured his bones, Bai Wuchang lifted his gaze. His attitude toward Ying Fusang had changed—completely.
“Ah, hahahaha, I was going to say…” Plenty of time wasted—just say it already!
But before he could continue, Ying Fusang, connecting the context, guessed aloud, “You meant ‘Yama’?”
Bai Wuchang staggered—so close to kneeling he might have. Another rule blow that shook even his guts.
Wiping imaginary bl00d from his cheek with a forced smile, he hurriedly said, “No no, I meant our underworld is running low on salt—hahaha.”
Ying Fusang frowned, sensing his logic was a mess, about to ask more.
Bai Wuchang inhaled shakily, as if facing a great enemy, silently pleading: Please, stop talking—!
Seeing the chaos and realizing he’s being begged—Qi Xingwen finally broke the tension: “Sang Sang, someone else might show up at any moment. How about we leave now and give him time to clean up?”
Bai Wuchang nodded vigorously in agreement.
There really was scattered bl00d and flesh everywhere—indeed unsightly. As they were about to leave, Ying Fusang pointed down at the two fallen figures, and asked, “What about them?”
Bold human… daring to harm Lord Yama!
Feeling a blunder undermining his every fiber, Bai Wuchang stifled the urge to bow, lowered his head, and said solemnly, “My lord—”
Another rule!
“Y-You…” Rule piercing him again.
“…” Realizing he wasn’t a masochist, Bai Wuchang spun around to face Qi Xingwen instead.
“These two humans not only violated the regulations between the yin and yang realms but also seriously harmed our underworld personnel physically and mentally. In my opinion, they must be sternly punished as a warning!”
The hungry ghost groaned twice in agreement: Punish them. Must punish strongly!
Qi Xingwen raised an eyebrow, listening patiently, “How do you propose to punish them?”
On the surface they harmed the ghost, but Bai Wuchang knew the real target was someone else. Too harsh a punishment was beyond his authority; too lenient would disappoint the divine.
He was utterly distraught.
“Um… well, here’s what I think…” After a minute, he cautiously laid out his carefully considered solution.
“Sang Sang, what do you think?” Qi Xingwen asked, tilting his head.
Ying Fusang nodded—he had no objections.
With the plan approved, a relieved Bai Wuchang thought he could finally see these “two great ones” off.
“Need help cleaning up?” Ying Fusang turned back earnestly to ask.
Just as Bai Wuchang sighed in relief, he tensed again. How on earth do you address your former superior now?
“Ahahaha—no need! Let the hungry ghost eat and lick it clean. It’ll be quick.”
Ying Fusang thought: as expected—a hungry ghost is… really hungry.
At just the right moment, Qi Xingwen untied the ghost. Free again, he heard that line—more impressive than even “Lord Yama”—and shivered. Suddenly, he wanted to go with them too.
Ignored by all, the ghost could only watch them leave: QAQ!!
…
Ying Fusang pushed open the door, with no interest left to enter any other rooms. On the way back to the entrance, he unexpectedly ran into the “white‑clad ghost”—likely Liu Yizhuo. Though expressionless, the man seemed utterly stunned to meet Ying Fusang a second time. After a three‑second pause, he stepped onto a skateboard and zipped away.
They nodded at each other awkwardly; Ying Fusang wondered if the hungry ghost had actually eaten yet.
He withdrew his gaze and walked out of the stress‑relief room.
After all that, the night had deepened, and the bustling crowd had thinned. Checking the time, it was just at dismissal.
“Heading home? I’ll walk with you.” Qi Xingwen joined him, and they headed toward the classrooms together.
Some feelings are inexplicably sharp—like now, Ying Fusang sensed Qi Xingwen wasn’t in high spirits.
He lowered his eyes, noticing two bl00d splatters on Qi Xingwen’s clothes. When they reached a secluded corner, he stopped and looked at him. Calm but earnest: “Are you angry, Great Immortal?”
“…” This time Qi Xingwen didn’t deny with a smile. He was quiet for two seconds, then met Ying Fusang’s gaze and let out a soft sigh: “Sang Sang, why didn’t you call me when you were in danger?” His voice carried fatigue and helplessness.
His wrist seemed faintly warm—Ying Fusang was startled that this was what upset him.
“Sorry…” he blurted, instinctively.
“It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. Actually—I should apologize. I shouldn’t have sent you in alone.” Meeting Ying Fusang’s eyes, Qi Xingwen softened, and spoke gently, comforting him.
Ying Fusang shook his head, saying nothing more.
“It’s partly because…” Qi Xingwen hesitated, then said, “I had a dream last night.”
“What?” Qi Xingwen’s pause stirred him.
Without overthinking, Ying Fusang lifted his left hand—showing the copper‑coin bracelet—and asked, “Can you tell me why one coin is missing?”
Unlike fleeting dreams, this one grew clearer in his mind.
He remembered: in his dream, a palace-like place stood empty. He sat on a high seat, lost in thought, uneasy.
That emotion peaked when he saw the copper‑coin bracelet on the table.
Inside a black box—it tipped over, and the coins spilled out.
“…” After a pause, he picked it up. Sitting upright, he noticed one coin was gone.
“It lasted for centuries and never broke; but now, with a drop, it broke so easily.” He muttered, voice laced with irony.
As for the missing coin…
He looked down. One copper coin rolled off the step, continuing onward.
He didn’t move—just watched.
He expected it to roll out of the palace, but it stopped after a few flips and lay still on the ground.
Someone walked over and bent down to pick it up.
A flash of surprise passed through Qi Xingwen’s eyes. He looked at Ying Fusang, smiled faintly, and said: “I didn’t expect you still kept it.”
A familiar figure—unseen for centuries—appeared suddenly before Ying Fusang, fleetingly leaving his mind blank.
Once he steadied himself, seeing the guest so nonchalant, he couldn’t help laughing—magnified by anger.
“You broke my sealing barrier to barge in… Are you suddenly mad or completely shameless?”
Qi Xingwen remained calm, smiling faintly: “I’m sorry, I’ll compensate you.”
Though they both knew that single person had always been its only guardian.
“No need.”
Ying Fusang felt he didn’t want to see him anymore. He stayed silent—any more words might lead to action. Seeing that job termination was looming, he saw no point in conflict.
With a moment’s hesitation unseen, he tossed the bracelet at Qi Xingwen’s feet.
Expressionless, he spoke simply: “Get out.”
Looking down at the bracelet on the ground, Qi Xingwen’s expression darkened. He knelt, picked it up, and looked up. And despite everything, he smiled softly: “That word again? It still stings.”
Ying Fusang sneered twice: “You’re not even human.”
A double‑edged remark.
He didn’t want to say more. Furrowing his brows, he coldly asked: “What exactly do you want to say?”
You said you’d never see each other again—centuries you avoided each other. Today’s sudden visit made Ying Fusang curious about his intent.
He saw Qi Xingwen straighten, open his mouth—but then the scene shattered. The dream ended abruptly.
…
Qi Xingwen didn’t press him about the dream. Smiling, he delivered the second half of his earlier words: “Probably a minor flaw during crafting—one coin was accidentally left out.”
Ying Fusang said nothing, nodded as if accepting it, then asked: “Can it be fixed—one coin added back?”
“It can’t—for now, this is how the bracelet remains.”
Maybe it was his imagination, but Ying Fusang felt Qi Xingwen’s voice was fading.
“Oh.” He lifted his head. Just when he was about to speak, he froze in shock.
Though Qi Xingwen was said to be in spirit form, his appearance was shockingly pale. A faint smile lingered, but it looked forced.
He didn’t know when the injury happened—which had seemingly appeared out of nowhere—but a bloody hole now gaped in his left rib, near the heart. Bl00d poured from it, spreading quickly and staining half his body—horrific to behold.