Thousands Of People Thought Of Him - Chapter 15

A Little Bird

“Are you insane?!”

Jiang Tan slammed down a teacup with a loud thud on the desk as she glared at the person slowly waking up in the chair.

Qi Xingwen opened his eyes, his head pounding like it had split open. He pressed his fingers to his brow and asked casually,
“Did I fall asleep?”

Damage to the soul didn’t directly affect the physical body, but it manifested in other ways—from minor colds to serious illness.

Jiang Tan’s limbs felt numb with anxiety. She flailed her hands in frustration and emphasized,
“You call that sleep? You blacked out, man. Blacked out! You know what that means?”

Seriously, who knew how to deal with a friend who insisted on running headfirst into death every single day? No one could stop him!

Blacked out?

Qi Xingwen suddenly sat upright in his chair, frantically searching for something to tell the time.
“How long was I out?”

“Almost two hours. If you’re asking about the time inside that small world, it’s been about a month.”
Jiang Tan helpfully counted on her fingers.

A month…
Qi Xingwen froze.

Not caring what he was thinking now, Jiang Tan spoke patiently,
“You seriously need to stop this. I’ve told you a thousand times—entering the trial in person is a terrible idea. But you insisted, and now look at you.”

A sudden tickle rose in his throat. Qi Xingwen covered his mouth and began coughing.

But the more he coughed, the worse it got—until he was bent over, hacking as if he might cough up his entire stomach.

“Sigh.”
Jiang Tan sat down across from him and poured a fresh cup of water, pushing it toward him.

“This time you’ve gone way too far. Your soul’s taken real damage. I’m genuinely advising you—stop defying the rules like this.”

Qi Xingwen finally finished coughing. As if it were nothing, he wiped the bl00d from his palm with a tissue.
“I’ll handle it.”

Jiang Tan noticed something off. She frowned suspiciously,
“Don’t tell me… you still plan to go back?”

Qi Xingwen lowered his eyes and replied naturally,
“I promised him. And I’ve already broken that promise for too long.”

“…Were you even listening to me just now?”

This was peak-level, logic-defying, incurable romantic obsession!

Qi Xingwen fell silent, voice hoarse, guilty and quiet.

Jiang Tan pressed on,
“Don’t forget the basic rule: the fact that you were hurt this time means you’ve already interfered with his trial path. If you keep meddling like this, you know what the consequences could be.”

Sure, he could take the hit—but…

Her words struck a nerve. Qi Xingwen fell silent for a while, then closed his eyes in frustration and said,
“But if I do nothing, do you think that person won’t interfere either?”

Seeing that he had finally calmed down, Jiang Tan took a slow sip of tea and added,
“You can still stay by his side—just not in person.”

Qi Xingwen froze, the hand holding his teacup hanging mid-air.

After a moment, his voice dropped, heavy with feeling:
“I get what you’re saying. But… can’t I at least say goodbye to him properly?”

Ying Fusang’s current state constantly reminded Qi Xingwen of his own past. He understood better than anyone how the boy must feel.
If he left like this, Ying Fusang would probably think he’d been deceived all along.

Jiang Tan shook her head.
“It’s cruel… but…”
She didn’t finish.

Sensing he still hadn’t given up, she sighed, then mentioned something she had never told him before:
“You think the night before Fufu entered his trial, he only came to see you?”

She expected Qi Xingwen to immediately demand more information.

Instead, he muttered darkly,
“Why do you call him Fufu like it’s cute?”

Jiang Tan: “…”

Sometimes she really just wanted to shoot him.

…

After school.

As Ying Fusang quietly packed up his things, Fang Baiyu had already walked over to stand beside him.

Zipping up his backpack, he stood and looked the other boy in the eye.
“Move.”
His tone was cool and flat.

Fang Baiyu had been persistently hovering around Ying Fusang for a whole month.

“Hovering” might sound rude—but it was the most accurate description. Ying Fusang didn’t even bother to recall the specifics anymore. He just knew Fang Baiyu kept finding new excuses to be near him.
Lately, he had become obsessed with walking home together.

At first, Ying Chenglang could still step in to block him. But later, after some unknown conversation between them, Chenglang’s attitude shifted to reluctant acceptance.

“Let’s go, Xiaoyu.”
Waiting at the door, Ying Chenglang knocked on the frame, eyes filled with hostility as he looked at Ying Fusang.

Fang Baiyu stood there like a stubborn deity, unmoving. Smiling innocently, he didn’t say a word—but the message to Chenglang was clear:
“If he doesn’t leave, I won’t leave.”

From an emotional standpoint, Ying Fusang thought Fang Baiyu was baffling and manipulative.

But logically speaking, arguing was a waste of time. And walking with them was the fastest way home. Eventually, he found his so-called “optimal solution.”

Ying Fusang didn’t speak—but Fang Baiyu understood. He smiled and stepped aside.

Final formation:
Fang Baiyu in the middle, Ying Fusang on the left, Ying Chenglang on the right.

Chenglang chatted constantly, mostly to Baiyu. But Baiyu only responded minimally, constantly trying to steer the conversation toward Ying Fusang, who stared straight ahead, replying only with a few “Mm”s and “Oh”s when absolutely necessary.

In truth, Chenglang had been harboring frustration. He couldn’t understand what made Ying Fusang so special that Fang Baiyu insisted on being friends with him.

Among the three, probably only Fang Baiyu was genuinely enjoying himself.

As they reached the camphor tree-lined path, Ying Chenglang suddenly stopped and said,
“I think I forgot an assignment back in class. You go on ahead, Xiaoyu—I’ll catch up.”

Fang Baiyu nodded,
“Alright.”

And so, the two continued walking.

“Xiao Sang…”
Fang Baiyu turned his head as if to say something—

Suddenly—

A blue-and-white object fell from the tree above with a plop, landing precisely in front of Ying Fusang.

Ying Fusang: ?

Startled, Fang Baiyu stepped back.
“What the heck? Trash?”

It was getting dark, visibility was low, and the object on the ground twitched slightly. Ying Fusang squatted down and finally got a clear look.

“It’s a bird,” he said.

Unlike common sparrows, this one had blue, white, and gray feathers, with a dark blue tail. Its fluff was long, making it look like a chubby ball. It lay on the ground, trembling faintly—possibly injured from the fall.

A bird?

Fang Baiyu squatted next to him, curious.
“Wow, it’s beautiful. Looks like blue-and-white porcelain.”

Ying Fusang, unusually captivated, didn’t walk away. Instead, he took out his phone and used the image search function to snap a photo.

“…A gray-blue tit?” he murmured, puzzled.

According to the results, both the climate and geography here were unsuitable for this species.

The moment the bird heard his voice, it moved its wings slightly and slowly opened its round, shiny black eyes. It chirped a soft, delicate “jiji.”

Ying Fusang didn’t take it as affection. He assumed it was too injured to make a proper sound.

Fang Baiyu, however, acted as if he understood the chirping. Smiling, he reached out to pet its fluffy head.
“It’s kinda cute, actually.”

But just as his hand approached, the bird twisted its head sharply and bit him hard, letting out a sharp, rapid series of cries—
“Zz zz zz—GAAH!”
—clearly a warning.

“Ah!”
Fang Baiyu yanked his hand back. A small bead of bl00d formed on his fingertip.

Just then, a figure approached. Ying Fusang ignored Fang Baiyu and quickly pulled out a pair of disposable gloves from his backpack. Swiftly and skillfully, he scooped up the bird and slipped it into the large pocket of his coat.

Having some protective gear on hand really was useful.

Ying Chenglang arrived late, thinking Baiyu had waited on purpose.

Before he could speak, Ying Fusang calmly explained:
“His hand was bitten by a bird. Wild birds can carry many viruses. I suggest you take him to the hospital immediately.”

“What?!”
Ying Chenglang panicked, forgetting even who was speaking.
“Where’s the bird?”

Hands in his pockets, Ying Fusang replied, face calm and emotionless:
“It flew away.”

Fang Baiyu had been holding his finger and missed Ying Fusang’s sleight of hand. He looked around—sure enough, no bird in sight.

“I’m fine…”
Feeling something was off, he tried to decline the hospital trip.

But Chenglang had taken Ying Fusang’s words to heart. He was now very concerned for Baiyu’s safety. Stubborn and strong, he immediately dragged him off,
“No, no—we’re going to the hospital. Now!”

Fang Baiyu tried to resist—but failed.

As the two disappeared into the distance, and Baiyu finally stopped looking back, Ying Fusang turned away and gently removed the bird from his pocket.

The bird, which had seemed weak just moments ago, now perked up on his palm. It licked its feathers as if showing off, full of energy.

Ying Fusang frowned, puzzled.
“You’re not injured? Then I’ll just let you fly away.”

Though he spoke quietly, the bird heard him clearly. It froze—then flopped over dramatically, closing its beady eyes, playing dead.

Ying Fusang, now wearing gloves, carefully examined it again.
“No visible wounds… no bleeding…”

The bird quickly flattened its feathers.

“Wing drooping?”

It let its wing droop.

“Unable to stand?”

It stayed limp in his palm.

“Full-body tremors?”

It started trembling lightly.

Seeing all the symptoms match the chart, Ying Fusang read the last lines and nodded, serious:
“If it’s this badly hurt, I should hand it over to a wildlife rescue center.”

At those words, the bird froze completely.