Bang—

The window was blown open, slamming heavily against the coffin, leaving fresh scars on its already aged and decayed wooden surface.

Cold wind, laden with damp moisture, rushed into the small, dilapidated room, brushing against Ruan Mobei’s face with piercing icy particles.

At the edge of the gray sky, thick clouds were sluggishly crowding toward this direction.

Clusters of low-rise buildings and a few dark green coniferous trees stood silently not far away, as though shrouded by a layer of ashen fog.

Ruan Mobei watched for a moment before braving the wind to force the window shut.

When he turned back, the young boy curled up in the corner among a heap of miscellaneous items seemed unable to endure the sudden chill. He shrank even tighter into himself, trembling.

The boy was still unconscious. The wound on his left thigh, gouged out with something sharp, had stopped bleeding and crusted over with a dark red scab of ice.

Whether it was from a high fever or pain, his brows furrowed tightly, his lips pressed into a straight line and twitching slightly.

Ruan Mobei walked over, sitting cross-legged beside him, and clasped the boy’s frostbitten hands in his own.

In the dim light, Ruan Mobei gazed at this face, both familiar and unfamiliar. Was this how He Songming looked in his youth? He couldn’t quite remember—his memories of the other boy in such a dire state were scarce.

Ruan Mobei let out a silent sigh, the words spoken by “the Moon” to him earlier still echoing in his ears. He didn’t feel like calling that glowing orb a “system” or anything else.

Your soul is fractured, and the fragments of your memories are scattered across various worlds. Only by retrieving them all can you hope to awaken again. Are you willing to save him?

Of course, Ruan Mobei was willing. He Songming had become like this because of him.

They had grown up together, though after graduating from university, Ruan Mobei stayed in his hometown to work while He Songming went abroad for further studies. If He Songming hadn’t returned to celebrate Ruan Mobei’s 25th birthday, their reunion wouldn’t have happened in that hospital room.

And just before the accident, He Songming had sent him a text, along with the birthday greeting.

16593455746.

No one knew what those digits, resembling a phone number, meant.

What were you trying to tell me?

Ruan Mobei touched He Songming’s forehead—burning hot. Compared to an average eleven or twelve-year-old boy, he was indeed scrawny. Apart from the fresh wound on his thigh, his arms and legs were riddled with scars, both old and new.

In the pile of miscellaneous items, there was a coal stove for boiling water. Ruan Mobei had initially intended to melt some snow water to moisten He Songming’s chapped lips, but he soon discovered that he couldn’t.

Other than He Songming, it seemed nearly impossible for him to interact with anything else in this world. He couldn’t touch the coal stove even though it was right in front of him, and walls were like air—he could easily pass through them.

But just now… how had he managed to close the window?

Ruan Mobei frowned, a vague idea forming in his mind. He glanced at the other side of the heap of items beside He Songming, where a thick tarp lay covering it.

Leaning over, Ruan Mobei stretched out his hand, intending to pull the tarp down to cover He Songming.

At that moment, the boy’s lashes, adorned with tiny ice crystals, trembled. His eyes fluttered open.

The cold, the pain, and the dizziness blurred his senses, making him feel as though someone was holding his hand. Warm—so warm that it felt like an illusion, drawing him irresistibly closer.

When his vision cleared, the boy abruptly realized that there was indeed a figure looming over him, shrouded in the faint gray-white light seeping through the cracks in the window.

His pupils contracted sharply. Despite the pain wracking his body, he instinctively pushed hard against the figure, sliding to a seated position. Grabbing the nearest object—a rubber shoe—he pointed it at the figure, his movements quick and decisive, completely at odds with his feverish state.

“Who are you?” the boy croaked, his voice hoarse and dry.

Ruan Mobei steadied himself, glancing at the shoe aimed at his throat before meeting He Songming’s wary and guarded eyes. Hidden fear flickered within them, though it didn’t escape his notice. Calmly, he said, “You’re injured and running a fever. It’s best if you don’t move too much.”

“Who are you?” He Songming’s breathing quickened. In his earlier panic, he had pulled at the wound on his left leg, causing blood to seep slowly through the cracked scab. The pain made his vision blur.

Still, He Songming forced himself to steady his trembling hand and demanded, “I’ve never seen you before.”

Ruan Mobei hesitated, unsure how to respond. He was He Songming’s childhood friend, the one who coaxed him to sleep after drunken midnight calls, and also the person responsible for everything that had happened now.

He opened his mouth to explain but remained silent. Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps and voices came from afar. Instinctively, Ruan Mobei turned toward the window—someone was coming!

Just as he couldn’t explain himself to He Songming, Ruan Mobei wouldn’t be able to explain his presence to anyone else. His instincts screamed at him to hide, but someone acted faster.

He Songming scrambled up, swiftly flipping the tarp aside and ducking underneath it. Amidst the clattering of objects, he buried himself deep within the pile, moving with the agility of a small rodent fleeing through a barn.

Ruan Mobei paused mid-step, hesitating. Within moments, the voices reached the door, which was shoved open with a loud crash, slamming against the wall as the wind rushed in.

The burly man in the lead, slightly out of breath, exhaled a puff of white mist that frosted over his brows. Squinting, he scanned the room, his gaze sweeping past Ruan Mobei without stopping.

Startled, Ruan Mobei froze—he couldn’t see him?

Six or seven others followed the man inside, cramming the tiny, broken-down room. One of them lifted a corner of the tarp, revealing a dozen half-human-sized scrap metal barrels.

Amid the stirred-up dust, the man covered his nose and mouth, cursed under his breath, and stepped back.

Gaining some courage, Ruan Mobei moved closer. It really seemed like they couldn’t see him.

He extended a hand, his fingertips passing straight through the man’s shoulder.

A faint, elusive stench wafted into Ruan Mobei’s nostrils.

“Not here?”

The leader, a man in his thirties with an East Slavic face and deep nasolabial folds, frowned, glaring at the pile of items for several seconds before turning to leave. “Let’s go.”

Just as abruptly as they had come, the intruders left. The small room fell silent once more, save for the scattered traces of snow on the floor. Ruan Mobei looked down at his own hands, taking a deep breath and clenching his fists, his emotions in turmoil.

Had he… really become a ghost?

What a delightful surprise…

A few seconds later, He Songming crawled out of his hiding spot with difficulty.

The boy’s dark eyes locked onto the stranger before him, who wore nothing but short sleeves in the freezing half-rainy season. Clutching the rubber shoe he had used as a weapon earlier, he glared like a bristling cat and asked, enunciating each word carefully, “Who exactly are you? Why couldn’t they see you?”

“My name is Ruan Mobei,” he said softly, doing his best to appear non-threatening. After a pause, he added with a bitter smile, “As you can see, I’m probably a ghost that only you can see. Beyond my name, I don’t remember anything. My earliest memory is waking up and seeing you lying here.”

It was a hastily concocted story, half-true and half-false. He had no idea if He Songming would believe it.

He Songming continued to stare at him warily. After a long silence, he simply said, “Stay away from me.”

“You’re injured—”

“Stay away from me!” The boy’s voice rose sharply. Gritting his teeth, he seemed to struggle against the dizziness from oxygen deprivation.

It was the first time He Songming had ever yelled at him. Ruan Mobei wasn’t angry. In fact, he found it quite novel. This hysterical child… was this really a fragment of He Songming’s soul?

“Alright,” Ruan Mobei said obediently, turning away. “You have a fever. It’s best to find somewhere warm to rest. If your leg injury isn’t treated soon, it might get infected, and you could lose the whole leg.”

He Songming didn’t respond, his eyes clearly saying: Get lost.

Ruan Mobei said no more. He passed through the wall in front of He Songming. That worked out well—he needed to figure out his current situation. The Moon hadn’t mentioned anything about turning into a ghost.

Outside, everything was blanketed in white. The uninvited guests had left chaotic footprints in the snow. Ruan Mobei decided to take the opportunity to explore the area, but after only two steps, he was blocked by an invisible barrier.

An air wall? How could there be such a thing?

Frowning, Ruan Mobei turned sideways and slammed into it—

The world instantly went black. After a brief sensation of weightlessness, he was back inside the small room.

The sudden appearance startled He Songming, who was resting against the wall. Ruan Mobei’s reappearance was instantaneous, giving He Songming no time to react.

The two stared at each other. Ruan Mobei clearly saw the boy’s expression shift from confusion to shock, and then to anger. Before that anger could fully manifest into unbridled rage, Ruan Mobei quickly said, “It seems I can’t stray too far from you. If I try, I get teleported back.”

Knowing He Songming wouldn’t believe him, Ruan Mobei backed away step by step until he was outside the house, a dozen meters away. When his back touched the air wall, he was instantly pulled back. He proved his point with action.

He Songming!!!

The boy’s eyes widened in astonishment. Ruan Mobei softened his tone and said, “It seems like you’re my only connection to this world. So… can I stay by your side for now?”

“No way!” He Songming snapped out of his daze, refusing outright with unwavering vigilance. “No matter who you are or what your reason is, stay far away from me!”

Playing nice won’t work with this brat.

Clicking his tongue inwardly, Ruan Mobei didn’t heed He Songming’s warning this time. He walked up to the boy, who flinched and leaned back to avoid him. Extending a hand, Ruan Mobei pulled the boy’s frail shoulders into a firm embrace, holding him tightly.

As expected, He Songming struggled fiercely. Ignoring it, Ruan Mobei grabbed the tarp and wrapped it around them both. “This way, it’ll be warmer. You should get some sleep.”

He Songming wanted to break free from this warmth. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had held him like this, just as he couldn’t remember who his parents were.

This man, claiming to be Ruan Mobei, wore only a thin layer in the freezing rain, was invisible to others, and could teleport. He was obviously up to something, scheming to get close to him.

What did he want from him? If he intended to harm him, it wouldn’t need to be so complicated.

Maybe this was some ridiculous way of atoning, just like those other people?

He Songming’s instincts screamed at him to resist, to fend off the danger he knew was looming.

But the warmth seeping from this man’s body felt like some kind of evil magic, draining all his strength. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, his body refusing to obey.

Damn it…

The struggles from the boy in his arms weakened, his eyes slowly, slowly closing.

In the final moment before slipping into unconsciousness, he still resisted, his hand pressing against Ruan Mobei’s arm in a defensive posture, mumbling a garbled threat.

“…Just wait… you’ll regret this…”

Author’s Note:

Dun-dun-dun! Surprise release!

Finally done with exams! This time I’m trying a new genre. After six months without writing, I’m not sure if I’m rusty. I’ve put a lot of effort into the plot and setting. Time for some serious writing rehab.

Hope you all enjoy this story!