Chapter 40: Vomiting

Simply sitting in that place, Qi Yan felt an invisible pressure weighing down on him. Though it lacked the ornate grandeur of a temple, the atmosphere was suffused with a peculiar sense of sanctity. Even if the master before him looked ordinary, once he began to perform the ritual in earnest, his serious and focused demeanor transformed his entire bearing.

The scent of the incense and candles was also pleasant—fresh and understated.

It was just Li Ruoke quietly conversing with him, taking out a pre-written notebook to carefully explain everything to the master.

The two of them talked for what felt like dozens of minutes. Qi Yan’s legs grew numb—though that was the least of his concerns—the main problem was that the furnishings around him were dazzling, almost overwhelming. Whether it was the heat, the stuffiness, or simply a bad night’s sleep, by the end, he felt a dull ache begin to throb in his head.

The longer he stayed, the more pronounced this sensation became.

Especially when Azan Shi closed his eyes and began to recite guttural, obscure scriptures, Qi Yan could not help but shift his body away slightly. He was already starting to feel short of breath, sweat beading on his skin, and faintly—deep within—he began to hear the wailing cries of an infant echoing from the depths of his heart...

He shook his head hard, but it did nothing to dispel the dizziness.

Li Ruoke was sitting nearby, hands pressed together in devout reverence, eyes closed in prayer, and did not notice his state.

With each accelerated chant, Qi Yan’s body grew heavier. The master’s voice mingled with the cries within his mind, as if a thousand flies were trying to shatter his skull.

In the end, he too closed his eyes. Sweat trickled down his furrowed brow as he tried to forcibly steady his mind.

Suddenly, a woman’s piercing shriek exploded in his mind. Qi Yan could no longer hold on—he collapsed forward, propping himself up with both hands.

At that instant, every candle flame in the room wavered violently, battered by an invisible force.

Azan Shi snapped his eyes open, halting his chanting and looking over at Qi Yan. Naturally, he also noticed the disturbance within the altar.

“What’s... wrong... with you?” he asked in halting, slurred Mandarin, his concern plain.

Qi Yan clutched his mouth, forcing out a strangled reply, “My... my stomach hurts—I need to go outside!” He scrambled up from the carpet and hurried out of the room.

Li Ruoke was startled, but quickly composed herself in the face of Azan Shi’s bewildered gaze. “Ah... perhaps the breakfast we had earlier wasn’t too clean...”

Qi Yan fled the room, rushed out the front door, and finally, unable to hold it back any longer, leaned against the wall and vomited right there in front of Azan’s house.

He didn’t throw up anything substantial—just some saliva—but he dry-heaved for a long time, his body left as weak as if he’d just run a marathon.

Leaning against the wall, he sat on the ground, catching his breath until the vertigo gradually faded from his mind.

The corridor was dim, with no lights, and only a sliver of sunlight managed to filter through from outside.

Qi Yan’s face was as pale as paper, cold sweat still seeping from his skin. Forcing a bitter smile, he lowered his head and massaged his temples, trying to ease the headache.

He did not go back inside. Instead, he waited at the door for over an hour before Li Ruoke finally emerged, escorted out by Azan.

Seeing Qi Yan still sitting there, she said nothing and simply took his arm, urging him downstairs.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m fine, just... a bit uncomfortable. Did you finish the business?” Qi Yan asked first.

Li Ruoke lifted her backpack. “Yes, all the personal talismans the clients ordered are ready, and I got the twenty-six new plaques, too. Just now... what happened to you? Why did you react so strongly?”

Qi Yan had more or less recovered by now. He took a couple sips of mineral water and shook his head. “I’m not sure. I just felt terrible, like my head was about to explode.”

Li Ruoke glanced back at the residential building. There was no one else around. She sighed. “You left so suddenly, it startled Azan too.”

Qi Yan smiled awkwardly, then asked, “By the way, did you manage to subtly ask about the mysterious Black Temple?”

Li Ruoke’s heart skipped a beat. In truth, she hadn’t known anything about it until Xuanxuan told her last night. But now, in front of Qi Yan, she feigned ignorance and shook her head. “Even this Azan that I know couldn’t say anything. That Black Temple... he had no recollection of it either.”

Qi Yan sighed in frustration, but did not seem too disappointed. After all, the whole matter was shrouded in such profound mystery.

Seeing his faintly despondent expression, Li Ruoke felt a pang of guilt, especially now that she knew the truth...

To her surprise, Qi Yan smiled nonchalantly. “It’s fine. If we don’t know, we don’t know. We can’t expect to know everything, can we? Relax... That’s it for now. Let’s leave it at that.”

Li Ruoke’s long lashes fluttered in surprise. “Ah? You’re just going to let it go so easily...?”

Qi Yan turned and walked off, swinging his arms and legs in a leisurely manner. “What can I do? I’m not the type to obsess over things. I’ve already been more persistent than usual this time. Since even the experts can’t make heads or tails of it, I’m giving up. Anyway, I already decided to accept the karmic tie and make offerings... Even if I don’t know what lies ahead, it’s better to live life with an open mind than to spend every day on edge, worrying myself sick. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll become a ghost myself, right?”

“You...” Li Ruoke followed, exasperated. “You really are complicated. At first you were a mess, now suddenly you’ve let it all go?”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to take things lightly? I don’t want to torment myself. Even if this ghost is hard to appease, I’ll just accept it. Now... let’s go get a proper meal. That fried snack earlier didn’t fill me up at all.”

Li Ruoke hurried to catch up, glancing at his casual profile. Despite his relaxed, nonchalant appearance, she could still glimpse a trace of gravity in Qi Yan’s eyes...

Was he really going to let it rest like this?

Of course not! But that was simply Qi Yan’s way—most of the time, he preferred to shoulder burdens alone, whether out of pride or stubbornness. He disliked troubling others, hated owing favors, and especially didn’t want anyone worrying too much about him.

Li Ruoke, for her part, understood this perfectly. Since he was pretending everything was fine, she wouldn’t call him out on it. Sometimes, this silent understanding was the greatest respect one could offer...