Wang Xiaoming looked over in horror toward the point on which Xiang Wenxun’s gaze landed. He could see Baal?!
Baal squinted his eyes and slowly pursed his lips, as if extremely unhappy with the gaze unabashedly staring at him.
Wang Xiaoming opened his mouth and just as he was about to say something, he saw that Xiang Wenxun had suddenly disappeared from the sofa.
“What did you do?” Wang Xiaoming asked anxiously as he stared at the empty sofa.
Baal snorted disdainfully. “Nothing. I just sent him out to cool his head.”
Wang Xiaoming suddenly jumped up. “It’ll take him a while to get up here with people. Let’s go now.”
Baal remained steady as a rock. “To where?”
“To run away of course.” Wang Xiaoming was nervous. “What if he brings people up here?”
“Then they can collectively go out to cool their heads.”
“But there is strength in numbers and he has money and power. What if he gets a powerful priest to come and…” Wang Xiaoming didn’t have to turn his head to feel the chill emanating from the sofa.
“Priest?” Baal asked angrily, “You think I’ll be afraid of priests?”
Wang Xiaoming was so scared he could cry. “You might not be afraid, but I am.”
Baal’s expression lightened a tiny bit. He had almost forgotten that in times of chaos, most people would only be concerned about fleeing to save their lives rather than standing up and rebelling. They were different from angels, who were born to fight.
“Relax, I won’t let anything happen to you.” His body was still within Wang Xiaoming’s heart. He didn’t know if Wang Xiaoming dying would impact his body, but based on Lucifer’s personality and Wang Xiaoming’s misfortunate destiny, the probability of the two being connected was pretty high.
Wang Xiaoming was about to say something when someone rapped on the door twice and Xiang Wenxun pushed the door open to enter again.
“Sorry, I’m here to bother you again.” He closed the door as if nothing had happened and sat back down on the same sofa. Even his posture remained unchanged.
Baal raised an eyebrow and the look he gave Xiang Wenxun now contained a bit of interest.
“Xiang, President Xiang,” Wang Xiaoming asked with shaky legs, “are you alright, sir?”
Xiang Wenxun smiled. “If I said I was happy right now, would you believe it?” The more powerful that individual was, the more likely it was for his wish to come true.
Wang Xiaoming looked at him silently for a long time before asking quietly, “Are you human?”
Xiang Wenxun seemed like he expected such a question. He answered in an unruffled manner, “Yes. I’m a bona fide human.”
Baal tilted his head and asked, “You’ve been to Noah’s Ark?”
Wang Xiaoming waited quite a while for a response before realizing that Xiang Wenxun couldn’t hear Baal’s voice. “You can’t hear him?”
“Oh? Did he say something?”
“Then how did you know…”
“How did I know your friend’s location?” Xiang Wenxun smiled. “Knowing your friend’s location actually wasn’t the hardest part. Confirming his existence was. If the latter stands, then it was easy to realize that your gaze would often subconsciously land somewhere else. For example, when I walked in the first time, you looked at the sofa.”
Wang Xiaoming asked in surprise, “Then how did you figure out about his existence?”
“When you’re by yourself, you don’t bother hiding.” Xiang Wenxun pointed to the corners of the room. “And the one thing that the Silver House doesn’t lack is cameras. You talk to yourself and cards fly around inexplicably. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be to confirm your friend’s existence.”
Only then did Wang Xiaoming realize how oblivious he had been.
“My question.” Baal was angry at being ignored.
Wang Xiaoming hurriedly asked, “Have you been to Noah’s Ark?”
Xiang Wenxun quickly glanced over at Baal. Even though he could only see air, he could still imagine a pair of eyes looking at him intently. “If you’re talking about the spaceship in 2012, then sorry, nobody has asked me to buy tickets.”
“Interesting.” This meant that this human had guessed his existence purely by instinct and through analysis. Baal leaned back against the sofa and crossed his legs. “Now I’m interested in what he needs help with.”
Wang Xiaoming had no choice but to be the translator again.
“Before helping, I want to know if your friend can summon spirits,” Xiang Wenxun requested.
Baal summon spirits?
Wang Xiaoming looked thunderstruck. He absolutely could not imagine Baal, with his black suit and shoulder-length wavy hair, standing in front of an offering table with bells and trying to summon spirits.
Clearly Baal was stunned as well. It took him a while to demand, “Ask him what he thinks I am.”
After Wang Xiaoming conveyed the question, Xiang Wenxun’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. For the first time, he sounded unsure, “Not a ghost?”
President Xiang was “invited” to step outside again.
When Xiang Wenxun entered the room for the third time, Wang Xiaoming had become used to this.
Still sitting in the same position, Xiang Wenxun said calmly, “If I have offended your friend, please convey my apologies.” His expression looked normal. If it weren’t for the large wet patch on his clothes, he would have looked no different than he had when he first appeared.
Wang Xiaoming looked over curiously at Baal. He wanted to ask where exactly Baal had thrown Xiang Wenxun to make him look so disheveled.
Baal seemed to guess his thoughts. He shrugged, “I don’t know. I just tossed him out randomly.”
“…” Wang Xiaoming was immediately filled with pity toward Xiang Wenxun. Thank goodness Baal hadn’t thrown him out of the window and into midair, otherwise his clothes wouldn’t be stained with water but with blood.
Xiang Wenxun hadn’t thought that deeply. He asked, “Then may I ask if your friend knows anything about souls?”
Something glinted in Baal’s eyes.
Wang Xiaoming didn’t wait for Baal to ask, taking the initiative and asking himself, “Could you be more specific, sir?”
Xiang Wenxun said steadily, “I have a younger brother. He’s a vegetable.”
Baal stood up, having lost all interest.
Xiang Wenxun saw Wang Xiaoming look in the same direction but raise his gaze and understood that Baal had stood up. So he unhurriedly followed up and said, “As long as my brother can wake up, I’ll agree to any terms.”
Baal’s movement paused. “Any terms?”
Wang Xiaoming repeated, “Any terms?”
Without a moment’s delay, Xiang Wenxun insisted, “He’s my only younger brother. As long as he wakes up, even if it takes all of my possessions, I won’t hesitate.”
Wang Xiaoming heard his throat gurgle as he swallowed hard.
Baal twitched his lips. “I have no interest in your worldly possessions. I’m interested in…” He looked at Wang Xiaoming and chuckled.
Wang Xiaoming felt a shiver run up his spine. It was very cold.
“Let me see the vegetable first.”
Xiang Wenxun went to grab his car. Wang Xiaoming and Baal waited by the door.
The night wind was blowing past them, and it felt a bit cold.
Wang Xiaoming scrunched up his neck and asked quietly, “Can you really bring back the spirit of President Xiang’s brother?”
“Absolutely not,” Baal answered, extremely irresponsibly.
A vegetable’s soul often went to one of three places: Heaven, Hell, or a host. If it were just him, then going to either Heaven or Hell wouldn’t be a problem. But if Wang Xiaoming tagged along… then he could only diligently go through Noah’s Ark. With his “relationship” with Noah’s Ark, it wouldn’t be worth it to take such a risk for a stranger. As for a host—the mortal realm was so big that the soul could be residing within an animal, a vegetable, or even a dead thing. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“But you just…” Wang Xiaoming said in surprise.
“Hmph, if it comes down to it, I’ll take over the body and make him happy.” Baal stroked his chin and thought about it. Most importantly, the offer had been too tempting.
Wang Xiaoming was speechless. Maybe he could start looking for a new job.
Xiang Wenxun personally drove the car over.
Wang Xiaoming didn’t know much about cars. He just thought the car looked stylish and the seats were comfortable.
The entire drive was silent. From start to finish, Xiang Wenxun acted like he was very calm. But Wang Xiaoming could feel that underneath his calm exterior was a storm of emotions.
He could give up all of his worldly possessions for his younger brother. Wang Xiaoming suddenly teared up. It would be great if his own brother could treat him like that. He thought about what Baal had said so carelessly and he suddenly felt pity. He wanted to do something to alleviate the tension.
“President Xiang.” As soon as he said the words, Wang Xiaoming realized he was even more nervous.
“Hmm?” Because Wang Xiaoming sat in the backseat, Xiang Wenxun only glanced at the rearview mirror.
What should he say? Since it had been an impulsive decision, Wang Xiaoming had no clue what he wanted to say. “Uhh, I think, uh… the Silver House is… quite… quite pretty.”
Xiang Wenxun fell silent.
Wang Xiaoming’s heart jumped to his throat. Had he said something wrong?
Baal laughed quietly. The sound was definitely sarcastic.
After the quiet laugh, the car fell into an awkward silence. Wang Xiaoming wished he could swallow those words.
“Maybe,” Xiang Wenxun said calmly, “this is what they mean by beautiful on the outside, rotten on the inside.”
“…” Wang Xiaoming remembered the business that the Silver House handled and kept his mouth shut.
Xiang Wenxun didn’t live in a mansion like Wang Xiaoming had imagined. Instead, he occupied a luxury apartment. When they opened the door, there weren’t servants swarming to welcome them, just the soft, warm light of a floor lamp.
Xiang Wenxun turned on the light, took off his jacket, and casually tossed it onto the sofa. He turned around and asked, “You don’t mind if I take you there right now?”
Wang Xiaoming hurriedly shook his head. “I don’t mind.” He followed Xiang Wenxun into the room at the end of the hallway. From the room drifted out the faintest of music; it was a piano song.
Xiang Wenxun walked into the room. He first turned off the CD and then turned on the desk lamp by the bed. “My brother doesn’t like lights that are too bright.”
Wang Xiaoming carefully walked a couple steps toward the bed.
A handsome young man lay quietly on bed. Even the warm glow of the lamplight couldn’t hide how pale his face was.
Wang Xiaoming turned around to look at Baal. “Which kind does he belong to?” Selfishly, he hoped for the third kind. Though the host would be hard to find, at least it was still within the mortal realm and maybe one day Xiang Wenxun’s brother would find his way back.
Baal frowned. “None of them.”
“He belongs to the fourth kind,” Baal enunciated carefully. “A vampire that failed the Embrace.”