Wang Xiaoming asked nervously, “Where did you move President Xiang to?”
Baal leaned back and looked him up and down with a disdainful gaze. “Is that important?”
Of course it was important. If he had moved President Xiang under an elevator, to midair, or atop a flagpole, the man would die. Wang Xiaoming straightened his spine when he thought of how Xiang Wenxun took care of him and stared insistently at Baal.
Baal became more and more uncomfortable under the stare and said stiffly, “Even if he dies, I’ll find you a new one. How about Jie? Don’t you like him?”
“That’s not the same thing!” Wang Xiaoming’s tone turned demanding, which was a rare occurrence for him.
Baal’s expression turned even darker. “Are you talking back to me?”
The dim lights in the restaurant seemed to mirror his dark mood; not exaggerated, but capable of chilling someone to the bone.
Wang Xiaoming’s heart constricted.
Without a doubt, Wang Xiaoming had always been afraid of Baal from the bottom of his soul. That kind of fear wasn’t the natural fear a human had toward something classified as a fallen angel; it stemmed from Baal’s constantly shifting mood and his unreasonable behavior.
When he recalled Baal’s ability to move people away with a snap of his finger and those black wings that did not belong on a human, Wang Xiaoming’s newfound courage slowly dissipated.
Baal noticed that Wang Xiaoming didn’t say anything and assumed that Wang Xiaoming had clearly realized the error of his ways. His features relaxed and he asked, “Why aren’t you eating?”
Wang Xiaoming quietly lowered his head and used his fork to bring the food into his mouth, bite by bite.
Baal folded both hands onto the table and crossed his legs, surveying with satisfaction.
He didn’t need to eat now that he was a spirit, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating good food. Though he might outwardly express disgust at the inelegant way in which Wang Xiaoming devoured his food, the reality was that he often sensed the deliciousness of the food from Wang Xiaoming’s crude way of shoveling food into his mouth. This silent and elegant way of eating made Baal experience a sense of bitterness.
Therefore, satisfaction very quickly turned into dissatisfaction.
“If you don’t want to eat, then don’t.” Baal frowned.
Wang Xiaoming’s hands trembled slightly and he said without looking up, “It’s delicious.”
Baal suddenly stood up and, under Wang Xiaoming’s shocked and terrified gaze, walked over to him and reached out a hand.
Wang Xiaoming subconsciously clenched his hand and then quickly relaxed his muscles and put his hand behind his back.
Baal gritted his teeth and bit out, “Give me your hand.”
Wang Xiaoming almost cried, “I need this hand. I eat and go to the toilet with it.”
“You eat and go to the bathroom with the same hand?” The bitterness in Baal’s mouth almost turned into disgust.
Wang Xiaoming said dumbly, “I’m right-handed.” He looked at Baal’s expression and reflected deeply on whether he shouldn’t eat and pee using the same hand.
Baal decided to selectively ignore this question. “Give me your hand!”
Wang Xiaoming noticed that Baal’s tone was harder than before, a clear indication that Baal’s patience was wearing thin. He could only carefully reach his hand out, his expression conveying his unwillingness.
This time Baal didn’t give him the opportunity to withdraw his hand. He grabbed it and stalked off without looking back.
Wang Xiaoming wasn’t prepared and got pulled forward half a step. The table made a loud sound as it was knocked out of place.
Every gaze in the restaurant focused on him once again.
As Wang Xiaoming walked, he tried to hypnotize himself, “They’re not looking at you, not at you, not at you.”
A long time later.
The restaurant returned to normal.
But the guests at each table had the same three questions—
“The guy who walked out with his eyes closed, he’s blind right? But why didn’t he have a guiding stick in his outstretched right hand?”
“I’m more curious about how he managed to avoid the waiter who was walking toward him.”
Wang Xiaoming was pulled into the office by Baal.
“What are you doing?” Wang Xiaoming watched as the door slammed shut. His heart started galloping in his chest.
Baal didn’t know how to answer that question.
He just didn’t want to see Wang Xiaoming chewing that plate of food as if it were wax food, so he impulsively dragged Wang Xiaoming back. He hadn’t actually thought about what to do after.
Wang Xiaoming asked carefully, “Were you bored and wanted to play on the computer?”
Baal stared at him silently.
Wang Xiaoming’s heart beat faster and faster under the stare. Just as he thought his heart would jump out of his chest, Baal opened his mouth and said, “In your mind, am I just someone who wants to play games?”
Wang Xiaoming didn’t dare answer in the affirmative.
But his expression made it really clear.
Baal’s mood became even fouler. “Lie down!”
Wang Xiaoming jerked back subconsciously.
Baal glared at him.
Wang Xiaoming could only lie down obediently on the sofa.
“Since you’re so worried about Xiang Wenxun, then let me see how much you like him!” Baal’s hand slowly pressed against Wang Xiaoming’s heart.
Now that he had experience, Wang Xiaoming could control his desire to giggle very well. He kept chanting Xiang Wenxun’s name in his mind. He didn’t know if that was effective or not, but he knew that since he had done it the last time, Baal hadn’t forced him to move faster with Xiang Wenxun.
Baal first looked his own body over.
It was still covered with wounds and punctures. Only one toe on his foot was fully recovered and glinted brightly.
He frowned. Though he hadn’t really expected much, this was progressing slower than he thought. He then looked at the name in the Black Star Pearl.
Xiang Wenxun, Xiang Wenxun, Xiang Wenxun…
Countless “Xiang Wenxun”s orbited around each other and rotated on their own axes, wandering around the pearl like they were planets on steroids.
Baal said darkly, “You’re not allowed to think about Xiang Wenxun!”
Wang Xiaoming’s heart tensed.
Baal lightened his tone and instructed, “Relax your body and don’t think of anything. Let your mind go blank.”
Wang Xiaoming felt his left chest grow hotter and hotter under Baal’s palm. The heat seemed to be carried by his blood into the other parts of his body. He couldn’t help but be tense. How was he supposed to relax his body?
Just as he was thinking random thoughts, Baal had already glimpsed the true form of the Black Star Pearl.
Only a trace of Chang Haitao’s name was left, so subtle it could disappear with a single gust of wind. Next to it was Xiang Wenxun’s name, but its color was even lighter than that of Chang Haitao’s. If Baal hadn’t known Xiang Wenxun existed, he’d have mistaken the name for something else.
Before Baal could diagnose the joy that welled up from his heart, a question took over his mind.
If Wang Xiaoming’s affection toward Xiang Wenxun was so absent, how had his toe recovered so quickly?
He glanced at the Black Star Pearl again.
If he hadn’t examined it closely, he’d never have discovered the black letters between Chang Haitao’s and Xiang Wenxun’s names. Disguised among the blackness of the Black Star Pearl, it seemed tiny and easily missed.
But its existence was very obvious.
He could identify without any effort that those characters were—Baal.
Wang Xiaoming saw that Baal was staring at his chest with a dark expression. Since Baal didn’t speak for several moments, Wang Xiaoming couldn’t help but become nervous. He asked quietly, “If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me straight. In any case, I’ve already prepared myself. Even if it’s the worst kind of luck, I can bear it.”
Baal’s gaze shifted to Wang Xiaoming’s face and the storm clouds gathered over his head seemed to explode into a thunderstorm. But when he opened his mouth, the words were extremely gentle, “The worst kind of luck?”
Tears gathered in Wang Xiaoming’s eyes, “So it’s true?”
A layer of frost covered Baal’s eyes, “So you know?”
Wang Xiaoming’s heart launched into the air under the watchful gaze of those cold eyes and then fell down heavily. Pain spread throughout his body and he couldn’t hold back the tears as he asked, “What disease is it?”
Baal was stunned.
Wang Xiaoming trembled as he asked, “Is there no hope for recovery?”
Under watch of those teary eyes, Baal slowly enunciated, “Mental problems.”
Wang Xiaoming’s eyes flew open. “It’s not an incurable disease?”
Ever since he figured out that he was very unlucky, he had constantly worried about that. Especially since during that time, the TV kept airing K-dramas. In those dramas, not only did the female leads look similar, but their fates seemed to loop as well. He had to wonder what Korea did to have such unlucky people. So he had decided that if he ever went abroad, he’d never choose to go to Korea. Otherwise, judging by how unlucky he was, he’d definitely go there as a living and breathing human being and return in an urn.
Baal looked speechlessly at Wang Xiaoming’s grieving expression. Though he’d heard many rumors about humans, Wang Xiaoming clearly belonged to another class of legends.
Wang Xiaoming’s fingers twisted around each other. “But mental problems are serious right?” He wasn’t exactly sure of the difference between having mental problems and being mentally ill, but he did know that the former was often used to belittle someone… so did that mean the latter was more serious?
But at least that was better than having an incurable disease, Wang Xiaoming comforted himself. He looked at Baal and then at the hand that Baal was pressing against his chest. He asked quizzically, “But how did you know by touching my chest that I had mental problems?”
Baal fell completely silent and hurriedly withdrew his hand. He sat off to the side and tried to get his emotions under control.
Wang Xiaoming sat up slowly and looked at Baal’s dejected profile. He assumed Baal was worried about him and felt a bit touched. He couldn’t resist offering words of comfort, “Us humans have a saying: ‘The weather changes at will, human fortune changes at will.’ Don’t be too worried.”
Baal suddenly whirled around and stared at him. “What exactly do you like about me?”
Then it became Wang Xiaoming’s turn to be stunned. It took a huge amount of effort and time for him to open his mouth wide and let out an, “Ah?”
Baal glared at him and started calculating in his mind.
When Wang Xiaoming liked Chang Haitao before, his body had recovered slower than a snail’s pace. But now a toe had been recovered. This meant… Baal’s eyes lit up. If Wang Xiaoming liked him, then it would double the reward for half the effort?!
He looked at Wang Xiaoming and thought there was a light shining from the face that looked so stupid he could cry.
Wang Xiaoming asked quietly, “So do I have mental problems?”
The light immediately dissipated from Wang Xiaoming’s face.
Baal muttered to himself, “It was a hallucination.”
Wang Xiaoming repeated the question stubbornly.
Baal said in frustration, “No.”