Gao Shi handed the fifth bowl of rice to the Taoist.
A low murmur of astonishment arose from the surrounding crowd.
“That’s the fifth bowl, right?? Unbelievable!”
“A real-life big eater, I thought big eaters were all fake.”
“Is this a live stream? He’s so handsome, I wonder which platform he’s streaming on.”
The young Taoist in front lowered his eyes, earnestly eating the tomato beef brisket rice. His eating posture was elegant, but his speed was incredibly fast, to the point where it was hard to understand how the food was actually entering his mouth.
In the blink of an eye, the Taoist had finished the fifth bowl of rice.
Gao Shi pushed the sixth bowl in front of the Taoist, but this time he didn’t take it.
“Full?”
Everyone perked up their ears to listen.
Full?
The Taoist nodded.
His pupils were very black, his eyes clear. This nod somehow looked indescribably obedient.
Gao Shi pulled the sixth bowl of rice towards himself, then pushed a cup of tea in front of the Taoist. The Taoist blinked at the teacup, then cupped it and took a sip.
Gao Shi no longer felt like eating and packed up the leftover food.
Then, he asked, “Are you Ying Bujie, Taoist Ying?”
Actually, Gao Shi felt this question was unnecessary, since he had been certain it was Ying Bujie the moment the other appeared. Asking again now was just out of professional habit.
However, unexpectedly, the young Taoist opposite him just slowly blinked his eyes.
“I forgot.”
How could this be forgotten??
Gao Shi felt a sense of foreboding, “Do you remember me?”
“I don’t remember,” the Taoist paused, then added, “but you feel familiar.”
Looking at the Taoist’s innocent gaze, Gao Shi felt a splitting headache, “What do you remember? Do you remember Yu Feng? Do you remember how you got on the plane?”
The Taoist tilted his head, as if carefully thinking about something. After a while, he shook his head, “I don’t remember any of that.”
Probably seeing how awful Gao Shi’s expression was, he quietly added, “Sorry.”
Gao Shi took out his phone to contact Kong Miao, but still, no one answered.
Looking at the obediently sitting Taoist, he felt at a loss for the second time in his life.
The first time was when he discovered he had a two-year-old son.
Even though he was almost certain that the person before him was Ying Bujie, he couldn’t let any suspicious factors near Gao Gusheng before complete confirmation.
He could only have Yin Ling come to pick him up.
People of the mystical world would input a trace of their spiritual energy into the Spiritual Management Bureau to record their aura, just like ordinary people’s ID cards.
The only option was to go to the Spiritual Management Bureau to confirm the Taoist’s identity.
Worst case scenario, while waiting for the identity confirmation, Gao Shi would stay by his unlucky son’s side the entire time. He refused to believe that anyone reckless enough would dare make a move under such circumstances.
Gao Shi said, “I’ll take you to confirm your identity later.”
The Taoist looked at Gao Shi with eyes as pure as a child’s.
“Mm.”
Upon closer observation, it was noticeable that his movements seemed slightly sluggish, slower than normal people—perhaps a result of the incomplete state of his spiritual essence.
Surprisingly, at first, no one among the crowd had noticed anything unusual about him. It was hard to tell whether it was because he was calm and composed even in his amnesiac state or because they were collectively dazzled by his serene demeanor, failing to detect any trace of awkwardness.
Who would have thought that this person had lost his memory?
Though it was known that incomplete spiritual essence could cause various inconveniences, including forgetfulness, no one had ever heard of someone forgetting things so thoroughly.
Gao Shi thought back to the divination Kong Miao had performed for Ying Bujie before his departure and felt a faint heaviness in his gaze.
Could this be another influence of “the plot”?
Perhaps only “boarding a plane” could trigger “amnesia”?
The Taoist sat quietly in his seat, holding his teacup. Yin Ling hadn’t arrived yet, so Gao Shi got up to settle the bill.
While waiting, Gao Shi glanced back. The Taoist happened to look over at him as well.
That gaze—Gao Shi had only seen it in two types of people:
One was newborns who had yet to experience the complexities of life.
The other was elderly monks who had transcended worldly desires and seen through the illusions of life.
The line for payment moved quickly. Just as Gao Shi finished paying, his phone rang.
“Hello? Brother Gao, I’m here. Where are you guys?”
Gao Shi turned back and said, “We’re at—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
The Taoist was gone.
***
Sweat stood up on the back of Gao Gusheng’s neck like needles.
The knocking on the door sounded like a death knell—three knocks in succession—as if certain there was someone inside and determined to continue endlessly until the door was opened.
“Knock knock knock.”
“Knock knock knock.”
“Knock knock knock.”
Gao Gusheng stared at the door and cautiously backed away. He quietly took out his phone and pressed the emergency button.
Gao Shi’s phone number appeared on the screen.
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.]
How could Gao Shi’s phone number possibly be unavailable?
A chill ran through Gao Gusheng’s heart. He instinctively dialed another number while retreating toward the decorative cabinet in the living room. He pushed aside a heavy hardcover book tucked into a corner of the bookshelf.
The entire villa seemed to awaken like a giant beast, emitting faint sounds from various places.
The security door locked itself tightly, heavy burglar-proof shutters descended over the windows, and the light fixture overhead cracked open and then closed again. Within the light fixture, it was clear there was more than just a bulb—there were intricate mechanisms resembling hidden weapons.
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.]
All 179 surveillance cameras in the villa simultaneously “opened their eyes.” Invisible infrared beams filled every corner of the space. The air conditioning units shifted, paintings on the walls flipped over, and the decorative vase at the center of the dining table revealed a pitch-black muzzle of a spirit-locking gun.
In Gao Gusheng’s room, the bookshelf moved automatically, revealing a hidden passage.
Inside was an isolation array personally set up by Kong Miao.
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.]
A faint fragrance began to emanate from Gao Gusheng’s body once more. The adrenaline coursing through him brought a faint blush to his cheeks. His eyes shone dark and bright, cutting through the dim light of the room as he moved swiftly and silently like an enigmatic creature of the night.
Faster, faster!
His wide collar tilted slightly, exposing a clean and elegant collarbone. His smooth, fair skin seemed to glow faintly in the dimly lit room.
Whatever was outside the door seemed to sense his intentions. The knocking grew faster and more violent.
“Knock knock knock!”
“Knock knock knock!”
“Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock!”
Gao Gusheng’s hand had already grasped the doorknob to his room.
Good, now all he needed to do was enter the isolation array…
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.]
Suddenly, Gao Gusheng froze.
Wait.
He remembered that he had already ended the call.
Why was his phone still ringing?
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.]
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.]
[Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable. Please try—try—try—trytrytrytrytry—!!!]
[Please call back after your death.]
