Chapter 12: He Turned Back and Waved to the Boy from Many Years Ago

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Can a dead person still make a payment? Tang Xu had never seen such an advanced gadget before.

“I don’t even have a phone, how can I pay you?”

“It’s super simple!” Saying that, she grabbed his hand and pressed his finger in front of the scanner. Two beeps sounded. Yan Ye exclaimed and looked at the machine, which showed insufficient balance.

“You don’t have money in WeChat Pay, let’s try Alipay.”

Two more beeps followed.

“There’s no money in Alipay either. Are you really that poor? Buying stuff without money?”

Tang Xu was puzzled. That couldn’t be right. He should have tens of thousands in his WeChat wallet.

“How much did you scan for?”

“Three hundred thousand.”

“Oh, three hundred thousand? What? You charged me that much? Three hundred thousand? How could I possibly have that much money?” And what kind of microphone could be that ridiculously expensive? The price was supposed to be affordable and fair.

“I want to complain about your store. I’m going to give you a bad review.” It was clear Tang Xu was angry, yelling as he spoke.

But in front of him stood Yan Ye. Jin Yuanbao quickly pulled Pearl, who was dozing nearby, away from the scene.

Yan Ye was usually easygoing—provided you didn’t offend her.

The words “bad review” hit Yan Ye’s sensitive spot; Tang Xu was doomed.

“The price is clearly marked. Your financial status is right here in my hands. You know whether you have that much money or not. Want me to read it out to you?” Since she started self-cultivation, Yan Ye rarely lost her temper. Anger harms the body, and she seldom resorted to violence—it was too conspicuous and could draw unwanted attention.

“Do you want to know why my store doesn’t have any bad reviews?”

“Why?”

“Where would anyone have time to write one when their soul is being ripped apart?”

Her expression was so serious that Tang Xu swallowed nervously.

“Still want to complain? Want to see if you run faster, or if I kill you quicker?” Yan Ye had no other hobbies, but sharpening her knife was one. The thin blade was razor-sharp, gleaming so brightly it could reflect a person’s silhouette.

It was perfect for soul-cutting, one soul per slash—very satisfying.

At this moment, Yan Ye looked exactly like a demon with horns, her lips stained with fresh red blood.

“You… you… threatening customers? Your store is a scam!”

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…

Not bothering with this coward anymore, Yan Ye put away her knife.

“I gave you a discount, but you refused. Want a custom one that fits perfectly? Doesn’t it make sense to spend a little more? Haven’t you ever been told that?”

“But it doesn’t need to be thirty thousand!” Is that microphone inlaid with gold? So expensive. Yet, despite his protests, Tang Xu couldn’t put the microphone down. It felt like it was tailor-made for him, perfect in every way.

He had already tested the sound; it fit him perfectly.

The lost passion and courage he once had returned at once, along with the sweat and struggle he poured into fighting for his dream on stage.

“A single soul pill can fetch two hundred thousand at the ghost market.”

“Is this thing really that expensive?”

Dawn was approaching. Yan Ye went back inside to catch up on sleep. “Want it or not? You decide. You’ve got 16 hours left.” The three-day deadline was nearing. If he didn’t take this deal, it would automatically expire without penalty to Yan Ye.

Tang Xu sat in front of the door, lost in thought.

Jin Yuanbao came over to comfort him.

“If you don’t think it’s worth it, then don’t take it.”

“I thought you’d persuade me to buy it. After all, this would be a substantial income.” It was precisely because it was so expensive—beyond Tang Xu’s spending limit—that he hesitated. Three hundred thousand wasn’t much to the wealthy, and to outsiders, his income as an actor seemed decent. More than an average worker, at least. But life was hardly ever smooth sailing. After shooting one film, he might not land another role for months. No acting meant no income, which meant no spending freely.

People in their position were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The real money was earned by those who had already reached the top.

“Tell me, what is the meaning of life?”

Jin Yuanbao had never seen the world. All its knowledge was fed by that man, and all its understanding of the outside world came from He Ruiwen.

In that mad scientist’s eyes, the world was black and white, yet followed the laws of nature. Human nature was complex and diverse, creating different patterns. He loved this world deeply; to him, it was nearly perfect.

But he hated Yan Ye, believing her to be an evil woman. Yan Ye’s existence was the greatest threat to the world.

He said Yan Ye was ruthless and vicious.

Yet, at his dying moment, he left Jin Yuanbao—the fruit of his lifelong research—to Yan Ye. All of Jin Yuanbao’s core commands revolved around Yan Ye: if Yan Ye lived, it lived; if Yan Ye died, it must die first.

“Coming to the human world, you have to live for yourself at least once.” Like it, despite knowing its ultimate fate was to protect Yan Ye and take a fatal blow, it still enjoyed eating, drinking, playing, and entertaining customers.

Jin Yuanbao’s words enlightened Tang Xu.

People are dead, yet still worry about money? He can’t spend it anymore. People are dead, so why care about relationships from when they were alive? Why be so tangled up in it? His parents died early; he had no close siblings.

Life was already so suffocating—why suffer even after death?

It’s just a thirty-thousand microphone—just buy it.

“Here, use my card.”

The two chattered for a long time in the courtyard, while Yan Ye sat at her desk, listening to every word.

Tang Xu paid generously.

“Can I make a request?”

In a good mood from this small profit, Yan Ye was willing to grant a simple one.

“Go ahead.”

“I want to hold a concert that shocks the entire world.”

Yan Ye’s hand paused mid-save.

“Dear, how about a refund?” Yan Ye looked at him speechlessly. “If that were possible, I’d be first in line.”

Tang Xu circled the person in front of him, bewildered.

“You’re so good-looking, it’d be a crime if you weren’t famous.” Tang Xu blurted out his honest thoughts, with no intention of flattering Yan Ye.

That simple compliment made Yan Ye a little giddy.

“You… really want to hold a concert? Well, it’s not impossible.”

Jin Yuanbao stomped anxiously beside her.

Woman, wake up!

According to Tang Xu, he knew his idea was somewhat far-fetched. So he proposed a more realistic one.

“I have a Qiuqiu account with a group called the Qiuqiu fan club. They’re fans from my competition days, not many, but all true fans. If possible, I want to sing for them.”

Mentioning those fans, Tang Xu’s face lit up with a bright smile.

He had wandered half his life, but looking back, he still wanted to meet the young man in his early twenties.

To tell him, even if he took the wrong path later,

That year’s self was still the very best.