Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite] – CH12

Chapter 12: Spook High (12)

He carried the meal container back to his seat.

Across that brief walk, he had quietly and effortlessly maxed out the entire classroom’s aggro meter.

Many of the student NPCs hunched over their desks scribbling homework turned their heads in a slow, eerie unison as he strode past. Their hollow eyes, clouded with an unnerving blend of greed and feral mania, fixed greedily on the lunchbox swinging from Qin Fu’an’s fingers.

Qin Fu’an had anticipated that a student or two might snap and lunge at him. Yet right up until he pulled out his chair and sat down, not a single drop of blood was spilled in the stifling room.

It seemed that although these youths were nothing more than nameless NPCs within an instance, they were high school seniors after all, their mental acuity sitting at an absolute lifetime peak. Even teetering on the razor edge of madness, they retained the good sense to remember that Qin Fu’an was an extraordinarily poor target to provoke.

A student who could supplant Teacher Zhang as their acting instructor, and step in for the homeroom teacher to monitor the cafeteria… His unapproachable, lethal presence was every bit as distinct as his striking green eyes.

Having already braced himself for a scuffle, Qin Fu’an pulled out his chair with mild disappointment and sat down.

The instant the lunch container settled onto the wood with a faint thud, Qin Fu’an keenly caught that the pen in his neighbor’s hand seemed to have lost its coordination. A long pause stretched by without a single stroke appearing on the boy’s test paper.

Casting a sideways glance at the pitch-black tentacle coiling ever tighter around his wrist, the amused smirk in Qin Fu’an’s eyes deepened. Feigning complete ignorance of his neighbor’s inner turmoil, he casually popped the lid open.

The moment the pale, curling steam drifted upward, carrying a wave of savory, rich aroma into the air, Qin Fu’an heard an chorus of distinct, desperate gulps rippling across the room. Right beside him, he watched Student Xie’s Adam’s apple bob in a slow, strained swallow of restraint.

Not to mention Student Xie’s shadowy tentacle, which had already wound itself into a twisted, frantic pretzel.

The upward curve of his lips sharpening, Qin Fu’an balanced the chopsticks between his fingers. Just as he had done during the morning period, he flipped his hand and lightly prodded his seemingly indifferent neighbor’s forearm with the blunt tips.

The moment the wood grazed his skin, Xie Yunhuai jerked his arm back violently. Whipping his head around to glare at Qin Fu’an, he assumed the man was up to another bout of reckless mischief.

Only to slam straight into those clear, pale green eyes brimming with effortless warmth.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Qin Fu’an teased with a soft chuckle. Before the boy’s expression could sour, he slid the steaming container across the desk divide, casually holding out the slender chopsticks. “Here. Eat first. You can finish your endless pile of homework after.”

The towering wall of vigilance Xie Yunhuai had maintained crumbled in an instant beneath Qin Fu’an’s casual gestures and words. Registering what Qin Fu’an had just said, the boy’s spine snapped rod-straight, his body leaning back on pure reflex while his gaze locked onto the man’s relaxed, smiling features in utter bewilderment.

It wasn’t just Xie Yunhuai who had frozen; even the soul tentacle that had tied itself into a knot seemed thoroughly stunned by the offer. Far from pouncing on the food, it hovered rigidly in mid-air alongside its master, looking completely dumbfounded.

Several long, measured breaths crawled by before the tip of the tentacle cautiously, hesitantly inched toward the box.

Confirming that Qin Fu’an had no intention of pulling it away, the previously dazed limb abruptly exhibited a nimble agility that defied its colossal proportions. Like a puppy tossed a meaty bone, it bounded gleefully toward the blank-faced Xie Yunhuai, wrapping itself tightly around the boy’s rigid forearm and tugging his limp fingers forward to seize the chopsticks Qin Fu’an was offering.

That frantic, impatient urgency inexplicably made Qin Fu’an picture an overeager puppy yanking at its master’s pant leg, hopping forward with tail-wagging abandon. If that tentacle had floppy ears and a tail, they would probably be whipping around in a joyful blur by now.

Xie Yunhuai found that his hands were no longer obeying his brain.

Even as his cold reason screamed at him to show restraint—to never accept charity from Qin Fu’an so easily—his fingers seemed to possess an independent will.

By the time his grip closed around the lacquered wood, Xie Yunhuai snapped out of his trance. Flustered, he lifted his eyes toward Qin Fu’an, desperate to offer an excuse and shove the utensils straight back.

Yet the moment his gaze rose, he was pulled into Qin Fu’an’s unblinking, direct stare.

The amusement in those green eyes was naked and unobstructed. There was no cruel mockery, no smug condescension, and no staged posturing; it was as though the man simply smiled because his mood struck him so.

And he smiled… breathtakingly well.

For reasons he couldn’t grasp, despite Qin Fu’an showing no malice whatsoever, having that warm gaze pinned onto him made the chopsticks burn like hot irons in Xie Yunhuai’s grip. A faint, mortified flush slowly crept across his pale cheeks, dusting the tips of his ears in crimson.

“…I can’t… finish this much,” he managed to squeeze out through stiff lips, completely abandoning the icy rejection he had rehearsed.

The moment the words left his mouth, Qin Fu’an’s breezy, entirely natural reply drifted back: “Doesn’t matter. Eat what you can. I’ll finish whatever you leave behind—it won’t go to waste.”

Xie Yunhuai: “…”

That wasn’t the point at all!

Even so, the searing embarrassment on his face inexplicably cooled a fraction, though a phantom flush still lingered against his skin.

His little deskmate ate with exquisite, quiet manners.

It formed a hilarious contrast with the monstrous soul writhing inside him, which was practically throwing itself at Qin Fu’an in a frantic bid for physical affection.

Qin Fu’an casually shifted his wrist an inch to the side. The very next second, the shadowy tentacle darted over to chase the contact, and Xie Yunhuai, who had been diligently chewing with his head down, snapped his head up as if caught in an electric shock.

Qin Fu’an: “…”

Right. Same person, same singular soul. With synchronization this seamless, it would be difficult not to draw the connection.

So why was it that this Student Xie—who was neither a flagged special NPC nor a pivotal abomination required for clearing the run—possessed the most terrifyingly potent soul on the entire campus, yet inhabited the frailest, most disposable cannon-fodder shell?

Qin Fu’an had no perverse habit of watching people eat. Though the sight of his little deskmate eating was both remarkably docile and endearing, Qin Fu’an turned his attention during his musings to the translucent livestream interface floating before him, where a steady stream of comments rolled past.

What caught his interest was that during a specific window, the contents of the scrolling text aligned with startling uniformity.

Every single message was either accusing him of luring the other players to their slaughter, or hysterically begging him to step in and save them.

The viewers sending these desperate pleas had originally assumed their efforts were completely futile; Qin Fu’an was likely oblivious to what was transpiring elsewhere, and by the rules of the streaming platform’s algorithmic filters, any coordinated narrative leaks should have been thoroughly scrubbed.

Yet the messages slipped through unobstructed!

The realization stunned the chat so thoroughly that the screen sat completely blank for two whole seconds.

What followed was an explosive deluge of comments, accompanied by an influx of high-tier donations and glittering priority super-chats designed to bait an emotional reaction.

Yet no matter how unhinged the audience became—whether spewing vitriol, groveling for mercy, or reveling in the chaos—Qin Fu’an maintained an air of cool, unbothered detachment. The casual droop of his eyelids radiated a bone-deep misanthropy toward his fellow human beings.

It stood in jarring, polar contrast to the genuine, crinkled warmth he had shown Xie Yunhuai mere moments ago.

The stark whiplash left the viewers reeling in disbelief, wondering anew if this man was an apex monstrosity cloaked in human skin.

[I’m begging you, go save them! The five of them can’t hold out much longer! If you save their lives, I’ll drop ten Super Moons right now!]

[Streamer, don’t you dare go! For every player that bites the dust, I’ll tip you ten Super Moons! If the whole squad gets wiped, I’ll shower you with ten Spooky Villas!]

[I swear this streamer isn’t on the same plane as the other players. Is he really just a rookie? Could this be an old-money heavyweight smurfing in a beginner lobby under a burner account?]

[Is the streamer really not going to help? But I literally just saw a player swipe a jar of honey from the campus convenience store! Studying for the Gaokao is so stressful—drinking something sweet should soothe the pre-exam nerves, right?]

[…]

Amid the endless cacophony of squabbling bullet points, one solitary line brushed against the deeply buried thread of benevolence tucked away inside Qin Fu’an. Just as the chat began providing real-time updates that a player was about to be cornered, he finally pushed back his chair and rose.

The moment Qin Fu’an moved, the tentacle that had been clinging clingily to him snapped upright, and Xie Yunhuai looked up in blank confusion, his cheeks still puffed with food.

[What’s wrong?] Both Xie Yunhuai and his spectral limb demanded an answer in synchronized harmony through expression and posture.

Qin Fu’an reached out and casually ruffled his neighbor’s soft, obedient black hair as if petting a puppy, answering with a light chuckle: “Nothing. Just stepping out for a stroll. Might end up catching a few frantic little critters running for their lives.”

Xie Yunhuai was caught entirely off guard by the affectionate pat. Before he could pull away, the warm, distinct weight of the palm was already lifting, replaced by the sound of Qin Fu’an’s footsteps rapidly quickening as he exited the classroom.

He seemed… in quite a hurry to track someone down.

Was he referring to those fleeing critters he had just mentioned?

A thoughtful stillness settled into Xie Yunhuai’s eyes. Stripped of Qin Fu’an’s teasing or the looming pressure of academic marks, his mind was exceptionally sharp, detached, and calculating.

He recalled the girl who had approached Qin Fu’an earlier that morning.

He also remembered the remaining classmates who had fallen into step behind Qin Fu’an like clockwork when the midday bell rang.

They were “transfer students” who had arrived in the exact same batch as Qin Fu’an. Based on the patterns Xie Yunhuai had observed across endless loops, these newcomers attempting the Gaokao invariably banded together. Eventually, they either suffered a total party wipe, or one or two battered stragglers barely scraped their way out.

So, Qin Fu’an had gone to find them?

What had they done? Why would Qin Fu’an characterize them as “running for their lives,” as though the entire sequence of events had been mapped out in his head from the start?

Furthermore… on the day of the exam five days from now, would Qin Fu’an lead them out of this place, never to sit beside him as his deskmate again?

Lowering his lashes to veil the cold detachment in his gaze, Xie Yunhuai quietly, serenely set down the wooden chopsticks once Qin Fu’an’s silhouette melted completely from the corridor window.

Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite]