Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite] – CH16

Chapter 16: Spook High (16)

The pig-headed server behind the counter was already familiar with Qin Fu’an. So when he brought Xie Yunhuai up to the window, the pig-headed entity pulled a fresh, piping-hot, brimming portion of dinner from behind him with unusual enthusiasm, respectfully handing it over with both hands.

Qin Fu’an didn’t push his luck by demanding another serving for Xie Yunhuai. Instead, balancing the tray with one hand, he loosely circled his fingers around the boy’s frail wrist—the other hand clutching an empty tray—and led him over to sit at an empty table.

From the second he set foot inside the cafeteria, Xie Yunhuai had exuded an intense, bristling repulsion, his every step guided by Qin Fu’an’s hand.

Even after that pile of nauseating, foul-looking mush was out of sight, his brows stayed knit together, fighting to hold his breath.

The entire cafeteria was thick with the rancid stench of that slop—a suffocating, foul odor so invasive that Xie Yunhuai felt as though a few minutes here would pickle him through and through.

Yet the transfer student, Qin Fu’an—the very person who should have been the most uncomfortable—acted as if he couldn’t smell a thing. He calmly snapped apart his disposable chopsticks, lifted the overflowing tray, and divided half of the exquisite, aromatic dinner onto Xie Yunhuai’s empty plate.

Xie Yunhuai had anticipated this.

Yet he hadn’t been able to stop it.

His limbs felt completely uncooperative, and even the refusal on the tip of his tongue seemed smothered by an invisible hand. He could only watch helplessly as Qin Fu’an carried out the entire routine without a hitch.

The steaming, savory spread was pushed right in front of him.

Xie Yunhuai: “…”

He tried to part his lips, and this time, his voice came through cleanly.

“What did you do to me?” The youth’s eyes were sharp with vigilance, even as his stomach betrayed him with an unmistakable series of hungry rumbles.

Qin Fu’an, who had just watched the boy’s own soul tentacles pin his hands, bind his feet, and clamp his mouth shut out of the corner of his eye, bit back a laugh. He looked back with wide, innocent eyes: “What did I do? I just wanted you to eat something decent.”

So you stop starving yourself to the point of gnawing on your own none-too-clever brain.

Unfortunately, neither human nor ghost could decipher the subtext beneath his words.

The result was Xie Yunhuai’s prickly, guarded silence, set against the low, hushed murmuring of the players sitting not far behind them.

Bai Song: “The boss treats his deskmate way too differently. He really was feeling him up and harassing him this morning!”

Yake: “…Look, if getting harassed means getting real food, sign me up!”

Chen Qi: “Tch. Smitten fool.”

The remaining players: “…”

What… what a painfully accurate assessment.

Unfortunately for them, both Qin Fu’an and Xie Yunhuai possessed exceptionally sharp hearing.

And none of the players were using terms flagged by the game instance.

Which meant… every single word landed with pristine clarity right in their ears.

Qin Fu’an: “…Don’t listen to their nonsense. This is called respecting elders, caring for the young, and aiding the weak. I was a model student and an exemplary youth back in the day!”

Granted, that had merely been his cover identity for a brief period after awakening from a millennium of slumber, but no one in this game knew that anyway.

Grip tightening around his chopsticks, Xie Yunhuai shot him a strange, searching look. In the end, he said nothing, obediently lowering his head to begin eating.

It had to be said that his table manners were remarkably refined. Even with his soul starving to the point of self-cannibalization, the boy didn’t wolf down the rare feast before him. Instead, he ate with quiet, deliberate care, chewing each mouthful thoroughly before swallowing. Whenever he bit into something particularly pleasing, his eyes would crinkle in a faint, subtle arc.

“…Why are you staring at me?” Xie Yunhuai frowned, glancing up at the man whose eyes hadn’t strayed for a second.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Qin Fu’an felt not a shred of embarrassment at being caught. Instead, he replied with total conviction: “You look nice when you eat. It really works up my appetite!”

With that, he buried his head and dug in, using pure action to prove that watching his little deskmate eat truly made the food taste better.

Xie Yunhuai: “…”

He realized he had spent more time struck dumb today than across the rest of his memories combined.

It was a blessing that the Gaokao wasn’t written by Qin Fu’an, or Xie Yunhuai was certain he would fail every single subject.

Yet he had to admit that today was the only day in his living memory where he had tasted genuinely delicious food.

Xie Yunhuai had realized long ago that he never seemed to get full—or perhaps he had simply never experienced being full. That was why he had been so irritated at noon when Qin Fu’an’s late return let the food go cold.

Though once Qin Fu’an cleaned up every scrap of the leftovers, Xie Yunhuai’s annoyance had faded away.

And right now, he was still not full.

Even after polishing off every bite, down to the very last grain of rice, the sensation of satiety remained entirely absent.

Still, Xie Yunhuai was well-practiced in maintaining a facade of cold detachment. When he laid his chopsticks down, no one could tell what was running through his mind.

That is, if one ignored his starved tentacles curling tightly around Qin Fu’an, whimpering in secret misery.

Listening to the chorus of pitiful cries complaining of empty bellies on one side and tearful whines of starvation on the other, Qin Fu’an inexplicably found the food in his own mouth tasting even sweeter.

He was wicked to the core. Only after scraping his own plate completely clean did he lean in, whispering with faux concern to ask if Xie Yunhuai was full.

“If you’re still hungry, will you be able to sleep tonight? I’ve heard hunger makes it very hard to drift off.” Wide-eyed and earnest, Qin Fu’an fixed a thoughtful stare onto Xie Yunhuai’s flat belly.

“Thank you, I’m full.” With a stony face, Xie Yunhuai stood up, carrying his empty tray toward the return racks.

Qin Fu’an thought: Uh-oh. Looks like I teased him a bit too far.

He pushed back his seat to follow. As he brushed past the cluster of players, Yake sneakily tugged at his sleeve.

“Boss, can we actually communicate with NPCs?” He was trying to glean a few survival tips from Qin Fu’an.

Qin Fu’an glanced down at the hand pinching his fabric.

Taking the hint instantly, Yake let go with an apologetic grin, signaling that he wouldn’t dare cross the line again.

Only then did the heavyweight grant a breezy answer: “Why don’t you try it and find out?”

Yake: “…”

Watching Qin Fu’an’s back as he hurried after Xie Yunhuai, Yake turned back to the others and spread his hands in defeat. “Guess we’ll have to try it ourselves. Honestly, talking to an NPC seems way easier than trying to get an answer out of that boss.”

Bai Song and the others nodded in glum agreement.

Yet while forcing down that foul slop, they desperately needed conversation to distract their senses—much like a patient lying on an operating table without anesthesia, resigning themselves to fate while hunting for anything to focus on besides the searing pain.

So the talk naturally shifted to the item Nan Zhu had taken.

“It’s a Yellow-tier item. Hitting an entity encases it in a bubble, immobilizing it for five seconds,” Nan Zhu shared generously, explaining the utility of the prize she had swiped from the campus store.

Whether the others took her word for it or suspected she was holding back, they all offered sincere murmurs of marvel and praise.

Chen Qi, however, shattered the warm atmosphere with a single sentence.

“You should probably return it,” she said, looking straight into Nan Zhu’s eyes with a level gaze.

Nan Zhu’s brow furrowed. She didn’t lash out or question her aggressively, merely asking why she felt that way.

Chen Qi squeezed her eyes shut, forced down a mouthful of the mush, and swallowed back the urge to vomit before offering a grim warning: “The three of us already handed ours back. I don’t know what the consequences are, but they definitely aren’t something novices like us can survive.”

She would never forget the bizarre, lingering looks of bitter disappointment on those two clerks’ faces when they surrendered the goods at noon!

And the creeping horror of how her desires had been hijacked—how she had mindlessly slipped the item into her grasp without control—sent chills down her spine the more she dwelled on it.

After all, items purchased through the livestream mall had never induced such an unsettling, dreadful sensation.

“…Thank you for the warning.” Nan Zhu offered a polite smile, but said nothing more on the matter.

The rest of the group understood immediately: Nan Zhu had no intention of parting with the item.

Perhaps, just as they had theorized, she possessed the hidden capital that justified her greed and risk-taking.

Chen Qi had only spoken out of goodwill. Seeing that Nan Zhu had made up her mind, she dropped the topic entirely.

In truth, as far as Qin Fu’an was concerned, the person who commanded the most interest was neither of the four thieves, but Zhao Jiayue—the rookie who had yet to brush against a single death flag since the moment she appeared.

From the opening of the game, Zhao Jiayue hadn’t suffered the emotional collapse of the other two newcomers. She hadn’t fallen behind on her homework, hadn’t damaged her eyesight looking at the school flag during calisthenics, and hadn’t joined the other four veterans in their “heist” at the store.

On the surface, the girl consistently maintained the timid, trembling posture of a weakling. Yet reviewing her actions revealed that she was, in fact, the safest player among them all.

Furthermore, an elusive presence hung about her—so faint that even Qin Fu’an occasionally found himself overlooking her existence.

Was it a unique constitution? Or… a facade?

A slender pen spun into intricate, mesmerizing arcs between Qin Fu’an’s fingertips. Outside the window, the howling winter wind grew increasingly shrill and biting, while the fluorescent tubes humming overhead began to sway in erratic rhythms.

Evening self-study at Spook High was about to begin.

Qin Fu’an gave his little neighbor another light tap with the back of his pen. The boy hadn’t uttered a syllable since returning from the cafeteria, acting as if they were total strangers. Yet the shadowy tentacles spooling out from his body continued to coil hungrily around Qin Fu’an’s limbs, creating a jarring contradiction that Qin Fu’an found outrageously endearing.

“Student Xie, what do you usually do during evening self-study?” Qin Fu’an inquired playfully.

Xie Yunhuai wrestled down his annoyance and turned his head, colliding unexpectedly with Qin Fu’an’s bright, translucent green eyes, glowing like jewels beneath the overhead light.

Inexplicably, the resentment smoldering in his chest vanished without a trace.

Xie Yunhuai felt a flash of self-reproach at how easily swayed he was. Still, before the warning bell could chime, he warned Qin Fu’an in a hushed murmur: “Evening self-study is for examinations. You’d better hurry and review. If your score drags down the class average, you will be eaten.”

The youth’s lowered voice remained crisp and pleasant to the ear, yet the words it carried were purely fatal.

Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite]