Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite] – CH27

Chapter 27: Spook High (27)

The surrounding air went so dead silent that the only audible sound was the sudden, ragged intake of everyone’s breath.

Whether warped by the trial’s grotesque atmosphere or the mottled interplay of light and shadow, the moment Qin Fu’an fixed his abyssal, green-pooled gaze upon them, every player felt a skin-crawling flare of sheer, suffocating bloodlust.

Cold sweat drenched their backs. In an instant, they averted their eyes, wholly incapable of withstanding that icy, unblinking glare—a gaze belonging entirely to a cold-blooded beast, void of human warmth.

Pinned beneath that look, they felt as though an apex predator had locked onto their jugulars. Breathing itself became a hazard; each chest rose and fell with agonized discretion, terrified of provoking the slightest twitch.

As for Qin Fu’an’s claim… regarding Nan Zhu’s demise, none of them harbored the slightest doubt.

Standing backlit against the dim amber glow of the dormitory entrance, half-swallowed by the night shadows, Qin Fu’an didn’t need to utter a syllable to project an aura of absolute lethality.

A cold-blooded aberration. A serial murderer. A pure hedonist…

In an instant, countless grim labels flooded their minds, while biological survival instincts screamed in unison: get away.

Flee, stay clear, and never cross paths with him again.

That was the singular, overwhelming urge driving the players at this very moment.

For a long time, not a word was spoken. Eyes brimming with terror and vigilant dread, their bodies stiffened as they began shuffling backward in an instinctive display of submission. Yet with every retreat, their muscles coiled like springs. Gazes lowered, they stared fixated on Qin Fu’an’s hands and feet, petrified that he might strike without warning.

Just as they reached the threshold where they could pivot and bolt for their lives, Qin Fu’an arched an amused brow. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat.

He stepped forward. The players froze solid.

“Running so soon?” he asked, tilting his head with feigned curiosity. “Aren’t you even going to ask why I killed her?”

The players: “…”

The livestream viewers: “…”

Are you serious?! With the vibe of someone who’s slaughtered hundreds in cold blood, who the hell would dare ask?!

Forget the players on the ground—even the viewers watching from their perspectives were spamming bullet comments in blind panic, trying to obscure the video feed with text just to settle their hammering pulses.

And now you’re casually stepping up to invite us for a chat?!

Players and viewers alike began seriously entertaining the thought that Qin Fu’an was one of those meticulous, unhinged killers—the type who cleaned up a crime scene without leaving a speck of dust, only to stroll right back to the scene of the crime just to admire his handiwork.

The sheer pressure in Qin Fu’an’s eyes just now had completely outclassed every entity they had faced all day.

Compared to him, those campus horrors seemed positively docile.

Though, naturally, far more grotesque.

Yet now that Qin Fu’an had cornered them with the question, what would happen if they refused to play along? Would silence set him off?

The group stopped dead in their tracks, anxiously weighing how to frame their words.

In the end, it was Zhao Jiayue—who had spent most of the day trailing behind Nan Zhu and had once been pulled from the jaws of death by Qin Fu’an—who summoned the courage to speak.

Though her voice shook as if dragged out under duress, Zhao Jiayue and the others were genuinely desperate to know: why had Nan Zhu perished at Qin Fu’an’s hands?

What had transpired between them?

Wait…

Before Qin Fu’an could answer, Chen Qi’s head snapped up. “That bubble-blower tool! You took it from Nan Zhu, didn’t you?!”

The novelty item Xie Yunhuai had held throughout the exam—wasn’t that the very same tool Nan Zhu had lifted from the campus store shelves earlier that day?

With Chen Qi’s realization, the pieces clicked for the rest of them.

During the exam, chaos had reigned supreme. Their focus had been locked onto the prowling horrors; even if someone had caught a passing glimpse of the tool, the fleeting suspicion had been quickly buried. After all, Nan Zhu hadn’t brought the item out once after lunch.

Furthermore, back in the store, each of them had been mesmerized by their own targeted items, leaving only a vague impression of what Nan Zhu had taken. That was the sole reason they had been so slow on the uptake.

Yet that very tool, originally claimed by Nan Zhu, had ended up in Xie Yunhuai’s hands.

And Xie Yunhuai…

The players cast furtive, probing glances toward Qin Fu’an. It dawned on them: Qin Fu’an had taken the tool from Nan Zhu and casually passed it along to his NPC deskmate.

The moment the realization landed, Yake blurted out in utter disbelief, “You just… gave it to him? That was a high-grade tool!”

He genuinely wondered if Qin Fu’an had been bewitched. How else could someone hand over such a critical, life-saving item to Xie Yunhuai without batting an eye? Xie Yunhuai was nothing more than a disposable NPC! If Qin Fu’an hadn’t shielded him, the kid would have been dead ten times over!

What was so special about that NPC? Why did he deserve such preferential treatment?

Could it really be as Bai Song said…?

As his mind spiraled down wild tangents, Yake caught himself. He knew it was irrational, but an involuntary pang of bitter envy flared in his chest anyway.

Why does an NPC get a top-tier powerhouse protecting him, while I’m out here scraping through the dirt just to stay alive?

If I make it out of this alive, I am studying social engineering and leveling up my emotional intelligence the second I get home!!

While Yake wallowed in sour musings, Qin Fu’an ignored his outburst entirely. His gaze drifted across the two female players standing together.

It swept past Chen Qi before coming to rest on Zhao Jiayue, who had mustered the nerve to ask about Nan Zhu’s fate.

“If memory serves,” Qin Fu’an remarked, looking at Zhao Jiayue as he tilted his head in recollection, “when the two of you were being hunted by that creature earlier today, she never made a single move to help you, did she?”

During daylight hours, the viewers following Qin Fu’an’s perspective had showered praise on the two girls for looking out for each other, refusing to abandon a companion. Yet now, not a soul dared bring that up.

Not just the chat, but anyone with half a brain could deduce the truth upon hearing Qin Fu’an’s words and recalling the tool in Xie Yunhuai’s grip. Nan Zhu’s earlier actions suddenly carried a chilling, calculated undertone.

If she had been so desperate to save Zhao Jiayue, why hadn’t she used the item?

Had she lingered at the scene out of genuine concern for Zhao Jiayue’s life, or had she stayed behind simply to verify her death?

Zhao Jiayue made the connection instantly. Recalling how close she had danced to the edge of destruction that afternoon, her pale face drained of every last drop of blood.

Shrinking back a step, she murmured in a faint, trembling whisper, “B-but… she’s already dead.”

Once a person was gone, their flame was snuffed out. What purpose did lingering dread or retroactive anger serve?

Yet she and the other three understood clearly why Qin Fu’an had posed the question.

—At noon, Nan Zhu had held the tool and watched Zhao Jiayue die; by nightfall, she had aimed that same tool to orchestrate Qin Fu’an’s demise.

Unfortunately for her, she had ended up dead at Qin Fu’an’s feet instead.

For reasons they couldn’t fathom, despite Qin Fu’an offering no elaborate justifications—having only dropped a single, suggestive prompt for them to deduce the “truth” themselves—a collective wave of relief washed over them.

In an instant, the suffocating, lethal danger that had radiated from Qin Fu’an seemed to quietly dissolve, as if their prior terror had merely been a phantom trick of the mind.

A fragile harmony settled over the player group once more. The wariness and defensive edge in their eyes softened considerably.

Once the two female players headed toward the girls’ dorms arm in arm, and the two men retreated toward their own quarters, Qin Fu’an remained where he was. He watched the women’s retreating figures for a few seconds before glancing toward a nearby corner where thick, inky darkness churned.

Xie Yunhuai knew he had been spotted.

To be precise, from the moment he stepped into the courtyard, Qin Fu’an had registered his arrival.

And so, once the transfer students cleared out, the youth walked over and held out the item toward Qin Fu’an.

Qin Fu’an didn’t stand on ceremony. Taking the bubble blower, he lifted his lids with lazy nonchalance. As the youth moved past him, their shoulders brushing in the narrow path, an unbidden explanation slipped past Qin Fu’an’s lips: “She stole this. It has to go back to the store tomorrow morning.”

Xie Yunhuai’s footsteps hitched slightly.

Qin Fu’an fell into step beside him, ascending the dormitory stairs shoulder to shoulder. Amid the hollow echo of footsteps bouncing down the winding stairwell, Qin Fu’an tilted his head toward his aloof deskmate and murmured, “If you happen to like this toy…”

“I don’t,” Xie Yunhuai cut in, his reaction remarkably swift.

Having delivered his instinctive refusal, he caught the faint surprise flickering in Qin Fu’an’s expression. His brows knit slightly. Turning his face, he offered an earnest, solemn warning: “The campus rules are strict. Don’t go stealing things like they did.”

Qin Fu’an: “…”

Xie Yunhuai likely had no idea that as he delivered that caution, a delicate veil of concern hung over his brow. Having spoken his piece with absolute gravity, he fixed his clear, pristine gaze straight onto Qin Fu’an, looking for all the world as though a single lapse in supervision would see Qin Fu’an straying into petty larceny.

Watching his deskmate’s serious, slightly pedantic expression, Qin Fu’an rubbed his fingertips together in silence, suppressing a sudden urge to ruffle the boy’s hair.

This clean, obedient demeanor… was truly playing foul.

Beneath the boy’s disapproving stare, Qin Fu’an raised a hand with lazy irreverence, making a solemn vow: “Understood. Since you don’t care for it, I certainly won’t go stealing anything.”

Seeing that Xie Yunhuai was still staring at him with unresolved suspicion, Qin Fu’an let out a helpless sigh. “Student Xie, could I trouble you to spare me a little bit of trust?”

He had no idea that the more flippant he acted, the more uneasy Xie Yunhuai felt.

Yet Xie Yunhuai wasn’t staring out of lingering distrust; he was simply marveling at how easily sweet, coaxing words rolled off Qin Fu’an’s tongue.

What did he mean by “Since you don’t care for it, I certainly won’t go stealing anything”?

He made it sound as though he genuinely would have turned thief if Xie Yunhuai had expressed the slightest interest.

Beneath Qin Fu’an’s teasing gaze, Xie Yunhuai turned away without another word and continued up the stairs.

Before morning arrived, he resolved not to speak another syllable to this man.

Yet that very resolve was shattered the moment they arrived before the exact same dormitory door, punctuated by an infuriating, triumphant chuckle from behind him.

“…” Xie Yunhuai scowled deeply, glaring at Qin Fu’an to verify: “You’re assigned to the same room as me?!”

Qin Fu’an produced his student ID card, waving it before the boy’s eyes with an innocent, crescent-eyed nod. “Administrative assignment. I was just as surprised as you.”

Xie Yunhuai: “…”

The man claimed to be surprised, yet he had trailed behind him up the stairs without ever checking a room placard. He had clearly known from the start.

Seeing Xie Yunhuai rooted to the threshold like a bewildered little statue, Qin Fu’an bit back a laugh. Reaching around him, he pushed the weathered wooden door open.

Flicking the light switch on the wall, the amber bulb chased away the room’s shadows, laying bare the spartan conditions within.

It was sparse to an extreme: two wooden bunk frames stripped bare save for thin, threadbare quilts. Beyond that, there wasn’t so much as a single stool.

“…How much tuition do you pay this school a year?” Qin Fu’an asked abruptly, turning his head toward the boy standing at the door.

Staring into the barren room, Xie Yunhuai seemed momentarily dazed himself. He gave an uncertain shake of his head before murmuring, “Probably… quite a lot?”

Though his earliest memories had frayed across countless cycles, this place billed itself as the premier high school boasting a hundred-percent advancement rate. Mortals and monsters alike broke their heads trying to get in; it couldn’t possibly come cheap.

Qin Fu’an agreed. Yet the heftier the tuition, the clearer it became just how predatory this institution truly was.

They treated students as livestock, repurposed them as training aids, fed them slop unfit for pigs, and now housed them on bare wooden slats…

“I appreciate the administration trying to cut costs and practice thrift, but isn’t this taking frugality a bit too far?! A rat would take one look and run out crying!”

Yake’s familiar, booming voice erupted from the adjacent room, unleashing a torrent of impassioned complaints that Bai Song was powerless to stifle.

Next door, every time Yake threw out a grievance, Qin Fu’an nodded along like a bobblehead. Yake fired off a dozen gripes, and Qin Fu’an matched him with a dozen approving nods.

The two sounded like seasoned performers executing a practiced comedy routine across the drywall.

Still stranded by the doorway, Xie Yunhuai stared at the man in stony silence before offering a low, muffled reminder: “Lights out is coming up. Aren’t you going to wash up?”

The people next door were far too noisy; the grating chatter set his nerves on edge. While Qin Fu’an went to rinse off, Xie Yunhuai reached back and slammed the weathered door shut with a heavy thud.

Shutting out the cacophony entirely.

Then, sitting down on the cold, bare frame of the bunk, he stared blankly into space.

His mind was a tangled knot of chaotic thoughts, though he couldn’t fathom what had made him so scattered. He only knew that across all his endless cycles, today had been the most exhausting, nerve-shredding ordeal he had ever endured.

He was bone-tired. So tired that despite having survived the night, the feeling pooling in his chest leaned closer to hollow bewilderment than relief.

Four whole days remained. Which day would claim him?

Or could he truly survive to take the Gaokao and walk out with a diploma?

There were simply too many variables…

“Go wash up.” Qin Fu’an emerged with a towel draped over his hair. Looking up, he found Xie Yunhuai rising to his feet in a trance, drifting toward the washroom like a wandering spirit.

Qin Fu’an’s brow furrowed. Reaching out, he caught the boy by the arm. As Xie Yunhuai looked back with wide, uncomprehending eyes, Qin Fu’an paused his drying motions and leaned down, bringing his face close to the dazed youth.

The sudden proximity startled Xie Yunhuai out of his stupor. Snapping back to reality, he jerked backward on reflex to put distance between them.

“Why do you space out so much?” Qin Fu’an felt the kid’s condition was bordering on severe. It wasn’t just a matter of being a picky eater; he was perpetually zoning out, his gaze turning hollow as if incapable of registering joy or sorrow.

He looked easy to care for, yet extraordinarily difficult to manage all at once.

A light, measured tap landed atop Xie Yunhuai’s head. Before he could raise a hand to his brow and stop the man, Qin Fu’an had already brushed past him.

Xie Yunhuai stood frozen for two seconds. Swallowing his frustration, he washed up and crawled into bed in sullen silence.

Tonight, I will not utter another word to Qin Fu’an. Not a single one!

At 9:30 PM sharp, the dormitory lights flicked off.

That night, none of the players slept soundly.

Throughout the dark hours, they caught the faint rustle of pacing footsteps outside their doors, alongside distinct knocks, gnawing crunches, and wet chewing noises. The pitch-black night was riddled with volatile, lethal dangers.

Come morning, the moment Yake stepped into the corridor and spotted Qin Fu’an, he launched into an eager plea: “Boss, how about moving into our room tonight? We can watch each other’s backs and take shifts standing guard!”

He looked at Qin Fu’an with shining hope, completely missing the dark, cold glare the slender youth trailing behind Qin Fu’an shot his way.

Bai Song caught it. He opened his mouth to warn Yake, but before he could make a move, that very same gaze locked onto him.

Glacial. Ominous. A far cry from the docile youth who had clutched a toy bubble blower and fought for survival the previous evening.

Choking on his breath beneath that icy stare, Bai Song quietly withdrew his outstretched hand, listening in silence as Yake pressed on with his invitation.

Qin Fu’an hadn’t caught the silent exchange between Xie Yunhuai and Bai Song, but he had clearly seen the shadowy tentacles coiling tightly around Yake’s throat.

Yake couldn’t see or feel them, still waiting earnestly for Qin Fu’an’s answer.

Glancing at the man’s throat, Qin Fu’an dispensed a rare drop of mercy and declined: “No need. For students, as long as you don’t roam outside and violate dormitory rules, the night carries little danger.”

In other words: there was no reason to bunk together.

Shot down, Yake shrugged in defeat. “Fair enough. You guys heading to the cafeteria, right? Let’s walk together…”

Before he could finish smoothing over the awkwardness, Xie Yunhuai brushed past them with an impatient stride.

Are these people joined at the hip? Do they have to do every single thing together?

Xie Yunhuai couldn’t explain his own irritation, but he had harbored an aversion toward these transfer students from the start. In his eyes, Zhao Jiayue was frail, Chen Qi was distant, Yake was loud, and Bai Song was spineless; not a single one attended classes and listened to lectures like an ordinary student should.

Listening to the tentacles grumbling in disgruntled unison, Qin Fu’an’s eyes crinkled with quiet amusement, though he made no move to disturb the boy striding ahead with his head down.

Those tendrils were like offshoots of Xie Yunhuai’s inner thoughts, far more expressive and chatty than the youth himself.

Yet in this entire trial, Qin Fu’an was the only one who could see them, and the only one who could hear their lively murmurs.

Prone to spacing out, slow on the uptake, and perpetually lagging behind by several beats, Student Xie likely hadn’t realized that before Qin Fu’an, he possessed no secrets whatsoever.

Which was how Qin Fu’an knew that when Xie Yunhuai had claimed he didn’t care for the bubble blower last night, he had been lying through his teeth.

“What a tragedy~” Taking the toy bubble blower from Qin Fu’an’s hands, the convenience store clerk let out an exaggerated sigh. “In the prime of her youth, with only days left until the Gaokao… how could she perish so quietly on the eve of the exams?”

Its performance was laughably hollow, the corners of its mouth curving into a grotesque grin, devoid of any genuine pity.

Qin Fu’an didn’t interrupt its theatrical hobby. Once the creature finished its routine, he produced his official teacher credential and requested several more jars of honey.

Only then did the clerk realize that in its fervor to act, it had nearly neglected a high-rolling patron!

It plastered an oily, servile smile across its face, setting five jars of golden honey onto the counter in quick succession before asking attentively if Qin Fu’an required anything else.

“I want this as well.” Qin Fu’an tapped his knuckles against the bubble blower resting on the counter.

A wealthy mark with more money than sense! An elite client!!

Beaming, the clerk prepared to swipe the card.

Yet when it reached for the bubble blower, Qin Fu’an’s palm remained pressed firmly against the casing, pinning it to the wood.

A faint sense of foreboding gripped the clerk. It tugged lightly, but the item didn’t budge.

The clerk: “…Are you no longer purchasing it?”

Its heart began hammering, suspecting it had overlooked a critical detail.

Sure enough, the moment the question dropped, the “wealthy mark” looked back in utter bewilderment: “Were you planning on charging me full price?!”

The rising inflection, the look of sheer disbelief, the indignation dripping from every syllable… The clerk was thoroughly rattled by that single line.

After all, Qin Fu’an had been the one to recover the stolen goods, and he hadn’t demanded a single scrap of reward for his efforts.

Furthermore… the tool bore obvious signs of prior use, meaning it was technically second-hand goods…

With nothing more than a rhetorical question, Qin Fu’an had the clerk frantically rationalizing reasons to discount the merchandise on his behalf. Within seconds, a revised price tag had already formed in its mind.

In the end, the clerk stood at the doorway, tearfully watching Qin Fu’an stroll out of the campus store laden with bags.

“Isn’t that discount a bit excessive?” its coworker whispered once Qin Fu’an had vanished from view.

Ninety-five percent off! In two lifetimes as human and horror, it had never heard of a price slashed that low!!

The clerk turned a dead, pale face toward its companion, asking in numb resignation, “Which of his points could you have refuted?”

It wasn’t just the reasons the clerk had come up with; Qin Fu’an had generously laid out an exhaustive list of justifications on their behalf.

Their established rapport, future favors down the road, his assistance in securing salaries for the faculty, indirectly revitalizing the campus store’s business, buying snacks to market to the students who had never tasted treats, driving foot traffic for future sales…

The moment Qin Fu’an opened his mouth, forget ninety-five percent off—if he felt like it, he could have talked them into handing over the entire inventory for free.

“He’s simply too kind-hearted.” After comparing notes for a long while, the two clerks reached a unanimous conclusion: “If only all humans were as warm, generous, and easily swindled as him.”

Qin Fu’an neither knew nor cared about the commentary left in his wake. Carrying bags stuffed with nearly the store’s entire stock, he made his way back to the instructional building. Every student NPC he encountered along the paths greeted him with an obedient “Teacher Qin.”

Then, their eyes turned wide and longing, staring fixedly at the colossal shopping bags in his grip.

Upon entering Grade 12, Class 4, the students inside looked back with shining eyes—including the players who had just finished choking down their morning slop. Every single one of them resembled a starving nestling, mouths agape, desperately waiting to be fed.

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