Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite] – CH29

Chapter 29: Spook High (29)

That morning, his answer had been a counter-question aimed at intimidating the kids into studying.

Now, however, he gave it straight: “No.”

The words fell, and silence settled over the dorm once more.

In the pitch-black darkness, Xie Yunhuai stared blankly at the ceiling above.

Qin Fu’an wouldn’t stay at this school forever. Even after becoming an official teacher, he would still leave.

The man seemed certain of his path, with somewhere definite to go.

What about himself?

He had been trapped in this endless cycle. Now that he finally saw a glimmer of hope to crawl out of the mire, where was he supposed to go once he left?

Xie Yunhuai didn’t know. He thought that perhaps clearing the Gaokao was nothing more than a pretty illusion. Maybe even after sitting for the exam, the next time he opened his eyes, he would still be wearing that same school uniform, seated in that very same classroom.

Qin Fu’an didn’t dwell on what the eighteen-year-old was turning over in his mind. His own thoughts were replaying every detail from the past two days, trying to catch any subtle discord he might have overlooked.

He remembered the clearance condition written on that sheet of paper at the start: a diploma.

Known fact: one had to take the Gaokao to receive a diploma.

Two days had passed, leaving three days until the exam.

Yet the second day had ended in a Silent Night.

A Silent Night with zero casualties—was that part of the instance’s intended design, or had something gone wrong?

Qin Fu’an laid out every puzzling detail in his mind, resolving to find the answers as quickly as possible during the day.

Slowly closing his pale green eyes, he opened them after what felt like a full night’s rest, only to find the world outside the window still draped in ink.

Yet Qin Fu’an was certain of how long he had slept. By all accounts, it should have been the morning of the third day.

He took in the pitch-dark room, threw off the thin quilt, and rose, heading toward the window to investigate.

Perhaps the movement was too abrupt; rustling came from the adjacent bunk almost immediately.

Xie Yunhuai blinked open his groggy eyes, his gaze locking onto the figure walking toward the window.

Noticing the stare on his back, Qin Fu’an pulled his gaze from the outside and turned to him.

“Awake? Feeling unwell anywhere?” he asked from the window sill.

Xie Yunhuai shook his head first, then, realizing Qin Fu’an might not see it in the dark, answered softly, “No.”

After a pause, he got up and walked over as well, asking curiously, “What are you looking at?”

The next second, his eyes caught the countless elongated, wandering silhouettes drifting below the dormitory building.

The night was already dark enough, but the blackness clinging to those figures was even more concentrated, as though stained by some other hue, rendering them eerily distinct against the shadows.

“…What are those?” His voice came out strained.

Hearing the sudden tremor of unease in the boy’s tone, Qin Fu’an reached out and ruffled his hair, saying calmly, “Don’t worry. We’ll deal with whatever comes.”

Xie Yunhuai stared blankly at the dark shapes drifting below, as if gazing into a nightmare that would never end.

“Let’s head out and take a look. Bring your weapon.” Qin Fu’an pulled the dazed youth away from the window.

Gripping the dismantled steel pipe, Qin Fu’an listened closely to the sounds beyond the door, then gently nudged it open a crack to test the waters.

Instantly, the dark shapes wandering the corridor whipped their heads around in unison, fixing their eyes straight on him.

The world was shrouded in black.

Yet deep within those hollow, empty pupils flickered faint, wispy embers of crimson flame.

Qin Fu’an braced himself for a fight.

Yet the shadows merely stared at him with hollow gazes, not a single one lunging forward to attack.

Qin Fu’an’s brow furrowed slightly. Looking at the shadows and the dormitory doors that had been pushed open from the inside, the proctor’s words from the previous night echoed in his mind: “Tonight is a Silent Night.”

Perhaps the so-called “Silent Night” hadn’t referred merely to that two-hour evening self-study block. From the moment it was announced, they had entered an extended, unbroken Silent Night.

In the game of Werewolf created by mortals, a peace night meant no casualties. Yet there was another scenario: someone died, but was brought back using a special item, resulting in a technically peaceful night.

Which version of a Silent Night were they facing right now?

Qin Fu’an reined in his thoughts and took a tentative step out into the hall.

Behind him, Xie Yunhuai held the bubble blower, sticking close to his heels, oblivious to the subtle, unknown shift taking place within his own frame in the dark.

Stepping into the corridor, Qin Fu’an paused to wait. The wandering shadows continued to watch him in dead silence, making no move to attack.

A faint weight settled onto Qin Fu’an’s chest. Turning around, he knocked on the only tightly shut dormitory door on the floor.

The moment his knuckles landed, Yake’s trembling voice came from inside: “B-boss? Is that you knocking?”

Evidently, the two had been awake for a while, too unnerved by the anomalies to venture outside.

Once Qin Fu’an answered, the door cracked open cautiously. Seeing Qin Fu’an standing in the hall, the two men looked as though they had found a long-lost family member, hurriedly swinging the door wide.

“Boss, what on earth is going on?” Yake asked at once. Bai Song hovered behind him, warily eyeing the shadowy figures staring their way.

Qin Fu’an shook his head. Amid their tense wait, he came to a swift decision.

“Let’s try heading down first. If we can’t make it, we fall back. If we reach the ground floor, we’ll try to link up with the other two players.”

“What if we can’t find them?” Bai Song asked suddenly.

Qin Fu’an replied with absolute calm: “Then we don’t. Survival is up to them; if they can’t make it, that’s just their fate.”

The two men: “…”

Well, that answer wasn’t unexpected. In fact, it made them feel oddly fortunate to be living on the same floor as this powerhouse.

With the plan settled, Qin Fu’an didn’t drag his feet. He had to uncover what this lingering “Silent Night” actually signified, and how to end it.

After a brief exchange, he led Bai Song, Yake, and Xie Yunhuai down the stairs.

They carefully made their way through the wandering, phantom-like shadows. Qin Fu’an even reached out to touch one.

The result was just as he had suspected: these shapes were hollow spiritual bodies, impossible to interact with through physical contact alone.

That was likely the sole reason they hadn’t been attacked.

“Can we try communicating with them?” Xie Yunhuai asked under his breath beside Qin Fu’an.

He remembered that Qin Fu’an could perceive his own soul fragments and hear their voices. Perhaps these classmates’ spirits could speak as well, which would quickly clear up what had happened overnight.

Regrettably, Qin Fu’an shook his head.

“Communication is impossible.”

He had tried it from the window the moment he woke up. The spirits below were completely muddled, their facial features blurred into featureless voids.

Perhaps they had long forgotten who they were—stripped of memories, names, and identities, lacking the consciousness to converse or distinct faces to show.

This detail overlapped neatly with the blurred recollection Qin Fu’an had of the school’s senior administrators from the night before.

Qin Fu’an led them through the sea of phantom shapes. Like strange contaminants, brushing through their translucent forms left the group feeling as though a heavy layer of dark residue had settled over their skin.

It was merely an illusion. Reaching the ground floor, they smoothly reunited with the two female players, who were waiting near the exit. Chen Qi took out flashlights and handed one each to Qin Fu’an and Bai Song.

“Bought these before the game started. After all, walking alone at night is dangerous, whether in reality or an instance,” Chen Qi explained simply.

Taking the flashlight, Qin Fu’an and the group quickly cross-referenced their clues and theories regarding the current crisis.

“I think the crux is still that Silent Night,” Bai Song offered first. “Dawn should have broken by now, but not only is it pitch-black, every student in the school has broken the rules by roaming the grounds.”

“Agreed. According to the campus regulations we know, they’re in direct violation. But I checked their dorm doors—they were all opened from the inside. The students must have walked out of their own accord,” Chen Qi said, agreeing with Bai Song’s observation.

Yake pondered for a moment before offering his own theory: “Could it be some kind of curse? Like turning into monsters at night? Maybe these students are under a similar condition, and we have to find a way to break it?”

Qin Fu’an didn’t dismiss their deductions, but he laid down the operational directive right away: “We split into two teams. One goes to the faculty apartments, the other heads to the instructional building. Check the situation, then regroup near the cafeteria.”

They couldn’t be certain whether teachers were among the phantom crowd, nor whether the classrooms held fresh clues or system prompts. Qin Fu’an’s plan was sound, and they all knew it.

The problem was: how to divide the teams?

Everyone wanted to be with Qin Fu’an; his strength was obvious, and sticking by his side was the closest thing to guaranteed survival.

Yet none of them were the type to brazenly demand preferential treatment, so they kept silent, waiting for Qin Fu’an to assign the groups.

Reading their thoughts with ease, Qin Fu’an reached out without a trace of hesitation, pulling Xie Yunhuai—who had been trailing quietly beside him—to his side. “He and I are one team. The four of you form the other.”

Before they could question it, Qin Fu’an offered a low, solemn warning: “Keep a close eye on the phantom shadows around you at all times. Watch each other’s backs. In an unknown situation, cooperation is your best shot at survival.”

Having grown thoroughly sick of human schemes and petty backstabbing, he added a parting remark just before turning away: “And keep an eye on the companions beside you as well. After all, you never truly know whether the person walking next to you is human… or a monster.”

That single sentence raised goosebumps across all four players.

Once he had walked off with Xie Yunhuai, Yake shuddered, furiously rubbing the bumps on his arms before turning to the other three with a grimace: “D-did any of you catch what the boss meant by that last line?”

It can’t be what I’m thinking, right?

No way, no way… In this day and age, would an entity really pull the old trick of disguising itself as a human to lurk in a group?

He was just speaking metaphorically, right?

Yet the more he dwelt on it, the more his scalp prickled with ice. For the rest of the trek, the four maintained a conspicuous distance from one another, terrified that someone would suddenly sprout fangs and tear into them.

On the other side, Qin Fu’an didn’t head straight for the faculty apartments. Instead, his fingers curled familiarly around Xie Yunhuai’s thin wrist, steering him toward the cafeteria first.

“Aren’t we going to the faculty apartments?” Xie Yunhuai asked, letting himself be pulled along without resistance, his mind still hung up on the earlier team assignments.

“I am. You’re not.”

The moment the words left Qin Fu’an’s lips, the youth trailing behind him came to a dead stop.

Qin Fu’an paused and turned around.

In the heavy darkness, the boy’s slender frame seemed stretched out, making him look exceptionally frail and brittle.

“Why stop?” Qin Fu’an waited for him.

Xie Yunhuai pressed his lips together, his dark eyes locked earnestly onto Qin Fu’an, and whispered, “Why aren’t I going? You lied to them.”

Why aren’t I going?

[Are you going to throw us away?]

[Is it because we were too loud?]

[Or did we eat too much? I can eat just a tiny bit less from now on~]

[You’re a liar, you don’t keep your word, you’re a bad person!]

[Don’t leave us behind, he’ll starve himself to death…]

Xie Yunhuai’s quiet inquiry and the frantic murmurs of his soul fragments poured into Qin Fu’an’s ears simultaneously, bringing an uncanny, lively warmth to the otherwise desolate campus.

Qin Fu’an tilted his head, studying the stiff, defensive youth standing before him. The night veiled many things, but Xie Yunhuai could never hide a secret from him.

“I’m not throwing you away.” Stepping closer to Xie Yunhuai, he coaxed him with a light laugh, “Just come with me. Relax, I’m not cruel enough to sell you off.”

An answer that completely dodged the question.

Yet following that soft reassurance, Xie Yunhuai obediently let Qin Fu’an lead him forward once more.

Weaving through the sea of elongated, shadowy wraiths, the pair finally arrived at the only illuminated structure on the entire campus.

“Customer, so late at night—are you here to purchase something?” The clerk, who had been dozing behind the counter, snapped awake the second he saw Qin Fu’an.

Qin Fu’an stepped aside, revealing the quiet youth standing behind him.

“I’m leaving my student in your care for a while. I’ll pick him up once dawn breaks.” Qin Fu’an smiled at the clerk. “I just want him to sit here until daybreak. Given our rapport, a simple holding service shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

The clerk, who was just about to refuse: “…”

Here we go again! Back to that so-called rapport and mutual interest!

Yet after a round of internal grumbling, the creature plastered on an oily smile and nodded: “Of course, of course. However, our shop operates on thin margins; a specialized holding service like this requires collateral.”

How could they take in a ward for free? Their boss was notorious for being stingy down to the marrow!

“Collateral?” Qin Fu’an repeated the term, his brows lifting in inquiry. “Am I to understand that once collateral is provided, your shop assumes full liability for his safety during the stay? If so, what is your compensation policy should he sustain any injury?”

The clerk: “…”

Good grief. The second I mention collateral, you jump straight to the liability and compensation procedures! Looking all proper and human—are you actually a fox spirit in disguise?

Complaints aside, the creature puffed out its chest with immense pride: “Rest assured! As long as he stays inside our shop, even if the entire school collapses into rubble, I guarantee he won’t lose a single hair!”

Qin Fu’an wasn’t surprised by the boast; had it been otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought Xie Yunhuai here in the first place.

Even so, Qin Fu’an drew up a meticulous agreement on the spot, making the two clerks sign a duplicate custody contract alongside him.

During the holding period, should Xie Yunhuai suffer any injury or fatality, the two staff members and their employer would be liable for heavy, punitive damages.

Naturally, the collateral Qin Fu’an provided carried considerable weight as well.

The previously reluctant clerk stared wide-eyed the moment Qin Fu’an set the translucent crimson pearl onto the counter. The creature scrambled to sign the contract on the spot, both entities grinning ear to ear as they cradled the Eldritch Pearl like a holy relic.

On top of that, Qin Fu’an handed over the remainder of his teacher’s salary to settle the holding fee.

Once everything was squared away, Xie Yunhuai, who had watched the entire exchange in silence, looked at Qin Fu’an. “When dawn breaks, you’ll come pick me up?”

Qin Fu’an met the youth’s clear, dark pupils. Lowering his lashes with an easy smile, he nodded: “Of course. When dawn breaks, I’ll come take you back.”

He reached out to ruffle Xie Yunhuai’s soft, unruly hair, murmuring gently, “Wait for me here obediently. Don’t wander out into the dark.”

“…Okay.” Xie Yunhuai gave an obedient nod.

Watching from the side, the two clerks approached curiously once Qin Fu’an had departed: “Student, is Teacher Qin really just your teacher? Not an older brother or a relative? He was willing to part with something that precious just to keep you safe…”

Before the clerk could finish, the youth snapped his head up, fixing it with a look so chilling and dark that the creature choked on its words.

The clerk refused to admit that in that single moment of eye contact, the suffocating terror that seized it far exceeded the pressure Qin Fu’an had exerted.

Yet beneath that glare, it learned to shut its mouth.

And silently cursed Qin Fu’an for being a walking, trouble-making fox spirit.

Did that man have any idea what kind of “student” he had left behind? Did an entity like this really need a convenience store for protection? Who was going to protect the two of them, the miserable working-class horrors?!

Grinding its teeth in secret, the creature swore: Next time—next time, I will not listen to a single word of Qin Fu’an’s nonsense! The moment he pitches another tempting proposal, I am shutting him down on the spot!!

Ignoring the clerk, Xie Yunhuai turned around, watching Qin Fu’an’s silhouette dissolve into the darkness outside.

The man still hadn’t switched on his flashlight. Walking into the distance, it looked as though the boundless night had swallowed him whole. No matter how wide Xie Yunhuai strained his eyes, he couldn’t catch another glimpse of him.

Only when the darkness was completely devoid of Qin Fu’an’s trace did Xie Yunhuai find a corner of the shop, sit down, and stare blankly out the window in the direction the man had gone.

[Streamer, streamer, what did you mean by that warning to the players earlier?]

[Is it really safe to go alone? This instance feels all kinds of twisted. Even with crazy combat stats, walking into the dark solo makes it super easy to hit a landmine, right?]

[Wait, did the streamer actually fall for this NPC? I felt something was off from yesterday—I’ve never seen a player get this intimate with a trial NPC!]

[To the guy above: so what? The platform rules never said players can’t romance NPCs. Plus, we’re watching for free! I’ve been grinning like an idiot for two days straight—getting top-tier domestic chemistry for free, what more could you possibly ask for?]

[Spotted a fellow shipper! I’ve been hooked for two days too! When the streamer walked Student Xie to the store just now, I wanted to reach through the screen and hand them a marriage certificate!!]

[…Ahem, getting off topic here. Shouldn’t our focus be on the sudden shift in this instance? Why did everything warp like this? I checked the player forums, and nobody has ever reported this happening in this trial.]

[I’ve watched at least ten runs of Spook High from different player POVs, and I can tell you with absolute certainty: nobody knows. This has literally never happened before.]

[Could the streamer be unlocking a hidden route?]

[Wild. A standard survival-clearance run, and this guy somehow triggers a secret narrative branch while flirting with an NPC on the side. Who would even believe this if you told them?]

[…]

On his way to the faculty apartments, Qin Fu’an watched the dense flood of comments rolling across his interface.

Seeing the chat drift further and further off course, Qin Fu’an arched an amused brow, picking one to answer: “Those words were just an offhand remark. As long as it sharpens their vigilance, that’s enough.”

His sudden voice startled the viewers, who had grown used to entertaining themselves for the past two days. The screen paused for two seconds before another overwhelming wall of comments rushed in.

This time, it was a flurry of complaints about him ignoring the audience, mixed with colorful, flashing tips.

A few viewers chimed in to share the news that his stream heat had officially claimed the number-one spot on the Rising Star rankings.

The path ahead was unnervingly quiet, so Qin Fu’an indulged in some banter with the chat.

“They’re guarding against each other because of my words? Isn’t that a good thing? Staying alert is better than being an oblivious fool walking into a trap.”

“Why warn them? Because there are bad apples in the crowd, of course. What if you guys egged them on to butcher each other and they lacked the mental fortitude to resist?”

“I’m slandering you? Don’t make things up. I merely said there are bad apples; as long as you don’t take it personally, I’m not talking about you.”

“What do I think of Xie Yunhuai? Hah, your three free questions are used up for today. Ask again tomorrow.”

A chorus of boos flooded the chat, with viewers crying foul and accusing him of harboring improper designs on an innocent NPC.

Qin Fu’an smiled with easy arrogance, offering no denial.

In the end, the only casualties along this lonely path were the viewers who had taken a direct hit from his unrepentant teasing.

To rub salt in the wound, Qin Fu’an casually asked if they played games, and whether the system ever handed out wives to them.

The chat: QAQ.

We’re warning you not to push your luck!!

Amid the idle banter, Qin Fu’an finally crossed half the campus, arriving before the faculty apartments, which stood equally submerged in pitch darkness.

Only now did he click on his flashlight. Sweeping the beam upward from the ground, he surveyed the building under the harsh, white glare.

Every door was tightly shut. None of the portals stood gaping open like the student dormitories.

The main entrance at the bottom was unlocked. Qin Fu’an stepped directly inside, the flashlight beam swaying across the narrow, ink-black stairwell as he walked, catching fleeting glimpses of grotesque, blurred, and contorted faces frozen along the walls.

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