"Could it be this little bottle? It feels pretty ordinary. I don’t see anything strange about it."

I dangled the tiny wishing bottle from my neck in front of Mengze. To my surprise, he scrambled backward several steps, trembling like a rabbit cornered by a hawk.

"My dear master… could you please put that bottle farther away? I’m scared…"

"Heh. Good. You *should* be scared. Serve me well enough, and I might move it… just a little."

"You—you pervert!"

"Relax, just kidding. I’m not into inflatables anyway. Much less non-corporeal ones like you."

The wishing bottle itself seemed normal. The problem had to be the yellow paper strip inside. I uncorked it and pulled out the strip. Strange symbols were painted in red pigment—but held no trace of magic. Utterly baffling.

"Mengze, do you know what this is?"

"N-not really. I haven’t been a ghost long. Still under the newbie glow."

I never expected Shen Yufeng to have something like this. Was it coincidence he gave it to me… or intentional?

"Yuchen! Dinner’s ready!"

Whatever. Shen Yufeng grew up under my watch. I know his character—he’d never harm me. Still… I shouldn’t wear this bottle anymore. Not if Mengze can’t get near me.

"Oh! Braised fish head today? Xia Bing, you’re amazing! Smells delicious."

"Thanks. I *do* have skills in the kitchen. Try it—wait. What’s that weird smell on you?"

"Oh, probably just sweat from biking. Sorry, guys tend to stink. Should I eat in the living room?"

"Not sweat. Have you been somewhere… unclean lately?"

*Unclean?* I hadn’t passed any dumps or rolled in mud. Why’d she ask that?

"Nope. Same routine: class, home. Nowhere dirty."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Lying?"

"Absolutely not."

Aunt Mengmeng slammed her chopsticks down. "Hey! Can you two just *eat*? I’m starving! I can’t start until you do!"

"Sorry," we chorused.

As usual, Aunt Mengmeng made me walk Xia Bing home. With night fallen, ghosts could move freely—so Mengze tagged along.

"Qiuyuchen," Xia Bing pressed, "are you *sure* you haven’t done anything weird lately?"

I was the same old Qiuyuchen: up at six, asleep by ten, three meals a day, half my classes spent napping. What "weird" things could I possibly do? Unless she counted monthly… *personal maintenance* as weird. Then yeah, guilty.

"Nah. Haven’t found any weird Ultraman transformation sticks to save the world."

Xia Bing ignored my joke. Just tossed over her shoulder: "If trouble comes, find me." Then she vanished into the dark.

"Time for a shower and bed!"

"Master…" Mengze’s voice trembled. "I might be overthinking this… but your classmate? I think she can *see* me."

"What? No way. Normal humans can’t see ghosts."

"I hope I’m wrong. But every time I look at her… she stares back. With *ice-cold* eyes. Terrifying."

*Hold up—who’s the ghost here?!*

"Don’t badmouth my seatmate. She’s cold, sure. But she’s a good girl. Probably."

"Look, Mom! That big brother’s talking to himself!"

"Shh. Don’t stare. Stay away from people like that."

*Crap.* Talking to Mengze in public would get me labeled a lunatic. Time to leave.

Night wind cooled the day’s heat. Unconsciously, Mengze and I drifted back to the construction site where we first met.

"You killed my daughter! Compensation is the *least* you owe me! My seventy-year-old mother died of grief because of this! Your company *will* pay! Get your boss out here NOW!"

"Sir, this is ridiculous! Where am I supposed to find the boss at night? I’m just security! Come back tomorrow!"

Past work hours, yet shouting echoed from the site. A disheveled man in a stained white shirt waved a liquor bottle at a guard, swaying on unsteady feet.

"Dad!"

I turned. Mengze stared, stunned. So *this* was his father—the drunkard Mengze described as a deadbeat who abandoned his family.

"That’s your dad?"

"Yeah… but why’s he here so late?"

"Shaking down the company. Using his daughter’s death here as an excuse to cash in. Thirty grand wasn’t enough?"

"What?! They *already* paid him thirty thousand! It’s only been a month!"

Greed has no limits. His ragged clothes and the liquor bottle told the rest of his story.

"Give me the money! My old mother doesn’t even have burial fees! Is this how your company operates?!"

"I’m *just* security! Leave now, or I’ll use force!"

"Go on! Kill me! I’ve got no one left anyway! Let the media expose you!"

The guard hesitated. One viral scandal could sink the whole project—and cost him his job.

"Bro… please. Here’s two hundred of *my* cash. I’m just trying to make a living. Take it. Come back tomorrow to talk to the boss. Don’t ruin my life too."

"Tch. Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow."

The drunkard snatched the cash and scampered off like a knight who’d looted a dragon’s hoard—blind to his own clownishness.

"Sorry you had to see that."

I waved it off. Fathers and daughters are separate. Every family has its black sheep. I’d seen worse in my past life.

"So… what now? No revenge?"

"Grandma died because of him. I *will* make him pay. But… how?"

I grinned—a mischievous, childlike smirk. "You’re a ghost. Scaring people… do I really need to teach you how?"

Mengze’s eyes lit up. He understood.