TRYMBPIETM 22: The Ancient Tree’s Deep Shade(16)

Chi Xiaoyuan’s words made Chi Qingning’s thoughts wander.

For a few seconds, he almost asked—could it be that Chi Qingzhou, that country bumpkin, had threatened their parents, forcing them to bring him back to the Chi family?

He even began to suspect that Chi Qingzhou was no longer a living person—perhaps his body had long been occupied by some wandering ghost.

Otherwise, why would Chi Qingzhou have such a strange shadow?

Chi Qingning licked his dry lips, convinced that his suspicions were not unreasonable.

The Chi family had always been firm believers in feng shui and metaphysics. Growing up in such an environment, it was only natural that he believed in these things more than others.

In contrast, Chi Xiaoyuan did not think that far.

Thinking Chi Qingning was talking about something else, he casually said, “Since you already know, I won’t hide it from you. Mom and Dad actually found out a long time ago that you and Chi Qingzhou were switched at birth. They couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering in a small town, so they chose not to look for that family.”

Chi Qingning was stunned.

This was the first time he had heard of this. After a brief moment of confusion and shock, an overwhelming sense of joy surged in his heart.

So Mom and Dad truly loved him that much.

Compared to him, Chi Qingzhou, that country bumpkin, held no real place in their hearts.

Chi Xiaoyuan continued, “Mom and Dad care about you a lot. They’ve raised you all these years—you should learn to understand their difficulties.”

Chi Qingning quickly responded, “I know! I won’t make Dad and Mom angry.”

Chi Xiaoyuan hummed in acknowledgment and added, “Ever since Chi Qingzhou came back home, he somehow found out about what happened back then. He holds hostility toward you. If he targets you during the show, just endure it a little. The family still needs him.”

Chi Qingning was momentarily speechless. The excitement from hearing how much their parents cared about him faded slightly.

He had always known that his eldest brother prioritized benefits above all else. But his brother had always treated him well—even when he was upset before, it was his brother who found a way to teach Chi Qingzhou a lesson.

Adding up all these things, he thought that, at least in his brother’s eyes, he was somewhat special.

But in the end, it turned out his brother was only kind to him when it didn’t interfere with his interests.

Maybe the only reason his brother stood up for him before was that punishing Chi Qingzhou didn’t affect the company.

Chi Qingning clenched his fingers and bit down on his lower lip.

For some reason, he recalled his experience that morning.

Chi Qingzhou’s hostility toward him wasn’t just ordinary—his brother had no idea what kind of danger he was actually facing!

Chi Qingning’s face paled as he spoke, terrified, “Brother, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I meant—don’t you think he… doesn’t seem like a living person?”

He carefully described what he had seen that morning.

Hearing this, Chi Xiaoyuan was abruptly reminded of a past interview featuring Chi Qingzhou. His expression slowly darkened.

“Wait a second. Let me watch today’s episode first.”

Before Chi Qingning could reply, Chi Xiaoyuan hung up and clumsily searched for the recorded footage.

He replayed the segment Chi Qingning had mentioned three times but found nothing unusual. Instead, what he did notice was that Chi Qingning had previously tried to get close to Song Yuzhi on purpose. His lips curled in mockery.

His younger brother had some cleverness, but he always thought too simply.

Still, that was fine.

The simpler his younger brother’s mind was, the less he had to worry about losing the family’s assets to him.

Chi Xiaoyuan flipped his tablet face down and called Chi Qingning back.

“I watched the replay—I didn’t see anything strange. Were you just too nervous and imagined it?”

Chi Qingning insisted, “No way! I definitely saw it!”

Chi Xiaoyuan responded, “Don’t overthink it. Chi Qingzhou grew up in a small county—you’ve been there yourself. Do you think a place like that could have people who understand feng shui and Taoism?”

A country bumpkin like Chi Qingzhou—what could he possibly know about the occult?

Chi Qingning bit his lip harder. “What if he’s possessed by a wandering ghost…?”

Chi Xiaoyuan scoffed, “Do you think He Xing City is some backwater? Sure, there are plenty of frauds here, but there are also plenty of real experts.”

In this city, even a small alley might be hiding a master with real abilities.

Chi Qingning fell silent.

Chi Xiaoyuan had no patience to argue further. He simply warned his brother not to overthink things and, if Chi Qingzhou caused trouble, to endure it for now. Then, he hung up the phone.

Chi Qingning sat there for a moment, then pulled up the recording and carefully watched it again and again.

In the end, he had to admit—Chi Qingzhou’s shadow was completely normal. He had been mistaken.

He let out a breath of relief but, thinking about what his brother had said, felt even more irritated.

…

Meanwhile, after dealing with the wandering ghosts outside the farmhouse, Chi Qingzhou returned to his room at an unhurried pace.

Xing Shuangzhan absorbed all the yin energy and resentment from the vengeful spirits one by one. His icy fingers even gained a slight trace of warmth.

Chi Qingzhou propped his chin up and asked curiously, “Yinping Village is just a small mountain village—why would there be so many vengeful ghosts?”

Were they being deliberately gathered?

Xing Shuangzhan slowly kneaded the yin energy into a sphere, his eyes holding a trace of indifference.

“They’re just ordinary vengeful ghosts, but whether they died near Yinping Village is another question.”

Chi Qingzhou blinked at him.

“That ghost tamer—Is he intentionally collecting vengeful spirits? I thought he only wanted souls with special fates.”

Xing Shuangzhan pressed the yin energy near the back of Chi Qingzhou’s neck.

The icy sensation made Chi Qingzhou instinctively shrink away, lips pressing together.

Xing Shuangzhan reacted quickly, grabbing him.

“Don’t move. I’ve purified this yin energy—you can use it.” The misty energy seeped into his skin. “You want to find your friend, I won’t stop you. But Qingzhou, you must not lose control.”

Not for anyone.

Chi Qingzhou looked at him and slowly nodded.

Xing Shuangzhan smiled, fingers brushing over Chi Qingzhou’s lips. “Good boy.”

Chi Qingzhou curved his eyes in response.

Sitting upright, he tugged at Xing Shuangzhan’s left index finger and gently swung it. “Then can Su-ge tell me what you’ve figured out?”

Xing Shuangzhan sighed helplessly. “Since I made a contract with you ten years ago, our fates have been tied together. Just as you can’t see my future, I can’t see yours.”

Chi Qingzhou wrinkled his nose. “Liar.”

Xing Shuangzhan chuckled. “It’s true.”

Chi Qingzhou: “Then why do you think I’ll lose control?”

Xing Shuangzhan finished transferring the yin energy, pulled Chi Qingzhou into his arms, and carried him to the long table in the farmhouse guest room, patiently helping him realign his meridians.

“It’s just a feeling,” Xing Shuangzhan explained. “As a world-ending ghost, I have an instinct for whether my contract holder is in danger.”

Chi Qingzhou tilted his head in thought. “Is it serious?”

Xing Shuangzhan: “It shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t lose control.”

Chi Qingzhou: “Hmm… I’ll be careful then.”

After settling him in bed, Xing Shuangzhan whispered, “Sleep. Tonight, you might recall some memories.”

Chi Qingzhou obediently pulled up his blanket and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Shuangzhan.”

“Goodnight.”

Xing Shuangzhan waved his hand, and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.

Xing Shuangzhan waved his hand, the chandelier went out, and the room was engulfed in darkness.

Chi Qingzhou quickly fell asleep, while in the darkness, Xing Shuangzhan lowered his eyes, silently gazing at his contract holder.

Not just any Yin energy could help Chi Qingzhou maintain his sanity.

He used to think he had lived too long, that interesting things were becoming fewer and fewer.

When those subordinates betrayed him, he hadn’t stopped them—instead, he had watched with amusement, eagerly waiting for the spectacle to unfold.

He was curious to see just how far greed could drive them.

But now…

Xing Shuangzhan gently brushed Chi Qingzhou’s cheek.

Once this filming was over, it would be time for him to reclaim the half of his power that had been stolen.

…

Chi Qingzhou slept deeply through the night and, for once, woke up late the next morning.

Downstairs, a commotion was brewing—someone was shouting frantically.

He pulled open the curtains and looked out the window, only to see Ling Jiao standing outside the farmhouse, her expression crumbling bit by bit.

“What is that?! What is that?!!”

Chi Qingzhou lifted his gaze, following the direction of Ling Jiao’s trembling finger.

A thick white fog had blanketed everything in sight, turning the surroundings into a vast expanse of whiteness. Even the nearby fences and walls were obscured, hidden within the mist.

He tilted his head slightly and listened. Aside from the panicked voices of the guests and crew, there was nothing—no wind, no chirping insects.

The entire farmhouse felt as if it had been severed from the world, shrouded in an eerie silence.