Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 68

Jing Yun hesitated for a few seconds, knowing time was tight. He stepped forward decisively. The twin yellow circles of his family crest on his wrist glowed brightly. Jing Yun gently placed his palm over Qing He’s tightly shut eyes, silently chanting the incantation.

“Who wants to borrow the eye?”

Yan Shanyue actually spoke first. “You said last time that large-scale eye sharing can shorten the spell’s duration. I have an idea.” She walked up to Jing Yun. “Just use the eye on me. I’ll use my Nine-Tailed Fox Illusion to weave a dreamscape and bring everyone inside.”

As she finished speaking, a gust of demon wind rose, and nine large, snowy-white fox tails spread out behind her. It was the first time Wei Huan had seen her full nine tails—an unmistakable sign of immense demon power.

Yang Ling looked worried. “Won’t that drain a lot of your energy, Sister Shanyue?”

“It’s fine.” The iris crest on the back of Yan Shanyue’s hand lit up. Her eyes were firm as she looked at Jing Yun. “Let’s do this.”

Jing Yun nodded and placed his palm over Yan Shanyue’s eyes.

At the same time, the Yuzao Mirror at Yan Shanyue’s waist floated into the air, spinning once before fixing itself mid-air. Pale blue foxfire danced between her fingers, blooming like an iris in full glory.

For some reason, just before entering the dreamscape, Wei Huan wanted to glance at Yun Yongzhou. He turned his head—and found that Yun Yongzhou was also looking at him.

The coincidence startled him slightly. He quickly turned his head away.

Yan Shanyue opened her eyes—her pupils had turned a radiant yellow like those of a mythical beast. The Yuzao Mirror cast down a hazy mist, and the surroundings began to shift. Out of the darkness, light gradually began to emerge.

Wei Huan heard Jing Yun’s voice.

“I’ve dialed the time way back. We saw the future Qing He in Yanshan Desert’s memory, right? I think we need to see what happened before that.”

Yan Shanyue softly answered, “Mm.”

All the illusions began to rewind. The world around them turned like a kaleidoscope, fragments of color and light swirling and shifting.

Until, before them, appeared a five- or six-year-old child, being lifted by a middle-aged woman in a maid’s uniform and placed in front of a bathroom mirror. The mirror reflected his full face—Qing He’s distinctive phoenix eyes made him easily recognizable, even as a child.

The illusion paused, and the hourglass of time flipped—flowing forward now.

“This is when he was six,” Jing Yun said.

“Little He, wait—” the maid called his nickname from behind.

This was far different from what Wei Huan had imagined.

The house in the dream was beautiful and spacious. Their perspective was entirely from Qing He’s eyes. As he stumbled and ran, the view shook, revealing lavishly decorated hallways, wide staircases, and a magnificent main hall.

“I thought Qing He was a human kid who grew up in the Dark Zones,” Yang Ling said, surprised. “But he wasn’t—his family looks really well-off.”

Not just well-off. Wei Huan noticed the house wasn’t just luxurious. It had maids, and every floor had guards in dark gray uniforms.

“He’s probably the child of a politician,” Yan Shanyue said, speaking as a wealthy heiress herself. “Normal rich merchants wouldn’t have this level of security.”

Exactly. Which is why the first person Wei Huan thought of—was Yun Yongzhou.

Their line of sight continued forward.

They saw the legs of a man in a suit.

Qing He was lifted high up into the air. The one holding him was a middle-aged man, and standing beside him was a woman who looked very much like Qing He—delicate features and a gentle expression, likely his mother.

“Let me see, seems like you’ve gotten heavier again.” The man’s eyes were full of affection as he touched his forehead to Qing He’s. “This little guy is growing so fast.”

Qing He’s mother smiled and reached out to pat his head. “Our Little He might even grow taller than Daddy one day.”

“Then let’s have a contest when I grow up,” Qing He’s voice was soft and childish. “When I grow up, I’ll definitely be taller than Daddy~”

Watching this happy family of three, Wei Huan, who had only just escaped from the nightmare realm, couldn’t help feeling envious. He thought of his own childhood. But at some point, Yun Yongzhou had come to stand beside him. Wei Huan turned his face and saw him. Yun Yongzhou didn’t look back, only said softly, in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Hand is cold.”

Still cold?

Wei Huan naturally stepped a bit closer, and without thinking, took his hand in both of his own and asked softly, “How about now?”

Yun Yongzhou only shook his head and didn’t speak, letting him hold his hand.

“How can this be? Aren’t you a Golden Crow…” Wei Huan mumbled, momentarily forgetting to pay attention to the peaceful atmosphere in the illusion.

It seemed Jing Yun had used a technique to advance the timeline—suddenly, the sun was setting. Inside the room, Qing He, who was putting together a toy mecha, heard someone calling him from downstairs and walked to the doorway with the mecha in his arms. “What is it?”

“Come down, your dad wants to introduce you to someone.”

Even though he said that, Qing He only walked to the hallway. Hugging his toy, he peered down through the ornately carved railing. In his field of vision appeared a stranger—an older man in a human military uniform. Beside him stood a child. From this angle, Qing He couldn’t see the child’s face clearly. He took a few steps to the left. Through the railing, the child’s face gradually came into view.

Though the boy was slim, like a sapling that had just shot up, his posture was straight as a rod. Like the man beside him, he wore a plain—even a bit worn—school uniform, yet he looked every bit like a miniature soldier.

Qing He’s father glanced up and saw Qing He. He waved. “Come down, what are you doing just standing there?”

In the illusion, Wei Huan saw Qing He tightly gripping the railing with his little hands, as if his fingernails might dig in. He spoke in a milky child’s voice: “Why do I have to go down…”

Though he was talking to his father, his eyes were fixed on that slightly older boy downstairs.

“This is Tianfa,” Qing He’s father took the boy’s hand and led him forward a bit. “You’ll be starting primary school soon. This Brother Tianfa will be going with you to Yucheng. You two can become good friends. Come say hello.”

Wei Huan suddenly heard Yun Yongzhou softly repeat the name of that primary school. It was only then that he realized he was still holding Yun Yongzhou’s hand. Startled, he let go and asked, half-covering his embarrassment, “What’s with Yucheng?”

“It’s the best private school in Chengjing, the capital of Fanzhou. Not just a primary school—it has a complete foundational education system.”

As Yun Yongzhou explained, Yan Shanyue asked, “So it’s a school for nobles?”

Yun Yongzhou shook his head. “It’s more like a training ground for politicians’ children.”

By now, Qing He had obediently gone downstairs, but he hid behind his father, peeking at the other boy from behind his leg. Only then did Wei Huan get a full look at the kid’s face. Though still a child, his features had a boldness to them. There was a short scar on his right eyebrow, splitting it about a quarter of the way from the tail—looked kind of cool, actually.

“That kid’s kind of handsome…” Wei Huan muttered very quietly, thinking no one heard him—until Yun Yongzhou immediately took a step to the left, widening the space between them.

Wei Huan felt like an internal alarm had gone off.

Did I say something wrong? …No, right?

Is Yun Yongzhou upset?

Uncertain whether he was probing or appeasing, Wei Huan also took a step to the left, closing the gap once more.

The boy who had been brought in extended his hand. The little sapling finally bent. But when he spoke, there wasn’t a trace of childishness—just a mature tone that didn’t belong on a kid at all. “My name is Xie Tianfa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Qing He, still holding onto his father’s leg, stared at the hand. At last, he reached out and gave it a squeeze—less a handshake and more a pinch. “I’m You Qinghe. Why are you going to school with me?”

Upon hearing that name, Yun Yongzhou’s brows knitted together.

Qing He’s father pulled him forward and smiled. “Who taught you to talk like that? You should call him Brother Tianfa. Didn’t you always say you wanted a big brother? Now you have one.”

The military man who brought Xie Tianfa saluted Qing He’s father. “I’ll take my leave, Prime Minister.”

“Prime Minister?” Yang Ling gasped. “Qing He is the son of the Fanzhou Prime Minister? But isn’t the current Prime Minister Chen Ye? Is he Chen Ye’s son?”

Yan Shanyue spoke. “Chen Ye only came to power seven years ago. This is clearly earlier than that.”

“Who was the one before?” Yang Ling thought aloud. “Oh! Song Chengkang!”

“No, wait.” Jing Yun looked confused. “But Qing He’s surname is You. That doesn’t match either of those names.”

They were all still quite young, but Wei Huan and Yun Yongzhou understood. Judging by the age, Qing He was six then—so this was about eighteen years ago. The Fanzhou Prime Minister at that time…

“You Su,” Yun Yongzhou said. “The one before Song Chengkang.”

Wei Huan remembered. Back then he was probably still in primary school himself. He’d only seen You Su on the news, and occasionally heard his parents mention him. But since they held opposing views, his parents would deliberately avoid discussing such matters in front of him.

“This is that same one from back then…”

He hadn’t finished speaking when he saw Yun Yongzhou give a small nod, so he didn’t continue.

Time sped forward again. Only then did everyone realize that the boy brought to Qing He’s side wasn’t just some so-called “older brother.” He was more like a bodyguard—one who could stay by Qing He’s side at all times without drawing too much attention. No matter what happened, Xie Tianfa was always there, always on standby. Yet his every movement was hard for Wei Huan and the others to notice—because he was always behind Qing He.

If not for the shadows on the ground betraying the secret, the silent boy would have been nearly invisible.

He lived like Qing He’s shadow.

Only in Qing He’s glances backward could they see Xie Tianfa’s figure. He seemed to have grown as well, into a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old. Though he never spoke, his gaze when looking at Qing He was always calm and gentle.

At school, Qing He liked walking backward.

In the swaying vision, Tianfa’s face—always tinged with concern—frequently appeared.

“Last week, my deskmate borrowed a pen and still hasn’t given it back. That little fatty is so annoying.”

Xie Tianfa stretched his hand out through the air, as if always ready to catch him. “I’ll remind him this afternoon.”

“Mm.” Qing He walked backward, one step at a time, along the track. “Also, during class just now, your deskmate poked me with his pencil.” He stopped, looking extremely wronged, and tugged fiercely at the back of his collar. “Look, look—he made it dirty here.”

Xie Tianfa nodded. “I’ll talk to him later, tell him not to stick his pencil forward anymore.”

“And also…” Qing He took another step back. Just then, someone dashed past behind him—he couldn’t see it, but Xie Tianfa could. With sharp reflexes, he grabbed Qing He’s arm and pulled him into his arms.

The view narrowed, filled only with Tianfa’s school uniform.

After a few seconds, Tianfa let go slightly. “Did you get hit?”

“Nope.” Qing He beamed like a child, “Not even a little! Tianfa, you’re amazing!”

Xie Tianfa rarely took the initiative to speak. “Didn’t you just say… ‘also’?”

“Oh, right!” Qing He’s eyes lit up. “Also, that grasshopper you caught for me last time—it ran away…” His expression turned sad. “I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it. Can you… catch me another one?”

Xie Tianfa seemed a little surprised by the request, but still nodded. “Okay.”

He chose the grassy area behind the school woods as the spot. The school sat on elevated ground, and that lawn was so secluded it was rarely visited by the kids—but he knew you could see a full sunset from there. Tianfa led Qing He there hand-in-hand, laid his schoolbag down on the grass. “Sit.”

“Tianfa, Tianfa, look at the sun! Doesn’t it look like a giant egg yolk?” Qing He sat on the little schoolbag, staring at the sky. “But I don’t like egg yolks. Do you? Next time I don’t want mine, can I secretly give it to you?”

Tianfa sat beside him on the ground, tugged a stalk of grass. “I like them.”

“Then I’ll give you mine next time.” Qing He suddenly became cheerful for no reason. Watching the sinking sun, twilight falling into the lake and dyeing it red, he said, “Look, the egg yolk fell into the water. Now it’s even harder to eat.”

“It’s okay. I’ll eat it.”

As Qing He smiled, a grasshopper made of woven grass appeared in front of his eyes. Xie Tianfa flicked the long grass stalk in his hand, making the grasshopper bounce as if it might leap away at any second.

“What is this?!” Qing He cupped the grasshopper with both hands, eyes shining. “Is this for me?”

“Mm.” Xie Tianfa let go. “This one won’t run away anymore.”

“I love this grasshopper!” Qing He’s voice brimmed with laughter—every word, every upward-turning sentence end, filled with unmistakable joy.

So this was what Qing He was like before.

Wei Huan didn’t know why, but a trace of bitterness crept into his chest. Maybe because he already knew how it all ended—no matter how this story played out, no matter how fate rose and fell, it all seemed meaningless. This irreversible sorrow settled like dust that could never be brushed away.

“So rude.” At the dinner table, Qing He’s father, You Su, scolded him again. “Dad told you many times: just because he stays with you every day doesn’t mean you can forget your manners. Based on age, you should call him Brother Tianfa. You’re able to happily attend school like other kids now—all thanks to Brother Tianfa.”

Qing He pouted and pushed his bowl away. “Why should I thank him? I don’t want to. I don’t want to call him Brother. He’s not even my real brother.”

“You’re getting more and more out of line. Usually I…”

Seeing he was about to get angry, Qing He’s mother couldn’t help but step in, smoothing things over. “Alright, if Little He doesn’t want to, it’s fine. Tianfa won’t mind.”

But Qing He’s father was still insistent. “We can’t let him develop this kind of mindset. The other boy is still a child too—why should he have to watch over our child every day? I already had reservations about this arrangement. If Little He starts treating this like it’s normal, then the problem is with our parenting.”

“You know full well it’s out of necessity. If not for your situation, would Qing He have to live in constant fear? And besides, if Tianfa hadn’t been taken in by us—he has no parents or family—he might’ve already been sent to the battlefield early. When the time comes…”

“You’re thinking about it the wrong way. I can’t reason with you…”

Throughout the entire argument, Qing He kept his gaze lowered. Wei Huan and the others couldn’t see the parents—only hear their voices as they argued.

Under the pretty tablecloth, Qing He’s hand clutched tightly at something:

A grasshopper made of woven grass.

Time moved forward again. In Qing He’s line of sight, Xie Tianfa’s figure grew taller and more upright. But Wei Huan also noticed—he started carrying weapons. When the wind lifted the hem of his school uniform jacket, the gun holster strapped to his waist would be faintly revealed.

Strangely, the older they grew, the less they seemed to talk to each other.

When they were young, Qing He would occasionally call him “older brother”—though most of the time he just used his name—but as he got older, he almost never called him anything at all, sometimes even deliberately creating distance.

“Don’t follow me today.” Qing He walked ahead of Xie Tianfa, his back to him. The two of them walked one after the other, his own shadow under his feet. “I promised someone I’d go out with them.”

Xie Tianfa’s voice sounded behind him, “With who? Where?”

“It’s safe. She’s bringing bodyguards—lots of them.” Qing He’s tone had an undercurrent of frustration, almost like he was venting. “You don’t need to follow me. Don’t follow me.”

There was no sound from behind him, but the shadow was still there—only now, it had become a silent shadow.

“Can’t you understand what I’m saying?” Qing He turned around, his face filled with long-suppressed displeasure. “Are you a robot? Do you not understand anything except protecting me?”

Xie Tianfa’s gaze dimmed, and he looked away, but still said nothing.

“Forget it.” Qing He turned his head again, as if giving up in exasperation. “Whatever.”

For some reason, Wei Huan felt that Qing He’s defiance at this moment came with a kind of grievance. He looked arrogant, but at his core he seemed more like a child who wanted a toy and couldn’t get it.

The memory was rewound by Jing Yun, and the images rushed forward like a film being fast-forwarded. The surrounding illusions shifted rapidly in dazzling, chaotic ways, until disorder finally appeared and Jing Yun halted the spell. “Something… seems to have gone wrong.”

Rewinding just a bit, a rare chaotic scene appeared before their eyes. Crowds surged, packed tightly together, noise pouring in like a tidal wave. Perhaps it was a press conference, or maybe some other public event—whatever it was, from Qing He’s perspective, his father, You Su, was standing on a podium, speaking solemnly.

The next moment, a bullet shattered the escalating entropy.

The noise of the crowd and the use of a silencer made the attack nearly invisible and imperceptible. What should’ve been a blatant assassination became a shadowy killing hidden within a churning sea of people.

Qing He could only see his father clutching his chest and stumbling back, his shirt rapidly blooming red.

It was the blue tie Qing He had carelessly picked out for him that morning—now stained into a filthy, dark purple.

His brain shut down. All he could do was let the shadow-like man drag him into a car, away from the now-mad crowd, fleeing the chaos like a defeated fugitive.

Time doesn’t grant special treatment for grief-stricken souls. It marches forward, cold and imperious, never pausing.

Next came Qing He, dressed in mourning garb, kneeling in front of the altar. By his side, his shadow still stood.

His mother wasn’t as strong as her son. Unable to accept reality, she became obsessed with rumors of “spirit mediums” and sought comfort in them after her husband’s death.

“What?” She paced anxiously back and forth in the hallway, her voice growing more agitated on the phone with her trusted aide. “I don’t want some exorcist! I’m not afraid of monsters—I want him back!”

“They said they can summon spirits—go find them! I don’t care if it’s a witch or a priest—I want to call his spirit back…”

Qing He stood on the balcony, silently absorbing her hysteria through the walls. He heard the bedroom door open and close, but didn’t turn around. He only spoke softly.

“Do you think such magic really exists in this world?”

Staring at the broken moon, he knew he wouldn’t get much of a reply.

“If I die someday too, and your mission fails…” Qing He turned his head with a faint smile, looking at the shadow who had followed him for years. “Then you’ll be free.”

Xie Tianfa’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Would you want to… bring my soul back?”