Black mist wrapped the driver from head to toe. When it dispersed, the stranger’s face had transformed into the ghost’s—strikingly handsome.
It was Chi You.
Jiang Luo took a drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes, a faint smile flitting across his lips. The smoke masked his amusement, and the ghost didn’t notice a thing.
Back when Chi You had slammed into the bathroom door during his attempted drowning, Jiang Luo had already guessed he would show up soon. He had planned to lure Chi You out, but hadn’t expected him to take the bait so quickly.
Maybe tonight… he could awaken the Yin-Yang hoop.
Jiang Luo deliberately furrowed his brows in disgust. “You again?”
That look made the ghost laugh silently.
On Jiang Luo’s absurdly beautiful face, even a scornful expression became vividly alluring. The more Jiang Luo feared or hated him, the more the ghost felt an intoxicating joy—a kind of violent craving that dragged him deeper.
The car cruised smoothly along the road in the quiet of night.
There were far fewer vehicles than during the day. The ghost, dressed in a sleek suit, drove with the calm expertise of a real chauffeur. If not for his inhuman looks, his driving could’ve made a textbook example.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to see me?”
The ghost drawled.
He was wearing the same suit Jiang Luo had once burned. Black and spotless, sharp from hem to cuff—flawlessly put together. His crimson cufflinks gave off a dim glow. A rose-shaped pin on his tie shimmered with silver patterns that swelled and faded like ocean tides with every movement.
Dressed as if for a grand funeral date.
Even a disillusioned Jiang Luo had to admit—Chi You’s appearance was dangerously deceptive. He carried an aura of unknown mystery, tempting people to come closer, only for them to be swallowed whole.
Yet at this moment, Jiang Luo couldn’t appreciate such charm—in his eyes, the ghost was nothing but detestable.
“Chi You,” Jiang Luo said, “can’t you even recognize a lie?”
The ghost chuckled. His pale fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel, clearly in a good mood. “I heard you tried to drown yourself for me last night.”
“Isn’t that kind of death a little too easy?”
Jiang Luo tugged at the corner of his lips and shot back, “Then what kind of death would you consider not easy?”
His smile turned provocative, a glint of mockery flickering in his eyes as he glanced sidelong at the impeccably dressed ghost. “Like yours—killed without a trace?”
The atmosphere inside the car turned razor-sharp with tension, ready to snap. The music shifted to the next track.
The lively, intense melody soared immediately—the climax of Who Killed the Mockingbird thundered through the speakers. The car sped up, as if hurtling toward hell.
The black-haired youth stared out the window, eyes growing ever brighter as the scenery flashed by. The yellow glow of streetlights blinked across his face—his brow, his sharp nose, and the corners of his upturned lips.
The ghost leaned against the wheel and turned his head to look at him. “You look… quite happy.”
He drew out his tone. “Is it because you destroyed my puppet? Or because you’re about to be granted death by me?”
Jiang Luo finished the last drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out, and said lazily, “If I’m going to die, then die. Why do you talk so much?”
The ghost asked, “You’re not afraid?”
“I am afraid—but…”
Jiang Luo’s eyes flicked toward the suspension bridge ahead. In a flash, he lunged forward, fluid and fierce, pinning the ghost down in the driver’s seat. His eyes glittered with starlight as he grabbed the ghost by the collar, pulling him close with a bright smile. “If I can drag you down with me, I’d say it’s worth it.”
The ghost’s tie was pulled tight, bringing him nose-to-nose with Jiang Luo. Their crazed gazes clashed. “Oh?” the ghost said with curiosity. “How so?”
Jiang Luo curled his lips, pressing the ghost’s hands down with both of his, his entire body leaning into him. One leg slid down, brushing past the ghost’s firm thigh, his knee, his calf—
And stomped directly on the accelerator.
Without hesitation, he floored it.
The high-performance vehicle shot forward like an arrow, the steering wheel jerked off course, and the car plunged straight toward the river under the bridge.
The thrill from the speed alone could spike a man’s adrenaline. Jiang Luo held the ghost down like he was pinning death itself beneath him. He burst out in wild laughter. “Surprised?”
The car plunged straight into the river.
Inside, the alarm blared sharply. Murky, filthy river water surged into the cabin. The pressure from outside sealed the doors shut—they could no longer be opened.
Watching yourself trapped to death inside a car wasn’t a pleasant experience. The ghost, who had fallen into the river with Jiang Luo, was silent for a few seconds before murmuring in awe, “You never fail to surprise me.”
The rising river swallowed half their bodies. The ghost’s elegant suit was now drenched and matted like sludge. He lifted his hand and easily broke free from Jiang Luo’s hold. But instead of dealing with the water rushing in, he reached around and pulled Jiang Luo into his arms, imprisoning him in this death trap.
The ghost laughed with interest. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”
Jiang Luo’s cheek was pressed against the ghost’s chest, the cold, metallic button of his suit brushing against his face. This gesture left Jiang Luo with no escape.
But if he couldn’t activate the Yin-Yang hoop—what use was escape?
Most of the car was now flooded. The water level crept up to Jiang Luo’s chin.
Jiang Luo grinned and didn’t hold back. He hugged the ghost back, as if intent on taking him to the grave together.
One man and one ghost embraced in the icy water, both wishing death upon the other. The embrace was violent, suffocating—void of any tenderness.
Soon, the murky water submerged Jiang Luo’s head—then the ghost’s nose.
Naturally, the ghost could not die. The water didn’t trouble him at all. He looked down at the young man with floating black hair in his arms.
That pale face was pressed against his chest, a stunning mix of beauty and defiance. Even now, there wasn’t a shred of retreat in Jiang Luo’s expression.
To the ghost, this suicidal retaliation was laughably foolish—but still, he smiled faintly and leisurely twirled a lock of Jiang Luo’s hair around his finger.
He couldn’t help but wonder—what surprise would this black-haired youth bring him next?
Jiang Luo was already half-conscious.
Choking. Pressure in his chest. Jiang Luo ignored these sensations and focused everything on the Yin-Yang hoop.
A thousand scattered thoughts flashed past—only one remained, clear and resolute:
He wanted to become stronger.
That subtle, mystical sensation returned.
In the dark water, the Yin-Yang hoop on Jiang Luo’s right hand shimmered faintly with golden light.
His heartbeat slowed. Life was slipping away from him.
The ghost’s amusement turned into regret. He released Jiang Luo’s hair and instead gripped his neck.
The ghost’s hand slowly tightened. What a pity. He’d wanted to take his time with Jiang Luo—watch him struggle, break, and beg. But now, Jiang Luo had ended things on a whim.
To claim Jiang Luo’s soul, the ghost had no choice but to act before it was too late.
His fingers closed in.
That stunning face began to lose its color—death crept over Jiang Luo’s features.
The ghost’s smile faded into cold disappointment. The amusement drained from his eyes, replaced by indifference.
Like he’d just tossed away a toy that was no longer fun.
But the tightening hand was suddenly grabbed by another.
Jiang Luo abruptly opened his eyes—those bright, pitch-black irises stared straight at the malicious ghost. His blood-red lips curled up into a grin, and he looked like a water ghost as he silently mouthed a few words at the malicious ghost with chilling clarity.
The malicious ghost recognized what he said. Jiang Luo was saying: “You’re dead.”
