Ling Yun stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. The wooden frame creaked slightly under her touch, the only sound in the small, dimly lit room. Shadows stretched along the walls, flickering under the weak glow of an oil lamp. Her gaze flickered over Bao Chen—sharp yet uncertain. A brief silence stretched between them before she finally spoke.

“They’re all suspicious of you,” she admitted, her voice low, cautious. “But I’m not.”

Bao Chen studied her carefully. Her words sounded certain, but her eyes betrayed hesitation. Doubt. She wasn’t fully convinced—maybe she wanted to be, or maybe she just wanted him to believe she was.

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “Suspicious of what? Do they think I’m possessed by a ghost or something?” His tone was light, dismissive. If he acted too defensive, it would only fuel her doubts.

Ling Yun hesitated, then sighed. “They don’t know what to think. You were unconscious for too long, and when you woke up, you… changed.”

Bao Chen frowned slightly. “Changed how? It’s only been a couple of hours. How could they notice anything?”

Ling Yun crossed her arms, watching him closely. “You don’t act the same. And it’s not just me—everyone noticed. Before, you were different. But now…” She trailed off, as if unsure how to explain it.

Bao chen thinking to himself,"are you serious, I worked so hard but you still find me out.!"

Bao Chen shrugged, his expression calm. “Maybe almost dying—or whatever happened—changes a person.”

Ling Yun didn’t argue, but something in her expression showed she wasn’t entirely convinced.

“What do they think happened to me?” he asked.

She hesitated again before answering. “They don’t know. Some think you were possessed. Others think you hit your head too hard when you collapsed. But mostly… they just gossip.”

Bao Chen suddenly understood—it wasn’t him that was the problem. It was them. The rumors.

In a world without the internet, without books or real entertainment, gossip ruled everything. People had nothing else to do, so they talked. And when something unexplained happened, they filled in the gaps with whatever made sense to them.

Their logic was their truth.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

For example:

If someone asked, How does a tornado form? The answer was that warm, moist air collides with cool, dry air, creating instability. A rotating updraft develops, tightening into a funnel cloud that touches the ground.

That’s the scientific answer.

But to them? It wasn’t science—it was divine punishment, the gods unleashing their wrath.

Bao Chen scoffed under his breath. “They really have nothing better to do, do they?”

Ling Yun remained silent.

The flickering light of the oil lamp cast long shadows on the walls, stretching across the wooden floor like grasping fingers. Bao Chen leaned back against the rough surface of the table, his thoughts turning inward.

They were right about one thing, at least.

He is indeed not the real Bao Chen.

Truly, a blind cat meeting a dead mouse.

Ling Yun shifted slightly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve. She was still staring at him, still watching as if trying to decipher some hidden secret he wasn’t giving away.

“You really don’t remember anything?” she asked after a long pause.

Bao Chen tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Before you collapsed. Do you remember what happened?”

There it was—the real question she wanted to ask.

Bao Chen thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words. He knew what she wanted to hear. She wanted an explanation, a reason, something that made sense. But the truth? If he tells the truth, the next day he will be hunted down and killed.

And so, he lied.

“I don’t remember much,” he admitted, rubbing his temple as if trying to force a memory to surface. “It’s all a blur. One moment, I was fine. The next, I felt… something, Then everything went dark.” bao chen wants to keep the story Vague, for now, isn't there a saying that the devil is in the details.

It's better to be safe than sorry, he cannot be careless right now.

Ling Yun’s brows furrowed, and she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Did you hear anything? See anything?”

Bao Chen exhaled through his nose. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She hesitated again, glancing at the door as if making sure no one else was listening. “Strange things happen sometimes. The others won’t say it directly, but they think something unnatural was involved.”

He could hear the unspoken words.

Ghosts. Spirits. Curses.

Bao Chen didn’t react. Instead, he gave her a tired smile. “Ling Yun, you don’t actually believe in ghosts, do you?”

Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t answer right away. That, in itself, was telling.

Finally, she exhaled. “I don’t know what I believe. But something happened to you. And I don’t think it was just exhaustion or sickness.”

Bao Chen’s fingers drummed lightly against the wooden surface of the table. “So, what do you think happened?”

She shook her head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I just… I don’t think you’re the same.”

His gaze darkened slightly.

She was more perceptive than he expected.

Too perceptive. Damn it is This woman's sixth sense.?

The flickering flame of the oil lamp cast a warm glow over her features, highlighting the slight tension in her expression. She was searching for something—an answer, a confirmation, something that would either prove or disprove the nagging feeling in her gut.

But Bao Chen wouldn’t give it to her.

Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ling Yun, I appreciate your concern. Really. But I think you’re overthinking this.”

She frowned. “I’m not overthinking. I—”

A sudden knock on the door cut her off.

Both of them turned, their bodies tensing slightly.

A voice called from outside. “Ling Yun?”

It was one of the others Workers.

Ling Yun glanced at Bao Chen, then back at the door. For a brief moment, she seemed to debate whether or not to continue their conversation. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she stood and moved toward the entrance.

Before she opened it, she turned back to him. “Be careful, Bao Chen. Whether you believe it or not, people are watching you.”

With that, she pulled the door open and stepped out, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room.

Bao Chen sat in silence, listening as the muffled voices outside faded into the distance.

Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips.

Yes. People were watching him.

But that was fine.

Because soon enough, they wouldn’t know what they were watching.

And by the time they figured it out, it would already be too late.