Chapter 11: Trying to Kill Me, Bro?
2114 Words
Based on Xu xiao's extensive experience with Negative Energy Exposure cases, a simple shot of antibiotics rarely cleared out the deep-seated chill completely. That’s why he’d insisted Xie Jing stay overnight for observation.
Sure enough, not long after dinner, Xie Jing’s temperature began to climb again, a low-grade fever reclaiming its territory.
Xu xiao dragged a chair beside the bed and laid a cool, damp washcloth on Xie Jing’s burning forehead. The doctor had just left, stating that the injections and oral antipyretics were already at their max safe dosage. All that was left was hydration and a sachet of electrolyte powder marketed to “soothe discomfort.”
Xie Jing lay flushed, brow furrowed, his lashes trembling faintly with each labored breath. He looked thoroughly miserable.
Xu xiao watched him for a moment, then silently reached into his nondescript canvas messenger bag. From a waterproof pouch, he retrieved a neatly folded square of yellow material, thicker than paper, almost like treated leather. Intricate patterns were drawn on it in a dark, rust-red ink. He carefully unfolded it, pinching it between his index and middle fingers.
Then, the bizarre happened. The talisman ignited spontaneously! Ghostly blue flames whooshed into life, l*****g perilously close to Xu xiao’s fingertips. He didn’t flinch, his focus intense, as if locked in a silent battle of wills with the fire. Just as the flames threatened to scorch his skin, they recoiled sharply, retreating to consume only the edges of the material.
When half the talisman was consumed, Xu xiao released it, dropping the burning remnant precisely into an empty paper cup on the bedside table. The last of it crumbled into fine, black ash inside the cup, releasing a peculiar odor – a mix of burnt sage, sulfur, and something indefinably ancient.
Finally, Xu xiao ripped open a packet of the electrolyte powder and dumped the contents straight into the cup with the ash. He stirred vigorously with a plastic stick, creating a murky, steaming concoction.
As he turned, cup in hand, he met Xie Jing’s wide-open eyes. The patient was staring at him with an expression of profound disbelief and utter betrayal.
The look screamed: “Dude, are you trying to f*****g kill me?”
Xu xiao felt a flicker of guilt – brief but undeniable.
After all, mere hours ago, he’d been lecturing Xie Jing about “trusting modern medicine,” how “no mystical woo-woo grants instant cures,” and to “lay off the esoteric crap.”
And now? Here he was, concocting a witch’s brew right in the hospital room, caught red-handed!
Suspicious white foam bubbled on the surface of the brown liquid in the cup, slowly dissipating as Xu xiao gave it a swirl.
Silence stretched, thick and awkward. They stared at each other.
Xu xiao offered no immediate explanation, merely holding Xie Jing’s accusatory gaze with stoic (or perhaps shameless) calm. When the liquid cooled slightly, he extended the cup with unnerving nonchalance.
Xie Jing recoiled almost imperceptibly, his body language screaming refusal.
Remembering the hefty $100K retainer, Xu xiao deigned to speak. “Ash. Purification Sigil. Microdose.” His tone was casual, like he was recommending kombucha. “Won’t cure you by morning, but it’ll… clear the air. Help you sleep without feeling watched.” He paused. “Or chilled.”
Truth. This “Purification Sigil” packed a serious punch against negative energy entities. Crafting it was leagues harder than the standard Warding Sigils. Those intricate, rust-red lines required precise infusion of Mana (spiritual energy). A single lapse in focus or control ruined the whole thing. Drawing one left him feeling like he’d run a marathon. This was his emergency stash, reserved for particularly persistent low-level entities drawn to his “unique constitution.” Usually effective.
On a normal person? Much milder. A potent spiritual “air freshener” and chill deterrent.
Seeing Xie Jing still hadn’t reached for the cup, Xu xiao added, “Not toxic.” The amount of ash ingested was probably less harmful than the mystery sauce on a Times Square street dog.
Xie Jing’s gaze flickered between the dubious brew and Xu xiao’s impassive face, nostrils flaring at the medicinal-ashy smell. “I… trust you wouldn’t poison me,” he managed, though his voice lacked conviction.
Xu xiao gave a satisfied nod and pushed the cup forward again. Good. Now drink.
A muscle twitched in Xie Jing’s jaw. Under Xu xiao’s unwavering stare, he reluctantly took the proffered “Potion of Doom.”
Just as Xie Jing took a bracing breath, steeling himself for the plunge—
“Is this big brother sick too?”
A small, clear child’s voice piped up right beside Xu xiao’s ear.
Xu xiao didn’t startle. His eyes flicked towards the closed door, then settled unerringly on the source: a little boy, maybe seven or eight, wearing faded blue-and-white striped hospital pajamas, barefoot. His form had a faint translucency, his complexion unnaturally pale. He gazed up at Xie Jing with wide, curious eyes.
Xu xiao’s response was as calm as if addressing a nurse: “Mn.” He showed no surprise at the sudden apparition, merely glanced at the boy before refocusing on Xie Jing. “He’s ill. Needs his medicine.”
The boy blinked large, watery eyes, his voice tinged with empathy. “But he looks like he doesn’t wanna drink it. I have to take medicine every day too, it’s yucky! I don’t want big brother to feel yucky. Can he skip it?”
This child-spirit radiated no malice. If it had, Xu xiao’s senses wouldn’t have let it get this close.
Xu xiao wasn’t inclined to forcibly banish harmless Drifters.
“Do you know him?” Xu xiao countered.
The boy shook his head. “No.”
“If he doesn’t take it, he’ll stay sick. Much worse than now.” Xu xiao’s voice softened slightly as he addressed the boy. “You’re kind. You don’t want him to hurt. So you wouldn’t want him to stay sick forever, right?”
On the bed, Xie Jing’s knuckles whitened around the cup. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple, darkening the pillowcase.
The boy seemed momentarily confused by Xu xiao’s logic, his mouth forming a small ‘o’.
Before he could formulate a response, Xu xiao offered a faint, persuasive smile. “Let’s make sure big brother drinks it, so he gets better fast. Okay?”
“But… but he’s sweating so much!” The boy pointed anxiously at Xie Jing’s damp forehead. Was the potion really necessary?!
The paper cup in Xie Jing’s hand was now severely misshapen.
Xu xiao completely ignored the boy’s protest, his tone firm. “He wants to drink it.”
The boy tilted his head, baffled. “?”
Xu xiao stated matter-of-factly: “You startled him. That’s why he froze. He’d have finished it already if you hadn’t popped in. Deep down, he’s eager.”
The boy looked utterly bamboozled by this “ghost logic.” He pointed a translucent finger at his own chest.
“…Me?”
Xu xiao nodded solemnly. “Mn. It couldn’t possibly be that this grown man,” he gestured dismissively at Xie Jing, “is scared of a little bad taste like a child, right?”
The boy looked from Xu xiao’s earnest face to Xie Jing’s pale, sweaty one.
Xie Jing: “…”
The boy’s expression cleared with sudden understanding. “Oh… I guess so…”
He pouted slightly. “Okay… I’ll come back later to see big brother then.”
Xu xiao didn’t reply, but his eyelid twitched violently.
Come back later?!
No! Absolutely not! Being on a spirit’s visitation list was never a good thing, regardless of age! Knowing when to quit was basic ghost etiquette!
Just as the boy’s form began to flicker and fade like a bad hologram—
Xu xiao exploded into motion! Faster than thought, he snatched the cup from Xie Jing’s grasp and flung its contents sideways!
Splash!
The dark, gritty liquid arced through the air, splattering in a wide, uneven circle on the linoleum floor around the bed. It left wet, ashy stains.
The move was fluid, decisive. Xu xiao turned back, meeting Xie Jing’s wide eyes, now filled with utter shock and a silent “What the actual f**k?!”
Xu xiao calmly dropped the empty cup into the trash bin. “Fruit fly. Landed in it. Unsanitary.”
Xie Jing: “…”
If the unspilled potion had been a targeted grenade, the liquid now spread on the floor was like buckshot – indiscriminate, messy, not necessarily lethal to the touch, but guaranteed to leave a mark of unpleasantness on whatever crossed it.
Seeing Xie Jing’s shell-shocked expression, even through the fever, Xu xiao offered a rare explanation. “It’s warded now.” Half the sigil burned earlier, the other half mixed with the electrolyte solution now formed a potent barrier. A full Purification Sigil’s aura was active. Most spirits wouldn’t dare cross it. Any foolhardy enough to try would regret it.
Xie Jing’s voice was slightly hoarse. “That was…?”
Xu xiao wasn’t surprised Xie Jing had seen it. If he hadn’t, he’d have questioned Xu xiao’s sanity during the one-sided conversation.
Xu xiao: “A Drifter. Recently passed. Probably from Pediatrics.” Hospitals were crossroads. Reapers sometimes missed a newly departed soul or two, leaving them temporarily adrift.
Xie Jing: “You just… let it go?”
Xu xiao shook his head. “Its journey isn’t my business. No active malice, no forced crossing over (Exorcism). It was likely just curious. If it becomes a nuisance later, others will handle it.” Unnecessary forceful expulsion risked messy Karmic Entanglement. Xu xiao lived by a simple code: minimal effort, maximum avoidance. Play dead when possible. Of course, if the little ghost ignored the ward (the ash circle was the warning) and caused trouble, he wouldn’t hesitate to escalate.
With that, Xu xiao turned, grabbed a fresh cup, and meticulously mixed a new, pure, unadulterated electrolyte drink for Xie Jing.
Perhaps genuinely spooked by the ghostly encounter, Xie Jing complied this time. He took the cup, tilted his head back, and downed the contents in a few swift, almost desperate gulps, like it was a frat-house dare.
Xu xiao watched him slam the empty cup onto the bedside table before remarking, casually, “The ash barrier keeps it out.” Translation: You could have sipped it slowly. No pressure this time. No ghostly audience. The previous incident was an outlier. And I’m professional. I won’t laugh at your fear of bad tastes… even if I really, really want to.
Outside, the heavy clouds persisted, allowing only slivers of sickly moonlight. The oak trees in the hospital courtyard rustled loudly in the wind, their leaves whispering secrets that sounded unsettlingly like hushed voices in the quiet room.
Xu xiao held his composure.
But the peanut gallery on the Astral Band was having a field day:
[LMAOOOOOOO!!! Did you guys see that?! Boss sitting in the middle of a f*****g Purification Sigil circle! The sheer AUDACITY!]
[Deadass! I can smell that s**t from here! It’s like ghost pepper spray! And he just sat there like a champ! Props!]
[Yo, that Daoist gotta be legit, right? Boss is built different. First time I see a ghost sit inside one of those without screaming. Mad respect.]
[Wait, no screaming? You blind?]
Counter-voices chimed in immediately:
[Bro, I zoomed in! Boss holding that sigil-juice, face all calm like a lake, but the SWEAT pouring down his temple? Epic!]
[He was SWEATING BUCKETS! Copium levels: MAX!]
[LMAOOOOO! Man died and his mouth still harder than Vibranium!]
[Ughhh so sad! If Boss hadn’t death-glared me to GTFO, I could’ve stayed and watched him chug that funky potion with the pretty, yummy-smelling brother! QAQ]
The conversation rapidly derailed:
[Oooh? Yummy-smelling? For real?]
[YESSSS! Like sunshine and fresh linen and something sweet! Wanna sniff him again!]
[Lowkey think Boss sat in the sigil-sauna just to get a whiff of Yummy Brother.]
[Pain is temporary. Sniffing Yummy is eternal.]
[Word. Hurt so good for that sniff.]
[OMG. Pain is real, but the vibes? Immaculate.]
Xie Jing: “…”
Xie Jing slowly lowered his head. His dark bangs fell forward, shadowing a face that had gone terrifyingly, preternaturally still. The air around him seemed to drop several degrees.
After a long moment, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile that held zero warmth, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper: “Warded now?”
He thought that little Drifter’s courage dwarfed that of these snickering idiots. Nothing was off-limits.
- Writer
