Chapter Fifty-Two: Is There a Ghost Next Door?

“Stay the night?” Qin Jing looked at Susan with a peculiar expression. Today, she wasn’t wearing her usual suit but had opted for a dress, draped in a woolen coat, presenting a different kind of allure.

A faint blush crept over Susan’s cheeks as she stamped her foot. “What are you thinking? I’m just afraid you’re brushing me off. If you let me stay here for one night, I’ll feel reassured.”

Just one night and she’d feel at ease?

Qin Jing was speechless but didn’t insist further. He drew back the curtain and stepped inside.

“This is where you live?” Susan followed curiously. The shop was small to begin with, and the bedroom behind the curtain was even smaller—just a single bed and a tiny table, looking all too plain.

“Am I sleeping here tonight?” Susan pointed hopefully at the little bed.

“No, you’ll sleep next door. There’s a sofa over there.” Qin Jing gathered some bedding and led Susan out the back door.

Behind the shop was a large courtyard shared by three stores. Old Song’s back door was on the right, but Qin Jing turned left, took out a key, and opened the door to the neighboring shop’s back room.

Unlike his own cramped space—about sixty square meters—this neighboring store was much bigger, at least a hundred square meters, taking up two storefronts.

Upon entering, a staircase lay to the left. All these shops had two stories, originally rented out, but now everyone had moved away. Heading further in, the back room was empty except for some old-fashioned furniture.

“I have to stay here?” Susan’s voice trembled. The place felt cold and deserted from being vacant so long—dreadful for any young woman.

Qin Jing wasn’t about to set Susan up; he’d already checked earlier—there was nothing filthy left behind.

He flicked on the lights, instantly brightening the room. Hearing Susan’s sigh of relief behind him, Qin Jing smiled, then went to the main hall and pushed in a sofa—an old folding one that could be laid flat as a bed.

Once everything was set, Qin Jing said coolly, “You can tidy up the rest. I don’t know why you insist on staying the night, but after tonight, you should leave.”

He suspected Susan had other motives for her insistence, but after some thought, he reasoned that even if Hathaway intended to employ a honey trap, she wouldn’t use her own chief secretary. Unable to discern their true intentions, Qin Jing simply let her stay next door.

“Hey… um, Mr. Qin, Brother Qin, don’t go. Stay and keep me company…”

Ignoring Susan’s plea, Qin Jing turned and left.

Back in his shop, he opened his rice cooker and began to eat.

He ate spiritual rice and drank spiritual spring water—no dishes. That afternoon, he’d tried ordering takeout to go with the spiritual rice, but found the rice’s delicate fragrance immediately overpowered the mediocre flavors of the food; even braised pork tasted like chewing jerky. So, for dinner, he simply ate the rice alone.

The taste was exquisite—a subtle fragrance, yet intensely flavorful on the palate. He finished three bowls in one sitting, nearly a whole pound, then drank some spiritual spring water, sat cross-legged, and began his cultivation.

He didn’t aggressively absorb spiritual energy from the world but instead focused on familiarizing himself with the pathways of the “Six Tactics of Civil Mastery,” steadily consolidating his foundation. Thus, his session was short—just half an hour before he stopped.

After a little more spiritual spring water and a quiet rest, he began consuming the miraculous snacks.

This was his second time with these magical treats. He’d learned to take only one gram at a time, especially with the magical fish fin that improved his cultivation constitution. He’d even filled a bucket with water in the little bathroom out back, jumped in, and then ate the snack.

Even on this second try, his body flushed out a lot of gray-black filth, turning the whole bucket of water an inky green.

This time, having eaten spiritual rice in advance, he didn’t feel utterly drained—just a bit weak.

As he left the bathroom, about to return to his room, a scream rang out from next door.

The shared toilets for the three shops were outside in the courtyard, makeshift huts of color steel panels, so the sound was especially clear. Qin Jing paused, donned his bathrobe, and went to knock on the back door of the neighboring shop.

“Who’s there?” Susan called out, her voice taut with nerves.

“It’s me,” Qin Jing replied gruffly. “At this hour, who else could it be?”

Thump—clumsy sounds came from inside, and then Susan burst out, half-dressed, a waft of her scent enveloping Qin Jing as she threw herself into his arms.

Was this really a honey trap?

Qin Jing raised an eyebrow but didn’t refuse. As for Hathaway’s honey trap, he wasn’t the least bit afraid. While he prided himself on being principled, never accepting benefits lightly, if it was a ploy, he’d gladly swallow the sugar coating and send the shell right back.

“Qin Jing… there’s a ghost here… I’m terrified…”

Feeling Susan trembling in his arms, Qin Jing finally grew serious. Wang Shouren had also said there was a ghost here—could there really be something he’d overlooked?

“Don’t be afraid. Come inside and let’s take a look.”

He patted Susan’s shoulder, her skin slippery to the touch—she was wearing nothing but a shoulder-baring nightdress.

Susan shook her head desperately, clinging to him. “BOSS told me, there never used to be ghosts in this world, but now they definitely exist. Mr. Qin, let’s just leave.”

Qin Jing laughed. “I know Hathaway. Do you think I’m afraid of ghosts?”

With that, he strode inside.

The house was perfectly normal, every light blazing, illuminating every corner. It was mostly bare, with only a few pieces of old furniture, so a glance was enough for Qin Jing to take stock.

“Huh? That white ghostly shadow disappeared?” Susan poked her head out from behind him.

To her surprise, Qin Jing walked into a corner, picked up a white bedsheet from the floor, and mused, “There really was a ghost.”

Susan shuddered, but then saw Qin Jing pull out his phone, fiddling with it, before suddenly addressing the air beside him, “Enough with your tricks—show yourself!”

Her face went even paler, for she saw, at the very spot Qin Jing was staring, the faint outline of a long-haired woman materialize…

And then—

With a swish, a dark figure appeared out of nowhere before Qin Jing, holding a bronze box. With a bang, it stuffed the long-haired woman inside and vanished.

Susan rubbed her eyes, murmuring, “Am I seeing things?”

Qin Jing looked at his phone in satisfaction—even Susan’s insistence on staying over now seemed almost endearing…

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