Chapter 14: This Water Tastes a Bit Sweet

“Daddy, you're the best. I love you.”
“Daddy loves you too. Go to sleep, sweetheart.” Gou Liang could hardly keep from smiling.

Fortunately, Hao Dagen’s harmless, cheerful face made it impossible for Wang Xiaomeng to notice his amusement.

Perhaps reassured by her “mountain-village daddy” being back, Wang Xiaomeng soon drifted off to sleep.

Gou Liang had already noticed Wang Xinyao’s snow-white feet shifting restlessly beneath the covers—a sign she was awake but unwilling to greet Hao Dagen.

Lying there, his heart filled with countless emotions.

This was the true, awkward life of a live-in son-in-law—so much harsher than the tales of sudden fortune in drama series.

Even if he spent a lifetime sleeping in this bed, he would never find his soul’s longing homeland... Peach Blossom Spring.

After lying for a while, he began to feel parched. Glancing at the nightstand, he saw a half-filled glass of water, which he drained in one gulp.

As he finished, a sweet, jelly-like fragrance lingered on his lips. This wasn’t the subtle flavor of bottled spring water.

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he noticed half a lip print on the glass. His heart fluttered.

Whose was it—Wang Xiaomeng’s or Wang Xinyao’s?

But that hardly mattered. What mattered was that, wearing Hao Dagen’s face, he might uncover the truth.

He had to help Zhang Zhihan let go of her obsessions, send her into the afterlife, and begin anew.

Yet whenever he thought of Zhang Zhihan, a sharp pang of sorrow struck him.

He couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was amiss. Instinct told him the Zhang Zihan he’d seen was a living, breathing person, not a ghost bound by unfinished business.

If he appeared before her wearing Hao Dagen’s skin, what would Zhang Zihan do?

He barely dared pursue the thought, afraid his fragile heart couldn’t take it.

Drowsiness began to overtake him.

Then, suddenly, the room’s temperature dropped by several degrees. A chill settled in, making him shiver and hunch his shoulders.

He hesitated, then quickly pulled the covers tighter.

The bedside lamp flickered a few times and went out with a pop, plunging the room into darkness.

Gou Liang got off the bed, intending to pull open the curtains and let in some light from outside.

Suddenly, his breath caught, his whole body tensed, his heart squeezed tight. He felt something invisible slowly make its way out of the bathroom.

His heart nearly stopped in terror; he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.

Because Shi Linlin had siphoned away some of his life force, the scarlet talisman on his body had turned gray.

He tried to summon its power—at least a fire hook or a needle—but nothing happened.

After losing his vital energy, he was as powerless as any ordinary person.

That thing was standing in the hallway outside the bathroom, right in front of the door, blocking any chance of escape.

He could sense, just by instinct, that it was taller and larger than him—definitely not Zhang Zhihan, who had clung to Wang Xiaomeng.

Was it merely passing through, or did it haunt this place?

There wasn’t a single weapon in the room—not even a kitchen knife or a desk lamp.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead; he was shaking all over. If he weren’t a hearse driver, he would have fainted from fear.

The terrifying presence stared at him from the darkness, then began to move toward him—soundless, but exuding an ice-cold, sinister aura.

The sense of oppression and terror shot through him like a fever; his heart threatened to explode.

They say when pushed to the limit, people and animals alike will fight back with desperate courage.

Like a gentle antelope, when attacked by a lion it will lower its horns and charge, despite knowing it’s no match.

That sort of courage comes from a survival instinct—forced out by the threat of death.

In his desperation, Gou Liang’s hidden potential erupted. His mind whirred at lightning speed, much faster than usual.

A sudden memory flashed—old village folk insisted that if you ran into a ghost, smacking it with a shoe (the stinkier, the better) worked wonders.

Of course! He was blessed with a pair of legendary sweaty feet.

By now, the thing was almost upon him.

Gou Liang suddenly roared, “You bastard! I’m a healer—just got back from the underworld. I’ve danced with ghosts—what are you supposed to be? Don’t bother playing tricks on me! If you’ve got the guts, show yourself and see if I don’t beat you to pieces!”

To his astonishment, the entity recoiled several steps in fear.

The pressure and terror lessened instantly.

Gou Liang gasped for air, eyes locked on the invisible threat, and snatched up his two reeking shoes from the rack—one in each hand, gripping them tightly.

He couldn’t see his opponent or himself.

If he could see his reflection, he’d probably scare himself—face contorted with rage, eyes bloodshot and bulging.

He remembered the villagers’ wisdom: ghosts feared loud curses. Those things loved to make eerie noises, driving people to madness. But if you stood your ground and cursed loudly, you’d shatter their bravado—hence the saying: “Ghosts fear the wicked.”

He hadn’t expected the old folks’ words to be so effective. One bellow had sent the thing retreating.

Now, shoes in hand, he grew even bolder and unleashed another furious shout:

“You bastard! Come on, if you dare! If I don’t beat you until your soul shatters, my name isn’t Gou Liang!”

The invisible entity shrank back again.

That did it—Gou Liang erupted. “Let’s see you scare me!”

He swung both shoes wildly, chasing the thing, which retreated in terror back into the bathroom.

Veins bulged on Gou Liang’s forehead as he stormed after it, striking at empty air in a frenzy.

As he thrashed, a piercing ringing filled his ears, threatening to rupture his eardrums.

The lightbulb flickered, then snapped back to life.

He sensed he’d hit the thing and pressed his advantage, battering it mercilessly until it had nowhere left to flee—finally, it darted straight into the toilet.

He slammed the flush button again and again, water roaring as he flushed it away, over and over until he was gasping for breath.

The room’s temperature rose—every trace of oppressive chill vanished.

A victorious smile spread across Gou Liang’s face. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

But then the stench from the shoes nearly knocked him out.

Damn, with shoes like these, even the foulest ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.

He stood in the bathroom a while, slowly regaining his composure.

Turning around, he saw Wang Xinyao and her daughter clinging to each other, trembling, gazing at him with awe and admiration in their eyes.