Ye Hong finally put down the ladle and the bowl. “That’s enough oil. Start cooking.”
Ye Qingyang let out a cheerful “Eh!” and pulled out tomatoes, green peppers, meat, and eggplants from the fridge, tossing them one by one into the pan.
Ye Hong hadn’t reacted yet to the first two ingredients.
It wasn’t until the third tomato hit the hot oil, splashing onto her face and burning her, that she yelped, “Ouch!”
Only then did she realize what was happening and scolded, “Ye Qingyang! What are you doing?!”
Ye Qingyang obediently replied, “Cooking, of course.”
“You didn’t wash the vegetables!”
Rubbing the spots on her face that the oil had scalded, she shouted, “You didn’t wash or chop them—what are you even cooking?!”
Ye Qingyang spoke calmly, his tone simple yet earnest, as if accompanied by a background score: “High-end ingredients often need the simplest cooking methods. To preserve their original flavor, thoughtful Xiao Ye chooses to cook them in the most straightforward way.”
Ye Hong: …
Ye Qingyang flipped the pan with flair. “It’s not me saying this. It’s from a famous culinary documentary on CCTV. I’m just following what they said.”
He blinked innocently after saying this.
Ye Hong stared at the sizzling oil and the three tomatoes, still earthy and full of soil scent.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Just to make things difficult for me and avoid actually cooking?”
Ye Qingyang staggered back in disbelief, tears welling up. “Aunt!!! How could you think that of me?! I’m doing this for you! For the family! How can you accuse me like this?!”
Tears streamed down his face.
Ye Hong, exasperated, shouted, “I’m the one suffering! You’ve ruined a whole bucket of oil, and now the tomatoes are gone too! Don’t I have a right to be upset?!”
Ye Qingyang, still tearful, replied, “I’m doing this for you! For this family!”
Ye Hong felt her chest tighten. She didn’t want to see Ye Qingyang anymore. “Get out. Tonight, you’re not eating!”
Ye Qingyang shook his head. “I haven’t cooked the meat for you yet.”
“You want to ruin the meat too?!” Ye Hong shouted. “Go sweep the floors! Every room! If it’s not clean, you don’t sleep!”
Ye Qingyang picked up the broom, feigning grievance, and trudged out pitifully.
The house wasn’t actually dirty—after all, in Ye Hong’s eyes, it was her home, and she cleaned it every morning.
Ye Qingyang half-heartedly swept a few spots, but still found ways to annoy her. “Aunt, do you still want this napkin?”
“No!”
“Aunt, there’s half a candy on the floor. Do you want it?”
“No!”
“Aunt, I see a receipt over here. Should I sweep it?”
“Yes!” Ye Hong was mentally exhausted. “All of it on the floor, sweep it. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ye Qingyang looked around the living room. It was reasonably clean, and Ye Hong couldn’t see him, so he sat down to eat some fruit.
When he finished, he theatrically announced, “Aunt, I finished the living room.”
“And my bedroom! Your sister’s bedroom!”
“Oh,” Ye Qingyang said, standing and taking the broom into Ye Hong’s bedroom.
Her bedroom was already clean, so he didn’t bother much.
But before leaving, he noticed a gold earring under her vanity. His eyes lit up.
“Aunt, in your room—”
“Sweep!” Ye Hong was busy cooking, not paying him any mind. “Everything on the floor, sweep it. Stop talking so much!”
“Then I’ll sweep everything on the floor!” Ye Qingyang shouted.
“Hurry up, stop dawdling.”
So he didn’t hesitate to sweep the gold earring into his pocket. After all, Ye Hong told him to sweep; he was just following orders.
He pretended to sweep around Wang Hui’s room but saw it was clean and left without touching anything.
Next to Wang Hui’s bedroom was a locked room—probably Ye Hong’s son, Wang Fan’s room.
According to the original owner’s memories, this had been the original owner’s bedroom, but Wang Fan had claimed it.
When Wang Fan moved out after getting married, Ye Qingyang expected the room to return to him. It didn’t. Ye Hong locked it, only opening it when Wang Fan came home.
Ye Qingyang still slept on the balcony’s steel bed.
He shook his head. Who sleeps on a steel bed? Whoever wants it, fine—but not him. Tonight, he was determined to claim a proper bedroom for a good night’s sleep.
Putting down the broom, he returned to his small balcony.
The balcony was tiny, cluttered with miscellaneous items. Ye Qingyang looked around—barely five feet wide—and thought it was impressive that the original owner had grown nearly five foot seven or eight in such conditions.
The small bed was probably barely four feet, maybe not even four and a half.
Looking around, he saw a folding table by the head—probably the original owner’s desk.
Pathetic. Truly heartbreaking.
He rummaged through a pile of items near the foot of the bed and was surprised to find a megaphone—the kind used by street vendors.
A divine tool had fallen into his hands. Heaven was on his side.
He put the megaphone away. Soon, Wang Hui and her husband, Wang Yue, came home.
Ye Hong brought out the food, glanced at the balcony, and seeing Ye Qingyang didn’t come out, didn’t call him to eat.
Ye Qingyang ate a bowl of stew and was lying on the steel bed, resting his eyes.
As he rested, he thought of his own home.
Had his soul traveled here? Was his body still there?
If not, Ye Qingyuan—the little girl—would probably cry herself to death. His parents would be heartbroken too.
Hopefully, his body was still there. Or maybe his soul was split in two—half here, half there—so neither side would suffer.
He watched the sky darken, wondering if he could return, taking it step by step. If he could, great. If not, he wouldn’t let it upset him.
Listening to music for a while, he waited until Ye Hong’s family went to bed and the lights went out.
Then he checked the time, preparing to act an hour later.
At 12:30 a.m., the Ye family slept soundly.
Only Ye Qingyang, still awake from high school celebrations and a completely messed-up biological clock, had no sleepiness—and a strong urge to sing.
He was an action-oriented type, unrestrained.
He grabbed the megaphone and shouted, “Hey! Can you hear me? Friends on the left, how’s it going? Friends on the right, show me your hands!”
The megaphone faithfully amplified his voice.
Ye Qingyang sprang up, shouting, “The 28th All-Around Singer Ye Qingyang Concert begins now! Let’s give a round of applause to Asia’s King, Universe Superstar—Ye Qingyang!”
Afterwards, he whistled into the megaphone, hand on his chest, humbly saying, “Thank you, thank you for your support. Now, I’ll perform my first cover: Night Visit of the Vampire.”
He stood and moved into the living room, megaphone in hand, singing:
“Full of sorrow yet unable to cry
Exhausted yet unable to sleep
Endlessly day and night
Then again, day and night
Endless days and nights
Forever trapped in the human world”
He sang with passion, his voice piercing the bedrooms, instantly waking the three sleepers.
Ye Hong hadn’t reacted yet when the song shook her head:
“I am a bat yet cannot fly
Trapped in streets of day after day
Endless hunting
As if a curse
The night is my cloak
The sunrise my risk
The dance floor’s frenzy
Is my destined confinement”
Ye Qingyang sang loudly, switched on the living room light, and continued:
“God has abandoned us
Yet gives the dim moon
To light the world
Demanding endless, merciless propagation
Watching loved ones say goodbye
Dreams wither one by one
Leaving me gasping alone for a thousand years”
As he shouted the final “thousand years,” bang! Both Ye Hong and Wang Hui’s doors swung open.
Ye Hong shouted angrily, “What on earth are you doing, wailing like a ghost in the middle of the night?!”