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By all accounts, the house is absolute shit, but it’s his. Kind of. It’s a great metaphor for Zhou ZIshu’s life, really; ramshackle at best, worn and tired and grey, but still stubbornly holding up against all else. Its paint is chipped and faded, the floors creaky, and some of the amenities are in desperate need of repair. Zhou Zishu couldn’t be happier.
The rent is an absolute steal, reduced from its already meager price with the promise of repair by Zhou Zishu’s own hand. He has the time to kill now and some of the skill to do it; he’s never shied away from hard work, and what’s a little labor for a cheap place to live? The old woman who owns the place would’ve sold it to him outright just to get it off her hands if it wasn’t for the value of owning any real estate at all — she hasn’t had a renter here in ages, a combination of utter shabbiness and supposed hauntings.
Zhou Zishu doesn’t mind shabby, and as for the supernatural, well, he’d never held much belief in it. The cutthroat world of politics and its unsavory underbelly is far more terrifying, in his experience, and far more emotionally taxing. It’s why he had willingly and cheerfully traded his suits for cargo shorts, ties for old hoodies, and glocks for a hammer and nails to will away the rest of his numbered years on his own terms, after all.
But yes, technically his shitty house is haunted. And yes, technically Wen Kexing is capable of actually being dangerous — he’d found that out the hard way when he first moved in and the bastard had seen fit to “test” his abilities. But overall? Ghosts are nothing but a loud, sticky, flirtatious annoyance and nothing to be overly concerned about. Honestly, even a little disappointing — his life before had utterly consumed everything he had, this obnoxious ghost only robs him of personal space and peace and quiet.
Like now, for instance.
“If you’re such good friends, why am I just hearing about him now? You’ve never talked about him before.”
Wen Kexing has been pestering him all afternoon for details on his friends. (Who he’d been surprised that Zhou Zishu even had, the bastard.) This is nothing new though, Zhou Zishu has never been one for divulging his own secrets, but that hasn’t stopped that nosy ghost from trying to crack that particular shell since they first met. Unfortunately for him, Zhou Zishu is nothing but stubbornly devoted to whatever he decides to do.
The last time he’d since Jing Beiyuan, it was to covertly help transplant him into a new life, in a new city, with a husband who would give him the moon if he could. It’s been years. But Jing Beiyuan is as resourceful as Zhou Zishu himself is and can be three times more chatty; it was only a matter of time until they found each other again. And now that Zhou Zishu has untangled himself from the same messy web of affairs and has his own place, his best friend wants to officially catch up.
His best friend might end up regretting that decision.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“You would find peace in some desolate place like this, wouldn’t you?”
Jing Beiyuan’s eyes often look like they’re smiling, but there’s genuine fondness there that matches the exasperation in his voice.
Zhou Zishu grins, casually leaning against the doorframe in a worn out sweatshirt. It’s a nice contrast to Beiyuan’s crisp button up.
“You know I like to keep a low profile.”
“I don’t think you could go any lower. Perhaps if the roof finally caved in.”
Laughing, Zhou Zishu ushers him inside.
The interior of his home is nicer, even if just a little. He’s already made progress on a few of his renovation projects, though the bulk of that had been fixing leaky faucets and patching over crumbling areas of drywall. He’s not broke, he just prefers function over aesthetics, and repairs take time. The couch is comfortable, the tv works, and he hasn’t fallen through the floor so Zhou Zishu is pretty content.
“My hardworking husband has a surgery, so you’ll have to contend with just me today.”
Wen Kexing must’ve finished whatever he was doing or been alerted by the noise, because his head pops out from the wall separating the kitchen and living room.
There’s a sharp intake of breath.
Jing Beiyuan seems to be surveying the living room and pays no notice to the disembodied head, but Wen Kexing is staring at Beiyuan with full attention.
Jing Beiyuan is an incredibly good-looking and incredibly wealthy young man that -apparently- even ghosts aren’t immune to. His car undoubtedly costs more than Zhou Zishu’s house 8 times over, yet he always manages to look like he belongs, no matter the environment. Even Zhou Zishu’s modest living room. But it’s that easy sociability and manipulation of the moment that makes Jing Beiyuan so good at what he does. Or used to do. Now he’s a self-proclaimed trophy husband.
Wu Xi really worked his ass off for this one, didn’t he?
“He is quieter company.” Zhou Zishu points out cheekily.
Jing Beiyuan decides to ignore him in favor of reaching into the deep plastic bag hanging off his arm and fishing out several glass containers.
He holds them up proudly with an arched brow.
“But does he bring you dinner?”
Zhou Zishu snorts.
“We both know damn well you didn’t cook that.”
“I,” Jing Beiyuan declares grandly, “made the rice. Which is more than I’ve ever seen you do.”
Beside him, clearly enjoying the opportunity to harass Zhou Zishu without retaliation, Wen Kexing snaps out of his ogling and cackles.
“Outdone by a pampered pretty boy! A-Xu, does this mean you’re even more spoiled?”
It’s a testament to his abilities and constant exposure to Wen Kexing’s personality that Zhou Zishu doesn’t even twitch at the jibes. He's been expecting this wretched ghost to chatter through the whole thing and try to trick him into, as Jing Beiyuan would see it, talking to empty air.
Most would see this situation as a challenge. But honestly, he’s happier this way - this just means that these two sly foxes can’t knowingly team up together to give him even more grief.
“He made extra, so you won’t have to ‘cook’ tomorrow.” Jing Beiyuan continues.
At this, Wen Kexing’s mirth quiets.
“What, you think I can’t take care of myself?” Zhou Zishu jokes.
Jing Beiyuan shoots him a pointed look.
“If I search your cabinets right now, will I not find packs and packs of instant noodles?”
And Wen Kexing is back to snickering again, draping himself over Zhou Zishu’s shoulder.
“It’s true! If I didn’t feed you properly, you’d probably waste away. What would you do without me~?”
Wen Kexing is not solid to him per se, he’s certainly made lewd comments and phased parts of himself through Zhou Zishu before, but there can be an almost… pressure, to Wen Kexing’s touch sometimes. He tries to subtly shrug him off, but it looks like the ghost is happy to cling to him for now, and there’s not much he can do about it except ignore him.
“Bold statement, coming from you.”
If it weren’t for Wu Xi and PingAn, Jing Beiyuan would probably just not eat.
His friend hums, unconcerned. “I have a husband and a PA for that.”
He sets half of the containers onto the living room table and holds up the bag that must contain the extra.
“I’ll stick it in the fridge?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Despite Zhou Zishu’s lack of culinary ability, the kitchen seems to have received more care than the living room. The appliances are probably as old as Zhou Zishu himself, but everything is clean and tidily put away and there’s new paint on the walls. It’s faint, but the scent of cooking food still lingers warm in the air, and there’s a cluster of dishware drying beside the sink. When Jing Beiyuan opens the refrigerator, he finds something else.
“Hmm? There’s actual food in here?”
Among the half-eaten containers of take-out, a few cans of beer, and a small collection of condiments in his mostly-empty fridge is a neat stack of cheap plastic containers.
Suspicious, Jing Beiyuan peeks into one.
It’s a pre-made meal; as neatly prepared and packed away as the ones he had brought himself, but more indulgent and with foods carefully selected to suit Zhou Zishu’s taste.
The smaller containers must be side dishes.
Wen Kexing often cooks for him, and he’s quite good at it despite having to learn how to manipulate his ghostly pressure-touch, but there’s more here than usual.
He made dinner for both of us.
It’s probably why he had been extra snippy about Zhou Zishu staying out of the kitchen earlier today; he ‘s alway complaining that Zhou Zishu only gets in the way.
The ghost hovers silently in the air beside him, watching his expression.
Zhou Zishu grunts.
“The auntie next door took pity on me.”
Jing Beiyuan eyes up the containers again, eyebrows raised. “That auntie is certainly generous.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Wen Kexing perks up a bit.
Jing Beiyuan is clearly unconvinced, but surprisingly he doesn’t press the matter, for which Zhou Zishu is grateful. Instead, he pulls some high end wine with a familiar label out of his bag that has them both grinning ear to ear.
“Speaking of generous.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Whatever attraction Wen Kexing initially felt towards Jing Beiyuan has fled as quickly as it had come.
Sure, he’s pretty to look at and his voice is nice to the ear, but the more he speaks the more unfavorable he becomes. What he had once seen as beauty now comes across as pure deviousness - those eyes are too playful, that smile too knowing. Wen Kexing has had his share of pretty faces in his time, and this one carries an air of treacherousness so thick that one could slice through it with a cleaver. It’s a deadly combination. At first he had been suspicious of the mysterious “Wu Xi’s” intentions, making extra food for A-Xu after so long without contact; now he can’t help but pity the man who married someone so utterly untrustworthy.
He floats with his legs crossed and chin in hand, silently nursing his jar of vinegar as A-Xu and the newcomer make polite noises at each other over their dinner and wine. A-Xu has to know he’s fuming, but he puts on a good show of acting like Wen Kexing is nothing but a speck of dust.
How can you go years without talking to someone and then act like you know him so well?
Even more frustrating is that this Jing Beiyuan isn’t very far off the mark in his assumptions.
He’s lived with A-Xu for nearly an entire year and has been piecing together his backstory through what little crumbs he’s been able to pester out by sheer persistence. In regards to Jing Beiyuan, all he’s gotten is that he’s a friend from “before”, and wants to visit.
What is there for A-Xu to hide from him about this man? Certainly nothing good.
And now the only living man to have seen and spoken with him since his death is sitting here pretending he doesn’t exist, while Wen Kexing is forced to stew alone and entertain himself.
It’s my house. I’ve been haunting this place for years! He gripes internally. Why should A-Xu act like I’m not here just so this huli jing won’t lose any sleep tonight over my presence?
He’s worked himself up into a fine fit, feeling truly sorry for himself. Resentment radiates from him in waves, cold jealousy seeping into the replastered walls as frostily as creeping wintertide. The temperature in the room must have dropped by ten degrees.
Subconsciously, Jing Beiyuan shivers.
“You cold?” Zhou Zishu asks, playing the fool.
Jing Beiyuan waves his hand. “No, just a slight chill. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I need to redo the seal on those window frames sometime, there’s probably air getting through.”
Wen Kexing pays no mind to the rest of their conversation, letting it fade into white noise. He cocks his head curiously in Jing Beiyuan’s direction.
Now there’s an idea.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In this moment, Zhou Zishu fully understands why people steer clear of haunted houses - ghosts really can be absolute nuisances. Or maybe it’s just Wen Kexing, he’s never met any other ghosts.
The spirit had been unhappy but quiet up to a point, floating around and listening in on his and Beiyuan’s conversation. But whatever temper tantrum he’d been languishing in had finally come to a point, and all of that negative energy had started to bleed out into the tangible. There had been a series of events, one after the other, that were so stereotypical it bordered on ridiculous instead of unnerving.
Jing Beiyuan, for his part, had taken it all in stride.
When the lights had begun to flicker, he had casually commented something along the lines of, “This place is so old, I’m sure the wiring needs to be redone.” And then carried on with sipping his wine and regaling him with tales about his unruly pet weasel.
Undefeated, Wen Kexing had then proceeded to slam all of the doors hard shut. The force of it practically rocked the house on its foundation, startling the two living occupants, but otherwise everything was fine except fear for the integrity of the old doors. Jing Beiyuan chalked the phenomena up to some nonsense about wind pressure and those presumably shoddy windows.
More personally, Jing Beiyuan had returned from using the restroom and suggested he replace the vent fan. It seemed the room had started to steam and the walls dripping wet while he washed his hands. Initially, Zhou Zishu had taken it as yet another home renovation project to add to his list until he had gone to investigate and found the words ‘GET OUT’ scrawled out in paint(?) across the fogged up mirror.
“These things can be stubborn.” his friend had commented, scrutinizing the mirror. “But if you clean it properly a few times, eventually it’ll work itself out.”
How Jing Beiyuan of all people would know anything about cleaning practices, Zhou Zishu couldn’t say. At this point, it all feels like a huge joke.
But Wen Kexing is still hovering behind his friend, glaring daggers as if Jing Beiyuan had been the one to end his life.
Towards late evening, the last of the wine had been poured -the tail end of three bottles- and filled only the bottom of their cups, signaling the end of the night. Despite Wen Kexing’s frankly ridiculous haunting attempts it’s been a nice evening, and a belly full of good wine has Zhou Zishu sinking comfortable and relaxed into the couch cushions.
Jing Beiyuan sips down the last few drops in his cup, peering at him over the rim with suspicious cheer.
“Ah, Zishu. Didn’t you say back then that, when we meet again, you would want help in finding a wife?”
Zhou Zishu is thrown off into a coughing fit, but Wen Kexing pops to attention like a spring. His eyes cloud, reflective of the intensity in the room.
Even the hairs on the back of Zhou Zishu’s neck stand on end as a result, and he can see Wen Kexing and understand what’s happening.
“You said such a thing?”
Zhou Zishu takes a sip of wine to soothe his throat. It had been a passing joke ages ago…
Oversharp fingernails scrape across the wall and chip off flecks of paint and chalky white as Wen Kexing approaches, leaving striped gouges in his wake. The lights flicker as they had before but with greater intensity, fighting valiantly to hold onto their light against increasing supernatural pressure.
Incredibly, Jing Beiyuan remains unfazed.
“I haven’t forgotten my promise! You mentioned earlier that it’s just you, now. If you’re feeling lonely in this new place, I know a number of lovely ladies with whom I can make your acquain-”
There’s a loud crack, sharp and piercing. It’s enough to attract all of their attention, even Wen Kexing’s. The lights finally cease their flickering, and once Zhou Zishu’s eyes have adjusted, he finds big eggshell white pieces of glass littered on the other side of the room. It seems the old lamp couldn’t hold out.
Jing Beiyuan hums.
“Maybe it’s not the wiring after all.”
Zhou Zishu shoots a covert look at Wen Kexing, pouring every ounce of annoyance he can into the glare. Not just a broken bulb, but the drywall, too?
I just patched that!
There’s a buzz from the coffee table, and Jing Beiyuan’s phone screen lights up with a text notification.
“Ah, PingAn is here. Let’s get this cleaned up and I’ll be on my way.”
“Yea, yes, yes, it’s getting late.” Wen Kexing says, flapping his hand in a shoo-ing gesture. “We’d hate to keep you.”
It’s annoying making sure they’ve swept up the littlest flecks of glass, but together the two living men make short work of the glass disposal. Zhou Zishu doesn’t bother replacing the bulb just yet - he’ll get around to it sometime.
“Come over sometime,” Jing Beiyuan says by means of farewell, “we’ll feed you again should you fall out of Auntie’s favor.”
“I keep him fed just fine on my own, thanks!” Wen Kexing quips from above them, even though his complaints go unheard.
Zhou Zishu shoots Jing Beiyuan a wry grin. “I can wash the rice.”
Beiyuan inclines his head gravely.
“Wu Xi will shed tears in awe of your skills, I’m sure.”
The mental image has Zhou Zishu barking out a laugh as he opens the door.
The night is warm, but there’s a gentle breeze in the air to keep the balance. It’s a gentle blanket adding a soft layer over the bustling weekend nightlife. There’s a car waiting for Jing Beiyuan at the curb, probably Ping’An, but instead they both take a moment to clear their heads and soak in the pleasant weather while it lasts.
“I’m glad you’re taken care of.” Beiyuan comments offhandedly.
He turns his head and pats Zhou Zishu on the shoulder, then proceeds down to the open door waiting for him.
Zhou Zishu pauses in thought as he pulls away into the night.
Jing Beiyuan had always been eerily perceptive.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“That pretty boy is too familiar with you.” Wen Kexing grumps later, “Acting like he knows so much.”
He’s followed Zhou Zishu into the bathroom like a shadow, leering at him with particular interest as he tugs his shirt over his head and steps into the shower. Zhou Zishu’s too tired to shoo him out. It’s not like it would work anyway - privacy is nothing when your hanger-on can walk through walls.
He’s always been clingy, but who knew this pesky ghost was actually the jealous type, too? And anyway, hadn’t Jing Beiyuan just given them his blessing, in his own cryptic way?
“He probably knows too much. Anyway, don’t try to get out of it, you’re helping me patch that wall up. Again.”
It’s the third time already. He’s almost tempted to just tear the damn thing down.
Wen Kexing makes no promises, but that’s fine, he’ll just bully him into it later. He always does.
Once he’s clean and popped his medication, exhaustion sends Zhou Zishu flopping into bed with the last ounce of energy he can spare. Ghosts don’t need sleep, of course, but Wen Kexing follows him into bed regardless.
“A-Xuuu, why are you turning away from me?” He drawls with exaggerated displeasure.
Zhou Zishu shoots him a dirty look over his shoulder.
“After all the shit you pulled tonight, you want to be coddled?”
But the ghost shamelessly plasters himself to his back and wraps his limbs around him like a particularly determined barnacle, taking care to not phase through him. The areas where they touch are cool, but it’s not unpleasant. Zhou Zishu is used to it. It’s almost… comforting.
And if Wen Kexing is feeling triumphant about his lack of resistance, well, he has the good sense to not comment on it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Across town, Jing Beiyuan is also settled into bed for the night.
“How is Zhou Zishu?”
He huffs and turns over to grin at his husband beside him. There's a mischievous light in his eyes that Wu Xi decides he’s better off not deciphering.
“Zishu has a ‘friend’. They’re obnoxious together, it’s insufferable. But he seems happy enough.”
Wu Xi’s brows furrow in puzzlement. He’s clearly missing something, but doesn’t question it.
“Ah, I’m happy for him.”