Chapter 63: Doudou and Dou Dou

Seeing their ancestors running off or slipping away.

Amei looked at Huang Niangmu with some concern.

“Grandma, what do we do now?”

“Don’t worry—if things really go south, they won’t abandon us. Besides, if all else fails, we can call the police.”

Huang Niangmu chuckled, seemingly unconcerned about the powerful ghost her husband had mentioned chasing them.

Yet Huang Niangmu’s words surprised Amei.

“Call the police?”

“Of course. Today’s state is strong; under the tide of human civilization, all demons, gods, and ghosts must yield. Otherwise, how do you think Grandma got arrested back then? Was it because we couldn’t handle it…”

Hearing this, Amei felt reassured.

But after turning around, Huang Niangmu frowned deeply—she had lived her whole life and had never encountered a situation like this before.

Could there really be a ghost this powerful—or one like her, with a lineage?

Yet in this stretch of coastline, who exactly was around, she knew perfectly well.

Unless it was an outsider.

For a moment, Huang Niangmu’s thoughts churned, heavy with worry.

But in truth, they were worrying for nothing, because Shen Siyuan couldn’t get any clear answer out of Dou Dou.

One moment she said it was east, the next it was west; finally, Shen Siyuan gave up pressing her.

At that moment, he suddenly missed Yi Xingyue.

Though she was just as young, she was meticulous, patient, and unusually mature—nothing like Dou Dou, who was so unreliable.

Well, Dou Dou was only three years old; it was understandable.

I wonder how she’s doing back home with her grandmother—she still hasn’t returned.

“Go home. I’m going to rest.” Shen Siyuan put down the towel and lay on the bed.

But Dou Dou stood still, watching him. When he looked at her, her big eyes rolled around, avoiding his gaze, and she scratched her head, acting like everything was fine, absolutely fine…

“Is there something else?” Shen Siyuan asked.

“Hehe, I want to watch cartoons. Fushu Guoguo is the best…”

Such a little kid, and she’d already learned to flatter.

“Don’t your parents let you watch?” Shen Siyuan said, utterly speechless.

“The TV at home is all ads, and they’re all stuff I don’t like. I’m a good girl—I didn’t manifest to make Dad change the channel…”

This little thing, by the end, was even boasting.

“Alright, what do you want to watch?”

“I want to watch Paw Patrol.”

“Alright.”

It wasn’t surprising Dou Dou wanted to come to Shen Siyuan’s to watch TV—mainly because Shen Siyuan used

“Fushu Guoguo, can I also raise a little puppy?” Dou Dou pleaded pitifully.

“You’ll have to ask your parents. I can’t raise one here.”

“But I want to raise a ghost puppy,” Dou Dou said, then drooped her little hands and stuck out her tongue.

Shen Siyuan was amused by her.

“Fine, but only if you can find a ghost dog.”

Animal spirits were hard to find, because they had low intelligence and simple thoughts; most died and simply scattered with the wind. In all this time, Shen Siyuan had never seen many.

Hearing this, Dou Dou stopped watching the cartoon, rode a gust of yin wind out the door, and hurried off to hunt for a dog.

But Shen Siyuan thought she was wasting her time—after all, her entire body was radiating Minghuo ; any ghost dog seeing her would turn and run immediately.

“This little thing…”

Shen Siyuan said this aloud, yet his mood lifted.

It felt like he was raising a child.

Damn, why don’t I even have a girlfriend, yet I’m already feeling like a dad?

Shen Siyuan muttered, picked up his phone, and noticed a message.

He thought it was Jiang Tingyu, but when he opened it, he saw it was his friend Hong Wenqing.

The one who played games with him as [Maryo].

Since Shen Siyuan hadn’t logged in for several days, Hong Wenqing messaged him asking why, wondering if he’d quit.

He also told Shen Siyuan he’d drawn an extra [White Fox] mount and would give it to him when he logged back in.

Damn, a three-thousand-yuan mount, just handed out like that—he didn’t believe Hong Wenqing’s excuse about drawing too many.

Game companies had gotten smarter now: non-repeatable cosmetic items were removed from the loot pool after being drawn; you couldn’t get the same one twice unless you switched accounts or bought it from someone else.

He didn’t know where Hong Wenqing’s [White Fox] mount came from, but he knew exactly why he was doing this.

The reason was simple: he didn’t want to lose a friend who played games with him.

Some might think this reason absurd, but it really was that simple.

On life’s journey, finding someone who shares your passion to play the same game isn’t easy.

Many start out together—running dungeons, fighting in arenas, PvPing—like lovers in the heat of romance, thinking of nothing else. But slowly, they drift apart, until you’re left alone, still standing there in solitude…

Shen Siyuan had felt this before. When he first started this game in college, many played together—but gradually, everyone left for their own reasons.

Back then, Shen Siyuan wanted to hold them back, but he knew he couldn’t—after all, games were just games; they had to yield to reality.

That’s why jobs like paid training partners emerged: playing games was never just about the game itself—it required emotional value from others.

Hong Wenqing probably felt this way now—if Shen Siyuan quit, he’d truly become a lonely soul in the game, unsure how long he could keep going. That’s why he wanted to keep Shen Siyuan.

“I’ve been busy these past few days, couldn’t log in,” Shen Siyuan replied.

Hong Wenqing replied instantly.

“So log in now?”

“No, I’m already asleep. Let’s meet this Saturday—I’ll come find you, we’ll have dinner.”

Shen Siyuan had planned to say tomorrow night, but remembered he’d promised Jiang Wenxin a blind date tomorrow.

He also remembered how much Hong Wenqing had given him in-game over the years, so he decided to invite him to play and have dinner on Saturday.

“OJBK.”

Hong Wenqing sent an emoji pack immediately—Shen Siyuan’s decision not to quit made him very happy.

After Dou Dou ran out, she didn’t return that night; it wasn’t until the next day, when Shen Siyuan went to the company, that he saw her happily trotting behind her mother.

Her mother was on the phone; Dou Dou circled Jiang Wenxin, spotted Shen Siyuan, and immediately ran over.

“Well? Catch a puppy yet?” Shen Siyuan asked, amused.

Hearing this, Dou Dou got angry, stuck out her hips, and demanded: “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That the dog runs away when it sees me,” Dou Dou grumbled.

Shen Siyuan spread his hands and laughed: “Who told you to stop controlling your Minghuo ?”

He reached out and patted her little head.

She shook her head in annoyance, but her whole body wiggled too.

Shen Siyuan laughed and walked into the company.

Jiang Wenxin, still on the phone, had wanted to call him back, but thought better of it.

Instead, she told the person on the other end: “Don’t forget about tonight.”

“Second sister, I know—I’ve heard you say it three times already. I won’t forget. I’ll be on time,” came the earnest promise.

Jiang Wenxin hung up and let out a long breath.

Then she reached out to the side, gesturing as if to take a hand—immediately, a gust of yin wind curled around her fingertips.