Chapter 3: These Are Yangcha’s Eyes

But as soon as I stepped outside, I couldn't hold back any longer. Grabbing my keys, I dashed out the door. There was no way I could stay at home; I needed to find a place brimming with yang energy. After a moment’s thought, I sprinted to a nearby internet café. I figured, with the place full of men—and not just any men, but a bunch of rowdy guys—she wouldn't dare come after me here.

To be extra cautious, I chose a seat surrounded by people before turning on the computer. The air was thick with the smell of cigarettes, instant noodles, and sweaty feet, but at least I felt safe. Sitting in front of the monitor, I had no intention of playing any games, so I just found a random TV show to stream. Before I knew it, drowsiness crept in—a rare feeling, since I'd been plagued by insomnia for quite some time.

Perhaps I was so exhausted by the fright I’d had earlier that, finally finding a sense of security here, I planned to nap for a while. But just as I was about to drift off, a chilling voice suddenly rang out through my headphones: "You can't escape!"

I jolted awake instantly. Hurriedly, I rewound the show, but there was no such line anywhere in the dialogue. Was this never going to end? Annoyed, I glanced around, only to suddenly spot a woman in a white dress standing by the back door of the café. It was her—the female ghost who had followed me all the way from the bus.

What did she want from me? Seeing her stare in my direction, I quickly averted my eyes, pretending not to notice. Though I was deeply unsettled, I didn't dare confront her. Instead, I sat back down as if nothing had happened and took off my headphones, determined to sit here until dawn.

I hadn’t expected the ghost to be so persistent. Around five in the morning, I sneaked a glance at the back door—she was still there, though she looked much weaker than before. It must have been because daybreak was approaching. I felt a surge of excitement—perhaps I could finally get rid of her.

But in the midst of that excitement, my eyes suddenly began to ache—an intense pain that had me writhing in my chair. My movements grew frantic, disturbing the guy next to me, who paused his game and turned to me with a puzzled look. "Hey, are you okay?"

I was in so much pain I couldn't speak, so I shook my head. But the moment I turned, he suddenly leapt up in terror and shouted, "Quick, someone help! He's hurt!"

His exclamation left me stunned. All I had was a little eye pain—was that really so alarming? But then everyone around us started to look over, their faces equally shocked. "Holy crap, someone call an ambulance!"

"I'm fine, no need for an ambulance—it's just my eyes, they'll be okay in a bit!" I tried to force my eyes open and reassure them, but for some reason, everyone looked red to me.

"Dude, your eyes are bleeding—don't push yourself!"

"What?" The words hit me like a blow. Only then did I realize—the red I was seeing was my own blood. My eyes were bleeding. This had to be connected to the eyes that the Eyeless Taoist gave me, so I couldn't go to the hospital. Before anyone could call for help, I snatched up my belongings and bolted, stumbling in my panic but thankfully not injuring myself. I raced all the way home.

Once inside, I rushed straight to the bathroom.

When I saw my blood-soaked face in the mirror, I was almost frightened senseless. It was like a scene from a horror film—a face covered in blood staring back at me. But I knew the reflection was my own. Not daring to look any longer, I bent over, turned on the tap, and washed my face. Thankfully, the pain in my eyes had eased.

But just then, the female ghost appeared again. This time, her voice sounded weak. "So, you’re the next Yang Envoy—no wonder you can see me!"

Her words made everything clear. It was because of these eyes that I could see her, and possessing these eyes meant I would see ghosts from now on. Right—the Eyeless Taoist had told me these eyes could see all things, living and dead. So they were legendary yin-yang eyes.

But why had my eyes suddenly started bleeding just now? I turned to the ghost and demanded, "Was it you who made my eyes bleed back in the café?"

"That's beyond my power. But you haven't signed a contract with the underworld since receiving those eyes, right? They're just reminding you not to forget," she replied.

"I couldn't forget if I tried. So, these are Yang Envoy eyes?" I wiped the blood from my face, puzzled.

"Of course. Weren't they given to you by the previous Yang Envoy?"

The previous Yang Envoy? But the Eyeless Taoist told me he was born with these eyes—was he not an earthly immortal, but a Yang Envoy? Then why didn’t he tell me?

I pressed on, "Besides Yang Envoys, is there anyone else born with eyes like these?"

"No, though some people can borrow certain objects to see us," she answered.

"What about earthly immortals? What's their story?"

"Earthly immortals..." The ghost had just begun to speak when she suddenly vanished before my eyes.

Her abrupt disappearance left me stunned. I stood there for a long time, unable to react. When I was sure she wasn't coming back, I began to pack my things. I still had to resign and return to my hometown.

But if I was going to see ghosts every day from now on, shouldn’t I prepare something for protection? Otherwise, I'd have no way to deal with any malicious spirits I might encounter. And with my eyes in this state—no longer bleeding but still bright red, like some kind of demon—I couldn't let anyone see me. I figured I should get a pair of sunglasses, but I didn’t have any. It was too early to buy some, so I pulled up the hood of my jacket to shield my eyes.

Once everything was packed, I dragged my suitcase to the factory. I wanted to get paid for this month's work before I left, so I went to find my supervisor, Cui Hong, to tell her I was resigning.

When she heard this, Supervisor Cui, a middle-aged woman, looked genuinely reluctant. "Zhang, you’re such a good worker—why do you want to quit? I was planning to recommend you for Employee of the Month! It’s such a shame for you to leave now."

If it were any other day, I would have been grateful for her words. But now, with these Yang Envoy eyes, I could see right through her. The real reason she wanted me to stay was because I'd been working overtime without complaint, helping our team reach the top of the productivity rankings and earning her praise from management. She didn't want me to quit because she’d lose that advantage. Of course, she knew it herself, but I wasn’t about to risk my life for a bit of money.

These eyes could truly see into people's hearts. I lowered my head and gave a bitter smile.

"Zhang, are you listening? Did you run into some trouble? Tell me, maybe I can help," she said, seeing me silent with my head down.

Afraid she'd notice my eyes, I quickly turned aside and replied, "Supervisor, something’s come up back home—I have to leave. Please sign off on my resignation so I can get this month’s wages from finance."

"So you really have to go? Jobs are hard to find these days, you know. You don’t have a degree—this was a good opportunity. There might not be another one like it," she said, her tone noticeably less friendly when she realized I wouldn’t be persuaded.

She probably never imagined that a month from now, she’d be begging me in tears to save her daughter.

"Thank you for your concern, but I have to leave," I said firmly.

Seeing that I couldn't be swayed, Supervisor Cui signed my resignation letter. I then went to HR for their signature, and when everything was approved, I collected my wages from finance. I’d worked twenty days this month, minus a couple of days off, so the pay was two thousand yuan—not much, but enough for a few months’ living expenses.

Leaving the factory, I dragged my suitcase to the train station to buy a ticket home. Near the station, I spotted an old man running a street stall, who seemed to be selling sunglasses. I walked over, intending to buy a pair.

But before I could say anything, the old man said, "Young man, just go—there’s nothing here for you!"

I was puzzled. I just wanted a pair of sunglasses—and I could see them right there—so I asked, "How much for the sunglasses, sir?"

"I told you, there’s nothing here for you. Go!" he said impatiently.

A bit speechless, I kept my head lowered to hide my eyes and tried again: "But I can see you have them. Why not do business?"

"I wouldn’t dare take your money. If you want them, just take them—they're useless to you anyway," the old man said, tossing me a pair at random.

I hurried to catch them and took out some cash, but he grew angry and shouted, "I told you—just take them and go. Don’t bother my business!"

His sudden outburst startled me. Clutching the sunglasses, I backed away a few steps. What was with this old man? Truly odd.

"Are you sure you don’t want money?" I asked again.

"What are you going on about?" he barked, even raising a shoe as if to throw it at me.

I was speechless—it was as if I’d stolen from him. I made my escape, sunglasses in hand.

Inside the station, after buying my ticket, a thought struck me: Didn’t I have the Yang Envoy’s eyes? Why hadn’t I seen why that old man had treated me that way?