"How could he not be married? His daughter is almost in college! Just last month I was telling people how hard things have been for him, asking them to look out for him." Charles Gray's second uncle finally sensed something was off. "Wait, who gave you the red envelope?"

Charles Gray said, "Our Director Sullivan."

"Director Sullivan? Which Director Sullivan?"

Charles Gray: "...Isn't it Director Sullivan from the Special Investigation Department?"

"Special Investigation Department? The one on Guangming Road? Surname Zhao? Logan Sullivan?" His second uncle fired off a string of questions, then stared at Charles Gray for a moment, big eyes to small, before biting into a dumpling absentmindedly. He chewed twice, still finding the whole thing unbelievable, and mumbled with his cheeks full, "That's nonsense, how could I have the pull to get someone into their department?"

"What pull?" Second aunt sat down as well. "Aren't you in the household registration office?"

Charles Gray confessed honestly, "I'm working in the Criminal Investigation Division of the Special Investigation Department now."

"What? Criminal investigation?" Second aunt had watched him grow up and knew exactly what kind of kid this unlucky one was. She immediately became worried. "Look at what your uncle's done—how could a child from our family end up in criminal investigation? It's dangerous and unstable, what if you run into a life-threatening case... Oh dear, what kind of things are you responsible for?"

Charles Gray had just opened his mouth when his second uncle tapped the edge of his bowl with his chopsticks. "Don't ask nonsense. Everything inside the Special Investigation Department is confidential. Don't go tempting the kid to make mistakes—Actually, your aunt just wants to know, is the job dangerous? Is it tiring? If you want, I can help you look for something else. We'd rather make a little less money and find you a more stable position."

Only then did the somewhat slow-witted Charles Gray realize—so it turned out that his transfer to the Special Investigation Department was a mistake from the start. He knew it; with his subpar intelligence and emotional quotient, if his family had even a bit of self-awareness, they would never have pushed him into such a flashy job.

...Of course, at this point, Charles Gray had already forgotten how he fainted from fright at the sight of his ghostly colleagues on his very first day.

Because Charles Gray found it hard to get along with others, it had taken him a lot of effort to finally feel like he was fitting in at No. 4 Guangming Road, and he had quickly grown deeply attached to the place—especially to Carter Shaw and the others who had mentored him as a newcomer.

As for Logan Sullivan, in his heart, he was basically like half a father to him... Even though this "half-father" had, without so much as a word, found him a male stepmother.

But he couldn't help it—the "stepmother" was gentle and easy to talk to. Charles Gray caught his second uncle's meaning and immediately, firmly, and unwaveringly declared, "I don't want to leave."

Charles Gray had always been someone who just went with the flow. No matter what decision was being made, you could basically count him out—he never had any opinions. For him to suddenly express his own stance so clearly left his second uncle and aunt at a loss, both of them stunned.

After a long while, his second aunt finally asked, "Is it really that good over there?"

Charles Gray nodded vigorously.

"You really want to work there?" His second uncle was still uneasy. "It's really not dangerous?"

In order to stay, Charles Gray lied through his teeth, "Not dangerous at all."

"Alright then," his second uncle thought it over. After all, the kid was already grown, and even though he'd been a hopeless case for years, now that he finally had a bit of ambition, it wouldn't be right to discourage him too much. So, a bit hesitantly, he agreed, "Then give me your supervisor's number later. I'll invite Logan Sullivan out for a meal one of these days. He's only a few years older than you—learn from him."

Logan Sullivan was woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. His temples felt like someone had drilled a hole in them, and it seemed like he hadn't rested at all after sleeping—if anything, he felt even more exhausted.

He had no idea how long he'd slept. His dreams had been disjointed, but always circled back to those events—blinding the dragon god, toppling Buzhou Mountain—over and over, never leaving him.

Logan Sullivan fumbled blindly on the nightstand, and then someone gently placed the phone in his hand. He answered the call without even opening his eyes. As soon as he realized who it was, he instinctively switched into work mode. After exchanging a bunch of pleasantries, Logan Sullivan did his best to highlight a few of Charles Gray's strengths—not too exaggerated, but enough to flatter his boss a little. The conversation ended with both sides agreeing to a meal, the atmosphere full of mutual flattery and harmony.

After hanging up, Logan Sullivan buried his head back in the pillow, groaning, "My head hurts."

William Sherman immediately put down what he was doing, came over, and hugged him, feeling his forehead for a long time. "You feel a bit warm. Why did you suddenly get a fever?"

Logan Sullivan leaned his head weakly on William Sherman's shoulder, gritting his teeth. "What do you think? Go get me some antibiotics and fever medicine, you quack doctor."

With overwhelming guilt, William Sherman silently did as he was told.

Logan Sullivan swallowed a handful of pills in one go, then rolled up the sleeve of the pajamas William Sherman had somehow dressed him in, and suddenly pounced, pinning William Sherman to the bed with a fierce expression. "Well, sir, did I serve you well enough last night?"

Seeing him wobble, William Sherman quickly reached out to steady his waist and straighten his rumpled collar. "Don't throw off the covers, you'll catch a chill."

"That's none of your business." Logan Sullivan pressed one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his collar, speaking in a sinister tone. "Since you enjoyed yourself, shouldn't you give me a tip?"

William Sherman let him press down, looking up at him. To Logan Sullivan, this was practically an invitation to ravish him, so he grew bolder, straddling William Sherman and trying to strip him. "If I don't have my way with you today, I'll take your surname tomorrow... Ow, damn!"

William Sherman quickly wrapped his arms around him. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts... hurts, hurts, hurts, my leg's cramping."

William Sherman: "..."

Logan Sullivan probably had a calcium deficiency to begin with, and after last night's exertions, the cramps were thorough—first his thigh, then his calf, and finally his foot. William Sherman had no choice but to forcibly straighten his leg and slowly massage out the knots, all while Logan Sullivan cursed in discomfort.

At first, Logan Sullivan was gritting his teeth and gnawing on the corner of the blanket from the pain, but after a while he calmed down. William Sherman caught sight of the bruises peeking out from under his pajamas and, feeling guilty, sat beside him and gently massaged his stiff muscles. Logan Sullivan stopped making a fuss, obediently lying on the bed and enjoying it. His gaze drifted to the phone on the nightstand, and after a while, he suddenly said, "Charles Gray's second uncle was parachuted in at the beginning of this year. I haven't really interacted with him yet, but I've heard that, if nothing else, the old man is famous for his people skills."

William Sherman responded softly.

"His nephew has been working under me for over half a year with a transfer order from him, but the old man never contacted me, and only now calls to invite me to dinner. Does that seem normal to you?"

William Sherman didn't know about all their unspoken rules, so he asked, "Why?"

"I suspect the old man only just realized that Charles Gray ended up in the Special Investigation Department. There's something going on here..." Logan Sullivan paused, didn't continue, glanced at William Sherman, and quickly changed the subject. "Was it really me who brought down the Heavenly Road and Buzhou Mountain?"

William Sherman was stunned for a moment before replying, "Legend has it that Buzhou Mountain was knocked down by the water god Gonggong."

"Mm." Logan Sullivan lowered his gaze—if the ghost clan was only released after Buzhou Mountain fell, then who exactly brought down Buzhou Mountain, William Sherman probably didn't know either.

William Sherman hesitated, then couldn't help but ask, "When you were inside the sacred tree, what exactly..."

"The sacred tree showed me things from five thousand years ago." Logan Sullivan lay on the pillow, turning his head. "I saw the first time you met me, you fell off a big rock into the water. At the time, I thought, it must be because I was so dazzlingly handsome that I blinded you and shocked you into falling into the ditch... Ah!"

William Sherman's hand, which was massaging his waist, involuntarily squeezed a little harder.

Logan Sullivan: "Ow, my back... Are you trying to murder your husband?"

William Sherman rubbed him gently, and after a moment of silence—perhaps because they'd already done the most intimate things—he surprisingly admitted calmly, "I really did lose my soul the first time I saw you, and I've never been able to forget you since."

Logan Sullivan grinned smugly and lecherously. "Hehehe, hey, Professor Sherman, take off those annoying glasses and show your husband your long hair."

William Sherman obediently took off his glasses, returning to his true form. Instantly, his long black hair spread out across the bed.