Chapter 1155 - 1127: Oh Soul, Return

Chapter 1155: Chapter 1127: Oh Soul, Return

Qian cleverly used Qio Yu Xuan’s email to perform scenario therapy for Yu Minglang. Although the process was somewhat bumpy, she was quite satisfied with the result. Yu Minglang fired that shot and successfully averted the incident of the rebellious attack.

If we ignore the flaw of that awkward ball being seen by Zheng Xu and Aka, it was simply perfect.

After seeing off Zheng Xu and Aka, Qian began official therapy for Yu Minglang.

Just as Qian expected, as long as Yu Minglang could successfully fire a shot, the subsequent therapy would be easier. ℯ

The tightly shut door to his heart had loosened a bit. Qian used this to treat him. After several sessions, she felt it was about enough.

On this day, Qian drove Yu Minglang to a private shooting range. They used imitation guns and fired fuel rounds. This kind of live-action CS was quite popular in recent years.

Qian initially thought that after therapy, Yu Minglang could recover his past abilities; their conversation also suggested he could face the scar of killing Balan.

But unexpectedly, this time Yu Minglang’s shooting was still not ideal.

Although he didn’t experience severe symptoms like palpitations and dizziness as before, his shooting accuracy was very poor. Yu Minglang said he lacked inspiration and couldn’t find that feeling.

What exactly is going on...

Qian was deeply perplexed.

She felt she was just one step away from success, but what was stopping him from taking that final step?

Seeing her more worried than himself, Yu Minglang couldn’t help but console her.

"It’s already very good now, don’t put too much pressure on yourself."

"No, I feel like I’m on the verge of success. What exactly is the problem..."

Qian paced back and forth in the room, then suddenly had a flash of insight.

"I know! Wait for me for a moment!"

She started rummaging through things. Yu Minglang saw her turning the house upside down and asked her.

"What are you looking for?"

"I remember I hid those bottles of Moutai here, why aren’t they here?"

Previously, fearing to stimulate him, Qian had put away everything related to Balan, worried that they might trigger his feelings.

She remembered clearly tucking them under this cabinet, why are they gone?

"In the northeast corner of the cabinet, reach further inside. You might have stuffed other things in there later, blocking it, so you can’t reach it." Yu Minglang spoke timely.

"Oh, thank you—huh?"

He knew all along?

Qian turned to glance at him, and Yu Minglang sighed helplessly.

"Wife, the house is just so big. If I couldn’t find that out, how would I get by later?"

Qian was flabbergasted, "The house is just this big, and I still can’t find the places you hide things!"

Yet this guy could accurately locate where she hid things; it’s absurd.

Sure enough, she found the alcohol where he said it would be. Yu Minglang thought she was seeking alcohol to have a drink with him, but unexpectedly, she grabbed it and pulled him outside.

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow me."

Qian dragged him downstairs, put him in the car, and had him drive.

"Take me to the place where the incident happened that day."

"...Do we have to go?"

"We have to go!"

You have to get up where you fell down.

With Qian’s repeated urging, Yu Minglang drove them there, remaining silent all the way.

Qian knew that bringing him to such a place would be equivalent to tearing open his heart wound, forcing him to face the bloody pain again.

But this step was crucial, just like a suppurating wound that needs to be squeezed out to heal. Now she brought two bottles of Moutai and a wounded heart to face it again, unraveling the bond and resentment between Yu Minglang and Balan.

Yu Minglang hadn’t spoken a word; his face was always stern. Qian understood his inner feelings and considerately kept silent. This journey felt interminably long, but eventually, the car stopped.

"Here we are."

By now, it was late, the road calm and uneventful with no cars passing through, the surrounding woods quiet. It was a mundane scene much like the provincial roads they had traversed. Even if it were daylight and Qian drove here herself, she might struggle to find this place.

Yet Yu Minglang remembered it clearly, because on this seemingly ordinary road, his shot changed a lot.

Everything here had long been tidied up. If not for Qian noticing the bullet marks left on a tree trunk by the roadside, she might have thought Yu Minglang had randomly picked a spot to stop.

From that moment on, this place, this coordinate, held a different meaning for Minglang.

Yu Minglang turned on all the car lights; the light made the night less lonely but still desolate. He pointed to a small wood not far away and said.

"I’ll take you over there."

Walking this path, Yu Minglang’s mind replayed the events of that day like a movie. This road he’d walked three times, counting today.

The first time, he led a pursuit, determined to round up the invading enemy.

The second time, he watched his men carry out Balan’s corpse, his mind blank, as if dreaming, not daring to believe it was real.

The third time, he brought his beloved wife here, his heart filled with endless turmoil.

What is right, what is wrong—these concepts that were once clear in his mind, were now tinged with blood due to someone’s death.

At the skirmish site in the woods, Yu Minglang stopped, pointing to a tree and said.

"That’s the spot."

This time, Qian wouldn’t doubt why he remembered it, perhaps because in every quiet night, during the midnight dream, he would repetitively go over this moment.

The collision of duty and emotion caused emotional surges trapped within him, but he could only savor this pain in solitude.

As a man standing tall, the image he displays to others is always invincible.

Pain can only be caressed in solitude.

Qian dared not imagine how long he had tortured himself with guilt in her absence in previous lives. Just the thought was a piercing pain.

She took out two bottles of Moutai from her bag, handed one to Yu Minglang, and opened one herself. The aroma of alcohol spread uniquely in the cold night. While sprinkling it on the ground, she said.

"Return, oh spirit~"

Yu Minglang came to this place with mixed emotions and a heavy heart, seeing her actions, he couldn’t help but feel helpless.

"Wife, what are you doing? Are you summoning spirits?"

Does his wife intend to use her showmanship on him? It’s like a joke; he’s an atheist, not one to believe this.

Yet Qian had a serious demeanor.

"I’m not summoning spirits, but today I want to play a mystical game with you. Xiaoqiang, what would Balan say to you if I summoned his spirit?"