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Lovesick Ghost Tales
墨書 Inktalez
After changing into his pajamas and lying on the bed, Song Bunan found that he couldn't sleep. He felt a bit restless but didn't know why. He gazed around the room, which had returned to its normal state. A small nightlight on the bedside emitted a dim yellow glow, casting warmth in the otherwise dark space.
His phone wasn't fully charged yet; it was within reach, and the breathing light on the screen flickered with a soft white glow. Once it was fully charged, the light would turn green and stop blinking. If it were daytime and he hadn't activated sleep mode, it would even ring to remind him to unplug it.
Song Bunan knew what he would see if he turned on his phone: a message from Xin Yi, the person he had come to realize he liked after Xiao Mei had pointed it out so loudly. He hadn’t replied; he didn’t know what to say, and after Xiao Mei confessed her feelings for him, he felt too shy to say anything more.
Reflecting on his student days, he realized he hadn’t really dated much at all—regardless of gender, the main issue was that he hadn’t dated anyone. During family gatherings around holidays, he and his brother were often surrounded by relatives asking why they hadn’t found partners yet. Initially, only his brother faced this pressure, but once Song Bunan turned eighteen, he too joined the ranks of those being urged to marry. He had wanted to respond like his brother—calmly explaining that he was focused on his career and that it was too early to be looking for a partner. But before he could speak, his grandmother cut him off: “We’ve given up on your brother, but Bunan, you need to give Grandma some hope.”
Left speechless, when he finally managed to escape and seek some comfort, he saw his brother standing safely with a cup in hand, smiling at him: “It’s up to you!”
What a joke! Even now, thinking back on it made him angry. It seemed impossible to satisfy those relatives because he genuinely liked Xin Yi, who was even older than his brother.
But how could he have developed feelings for someone they had only known for a few days? Lying in bed, unable to figure out this dilemma, Song Bunan rolled over to face the wall, avoiding the light as he desperately tried to force his mind to forget all worries and return to peaceful sleep.
However, as soon as he closed his eyes, Xin Yi appeared in front of him, quietly eating. The way Xin Yi ate was elegant; he would take a bite of rice followed by a piece of vegetable, chewing slowly until it was ready to swallow. The motion caused his prominent Adam's apple to move up and down along with a small mole on his neck.
Compared to Xin Yi’s Adam's apple and the faint stubble that appeared after shaving, Song Bunan's rarely grown facial hair and smooth neck had led others to question why he didn’t seem manly at all. In public situations like this, he'd try hard to retort back; yet alone at home, he'd look at his father's razor with confusion because deep down, he also felt somewhat unmanly. He remembered telling his brother about this once while his brother was trying hard to shave: “As long as you have what boys are supposed to have, whether you have facial hair or not doesn’t change anything.”
Those words made Song Bunan extremely happy; he silently noted them down in his mind for future retorts against others. Just as he turned around excitedly to leave, he heard the follow-up: “It’s just that you don’t look much like one.”
Xin Yi entered with new food and opened the door. Before stepping inside, he'd already planned what text message to send Song Bunan—reminding the boy who often stayed out late that he needed to return home early today because of a hospital visit. However, as soon as he took two steps inside, he spotted someone sleeping on the sofa.
Song Bunan lay there with a pillow resting on him; his glasses were askew due to his tilted head and hung precariously on his nose. He leaned back against the sofa with slightly parted lips and a glimmer of drool at the corner of his mouth. It seemed like he hadn’t changed clothes either; still wearing sneakers with his electric scooter keys and phone placed next to him on the sofa. A half-full cup of water sat on the table—evidence that he'd taken a sip before dozing off.
Placing breakfast on the table quietly, Xin Yi tiptoed over and gently sat beside Song Bunan. The sofa sank slightly under their weight but didn’t wake him; instead, Song Bunan instinctively closed his mouth and licked away the drool.
He tentatively called out Song Bunan's name. The sleeping figure suddenly sat up straight without opening his eyes and attempted to speak but yawned instead. “What time is it…” His voice barely rose above a whisper before trailing off.
“Just past seven,” Xin Yi replied softly while reaching out to lift Song Bunan’s head which had nearly drooped down onto his chest. As soon as Xin Yi raised it up, Song Bunan leaned into him heavily.
The warmth of Song Bunan’s breath seeped through their thin summer clothes onto Xin Yi’s skin, causing beads of sweat to form on his back. He had intended to help him into bed for a proper rest but found himself wrapped around the waist by Song Bunan instead. A sleepy voice murmured from him: “Bear bear.”
He recalled how Song Buxian once mentioned that their younger brother loved hugging bears while sleeping after seeing a colleague leave the office with a large teddy bear in tow. Having been pushed away by their parents at such a young age to sleep alone at night had led them both into certain habits—like how Song Buxian needed matching pajamas while Song Bunan insisted on hugging a bear.
From where Xin Yi sat, he could see the large teddy bear standing by Song Bunan's bed—its long legs dangling off the edge looking somewhat worn out. He remembered examining this teddy bear closely just two days ago; one ear bore clear signs of hand stitching repairs while its backside had patches cut from clothing.
He had asked Song Buxian why they didn’t buy their brother a new one; she replied that he didn’t want one—that only this bear was special for him. “How childish can you be? Look how tattered it is! The stuffing inside is something I replaced when he went off to school—the old one was falling apart! But this kid is interesting; I even found two bouncy balls inside.”
“For him,” Xin Yi mused while stroking the bear’s head gently—it felt quite worn out; its fur had become somewhat stiff over time.
Now being held around the waist by Song Bunan allowed Xin Yi to clearly smell the faint scent of laundry detergent—a delicate jasmine fragrance that reminded him of when they first met: right before graduation when a freshman moved into their dormitory who seemed rather arrogant but carried an air of jasmine fragrance.
Once they became familiar enough for questions about why an adult man would use such scented detergent came up—only for Song Buxian to spray water all over him in response: “Pfft! Real men don’t use perfume! This is my mom’s favorite laundry detergent scent; my whole family smells like this.”
The scent was faint and elegant, but compared to the two brothers, it suited Song Bunan, the down-to-earth child, much better. He couldn't help but reach out to touch Song Bunan's head, which was softer than a doll and still warm. However, this action disturbed the person in his arms. The sleeping cat straightened up again, blinking its eyes open, yawning repeatedly with a dazed expression that clearly indicated it would soon fall back asleep.
"Xinyi Brother, when did you get here?" The words came out sticky but were much clearer than before.
As the fourth yawn arrived, Song Bunan fully woke up. After a night without sleep, his mind felt foggy, and his temples throbbed with each heartbeat, causing a dull ache in his head. But at least he could open his eyes now, which was an improvement from when he first got home.
Just as he was about to take a sip of water, Xin Yi stopped him. "Drink some warm water; this cup has gone cold."
Seeing Xin Yi's back as he went to the kitchen made Song Bunan's heart skip a beat. He had clearly sensed that Xinyi Brother was not in a good mood; even his tone had been heavier than usual. It must be because he hadn't communicated properly with him yesterday! Song Bunan shrank his neck, the last remnants of sleepiness completely vanishing. All he could do now was pray that Xin Yi hadn't told Song Buxian about his night out.
When Xin Yi returned with the cup of warm water and he nervously drank more than half of it, he finally heard Xin Yi ask, "What time did you come back?" The question was delivered in an extremely plain manner, devoid of any extra emotion—just an ordinary inquiry.
But this only made Song Bunan more anxious; his hand trembled slightly around the cup. He lowered his head and replied in a posture typical for admitting fault, "Around five in the morning. I couldn't sleep at Xiao Mei's place, so I rode my bike back."
He wasn't lying; he had indeed tossed and turned on that big bed until dawn. When the sky outside began to lighten, he felt very tired but unable to sleep. He got up, left a note for Xiao Mei, and headed towards where his small electric bike was parked. On the way, he ran into Uncle Meng, who asked if he wanted to have breakfast before leaving. After declining the kind offer several times, he rode off while Uncle Meng repeatedly reminded him to ride slowly and not run red lights. He meandered home along the sparsely trafficked roads.
He had intended to sit on the sofa for a moment before going to sleep but ended up dozing off against the back of the sofa instead.
"Are you not used to sleeping elsewhere?" Xin Yi suddenly asked after hearing his explanation. Caught off guard by the question, Song Bunan paused before shaking his head. "Not really; I just went to bed too late last night and didn't feel sleepy anymore. It's still more comfortable sleeping at home..."
Before he could finish speaking, Xin Yi suddenly grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look up at him. As Song Bunan felt his face being stretched out, he saw Xin Yi's helpless smile.
"How can sleeping on the sofa be comfortable? Let's eat something and then go sleep in bed; we can go to the hospital in the afternoon."
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