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Lovesick Ghost Tales
墨書 Inktalez
The everyday items he packed were few, neatly arranged in his handbag, and the weight was lighter than the usual documents he carried. After gathering his things, he walked into the living room, where the person who had been standing with his head tilted back since entering was still there, intently examining the collection displayed on the TV cabinet. Most of it consisted of bottles of liquor, with a few artistic ornaments filling the gaps.
Following his gaze, he noticed an ornament that he had received a long time ago. It was entirely white and appeared to be shaped like some kind of animal. Having been placed high on the shelf for too long, it had gathered dust and lost its luster.
He asked what he was looking at. The person turned his face and smiled at him, saying, "The one at the very top, it's called Nine-Tails. My family brought it from our hometown when I was about eight or nine. They said a relative who knows jade carving made it from a whole piece of jade, specifically as a gift for my brother. They never explained why it was for my brother, but I remember that because of this Nine-Tails, my brother tricked me for a long time, saying that if I touched it carelessly, the Nine-Tails monster in the jade would bite off my fingers."
That was indeed a common phrase used to scare children; although he had never used it himself, he was curious whether kids would actually believe such things. The one who had been tricked nodded vigorously, clearly convinced.
"Back then, I often went to the hospital, and the elders at home thought I might be possessed or cursed by something strange. I believed that too, so I trusted everything my brother said. Later, when my brother moved out, he took this with him and said he gave it to a good friend."
He looked again at that ornament and recalled how he had received it. A slightly tipsy Song Buxian had mysteriously pulled it out from his bag and shoved it into his hands with a serious tone: "This is from my hometown; the jade is quite good. It's for you."
Xin Yi didn't understand why Song Buxian suddenly wanted to give him a gift and intended to refuse, but Song Buxian insisted on pressing it into his bag: "Aren't we brothers? Aren't we brothers?"
Glancing at the bulging part of his handbag, Xin Yi sighed. This forceful act of giving was much healthier than what I did when you casually came over.
"Do you want to touch it now?" He wasn't sure why he suggested this after hearing Bunan's story; perhaps he wanted to satisfy the child's curiosity. After asking, he turned to see Song Bunan shaking his head lightly: "I secretly touched it before when it was in my brother's bedroom while he went to school. It felt cool and smooth; nothing special."
Indeed, a mere scary threat could hardly compete with a child's curiosity.
Once back in the car, Song Bunan clearly looked tired, yawning repeatedly and rubbing his eyes. Noticing that it was mealtime, Xin Yi intended to ask what they should have for lunch when the doctor's words from that morning replayed in his mind. Given that Bunan already had some digestive issues, eating something heavy would only worsen his condition.
Leaning his head against the seatbelt while blinking to keep himself awake resembled a child wanting to watch TV but unable to resist sleepiness. Calculating the journey ahead, he realized it was rush hour; even returning to his neighborhood would take at least half an hour. Taking advantage of the slow speed, Xin Yi offered the cushion from his seat to Song Bunan.
Startled awake by this gesture, Bunan looked at him in confusion just as Xin Yi took off his glasses: "Get some sleep; I'll wake you when we get to eat." He then saw Song Bunan shake his head: "I'm not hungry. Actually, I haven't felt hungry since last night; I ate something in the morning. By the time I'm able to eat again, it should be around tomorrow. You go eat; I'll wait for you in the car."
Half-asleep Bunan spoke much more gently than when fully awake; there was less youthful energy and more of a sickly tone. After he finished speaking, Xin Yi suddenly realized that during breakfast this morning, Bunan's actions were clearly forced; anything with soup he would soak and swallow directly as if completing a task.
Such behavior could be somewhat infuriating; without caring whether Song Bunan was asleep or not, Xin Yi said firmly: "Why are you still forcing yourself to eat like this?"
Then he saw Bunan's eyes almost closed as he tilted his head and buried half of his face into the cushion while smiling at him. His voice became softer and more sluggish due to drowsiness: "Because it's from Xinyi Brother; I can't waste it..."
Perhaps fatigue finally overcame reason; those last few words were completely muffled in Bunan's throat—if not for the silence in the car, one might not have heard them at all. But this statement extinguished any flicker of annoyance Xin Yi had just felt. No one could stay mad at such a child—especially one they cared for.
Raising the temperature slightly in the car, Xin Yi slowed down and allowed himself to cruise leisurely through rush hour traffic.
Occasionally glancing back at Song Bunan, who was sound asleep with gentle movements in sync with his breathing rate. Without glasses on, Bunan appeared slightly more mature—perhaps also due to Xin Yi having grown accustomed to him wearing them. As Xin Yi gazed at Bunan's left cheek, he noticed a faint beauty mark near the corner of his eye—a small brown dot that added an alluring touch to an otherwise youthful face.
Or perhaps it was because whenever he noticed even minor changes in others, he unconsciously magnified them until they altered his impression of that person entirely. At this moment, Song Bunan still felt like that lively child full of strange stories in Xin Yi's heart; yet this face now held an added layer of attraction.
His preferred type seemed always to possess an unintentional charm—subtle yet present—in varying degrees of visibility. Song Bunan embodied this rare quality but managed to reveal it through certain details.
For instance, now seeing that beauty mark; or when changing dressings earlier today and discovering another mole located on Bunan's lower back. The child was so thin that every bone seemed prominent against his pale skin—this mole made him appear even cleaner amidst those jagged scars. Setting aside those gruesome marks for a moment, Xin Yi thought that holding Song Bunan would feel like embracing a smooth pudding.
Upon arriving downstairs at Bunan's home without waking him up, Xin Yi carefully parked and attempted to lift him out of the car gently. Just as his hand brushed against Bunan's skin, he caught sight of slightly opened eyes looking back at him—Bunan did not resist but instead cooperatively discarded the cushion and wrapped his arms around Xin Yi's neck.
It was truly light. Xin Yi held Song Bunan in his arms, with the latter's head resting on his shoulder, warm breath brushing against his neck. It seemed that the one who had just woken up was not Bunan; the person who closed his eyes and fell asleep again didn't make a sound.
As they walked toward the elevator, the head that gently swayed on his shoulder completely leaned against his neck when he pressed the elevator button with his elbow. The warmth of their skin touching was extraordinary; he could almost feel Bunan's heartbeat.
Glancing at the metallic reflection in the elevator, he noticed that it was Song Bunan's nose resting against his neck, his naturally curved lips just a breath away from him. What kind of trust allowed someone to sleep so soundly in his embrace? Xin Yi couldn't help but think of the partners he had dated before; none had ever been as defenseless as Song Bunan.
Though they were not yet in that kind of intimate relationship.
Once everyone disappeared through the apartment door, Xiao Mei unceremoniously extended her hand in front of Zhang Long and gestured with her fingers, "You lost, pay up! Lai Zang will report you to Kong Shu!"
The five hundred yuan wrapped in anger and reluctance landed in his hand with a crisp sound. Unbothered by the other person's emotions, he cheerfully stuffed the money into his pocket, comfortably adjusted his seat to a position where he could sleep, and closed his eyes.
"I told you he definitely likes this Xin Yi. You still don’t believe it? You really think Song Bunan is just a pure neighbor boy?"
After saying this, they heard the driver grinding his teeth in anger, shifting gears a bit harder than usual. "You’ve already taken the money and still have so much to say! But I really didn’t see this kid being so smooth; do you guys really know how to charm men?"
The person lying next to him snorted dismissively, pulling out some candy from his pocket and popping a piece into his mouth before saying, "I sell my life."
This remark left Zhang Long feeling choked up, wanting to retort but finding no words. He glanced at Xiao Mei, unable to tell if she was awake or asleep, and decided to focus on driving instead.
Because Xiao Mei was right; ordinary people, regardless of gender, relied on what they called love when dating. And Xiao Mei truly exchanged her life for a piece of love—one that had no future from the very beginning.
While waiting for the red light, he glanced at his phone. After four or five days of silence, he finally received a brief reply:
"Don't tell him."
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