Translator: reiyu; Editor: fraise
Ji Xuan passed through the wall, and the other two hurriedly followed. He Jingyun was still lying facedown on the piano in an awkward position, unmoving, so the first thing Ji Xuan saw was the stark sight of the blood on the piano keys and He Jingyun’s bloated, ruined fingers.
Ji Xuan stared at He Jingyun’s hands, his eyes suddenly flashing bright red. He opened his mouth, as if to call out He Jingyun’s name, but all that emerged from his throat was a hoarse, chilling roar like that of a caged animal. With his back to Lin Feiran he raised both hands to his face. Perhaps he could not bear to see the scene before him, or perhaps he was brushing away tears. He stumbled toward He Jingyun and fell wordlessly to his knees before him.
“Ji… Xuan…” He Jingyun’s head was bowed and he was immersed in his own memories, but still he murmured his name.
Ji Xuan sobbed soundlessly. With trembling hands he reached slowly out to He Jingyun, touching He Jingyun’s hands as lightly as if he were handling hot coal, before swiftly drawing away as if worried he would hurt He Jingyun with his touch.
“You… this must have hurt so much…” Ji Xuan swallowed, his words indistinct. He was crying like a child. He knew that He Jingyun had cherished his hands while he was alive, not only because they were the tools with which he made his living, but because they were beautiful. Ji Xuan had never seen such perfectly beautiful hands.
Ji Xuan had once tenderly cared for He Jingyun’s hands, and they might even still have the healing lotion on them which Ji Xuan had specially bought the last time he left the country. Perhaps the set of leather gloves Ji Xuan had given He Jingyun were still in He Jingyun’s pocket. It had been cold one day, and Ji Xuan remembered personally warming a basin of milk for He Jingyun to soak his hands in. He Jingyun had scolded him for being wasteful. Ji Xuan had smiled as he was reprimanded, then asked a doctor he knew if there were herbs that would help protect hands in cold weather… These were hands Ji Xuan had treasured and loved, yet they had been treated as trash, their joints and flesh ruined, by cruel villains.
“How could they&#k2026;” Ji Xuan murmured to himself, devastated. His gaze suddenly turned vicious and cruel again; his eyes seemed to contain needles laced with poison.
Lin Feiran was frightened by the thought that Ji Xuan might be blackening again, but at that moment He Jingyun slowly raised his head. The bulging, clouded eyes like dead fish now fixed their gaze on Ji Xuan. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue, repeating, “Ji Xuan&#k2026;”
He Jingyun, who did not know the truth, was still imprisoned by the thought that Ji Xuan had betrayed him, and he was both aggrieved and hateful.
“Jingyun, how did you…” Ji Xuan stared in disbelief at He Jingyun’s blood-filled, swollen, unrecognizable face Although he was aware that He Jingyun had died by hanging and that he would surely look bad, no one could be calm seeing his own lover in such a terrible state. But Ji Xuan swallowed his remaining words. He rushed forward and took He Jingyun into his arms, hugging him tightly. In his hoarse voice, he said anxiously, “Jingyun, I didn’t betray you. My father locked me up at home. I didn’t send you the wedding invitation. By the time I found out, it was too late. They thought that if you were no longer around, I’d come to my senses…” Ji Xuan pressed his face to He Jingyun’s shoulder, as if wiping his tears on He Jingyun’s clothes. He Jingyun, who had moved a little earlier, now seemed to calm down again on hearing these words. With a terrible smile, Ji Xuan continued, “But you died so tragically. How could I remain in this world? I hated them. I pretended to obey them, and then cut my throat the night before my wedding. I will be the groom of only one person and that’s you, He Jingyun. I’m wearing my wedding suit and I’m here for you.”
Tears fell from He Jingyun’s dead-fish-like eyes, flowing down his swollen face. There was no beauty in his appearance, which could only be called unnatural and strange, but Ji Xuan embraced him as though he held all the treasures in the world.
“I never would have imagined that I’d become a fierce ghost after I died… Those people who tormented you,” Ji Xuan started in a chilly tone, enunciating each word darkly. “I killed them, one by one. I tortured them. They were so scared they could have wet their pants, and when I was done scaring them I took them by the throat and slowly strangled them to death. My hatred must be very strong, because I could touch them… Jingyun, please, look at me.”
As Ji Xuan spoke, he backed away a little. He Jingyun watched him with clouded eyes and Ji Xuan lifted his head, pulling aside the collar of his wedding coat to show He Jingyun the knife wound across his throat.
“Jingyun… I didn’t lie to you,” Ji Xuan said in tears. “I made this wound myself.”
“Uu…” He Jingyun was silent for a moment, then burst out into a strange sob.
The ghosts embraced again, and it was impossible to tell who the crying sounds came from. Lin Feiran held onto Gu Kaifeng’s hand as they watched quietly from the side. The more the ghosts cried, the more their appearances reverted to normal. Especially Ji Xuan, who had already recovered a little—now he almost looked like a living person.
“Let me see your hands.” Ji Xuan lightly pushed back He Jingyun, tearfully getting down on one knee before him. With all the tenderness and care he could summon, he picked up He Jingyun’s hands and kissed his fingers one by one, starting from the little finger of his left hand.
His expression was sincere and passionate. As he kissed each of He Jingyun’s fingers, each returned to its original, uninjured form. The fingers bearing open wounds now returned to their original pale, slender state, exquisite and clean as jade. He Jingyun’s appearance was also slowly changing; with every finger that recovered, his face recovered a little, and when all ten fingers had regained their original form He Jingyun had also returned to his handsome, elegant appearance. His pressed clothes were neat and clean, without a hint of dust on them.
He Jingyun stepped out of the piano. He was more than half a head shorter than Ji Xuan and now he angled his head slightly back to look at Ji Xuan, his tone carrying slight accusation as he said lightly, “You’re late.”
As if this was a perfectly ordinary date from when they were still alive.
“I’m late.” Ji Xuan met He Jingyun’s gaze steadily and said with bitterness, “Dozens of years late.”
He Jingyun’s lips lifted, and a light and cheerful melody seemed to rest in the shadow of his smile. His smile was as bright and open as a youth’s, and no hatred or grief could be found in it now.
“It’s fine,” He Jingyun said with a smile. “Eldest young master Ji, you’re always late to your appointments. I’m already used to it.”
Ji Xuan bit down on his lip and hugged He Jingyun tightly again. In this dark and musty storeroom, amidst a messy pile of props, they embraced. But Lin Feiran felt that there was nothing strange about this scene at all. After all, to them, the rest of the world was unimportant.
Because they were both ghosts, they could touch each other. They could make contact with each other’s ‘physical body’ like humans could. After watching for a moment, Lin Feiran felt that there was nothing else he needed to do, so he lightly tugged at Gu Kaifeng’s sleeve and led him out of the storeroom. He wanted to let these ghosts, who had painstakingly reunited, to have their own couples’ space for a while, and talk things out.