Chapter 26
Song Chengyan didn’t move.
Neither did Song Jingmo.
After a while, Song Jingmo tentatively waved again.
Song Chengyan’s lips moved soundlessly, his expression blank.
The chibi shadow slowly crawled up his leg, standing on his thigh, looking up at him, his hands clasped behind his back.
Song Chengyan: “…”
His mind raced with a jumble of thoughts.
Song Jingmo wasn’t sure how to interpret his brother’s reaction.
He hadn’t screamed or panicked as expected, but he wasn’t exactly unfazed either…
He extended a shadow tendril, waving it in front of his brother’s face.
Song Chengyan paled even further.
He glanced at Xie Zhang, who seemed completely oblivious, focused on driving, as if nothing was amiss.
The car was moving at a steady speed, the scenery passing by normally, the road signs indicating they were on the right track.
So Song Chengyan gritted his teeth, remaining silent, staring straight ahead, pretending not to see the shadow.
His forced composure, combined with his unnatural pallor, betrayed his inner turmoil.
…So, not entirely unfazed.
The chibi shadow touched his face, wondering if he wasn’t as scary as he thought.
Why weren’t either Xie Zhang or his brother reacting like normal people encountering a ghost?
Song Chengyan clenched his jaw, ignoring the waving black tendril, mentally reciting every text he could remember, anything to distract himself.
By the time they reached the villa, he found himself reciting Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason.
He quite liked that book.
Because he couldn’t understand it, it helped him fall asleep.
If it weren’t for this… incident, he wouldn’t have realized he’d memorized it.
As the car stopped, Song Jingmo returned to Xie Zhang’s side, perching on his shoe, sighing softly.
Xie Zhang heard the sigh clearly and glanced at the rearview mirror before getting out of the car.
Song Chengyan sat motionless in the back, seemingly calm, but his eyes were unfocused.
Xie Zhang hesitated.
Song Jingmo nudged his shoe, urging him to get out. He merged back into Xie Zhang’s shadow, a perfectly ordinary shadow once more.
Feeling a pang of guilt, Xie Zhang opened the back door for his brother-in-law.
Song Chengyan, after a long pause, finally managed to move his legs, getting out of the car.
As his feet touched the ground, he had to admit…
…his legs felt a bit wobbly.
But he maintained his composure in front of Xie Zhang.
The two CEOs met each other’s gaze.
One filled with suspicion, the other with a hint of… pity.
Wait.
Pity?
Before Song Chengyan could process this, he saw Xie Zhang’s shadow… twitch.
Song Chengyan: “…”
He’d been about to say something, but now he fell silent.
He silently entered the villa, silently observing the quiet, empty space, occupied only by Xie Zhang.
Although not exactly dilapidated, the deserted villa and Xie Zhang’s unusual behavior…
His hand reached into his pocket, his finger resting on the emergency button on his phone.
Xie Zhang, sensing his apprehension, wasn’t sure how to explain.
He’d chosen this location for its tranquility, for Momo’s music practice.
And his own condition required a quiet, secluded environment to manage his anxiety.
But now, with Song-shadow’s presence, it did seem… strange.
Not being one for explanations, Xie Zhang simply poured his brother-in-law a glass of water and sat down on the sofa.
Waiting for Song-shadow’s grand entrance.
Song Chengyan didn’t sit.
He stood, poised for a quick escape.
A dark shadow crept out from beneath Xie Zhang’s feet, slowly approaching him.
Song Chengyan’s eye twitched. With each inch the shadow advanced, he retreated a step, his face expressionless, but his fingers trembling slightly.
Suddenly, remembering Xie Zhang’s line of work, he looked around sharply.
He noticed the unusually high number of security cameras for a private residence.
He didn’t know Xie Zhang well, but he knew his brother.
Song Jingmo hated being photographed, most of his photos were candid shots, and their family home had very few cameras.
It didn’t make sense for Momo to agree to so many cameras in their home.
A thought struck him. He stepped forward, onto the approaching shadow.
The shadow, instead of harming him, recoiled, then punched his trousers playfully.
Song Chengyan felt a slight tug on his trousers, no pain.
His suspicion growing, he regained his composure, his eyes narrowing. He squatted down, reaching out towards the large shadow.
Song Jingmo was startled by his sudden movement.
But he instinctively avoided direct skin contact.
He was a non-human entity now; who knew what the side effects might be?
He couldn’t avoid Xie Zhang, but he didn’t want to drag his brother into this.
Seeing the shadow evade his hand, a very human-like reaction, Song Chengyan watched as it reared back like a large, black manta ray.
He raised an eyebrow, then walked around the shadow and sat down on the sofa.
“Your company’s new project? 3D holographic projections are quite popular these days, very interesting.”
Xie Zhang was momentarily speechless.
Song Jingmo, turning to face Song Chengyan, was almost impressed by his brother’s unwavering materialism.
Xie Zhang at least had the excuse of a mental illness; his brother had jumped straight to holographic projections.
It was so… scientific… it was almost demoralizing.
The shadow slumped dejectedly.
He’d imagined his brother screaming in terror, then recognizing him, leading to a tearful reunion—that was how it was supposed to go!
He felt like a failure of a ghost.
He poked at the carpet with a shadow tendril.
Xie Zhang’s face twitched with suppressed laughter.
Song Chengyan frowned, observing his reaction.
Defeated by his brother’s unwavering belief in science, Song Jingmo gave up on the large shadow, letting it retreat to Xie Zhang’s feet. He formed a chibi shadow, climbing onto the coffee table and sitting politely near Song Chengyan.
Xie Zhang covered his mouth, hiding his amusement.
“Mr. Song, this is Momo.”
He introduced him softly, his voice filled with affection.
Song Chengyan didn’t respond.
His gaze, fixed on Xie Zhang, intensified.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice carefully measured: “Xie Zhang, I know Momo’s accident was… difficult for you, but perhaps things aren’t as bad as they seem…”
He used Xie Zhang’s name, not a formal title.
Song Jingmo poked Xie Zhang’s waist repeatedly with a shadow tendril.
Xie Zhang, reacting quickly, caught the tendril and gently squeezed it.
Be patient.
Although sensing something odd in Song Chengyan’s words, he didn’t dwell on it, repeating his explanation: “Song… uh, Brother, this isn’t a holographic projection. This is Momo.”
He added, with a hint of uncertainty: “To put it simply, Momo is… residing within my shadow.”
Song Chengyan remained silent.
He looked from Xie Zhang to the featureless chibi shadow on the table.
“Oh, so you’re saying this… thing…” he paused, “…is a ghost?”
His voice was flat, his expression unchanged.
Clearly, he didn’t believe it.
Song Jingmo, realizing that Xie Zhang wouldn’t be able to convince his scientifically minded brother, pulled his shadow tendril away from Xie Zhang’s hand, patting it reassuringly.
Let me handle this.
He decided to take a more… direct approach.
He launched himself at Song Chengyan’s leg, delivering a forceful shadow kick.
Song Chengyan felt a cold, wet impact, his mind momentarily blanking.
That stunned, bewildered expression returned.
Song Jingmo reformed into the chibi shadow, arms crossed, glaring at his brother.
See?
Look closely!
Which holographic projection could do that?
Song Chengyan’s expression shifted from shock to disbelief to a complex mix of emotions, finally settling into a mask of calm.
He took a deep breath, then grabbed Xie Zhang’s arm.
Both Xie Zhang and Song Jingmo were stunned by his unexpected reaction.
His grip was tight, betraying his underlying fear.
He forced his voice to remain steady: “Xie Zhang, come with me, now.”
“The Song family supports several Buddhist and Taoist temples. Qingyun Temple is only half an hour away. I’ll have the driver pick us up.”
He didn’t look at Xie Zhang, his gaze fixed on the inky black… thing… on the table.
“I don’t know what kind of delusion this is, but you were Momo’s partner, and even now, I’m still your brother. You have to listen to me.”
“This thing can’t be Momo. It’s probably some… entity… that attached itself to you. We need to get rid of it.”
“And you…”
“The Song family has many talismans and consecrated amulets. We even have a master residing with us. I’m wearing a protective amulet myself. If you try anything… don’t blame me for being ruthless.”
His words were clear, his threat directed at the shadow, his demeanor suddenly imposing.
Both Xie Zhang and Song Jingmo were speechless.
Xie Zhang was surprised by Song Chengyan’s reaction.
They weren’t close, their paths rarely crossing due to their different fields of work. They’d only met a few times, thanks to Song Jingmo.
He hadn’t realized Song Chengyan acknowledged their relationship.
This was more… unsettling… than his previous polite indifference.
Song Jingmo was surprised, relieved by his brother’s change in attitude towards Xie Zhang, and slightly bewildered by the mention of protective amulets, but—
As the “entity” being threatened, he was offended and indignant.
Glaring at his imposing brother, he zipped upstairs, grabbed his violin, and played a piece for him, then looked at him expectantly.
Song Chengyan scoffed: “A clever entity, I see, doing its research, knowing my brother played the violin.”
“So you’ve been targeting Xie Zhang and the Song family for a while now?”
After all, Xie Zhang’s behavior clearly indicated he was trying to connect him with this… thing.
Aaaaaaah—!!!
Stupid brother!
Even harder to deal with than Xie Zhang!!!
Song Jingmo wanted to shake his brother, to knock some sense into him.
Xie Zhang, at least, hadn’t immediately jumped to the conclusion that his shadow was a malevolent spirit. He’d just thought he was slightly crazy.
His brother, on the other hand, had gone from holographic projections to evil spirit in record time!
Frustrated, Song Jingmo zipped around the living room, his inky form a blur, his frustrated cries making Xie Zhang wince.
Xie Zhang, looking at the stubborn Song Chengyan, patiently listed the details of his interactions with Song-shadow, trying to convince him.
Song Chengyan: “I know a good psychiatrist. You’re under a lot of stress; it would be good for you to see someone.”
Xie Zhang: “…”
He suddenly understood Song Jingmo’s frustration when dealing with him.
It felt like poetic justice.
Just then, Song Jingmo returned with the tablet, typing furiously, then shoving it in front of Song Chengyan.
Song Chengyan stared at the screen, his eyes widening as he read the long list of… embarrassing childhood stories.
Xie Zhang discreetly looked away.
Song Jingmo looked at his brother expectantly.
From wetting the bed at age seven to ripping his pants while climbing the school wall in college, Song Jingmo knew things no one else did.
Song Chengyan took the tablet, his movements stiff, and sat down, reading silently.
His hair fell across his face, hiding his expression.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice low:
“You can’t be Momo.”
The chibi shadow, previously bouncing with excitement, froze, then wandered aimlessly around the table before melting back into Xie Zhang’s shadow.
Xie Zhang sensed Song Jingmo’s sadness, the usually lively shadow now quiet and still.
He turned to Song Chengyan, about to say something, when Song Chengyan, who had been silently staring at the tablet, muttered, as if trying to convince himself:
“My brother is still alive, how could he be a ghost?”
Xie Zhang’s gaze sharpened, his eyes piercing Song Chengyan.
And behind him, a dark shadow rose, a tendril slowly extending, hesitantly pointing at itself.
