Chapter 10
Although Song Jingmo understood the situation, he couldn’t resist spending some quality time with his old companion last night.
As dawn approached, before he lost control of Xie Zhang’s shadow, he carefully placed the violin on the study desk.
Of course, he deliberately left it outside the safe.
He refused to believe that Xie Zhang would still think he was hallucinating after this.
Was it so hard to admit there was something supernatural in the house?!
Well, not supernatural.
He wasn’t dirty, or a thing… he was a perfectly clean Song-shadow.
Song Jingmo slept soundly within Xie Zhang’s shadow. When he woke up, Xie Zhang had already set the table.
Wow, three-cup chicken with pineapple!
Song Jingmo drooled, clinging to the edge of Xie Zhang’s shadow.
It had been so long since he’d tasted real food.
Xie Zhang placed a few pieces of chicken in the opposite bowl, surprised that his shadow wasn’t acting up as usual.
“Don’t you like it?” he asked softly.
Song Jingmo had a sweet and sour tooth. Three-cup chicken, cola chicken wings, sweet and sour pork ribs—these were his favorites, but Xie Zhang always limited his intake.
Song Jingmo, within the shadow, glared at Xie Zhang.
Of course he liked it!
He just couldn’t reach it!
Think about your Momo!
Your Momo was starving!
Song Jingmo pouted, wishing he could at least touch the chicken with his shadow tip.
But since Xie Zhang had made his favorite dish, he would surely think of him soon. Patience was a virtue, especially when it came to three-cup chicken!
Xie Zhang was unaware of Song Jingmo’s thoughts.
He’d been deliberately avoiding interacting with his “hallucination” to prevent his condition from worsening.
But he knew that whenever he was emotionally agitated, his shadow would come to life.
Remembering Xu Yi installing cameras upstairs, the surprise on his face faded, and he maintained his composure.
Song Jingmo waited, but the familiar heat didn’t come. He could only watch as Xie Zhang ate methodically, one bite of meat, one bite of vegetables, one bite of rice.
It’s over, it must be because their love has faded.
Xie Zhang wasn’t even thinking about him while eating!
Rapid footsteps echoed from upstairs. Xie Zhang and Song Jingmo, within his shadow, looked up.
“Boss, all done.”
Xu Yi, carrying his toolbox, looked much better than last time. He was dressed casually, and his dark circles had faded considerably.
He looked like he’d evolved from an overworked zombie to a human being on vacation.
Seeing his boss finally working and looking less disheveled, Xu Yi breathed a sigh of relief: “I installed a total of…”
Xie Zhang interrupted him: “Want to join me for lunch?”
Xu Yi, ever perceptive, immediately understood that Xie Zhang didn’t want to hear about the cameras. After a flicker of confusion, he smiled.
“Sure! I won’t stand on ceremony, senpai.”
Xu Yi and Xie Zhang had graduated from the same university, same major, though Xu Yi had started the year Xie Zhang graduated.
They hadn’t interacted much until Xu Yi applied for a secretarial position at Xie Zhang’s company.
Typically, graduates from technical majors didn’t apply for administrative roles, especially from prestigious universities.
Xie Zhang had assumed Xu Yi wouldn’t last long, but Song Jingmo had suggested he give him a chance, saying they could simply ask him directly if there were any concerns.
The result of that conversation was that Xu Yi’s father was ill, and his family was under financial strain. Xu Yi didn’t care what he did, as long as the pay was good. He would even work as a security guard.
His motivation wasn’t as complex as Xie Zhang had imagined; he simply needed the money, and Xie Zhang’s job didn’t require prior experience.
Over time, the three of them became close.
Song Jingmo, an avid reader of novels, would occasionally address Xu Yi as “Secretary Xu,” and Xu Yi would sometimes buy him manga and novels, always catching his references.
When they shared a laugh, the composed and serious Xie Zhang often felt like an outsider.
Although Xie Zhang rarely showed emotion, he had a good memory.
On such occasions, Song Jingmo would be “punished” later that night, his hands aching as he mentally prepared 18 ways to cook carrots. (A euphemism for sex)
Xu Yi retrieved a bowl and chopsticks from the kitchen and sat down diagonally across from Xie Zhang, next to Song Jingmo’s usual spot.
His first target was the three-cup chicken.
Song Jingmo: “!”
His. Three-cup. Chicken!!
AAAAAHHH Xu Yi—!!!
Xu Yi deposited a chicken bone onto his side plate, chatting with Xie Zhang about work, occasionally sprinkling in some industry gossip.
Xie Zhang ate methodically, occasionally responding to Xu Yi.
By the time Xu Yi, full and satisfied, left the villa with his toolbox to enjoy his half-day off, Song Jingmo, within Xie Zhang’s shadow, was fuming.
Clearing the table, Xie Zhang noticed the untouched bowl and chopsticks at Song Jingmo’s place. He pursed his lips.
When he’d hallucinated before, although the food in Momo’s bowl hadn’t been eaten, it had been moved around with chopsticks.
As if, even without consuming it, he’d savored the aroma.
While Xu Yi was there, he hadn’t seen the hallucination at all, and now Momo’s food remained untouched.
Was it because he’d consciously controlled his emotions, or because of the presence of another person?
Xie Zhang’s fingers traced the rim of Song Jingmo’s untouched bowl.
Song Jingmo edged closer to Xie Zhang’s shadow finger, gazing longingly at the chicken.
He’d been dead for so long, why hadn’t his family or Xie Zhang burned him any offerings?
Like, paper three-cup chicken, for example…
Didn’t those supernatural novels say that paper offerings were just as real to ghosts?
Before Song Jingmo could get any closer to the chicken, Xie Zhang loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and put on his apron.
Huh?
An apron?
Song Jingmo watched in surprise as Xie Zhang retrieved half a pineapple and began peeling it, the sharp knife gliding through the rough skin.
As he watched Xie Zhang prepare another batch of three-cup chicken, he was hit by a powerful wave of heat.
Song Jingmo surged out of Xie Zhang’s shadow, his inky form spreading across the counter like floodwaters.
Xie Zhang paused.
Song Jingmo suddenly understood. This was Xie Zhang making three-cup chicken specifically for him—probably thinking about him as he cooked.
The sprawling shadow sheepishly folded itself into a neat little cat shape, sitting patiently beside the plate.
He’d become quite adept at manipulating his shadow form.
The more detailed and larger the shape, the more energy it consumed. Simple shapes, like tendrils or animal outlines, were much easier to maintain.
He’d relied on his inky black tendrils before, but they were just too… suggestive, too Lovecraftian!
It didn’t suit his refined and dignified persona.
If he had enough energy, he preferred his shadow cat form.
By controlling the variables, Xie Zhang further confirmed the conditions for his hallucinations.
But even if it was a hallucination, he still worried about the heat affecting the Momo-like shadow. He placed the finished dish on the other side of the counter, sprinkled it with sesame seeds, and turned to carry it back to the table.
Before he could turn around, a cat head popped up beside his hand.
Xie Zhang couldn’t help but smile.
Song-shadow, finally getting what he’d been waiting for, pounced on the dish.
While other cats would delicately lick their food, Song-cat planted both paws in the dish, nuzzling the chicken, savoring the sweet and sour aroma.
He licked and nudged, but the chicken remained largely unscathed, guilty only of a slightly disheveled presentation.
But Song Jingmo was content.
This was Xie Zhang’s love, made especially for him.
Song-shadow sat primly on the counter.
Xie Zhang, after a moment’s thought, offered him a handkerchief.
Song Jingmo instinctively rubbed his face against the handkerchief, then wiped his paws.
Both of them froze.
Xie Zhang was stunned by the shadow’s reaction, so reminiscent of Momo.
Song Jingmo was stunned because he could actually touch something Xie Zhang was holding.
Unlike the kitchen knife incident, this time…
The inky black cat head tentatively nudged Xie Zhang’s palm.
Song Jingmo: “!”
This time, not only could he touch something Xie Zhang was holding, but he could also… feel the warmth of his palm through the handkerchief.
Song-shadow clung to Xie Zhang’s wrist, burying his head in his hand, wanting to burrow into his embrace.
Since waking up, Song Jingmo had progressed from being trapped in darkness, to controlling Xie Zhang’s shadow with limited mobility, to interacting with objects, each step bringing a surge of joy and rediscovery.
The simple senses humans took for granted were a hard-won luxury for him now.
But he was still just an inky black shadow, his voice unheard, his touch forever cold and lifeless.
It was incredibly lonely.
If it weren’t for Xie Zhang, his constant worry and concern, and the reunion with his violin, Song Jingmo might have preferred… oblivion.
But now, things were different.
He could feel the warmth of human skin.
The cat-shaped shadow, his face buried in Xie Zhang’s hand, wanted to cry, but ghosts had no tears.
Xie Zhang felt a tingling sensation from his fingers to his wrist.
A cool touch that seeped through his skin and into his bones.
He felt a smooth, cool texture against his palm, unlike fur or scales, something… different.
It was a coldness that should have repelled him, yet it filled him with an inexplicable sense of longing.
“You…”
Xie Zhang started to speak.
But Song-shadow swiped at his face with a shadow tendril, his inky form expanding, engulfing the stunned Xie Zhang.
—He clung to him tightly.
Considerately, Song-shadow left Xie Zhang’s eyes, nose, and mouth uncovered.
But everything else, even his hair and exposed ankles, was enveloped in shadow.
Song Jingmo, reveling in his embrace: “:D”
Xie Zhang, being thoroughly hugged: “.”
He felt slightly faint.
Today’s hallucination was truly extraordinary.
His limited imagination couldn’t possibly conjure up such a… lively and bizarre hallucination.
Struggling in the shadow’s clinging embrace, Xie Zhang looked up at the security camera recording everything.
It was time to review the footage.
