Chapter 14
After breakfast, Song Jingmo generously allotted some work time for Xie Zhang, then settled on the study floor to play on his tablet.
He’d drained the battery the previous night, so he’d made sure to charge it before Xie Zhang’s morning run.
Now, it was fully charged, perfect timing.
Five minutes later.
Xie Zhang stared at the contract in front of him, then at the shadow draped over the sofa, its posture defying human anatomy.
Song Jingmo’s shadow tendrils were perfect for gaming. While others had ten fingers, he had ten tendrils that could split into countless smaller ones.
The tablet screen was covered in a chaotic web of scratches.
If Fruit Ninja weren’t a single-player game, Song Jingmo would have dominated the leaderboards.
Song Jingmo, mid-game, felt a surge of heat. The flattened shadow lifted its edge, looking at Xie Zhang.
【Focus on your work, stop daydreaming!】
Xie Zhang stared at the phone held aloft by a shadow tendril, the large text scrolling across the screen, and fell into deep thought.
An idea sparked in his mind.
What if…
He minimized the contract and created a new folder, pausing for a moment as he named it.
Song Jingmo, having just finished a satisfying round of Fruit Ninja, flowed smoothly from the sofa to the carpet, his shadow becoming fluffy.
Ah.
Invincible, and so, so lonely. 🙂
Song Jingmo enjoyed gaming, but he wasn’t good at it. The dexterity honed from playing the violin hadn’t translated into gaming prowess.
His reflexes couldn’t keep up.
So he avoided complex games, sticking to simple, self-torturing ones like Fruit Ninja and Rhythm Master.
He used to struggle to achieve high scores, but now, with his shadow tendrils, he’d grown bored of easily beating his own records.
He scrolled through the game store, finding nothing interesting, then tossed the tablet aside, his shadow rolling around on the carpet.
He rolled himself into a thick tube, then abruptly sat up, only to flop back down, spreading himself out like a pancake.
He repeated this several times, not at all bored. When the robot vacuum started its cleaning cycle, Song-shadow pounced, molding himself into a cat and perching on top of it, surveying his domain.
Despite his busy schedule, he still found time to poke Xie Zhang with a shadow tendril, diligently fulfilling his supervisory duties.
Song Jingmo had always been like this.
No matter the situation, he had a way of making himself and those around him feel at ease, a smile always playing on his lips.
Xie Zhang watched him, then typed a name for the new folder.
【How to Properly Care for a Small Shadow】
…
As soon as the clock struck 3:30, Song Jingmo grabbed the robot vacuum, which had been banished to the hallway, and carried it back to the study.
Ignoring the vacuum’s protests of “Deebot is suspended!”, he placed it back on its charging dock.
The chibi shadow climbed onto Xie Zhang’s lap, unbuttoning his shirt with inky black hands, half his body disappearing into the fabric, rubbing against his abs like a mischievous imp.
Xie Zhang: “…”
He looked down.
Song-shadow peeked out innocently from between the buttons, then pointed at the clock on the wall.
What was he looking at?
It was sunbathing time!
Xie Zhang sighed. Momo seemed… much more lively than he remembered.
But he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Momo.
He mentally recited legal clauses, discreetly removing Song-shadow from his shirt.
To Xie Zhang, “sunbathing” meant simply sitting in the sun.
But Song Jingmo clearly had a different interpretation.
He dragged Xie Zhang downstairs to the floor where he usually spent his time, the recording studio and game room on one side, and a room almost identical to Xie Zhang’s study on the other.
The large windows were the same, but the heavy curtains were gone, replaced by a plush sofa. The coffee table was scattered with pens, paper, and origami cranes holding sheet music in their beaks.
The bookshelves were full, but their pristine condition suggested they were more for decoration than reading.
A wicker rocking chair sat by the window, piled high with pillows.
The entire room… looked incredibly inviting for a nap.
Standing at the doorway, watching the sunlight fill the room, Xie Zhang suddenly understood why Song Jingmo loved spending time here.
He’d never been in this room during the day, always assuming it was Song Jingmo’s composing space.
They lived under the same roof, yet they lived in different time zones.
Song Jingmo pushed Xie Zhang into the rocking chair, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
He typed on the tablet he’d brought along: 【Try it! Isn’t it comfortable? I’m a master nest builder!】
Xie Zhang closed his eyes, experiencing the sensation.
The wicker chair, usually stiff and unyielding, was transformed into a soft, supportive cocoon by the numerous pillows.
The warm, gentle sunlight enveloped him, lulling him into a drowsy state.
A shadow tendril massaged his temples, then slipped inside his collar.
Xie Zhang reached up and caught the tendril heading towards his chest, his expression resigned.
Song-shadow, his sneak attack foiled, playfully twirled around Xie Zhang’s finger.
Then, as soon as Xie Zhang let go, he darted under his shirt, clinging to his warm, firm muscles.
Xie Zhang: “…”
What could he do?
He adjusted his position, trying to ignore the rather suggestive bulge under his shirt, and closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight.
Seeing his acquiescence, Song Jingmo giggled, a shadow tendril peeking out from Xie Zhang’s collar, nuzzling his cheek.
They remained like this, basking in the sunlight, time slowly passing.
That evening, Song Jingmo noticed a surge of strength within him.
After another day of experimentation, Xie Zhang realized that while the shadow itself didn’t benefit much from sunbathing, perhaps because the shadow’s true owner was him, the longer he spent in the sun, the stronger Song Jingmo became.
Song Jingmo, previously worried about draining Xie Zhang’s life force, now embraced this mutually beneficial activity, eager to drag Xie Zhang out into the sun every chance he got, flipping him over like a pancake to ensure even coverage.
The villa, shrouded in darkness for weeks, was now bathed in sunlight, every curtain drawn open, every windowsill adorned with a rug.
Not just during the scheduled sunbathing time, but whenever the sun shone, Xie Zhang and Song-shadow could be found by a window.
A few days later.
Xu Yi arrived to pick up Xie Zhang for work, intending to brief him on company matters during the drive.
As the villa door opened, he stared at Xie Zhang, then blurted out:
“Boss, did you go coal mining in Africa?”
Xie Zhang, looking much healthier and more energetic than a week ago, was… considerably darker.
Xie Zhang, the limited-edition tan version, paused for a moment, then changed the subject: “Let’s go.”
Song Jingmo followed Xie Zhang into the car, settling neatly on the seat, then, looking at Xu Yi driving, an idea struck him.
Wait, what if Xu Yi could see him too…?
Xu Yi had been with Xie Zhang for years, a close friend they both trusted implicitly. He was reliable, fearless (except for poverty), and had an incredibly high tolerance for stress.
Even if Xie Zhang was a die-hard atheist, Xu Yi could at least convince him to see a psychiatrist, right?
Song Jingmo was eager to try.
But looking at Xu Yi behind the wheel, the now highly safety-conscious Song-shadow stretched himself out, behaving like a normal shadow.
…
Parking the car in the company garage, Xu Yi glanced at the rearview mirror for the nth time.
Xie Zhang was reviewing the documents he’d left in the car, his expression serious.
But something felt… off.
What was it?
