Chapter 22
Under the meeting table, Song Jingmo had been trying to figure out how to form himself into words when Xu Yi, the best bro ever, provided him with a pen.
Song-shadow clutched the pen, carefully writing a few words on Xu Yi’s outstretched palm.
Xu Yi, ignoring the ticklish sensation and the guilt of secretly communicating with his boss’s ghostly wife right under his nose, quickly sat up straight and glanced at his palm when he had the chance.
Madam Boss, considerate as always, had written from Xu Yi’s perspective.
But the message…
【Take him to see a doctor.】
Xu Yi glanced at Xie Zhang, his complexion healthy and rosy.
Compared to his state a week ago, Xie Zhang looked much better these past few days, since Madam Boss’s return.
At least he didn’t seem on the verge of jumping off a building anymore.
Xu Yi reread the message, thinking hard.
If his physical health was fine, then it must be his mental health?
Did Madam Boss think her husband was mentally ill?
This was a serious matter.
Regardless of Madam Boss’s reasoning, the possibility of Xie Zhang having a mental illness was a significant concern.
But he couldn’t just suggest his boss see a psychiatrist out of the blue.
Song Jingmo peeked out from under the table, noticing Xu Yi’s troubled expression.
He poked his elbow.
Xu Yi, startled by the silent shadow, instinctively cupped the chibi figure in his hand.
Song Jingmo’s vision went dark.
The next second, Xu Yi felt his boss’s gaze on him.
Under Xie Zhang’s narrowed eyes, Xu Yi shifted slightly, carefully placing the chibi shadow on his chair.
Song Jingmo poked his finger.
Xu Yi slipped him another pen and half a sheet of paper.
Song Jingmo gave his good brother a mental thumbs-up and began writing furiously.
Xu Yi, under his boss’s watchful gaze, diligently took meeting notes.
He pretended not to notice Madam Boss squeezing onto the chair beside him.
Song Jingmo finished writing, placed the pen on the paper, and floated down from the chair, hidden by Xu Yi’s body.
Fortunately, unlike Xie Zhang’s side of the table, no one walked past Xu Yi’s chair, making their secret communication possible.
To give Xu Yi a better view of the note, the chibi shadow climbed onto Xie Zhang’s trousers and sat on his thigh.
Xie Zhang, prepared this time, didn’t tense up, seemingly accustomed to it.
Song Jingmo giggled, reaching out to undo a button on Xie Zhang’s shirt, under his jacket.
Xie Zhang, mid-meeting, froze.
A cool touch slipped under his shirt. The shadow curled into a small ball and settled on his stomach.
Xie Zhang: “…”
He couldn’t ignore the sensation.
Song Jingmo wasn’t doing anything outrageous, just rubbing his shadow face against Xie Zhang’s abs.
Since he was already dead, why not indulge in things he hadn’t dared to do before?
As for what Xie Zhang thought…
Song-shadow huffed.
He’d been with Xie Zhang for so long, and he still wouldn’t acknowledge him, still pretending.
Why should he care?
He snuggled against Xie Zhang’s warm stomach, even thoughtfully buttoning his shirt back up.
Xie Zhang looked at the mysteriously buttoned shirt, adjusted his position, and continued the meeting.
Xu Yi, seizing the opportunity, discreetly read the note.
Then he fell into deep thought.
There were two possibilities.
One, his materialistic boss didn’t believe in ghosts, attributing Madam Boss’s presence to a mental illness, and he didn’t want treatment.
Two, as Madam Boss suspected, his boss knew everything but was pretending to be delusional, refusing to acknowledge her return as a ghost.
Xu Yi couldn’t understand Xie Zhang’s logic.
Would a normal person think a living shadow caught on camera was a hallucination?
Would a normal person pretend to be mentally ill rather than communicate with their returned lover?
A normal person would not.
Regardless of which scenario was true, a psychiatrist seemed necessary.
…
After the meeting.
Xie Zhang remained seated, waiting until everyone had left before looking down at the shadow peeking out from his shirt.
Song Jingmo, reluctantly, gave Xie Zhang’s abs one last caress before flowing out of his shirt and merging with his shadow on the floor.
He gave Xie Zhang a thumbs-up.
Xie Zhang glanced at his stomach, took a deep breath to compose himself, and left the meeting room.
Walking back to his office, he glanced at Song-shadow, now behaving like a normal shadow, and thought about his actions during the meeting.
Momo seemed… upset?
But why?
He replayed their interactions of the past few days, trying to analyze Song Jingmo’s behavior.
He stopped abruptly.
What if Momo suspected—no, what if he was certain—that he wasn’t ill at all?
The thought of Song Jingmo’s potential misunderstanding made his lips tighten into a thin line.
He entered his office and, as the chibi shadow clung to his wrist, sent a message to Xu Yi.
Xu Yi, having just left the meeting room, scrolled through his contacts, chose the most reputable psychiatrist, and booked an urgent appointment for Xie Zhang.
As he was contemplating how to broach the subject with his boss, his phone buzzed with a message from Xie Zhang.
【Book me an appointment with a psychiatrist.】
Xu Yi looked at the message, then at the note from Madam Boss tucked into his folder, feeling like a pawn in some elaborate game.
Indeed, in every CEO romance story, the secretary was always part of the play.
He sent Xie Zhang a screenshot of the appointment confirmation, put away his phone, and returned to his desk.
…
Song Jingmo, having witnessed Xie Zhang’s message, stared at him, wide-eyed.
He’d been prepared to throw a tantrum, to rip the leaves off every plant in the office until everyone called an exorcist, if Xie Zhang refused to see a psychiatrist.
Xie Zhang, looking at the black question mark hovering over Song-shadow’s head, thought, as expected.
But he still wasn’t ready to confront his lover.
Because no matter how many scenarios he’d considered, they all led to the same conclusion: separation.
He put away his phone, sat down at his desk, and began working.
Song Jingmo climbed onto his neck, caressing his cheek with a shadow tendril, a silent gesture of comfort.
He wasn’t just trying to expose Xie Zhang’s charade, to force him to acknowledge his existence.
He remembered the state Xie Zhang had been in when he first woke up.
It had been… frightening.
Watching Xie Zhang finally sleep peacefully at night, he sometimes wondered—
What if… what if he hadn’t returned? What would have happened to Xie Zhang?
Some questions were best left unanswered.
“Dr. Qiao, there’s an urgent appointment at 7 pm.”
“Urgent?” The doctor, who was about to leave, paused. “A new patient? Where’s the registration form?”
Usually, the registration form for a psychiatric clinic included some information about the patient’s condition and any specific concerns, allowing the psychiatrist to prepare.
“Not a new patient. It’s Mr. Xie, he’s been here a few times before.”
The nurse handed him the form.
He remembered Xie Zhang. He’d been coming for therapy almost monthly.
He hadn’t been in for the past two months, so a follow-up appointment was normal.
The doctor read the form: “Suspected schizophrenia, experiencing visual hallucinations.” He frowned.
Something about this diagnosis…
…didn’t seem quite right.
