Honey! Don’t Take the Medicine! 36

Chapter 36

The SUV was rugged and stylish, its interior a simple beige.

The man behind the wheel wasn’t wearing his usual suit, but a military green jumpsuit and a black vest, the tinted sunglasses Song Jingmo had smuggled from home perched on his nose.

—Those stylish accessories had originally belonged to Song Jingmo.

A tablet sat on the passenger seat, a shadow tendril coiled beside it, its tip hovering over the keyboard.

The chibi shadow, on his swing, looked at Xie Zhang.

The endless expanse of the sea stretched out beyond the window. Through Xie Zhang’s eyes, Song Jingmo saw the lonely young man from his memories, and he saw himself, seven years ago, leaving home with his violin.

“In my third year of university, I rejected my professor’s advice to pursue a master’s degree and joined a gaming studio run by a senior.”

Xie Zhang’s fingers traced the steering wheel, the wind whipping through the open window, caressing his face.

“I learned a lot that year. If you were willing to work hard, you could earn a decent income.”

“But…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

But Song Jingmo understood.

That income, compared to the mountain of debt left by the Xie corporation’s collapse, was insignificant.

He also didn’t ask why Xie Zhang had been alone in Yunnan province, thousands of miles from home.

The more controlled and rational a person was, the more reckless and desperate their hidden turmoil became.

He was simply curious why Xie Zhang had chosen this particular location.

So he asked.

Xie Zhang blinked, a flicker of… embarrassment… on his face.

Song Jingmo’s curiosity intensified. A shadow tendril poked his cheek, then tugged playfully on his ear.

Xie Zhang, focusing on the road, muttered: “I bought a random ticket,” his gaze fixed ahead.

The chibi shadow, swinging from the rearview mirror, huffed, the sound echoing in Xie Zhang’s ears.

After a moment, Xie Zhang finally spoke: “I saw a post about… colorful clouds.”

Hm?

What?

Song Jingmo almost fell off his swing, turning upside down to look at Xie Zhang.

A black question mark materialized on Xie Zhang’s leg.

Xie Zhang coughed.

Yunnan’s colorful clouds were indeed famous, but their fame wasn’t just due to their beauty. There was a local belief—

If you saw a colorful cloud and made a wish, your wish might come true.

It was a belief steeped in superstition, romance, and a touch of whimsy.

It didn’t seem like something Xie Zhang would be interested in.

He avoided Song Jingmo’s gaze.

Not because he was ashamed, but… he knew that Song Jingmo saw him as a strong, capable, reliable partner, and he liked being that person.

But such childish whimsy… tarnished his image.

As they drove along the highway, Xie Zhang recounted the bedtime stories his mother used to tell him, tales of magic and wonder that had filled his childhood dreams.

The chibi shadow listened to the stories, piecing together an image of a young Xie Zhang, his cheeks chubby, his eyes bright with wonder.

Listening to his voice, watching the scenery flash by, Song Jingmo was transported back to seven years ago.

Then, after sharing a few vivid memories, Xie Zhang suddenly asked: “What about you?”

Song Jingmo, who had been looking out the window, turned to him.

Xie Zhang asked the question he’d never asked before.

“Why were you there, seven years ago?”

“You weren’t supposed to be in the country at that time.”

The shadow swing slid down from the rearview mirror, and Song Jingmo landed on the passenger seat, bouncing on a pillow secured by the seatbelt.

Yes, seven years ago, he wasn’t supposed to be there.

Song Jingmo emerged from the airport, carrying his violin, no other luggage.

His usual cheerful expression was gone, replaced by a sullen frown, the slight petulance of a pampered young master.

His phone buzzed incessantly with messages from overseas.

【Song, Michael’s family isn’t well-off, and he’s not as talented as you. He really needs this opportunity.】

【Song, your family can arrange countless solo performances for you. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to perform at the Vienna Musikverein…】

Song Jingmo glanced at the messages, then stopped reading.

His tinted sunglasses hid most of his face, his pale skin and long eyelashes visible from the side.

He turned off his phone, pushed his sunglasses up with it, then removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed both the card and the phone into a trash can.

He walked out of the airport.

Standing by the roadside, he looked up at the sky, then towards the distant mountains.

The Yunnan sun was warm and golden.

Like the lights of the Vienna Musikverein.

He hailed a taxi, then, upon seeing the payment QR code displayed on the dashboard, he froze, his posture stiffening. He almost got out of the car to retrieve his phone from the trash can.

He’d been abroad for too long, forgetting that mobile payments were ubiquitous in China now; using a credit card was practically unheard of.

And he certainly wasn’t going to ask the driver for a POS machine.

The driver’s accent was thick; Song Jingmo barely understood him, mumbling a vague response, his hand reaching into his violin case, searching.

Fortunately, he’d used cash abroad, and he preferred Chinese food, so he still had some change from his last meal.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

The driver, having asked his destination several times, watched through the rearview mirror as the passenger silently smoothed out the crumpled bills on his lap, his movements meticulous.

But they couldn’t just sit there forever. He might get a parking ticket.

He raised his voice: “Young man, where to?”

Song Jingmo finally understood.

He looked lost in thought for a moment, then said softly: “Just drive… anywhere… Just drop me off somewhere quiet.”

He had no destination.

No plan, no direction.

A sudden impulse had brought him here, seeking solace, or perhaps escape.

Then he changed his mind.

“Sir, please head towards…”

“Oh, that’s quite far, and there aren’t any tourist attractions in that direction. The scenery is beautiful, but it’s remote, not many places to stay.”

“It’s fine.” Song Jingmo’s slender fingers intertwined, his wrists delicate. “Just go that way.”

“Five hundred yuan enough?”

“It won’t be that much! My house is nearby. I’ll drop you off, then head home for dinner.”

“…Okay.”

Song Jingmo smiled faintly.

The taxi merged onto the road.

Song Jingmo rested his hand on his violin case, his other hand supporting his head, watching the scenery flash by.

The bustling tourist spots and crowds faded into the distance, the wind carrying a clean, crisp scent, the occasional seagull gliding across the water.

The messages had been from his mentor, whom he’d trusted.

And Michael was his close friend and junior.

Every musician studying in Vienna dreamed of performing at the Musikverein, the golden hall, the starting point of their dreams.

Song Jingmo was incredibly talented. His teachers had always said he was born to play.

A position in the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra was a highly coveted opportunity.

But his mentor had used his recommendation to secure that spot for Michael, not because he believed Michael was more talented or better suited for the orchestra, but because… Michael’s family wasn’t well-off, and he needed the opportunity more than Song Jingmo, who had countless other options.

Song Jingmo didn’t understand.

He couldn’t understand.

He wasn’t resentful of his privileged background, his loving family. He cherished them, grateful for the life they’d given him.

He’d never looked down on Michael or distanced himself because of his financial struggles.

On the contrary, he’d often taken the shy Michael to perform on the streets of Vienna, sharing any job opportunities he found.

He was happy for Michael’s success.

If Michael and his mentor had spoken to him beforehand, he wouldn’t have objected.

As his mentor had said, he had other opportunities. This one, while prestigious, wasn’t irreplaceable.

What he couldn’t accept was that this competition, based on skill and talent, had been decided by irrelevant factors.

And that he’d been informed after the fact.

His grip on the violin case tightened, his knuckles turning white.

Then he relaxed, closing his eyes, letting the gentle rocking motion of the car lull him into an uneasy sleep.

…

He woke up to the driver’s voice, glancing at his watch. It was past 5 pm.

He got out of the car, staring at the unfamiliar yet familiar mountain road, then began walking.

Reaching the summit, he saw the orange hues of sunset spreading across the horizon.

The scenery was beautiful, but he felt a sense of… dread.

He hadn’t thought about how he’d get back down, or where he’d spend the night.

He didn’t even have his phone.

But… he was already here.

He tightened his grip on the violin case, steadying his breath, and walked towards his destination.

Rounding a large tree, he saw a figure sitting beneath it, motionless, shrouded in shadows.

The figure’s legs were hidden by the undergrowth, the scene strangely unsettling.

But his legs… were surprisingly long.

The young master, unnerved, his mind racing with supernatural and thriller scenarios, cautiously approached the figure.

Even when he was just an arm’s length away, the figure didn’t react.

Remembering news stories about hikers discovering bodies, Song Jingmo’s heart sank.

He’d found a… corpse!

And he didn’t even have a phone to call the police!

Perhaps… he should… check?

Just in case… there was still a chance…

He gulped, his hand trembling as he reached out to check the figure’s breathing.

His wrist was suddenly grabbed.

Song Jingmo, one second: “o-o”

Song Jingmo, the next second: “OoO!”

Aaaaaah—a ghost!!!