Chapter 43
Song Jingmo’s honeymoon PowerPoint, besides the lovingly crafted cover page, focused heavily on the culinary delights of the old town.
Photos of candied hawthorns, from every conceivable angle, occupied an entire slide.
If presented as a work project, even the composed CEO Xie would have frowned.
But it clearly conveyed Song Jingmo’s desires.
So, after a brief rest, Xie Zhang, accompanied by the eager Song-shadow, ventured out.
The old town hadn’t changed much in seven years, even the famous candied hawthorn shop was still there.
Except it was now twice as large, and a flower cake shop with the same name had opened across the street.
“See? I told you, good food and quality ingredients are key to a successful business, even for internet-famous shops.” Surrounded by people, Song Jingmo could only peek out from Xie Zhang’s pocket. “I wonder if the taste has changed.”
Xie Zhang’s shadow, taking advantage of the fact that no one was looking down, tugged on his trousers, pulling him towards the shop.
Worried about being noticed, Xie Zhang quickened his pace.
Fortunately, the line wasn’t long. Ten minutes later, he held a candied hawthorn stick.
Song Jingmo, knowing Xie Zhang didn’t share his fondness for the sweet and sour treat, flattened himself against Xie Zhang’s jacket, peeking out from his sleeve and latching onto the candied hawthorn.
Xie Zhang steered clear of the crowds, while Song Jingmo happily munched away.
As they walked towards the shop selling soup dumplings and savory pancakes, a place Song Jingmo had been wanting to visit, Xie Zhang noticed the unusual silence.
He looked down and saw the chibi shadow, his mouth wide open, struggling to bite into a berry, the candied hawthorn miraculously unscathed.
Well, not entirely unscathed—the syrup had started to melt from being held in Xie Zhang’s warm hand.
Xie Zhang suppressed a smile.
But Song Jingmo, looking up, saw the amusement in his eyes, the twitching of his lips.
Song-shadow reluctantly detached himself from the candied hawthorn, then, noticing the sticky syrup coating his miniature form, climbed onto the topmost berry and held out his arms towards Xie Zhang.
“Sticky,” he said, his voice slightly muffled.
The candied hawthorn was placed back in its bag, and Xie Zhang carefully cleaned Song-shadow with a damp handkerchief.
Sitting on a low wall, surrounded by the bustling crowd, Xie Zhang gently cleaned his shadow lover.
Song Jingmo, unusually cooperative, raised his arms and legs, turning and twisting until he was clean.
As Xie Zhang was about to put the dirty handkerchief away, a cool, soft shadow hand grabbed his thumb.
Song Jingmo clung to his finger, his voice low and slightly dejected, his entire form drooping.
“A-Zhang, I suddenly realize… being alive is… really nice.”
Xie Zhang paused.
He’d noticed that, unlike him, Song Jingmo had adapted surprisingly well to his… situation. He rarely expressed regret or resentment.
He’d only seen Song-shadow cry once.
And even then, it hadn’t been for himself, but for Xie Zhang.
He asked softly: “Is it because of the candied hawthorn?”
He could buy Song Jingmo candied hawthorns for the rest of his life, no matter how long the line.
As long as they had a lifetime together, he was willing to do anything.
Song Jingmo shook his head.
The candied hawthorn had been disappointing, all that effort for nothing, ending up covered in syrup instead of savoring the taste.
But that wasn’t why he was feeling down.
He’d… seen how others interacted with Xie Zhang.
During this belated journey, Xie Zhang had retraced their steps alone, encountering familiar faces, even buying only one candied hawthorn.
If he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t become a shadow, Xie Zhang would have been truly alone.
He’d been the one who’d pursued Xie Zhang, the one who’d made a wish for his love, the one who’d made promises, and yet, he’d been the one to leave.
He’d read countless stories about love and loss, about life and death, captivated by the drama, but not truly believing in “forever.”
How could someone be so devastated by another person’s death?
Everyone died eventually.
And those left behind… moved on.
He’d thought that their relationship, like many others, had simply transitioned from passionate love to comfortable companionship.
He’d been wrong.
He’d met Xie Zhang.
A prickly cactus, seemingly tough and resilient, yet its heart overflowing with a hidden sweetness.
This cactus had journeyed to his oasis, guarding his small pond year after year, silent and unassuming, taking only what he needed, his heart filled with a quiet, unwavering love.
“…I’m sorry.”
Xie Zhang froze, then his hands tightened around the shadow in his palm, his voice failing him.
Song Jingmo, sensing his distress, took his hand, nuzzling his fingers, kissing his knuckles, then resting his forehead against his hand.
“How could I leave you alone?”
His soft voice echoed in Xie Zhang’s ears.
The cool, smooth touch on his skin, bathed in the warm sunlight, brought tears to his eyes.
He’d thought he only felt despair, hopelessness, and grief.
But hearing Song Jingmo’s words, he realized his despair was laced with anger, his grief with resentment, his hopelessness with self-doubt.
He was always the one left behind.
Song Jingmo clung to his fingers, his entire shadow wrapping around Xie Zhang’s hand, as if trying to merge with his soul.
“I’m sorry.”
“I left you alone.”
Cool, black teardrops rolled down Xie Zhang’s hand, disappearing into his shadow.
“It won’t happen again.”
Song Jingmo’s voice was muffled, but his tone was firm and resolute, a quality Xie Zhang had never seen in him before.
“I swear.”
Xie Zhang’s eyes glistened with tears. He asked softly, trying to lighten the mood: “Swear on a candied hawthorn?”
A tiny question mark appeared above the chibi shadow’s head.
Song Jingmo swatted Xie Zhang’s hand, chastising him for ruining the moment.
“I swear on all the… content… in my cloud storage and Secretary Xu’s!”
He raised a tiny fist, his voice firm.
Xie Zhang: “…”
Song Jingmo, slightly flustered: “What? That’s a serious oath!”
Xie Zhang couldn’t help but laugh, his shoulders shaking.
…
They returned to the guesthouse that evening, postponing their visit to the café until the next day.
Realizing his past neglect, Song Jingmo fussed over Xie Zhang, drawing him a hot bath, then making him take a cold shower afterwards.
Song-shadow, clutching a wet towel, admired Xie Zhang’s perfectly sculpted eight-pack.
As Xie Zhang dried his hair, Song Jingmo sat on his head, making strange noises as he faced the warm air from the hairdryer.
He occasionally swallowed a strand of Xie Zhang’s hair, then spat it out with a disgusted “ptooey!”
The Yunnan sky was a deep, dark blue, the stars bright and clear.
The chibi shadow lay on Xie Zhang’s chest, a shadow tendril gently tracing his eyelashes.
Xie Zhang’s eyelashes were long and thick, usually hiding his emotions.
The shadow crept onto his nose, tugging playfully at his eyelashes.
Xie Zhang opened his eyes, looking at the mischievous shadow.
Song Jingmo whispered: “I can’t help it… I feel… restless.”
Now that his powers had grown, he only needed a short nap during the pre-dawn hours, sometimes not even that, usually staying up late playing games while Xie Zhang slept.
But tonight, he felt strangely agitated, needing to… do something.
Xie Zhang turned on the bedside lamp.
Song Jingmo perked up: “It’s a long night…”
Xie Zhang, understanding: “What do you want to do?”
The chibi shadow pondered, a tiny lightbulb appearing above his head.
Xie Zhang poked the shadow lightbulb with his finger.
“I’ve got it!”
“I’ll teach you a game! It’s… fun… and easy!”
“It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever.’ I’ll say something I’ve done. If you haven’t done it, I win. If you have done it, I lose. And vice versa.”
Xie Zhang understood the rules; it was a simple game, often played at parties.
But he focused on a specific word in Song Jingmo’s explanation.
“…Fun?”
Song Jingmo, his mind racing, his inhibitions lowered after days without his usual… entertainment, gulped: “Well… games have stakes, right…?”
“The bet is… the loser… takes off a piece of clothing?”
His voice trailed off, a hint of hesitation in his tone.
This might be a bit too much for the reserved CEO Xie.
Xie Zhang looked at Song-shadow, his inky black form revealing nothing about his attire, or even if he was wearing anything.
Then he looked at himself, dressed in his pajamas.
A minute later, he got out of bed.
Song Jingmo watched him, confused.
Then he saw Xie Zhang retrieve a full suit from his suitcase, meticulously putting it on, adjusting his tie, fastening his cufflinks.
“Okay.”
Dressed impeccably, but barefoot, CEO Xie sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the stunned Song Jingmo.
“Who goes first?”
