Chapter 48
Xie Zhang stood frozen at the doorway.
It wasn’t until Song Jingmo, sensing his strange reaction, sat up and tried to approach him that he realized what was wrong.
Song Jingmo looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers, then at his legs. He was wearing the teddy bear t-shirt he’d been wearing before the accident.
Joy surged through him, and he instinctively lunged towards Xie Zhang, but his movements, rusty from disuse, betrayed him, and he stumbled.
Xie Zhang, anticipating this, caught him.
Song Jingmo’s forehead bumped against Xie Zhang’s collarbone, a familiar, welcome sensation.
“Xie Zhang!”
“Xie Zhang, Xie Zhang, Xie Zhang!”
He clung to Xie Zhang, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck, squirming with excitement.
“Look at me! I’m human again!”
Xie Zhang’s arms tightened around him, his eyes fixed on Song Jingmo, his gaze intense, filled with a mixture of relief, joy, and something… more.
He held him carefully, afraid to squeeze too tight, yet unwilling to let go, his complex emotions evident in the tightening of his muscles. He rested his forehead against Song Jingmo’s neck.
“Mm… mm.”
If this had been before, Song Jingmo might have found his reaction underwhelming, but now—
He hugged Xie Zhang tightly, one hand gently stroking his back, the other running through his hair.
“It’s okay, you can hold me tighter.”
“I like it when you hold me tight. It makes me feel loved.”
“Very loved.”
Xie Zhang’s body trembled slightly, his embrace tightening.
They held each other for a long moment.
Then, regaining his composure, knowing Song Jingmo was still processing his newfound physicality, he loosened his grip, giving him space.
Being a shadow was different from being human.
Song Jingmo finally understood.
The sunlight on his skin, the texture of the sofa beneath him, the feeling of his fingers against Xie Zhang’s cheek… everything was different.
“It feels… strange… like I’m truly alive again.” He examined his hands, bathed in sunlight. “But something feels… off…”
A strange, unsettling sensation.
He pinched his arm.
“Ouch!”
He almost cried.
What the—?!
He’d barely pinched himself; why did it hurt so much?
Xie Zhang, who had been silently observing him, suddenly spoke: “No shadow.”
Song Jingmo looked down.
He and Xie Zhang were sitting side-by-side on the chaise lounge, but only Xie Zhang’s shadow stretched across the floor.
Song Jingmo hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers playing with Xie Zhang’s, fascinated by the familiar touch.
He suddenly remembered something, looking around the sofa.
He was no longer a shadow that could stretch across the room, but he still clung to Xie Zhang, their bodies touching as he searched.
His movements were slightly awkward.
But Xie Zhang remained silent, even helping him reach behind the sofa.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“My phone. I fell asleep… I wonder if it’s still charged—” His hand, reaching under the sofa, emerged triumphantly. “Aha! Found it!”
He had no idea how his phone, which he’d been holding as a shadow, had ended up under the sofa.
He turned on the phone, still holding Xie Zhang’s hand, and called his brother.
Song Chengyan, although not as much of a workaholic as Xie Zhang, was disciplined. Despite the early hour, he answered quickly.
“Finally decided to check in, little brother?”
The sound of a coffee machine whirring in the background indicated he was just waking up.
“Brother, I message you every day!” Song Jingmo rolled his eyes.
Song Chengyan scoffed: “Random messages in the middle of the night, then silence when I ask for an update? You call that checking in?”
He knew his brother well enough to guess he’d been gaming when he’d sent those messages.
“I was a ghost,” Song Jingmo retorted. “I checked in!”
Song Chengyan sighed; he’d never been able to win an argument with his brother.
“Fine, whatever you say.” He sighed again. “So, what’s the problem? Something your darling can’t handle?”
Song Jingmo blushed furiously.
What… darling… aaaaaah!!!
He heard Xie Zhang chuckle softly, the sound sending shivers down his spine. He straightened his back, his ears burning, but he didn’t dare look at him.
“Brother! Don’t say such things! I’ll tell my future sister-in-law…”
“Go ahead,” Song Chengyan said, unfazed. “Firstly, I have no idea where my future wife is, and secondly, even if you did tell her, she’d probably thank you.”
“And what’s wrong with what I said? Who was the one sending me messages, calling him ‘darling’ and ‘my blooming flower’? You have the guts to send them, but not to hear me say it? Want me to send the screenshots to Xie Zhang?”
“Tsk, he’d be thrilled.”
“Such a good brother, I am.”
Song Jingmo: “…”
Brother, please shut up!
I beg you!
Song Jingmo, fearing Xie Zhang might actually ask for the screenshots, quickly changed the subject: “Brother, could you check if my body is still at the sanatorium?”
Song Chengyan’s light tone vanished. He hung up, then sent a video call request.
Song Jingmo, curious if electronic devices could capture his presence, waved at his brother’s serious face on the screen.
Song Chengyan stared at him for a moment, then nodded at Xie Zhang, who was sitting beside him, and said: “Don’t hang up, wait.”
“Okay.”
Song Jingmo, his arm getting tired, placed the phone on the coffee table.
He remained close to Xie Zhang.
Song Chengyan, waiting for a reply, saw this and frowned: “You two are stuck together? Is that a side effect? Did you see the master?”
Song Jingmo retorted: “Brother, seriously, you need to get a girlfriend.”
Song Chengyan: “Either you or Xie Zhang take over my work, and I’ll have time for a girlfriend.”
Song Jingmo looked at the ceiling, admiring the chandelier.
Song Chengyan, changing tactics, started discussing work with Xie Zhang.
Xie Zhang’s new CEO was apparently making waves, even reaching Song Chengyan’s ears.
Ten minutes later, Song Chengyan received a reply: “Your body is still at the sanatorium, no change.”
Song Jingmo mused: “Hmm… so it’s just my soul that left?”
Song Chengyan frowned: “Stop guessing! Ask a professional.”
Song Jingmo pouted: “The professional is ignoring me. Probably because he knows his amulet is sewn into someone’s underwear.”
Song Chengyan looked like he wanted to reach through the screen and smack his brother.
He took a deep breath, then said: “Think about what I asked you earlier.”
“I’m hanging up now; talking to you is giving me a headache.”
The call ended. Before Xie Zhang could ask, Song Jingmo spoke, his voice direct and honest: “My brother asked if we should tell our parents.”
Xie Zhang held his hand, then said softly: “I waited to leave, thinking you’d want to see them.”
But Song Jingmo hadn’t mentioned it.
If he wanted to see his parents, Xie Zhang would have to be there.
And honestly, after everything, Xie Zhang wasn’t eager for a reunion.
He wasn’t a saint, just a normal person.
He couldn’t navigate this complex situation alone, and the rift between him and Song Jingmo’s parents wouldn’t simply disappear with time.
Song Jingmo had also been thinking about this.
Regardless of the reasons behind his parents’ behavior, their unfair treatment of Xie Zhang was a reality.
Caught between his parents and his lover, only he could resolve this.
He didn’t think Xie Zhang should simply forgive and forget.
Why should he?
Just because they were his parents?
That wasn’t fair to Xie Zhang.
He squeezed Xie Zhang’s hand, his fingers gently massaging his tense muscles.
“I’ll tell them about… this… later. If we succeed.”
“If not, my brother will probably tell them eventually. But this… journey… is our story.”
“A-Zhang, in our world, love and marriage are separate. Love might be between two people, but marriage is a transaction between families.”
“Even in ordinary families, marriage involves two families, compromises, adjustments… until they finally… learn to tolerate each other?”
He smiled, and Xie Zhang, who had been listening intently, looked up at him, amused.
“But I don’t like that.”
Song Jingmo’s voice was serious.
“That’s not happiness; it’s reluctant acceptance after years of conflict. It’s a ticking time bomb.”
He’d thought about this carefully.
“Why can’t a family be just two people? It should be a choice, a union, a shared life.”
“A-Zhang, compatibility is a matter of luck. It’s okay if things don’t work out. You don’t have to choose, or compromise.”
“Mom has Dad, and you have me. We’re our own family. I’ll be with you, always, until we’re old and grey.”
His words weren’t explicit, but his meaning was clear.
The Song family was his past; Xie Zhang was his future.
He was his parents’ beloved son, and Xie Zhang was his parents’ beloved son.
It was best for them to maintain a respectful distance.
He wanted to build a life with Xie Zhang, not force him to fit into his family.
Because he believed that, even if Xie Zhang’s parents were gone, they would want their son to be happy.
Meeting Xie Zhang’s stunned gaze, he smiled, kissing his cheek.
“I wasn’t avoiding this; I was thinking.”
“I received double the love; I should give back double the love. I can’t burden you with my responsibilities.”
“I’ll handle my family, and your responsibility is to love yourself, love me, and protect our home.”
Their foreheads touched, and Song Jingmo saw stars in Xie Zhang’s eyes, and a tiny reflection of himself, surrounded by those stars.
“So, how about it? Isn’t your Song Momo super… A?”
Xie Zhang, holding his hand tightly, slightly confused, asked: “A?”
Song Jingmo, confidently: “It means… masculine and reliable!”
Xie Zhang, mentally filing this away, repeated: “Mm, Song Momo is super A.”
His deep voice, saying those words, almost made Song Jingmo faint.
He pressed his advantage: “So you’ll marry me, right?”
“Yes, I… wait, what?”
Xie Zhang, lost in his own thoughts, suddenly snapped back to reality.
