Chapter 9
It had been a long time since Song Jingmo had touched his violin.
Even though the sensation of his shadow touching the instrument was different, like wearing thick rubber gloves, unable to feel the familiar, almost living warmth of the wood, it was a profound comfort.
He instinctively tried to form a more substantial shape, even just his upper body, so he could attempt to play.
But even forming a single hand had taken a lot of energy. As he strained to create more of himself, his strength suddenly drained away, and he watched helplessly as the lifted violin began to fall!
His violin—!!!
Song Jingmo frantically clawed and thrashed within Xie Zhang’s shadow.
A familiar hand reached out from the side, catching the falling violin.
Song Jingmo, once again trapped within Xie Zhang’s shadow, breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if he’d been given a second life.
He gave Xie Zhang a mental thumbs-up.
Xie Zhang caught the violin, his lips pressed into a thin line. After repeatedly checking that it was unharmed, he struggled to speak, words failing him.
He realized, with a sense of helplessness, that he couldn’t do anything about his hallucination, or his second personality.
He could see a psychiatrist, but no psychiatrist would allow a patient to retain a second personality, letting their condition worsen.
But if he wasn’t ill, then he would lose even this last vestige of Momo.
Xie Zhang closed the violin case, thought for a long moment, and placed it in the study safe.
Not only that, but he also retrieved his toolbox and meticulously covered the safe, especially the combination dial, with sharp thumbtacks.
Song Jingmo, watching this: “.”
Xie Zhang’s expression remained troubled.
He had no other choice. He knew the combination, and there was nowhere in the villa he couldn’t access.
The safe and the thumbtacks were just a reminder for his primary personality to resurface, a way to negotiate with his hallucination.
Otherwise… things would become even more complicated at the office.
With a plan forming in his mind, Xie Zhang forced himself to forget about the violin, to release his obsession with it, and locked himself in the bedroom.
Song Jingmo watched as Xie Zhang lay down on the bed.
One minute, five minutes… half an hour… an hour…
Two hours passed, and Xie Zhang remained wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
Fine, he didn’t need to sleep, but Song Jingmo wasn’t feeling the familiar heat either, trapped and immobile within the shadow.
This wouldn’t do.
Song Jingmo began to think.
He replayed each instance of the burning sensation. Apart from a couple of sudden occurrences, it seemed to happen… whenever Xie Zhang was thinking about him.
Seven years of dating, six years of living together.
Song Jingmo knew Xie Zhang, understood every nuance of his expressions.
But then he remembered the other side of Xie Zhang he’d glimpsed in these past few days, and his lips curved into a wry smile.
—Okay, maybe there were a few things he didn’t know after all.
Regardless, this theory seemed the most logical. If it wasn’t Xie Zhang doing something related to him, why was he the one feeling the heat?
He needed to test this theory. If it worked, he needed to conserve his energy.
After another hour, Xie Zhang finally closed his eyes, but his breathing wasn’t the deep, even rhythm of sleep.
Song Jingmo was so bored he almost yawned.
This was tedious.
Next time, he’d remember to conserve his energy. At least then he could play some Fruit Ninja.
Unable to control Xie Zhang’s shadow, Song Jingmo could only stare at him.
As he watched, memories surfaced.
Of sleepless nights with Xie Zhang, and of himself, struggling to stay awake.
Lost in thought, Song Jingmo chuckled softly, then began to hum a tune, a simple melody without words.
Strangely, whenever he tried to sing lyrics, it sounded flat and monotonous, but when he hummed, his voice was filled with emotion.
Xie Zhang had also gone through a difficult period, during the early days of his company, under immense pressure.
Many investors, after learning about his background and the Xie family’s sudden bankruptcy, were hesitant to invest.
But as promised, Xie Zhang shouldered the burden, shielding his design team from the pressure, while he himself struggled with insomnia.
During those nights, he would listen to recordings of Song Jingmo’s concerts.
Later, Song Jingmo noticed Xie Zhang’s distress and moved in with him, insisting he go to bed on time, humming various tunes to soothe him to sleep.
Some were spontaneous melodies, some were snippets of songs he’d heard, and some were even catchy tunes from short videos…
But as long as it was Song Jingmo’s voice, it would ease Xie Zhang’s burdens, lulling him into a peaceful sleep.
The distant, faint humming reached Xie Zhang’s ears, jolting him awake. He sat up abruptly, his chest heaving.
Song Jingmo stopped humming, startled.
What?
Scaring the… ghost out of him in the middle of the night!
Xie Zhang’s lips moved, his fingers clenching the duvet. After a long moment, he lay back down, forcing himself to close his eyes.
Song Jingmo watched him for a while, then, seeing him still, resumed his humming.
Xie Zhang heard the familiar melody again.
Soft, distant.
Yet incredibly soothing.
He let himself sink into the darkness, lulled to sleep by the song.
The humming Song Jingmo was suddenly hit by a wave of heat. He shot up, the restless Song-shadow returning.
He hovered over Xie Zhang, scrutinizing him.
Since Xie Zhang was clearly asleep, Song Jingmo couldn’t confirm if the heat was triggered by Xie Zhang dreaming about him.
He’d figure it out tomorrow.
First, the violin!
Remembering his earlier plan, the inky black shadow seeped through the crack under the bedroom door.
Xie Zhang lay in bed, eyes closed, his shadow stretching and distorting beneath him, like a scene from a horror movie.
The truly sneaky Song Jingmo flowed across the floor into the study, his inky form creeping towards the safe.
He’d memorized the combination while Xie Zhang was entering it, and the thumbtacks were no obstacle to a shadow.
Ignoring the sharp points, Song-shadow quickly entered the combination, the satisfying click of the lock echoing through the room. He retrieved his precious violin.
He didn’t have enough energy to form a complete shape, not even his upper body.
Thinking hard, he extended a shadow tendril, then, with a grunt, split it into two.
One tendril wrapped around the bow, the tip positioned where his fingers would normally grip it, moving it back and forth experimentally.
Excellent, very flexible!
He extended another tendril, examined it, then thickened it slightly.
This would hold the violin.
Excellent, very sturdy!
Finally, Song-shadow tried again, but he still couldn’t form a human torso, not even a semblance of one.
But to play the violin, he needed at least a collarbone, right?
Ever resourceful, Song Jingmo abandoned the human form and instead created… a collarbone.
An inky black blob sprawled on the study floor, one tendril holding the violin, the other the bow, with a lone, perfectly formed shadow collarbone nestled between them, supporting the base of the violin.
He even formed a partial chin to rest against the tailpiece, securing the instrument. The posture was bizarre, but technically perfect.
Behind him was the curtained balcony, the open safe nearby, and in front of him, the closed study door.
The unfamiliar playing method felt awkward at first, but Song Jingmo, brimming with talent, quickly adapted. The initially hesitant notes flowed into a smooth, connected melody.
From a simple “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” he progressed to a passionate Paganini, the music growing increasingly fervent.
“Crash!”
Caught up in the music, a shadow tendril flung open the curtains and the window, releasing the music into the night air.
But then, remembering the sleeping Xie Zhang, and feeling his energy drain, Song Jingmo abruptly stopped playing.
He lovingly caressed the violin with his shadow tip, feeling a surge of joy for the first time since waking up.
Whether he was human or ghost, he was awake again, he could see Xie Zhang again, and he could play his old companion again—
It was truly wonderful.
The inky black shadow traced the violin from head to tail, kissing each string, finally lingering on the slightly warm bow.
For this, even being trapped and isolated, he was grateful.
…
The next morning.
After a night of peaceful sleep, Xie Zhang felt like he’d heard not only Momo’s humming in his dream but also the familiar strains of his violin.
Realizing something, he sat up abruptly, jumping out of bed and rushing to the study.
His violin lay on the desk, sunlight glinting off the strings.
He walked to the open safe, staring at the undisturbed, menacing thumbtacks, silent.
Fifteen minutes later.
Xie Zhang picked up his phone.
“It’s me,” he said to his secretary, Xu Yi. “I’ve reviewed the files in my inbox. I’ll personally email the investors… and I want to install some security cameras.”
“But I need you to come over and install them in every room of the villa.”
