Chapter 21
As the year drew to a close, Gu Xichen grew busier than ever.
When Lian Xia went to his office to pick him up, he was in a VIP room with several clients, hosting a seminar.
Learning she was Manager Chen's girlfriend, the young women at the front desk cast her envious glances—after all, he was a man who went home to cook after work and ranked top in sales every month!
According to his director, Gu Xichen's commissions over the past half-year were enough for a down payment on a small apartment in Shanghai.
Led into the waiting room, she saw through the glass partition that the young man was in a dark suit, presenting product details to clients with composed authority, as though he belonged to that echelon by birth.
She was struck by an unshakable sense of inferiority, even finding the act of gazing at him excruciating.
By the time darkness fell, he finally finished the meeting. Lian Xia stood alone in the waiting room, her figure looking especially solitary.
Afraid of startling her, he deliberately made his footsteps heavier. When she turned, he draped an arm around her thin shoulders: "Been waiting long?"
"Not at all."
They left the office building together. Lian Xia linked her arm through his, grumbling: "I always feel like you know so much—it's weird compared to your age..."
"Weird? How so?"
"It just feels like a thirty-year-old soul is trapped inside a twenty-year-old body..."
Gu Xichen's scalp prickled, but he laughed lightly: "Are you saying I look old?"
"No!" The girl quickly denied, her tone softening: "I want to hear about your past. What kind of person you are, what stories you've lived, whether you have an ex-girlfriend..."
An ex-girlfriend?
So that was the trap waiting for him.
When it came to his past, he truly couldn't remember—his background, his profession, his family, his friends, even his age. All memories had blurred into obscurity.
Even if he could recall an ex, it would only be a vague silhouette. He couldn't conjure a specific face or expression, let alone the details of any relationship.
So he could only banter lightly: "I don't remember any of that. Bottom line, you're the last one."
"Huh?"
Lian Xia, a veteran of retaking grad school exams three times over, quickly parsed the trap in his sweet talk and gave him a gentle elbow. He caught her slender arm and gave it an affectionate shake: "Think about our future, won't you?"
"What... what future?"
"I found a small place near your school. The down payment I've saved is enough for a two-bedroom. Want to consider it?"
She froze, her cheeks burning: "I don't want to live with you..."
"Kiss!"
He gently drew her toward him by the waist, those deep, clear eyes cast down, drifting over her magnolia-petal cheeks. Then, at length, those warm lips pressed gently against hers, as though touching a piece of exquisite, fragrant porcelain.
She could read his heavy, tender love in every careful movement of the man's actions.
No—she was no longer so afraid... because she knew the person before her would never hurt her. She even wanted to hint that he could be bolder, more assertive, more freely joyful, but didn't know how.
Behind them flowed the lights of traffic, and before her eyes seemed to hang a rose-tinted mist.
Perhaps because he felt too perfect, amid her joy stirred a creeping fear.
What did she do to deserve loving someone this wonderful?
If something is too good, the heavens grow jealous and take it away.
...
...
Over the next few days, Lian Xia didn't see Gu Xichen.
Not until he called to let her know that his grandmother had been discharged from the hospital and he'd taken time off to care for her did she learn what was happening.
Lian Xia got the address and went over with fruit.
It was mealtime. Gu Xichen answered the door wearing an apron, stubble on his jaw, hair messy—she'd never seen him so unkempt.
The elderly woman sat in a wheelchair on the narrow balcony with a blanket over her legs, basking in the sun.
Gu Xichen ushered her inside, then hurried back to the kitchen.
Lian Xia sat beside the elderly woman, peeling an apple. The old lady scrutinized her with a critical eye: "And who are you?"
"Grandma, I'm Chen Xi's girlfriend."
"Oh."
After a long silence, the old woman said softly: "Do you feel like he's different from before?"
"Huh? Not really..."
The old woman shook her head, her expression impossible to read as either relieved or sorrowful: "He is different. Like two entirely different people..."
Lian Xia couldn't exactly articulate the change. She'd had so little contact with Chen Xi before—barely ever looked him in the eye. Naturally, his grandmother would know him better.
"That boy Chen Xi was practically born for me. His mother married out of the picture long ago... sigh, irresponsible to herself, and even more irresponsible to her child."
The white-haired woman sat in her wheelchair, looking relatively hale despite everything.
Chen Xi's grandmother had been diagnosed with early-stage Alzheimer's. She could still manage on her own for now, but often forgot what she was doing. New acquaintances, phone numbers, TV shows—even everyday objects like glasses, keys, and wallets were misplaced the moment she set them down. This was clearly very dangerous.
One could imagine the pressure Gu Xichen was under.
Since the disease hadn't progressed enough to affect long-term memory, she was especially fond of recounting her oldest memories, her tone nostalgic and distant: "When Chen Xi was little, he was such a glutton. Back then he loved drinking that one-yuan big bottle of sweet syrup water. I had to buy it for him every day. If I didn't, he'd cry—cried like a little girl."
"He loved fish and shrimp but hated pork, said pork had a smell. Such a fussy eater—"
The old woman paused, then looked at Lian Xia with sudden tenderness.
"By the way, he especially loves cilantro. You can just make him a bowl of cilantro soup and he'll be happy."
Though Gu Xichen's masterful cooking meant Lian Xia would likely never set foot in a kitchen, she nodded obediently.
Gu Xichen, in the next-door kitchen, naturally overheard.
When his grandmother mentioned the sweet syrup water, he felt his heart lurch and a chill down his spine, followed by a flash of black before his eyes.
Lian Xia happened to be looking his way and was startled.
The man was staring at her through the glass, his eyes unfathomable.
The emotions in them were complex and chaotic—sorrow, gratitude, and perhaps even... resentment?
Chapter 22
That night, they walked home together.
The man was nearly silent the whole way. Lian Xia tried to talk to him several times, only to be shut down with a simple "Mm."
Until she finally broke through the heavy atmosphere.
"What's wrong with you?"
When he didn't respond, she shook his arm and comforted him: "It'll be okay. Grandma will get better."
Instead, he pushed her away and went into his apartment without a word, not even leaving a goodnight kiss.
Lian Xia was confused, but assumed he was just exhausted and didn't think much of it.
She didn't know that the moment he went inside, he locked the door behind him.
On his right hung a full-length mirror, clearly reflecting his red-rimmed eyes and terrified expression.
That person—no, that "ghost"—was watching him through the same mirror!
That day, he had intended to use force to make her submit and then sweet-talk her afterward. What happened next surpassed any horror movie—a specter wreathed in dark mist materialized behind the girl, towering and formidable, like a demon descending upon the world.
Before he could react, he plunged straight into that darkness.
What followed was months of captivity.
During those months, he watched helplessly as the vengeful ghost grew close to the girl, cared for her daily life, won her heart, and moved across from her. They lived together like true lovers—inseparable—and recently even spoke of marriage. Meanwhile, he was trapped in a pitch-black void, able to see the outside through a slit no wider than two fingers, unable to respond.
Lian Xia was a good girl and would make a good wife. For a girl that wonderful to be stuck with someone like him—he was reaching above his station.
He admitted that.
But what right did this evil ghost have to make decisions for him?
What right to use his body and enjoy her tenderness?
What right to go to the hospital and care for his grandmother?
That was his grandmother—the only family who had raised him!
What terrified him even more was that even his grandmother liked that person. Perhaps the whole world was hoping... that the one who truly disappeared was him.
This realization pressed down like a black fog over his vision.
He crouched in the corner and wept silently.
The lights dimmed. All was quiet. Then a pleasant wind-chime sound rang out, startling him badly.
It was the phone in his coat pocket.