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Chapter 4
“Xiao Ling, it seems like I’ve ‘tangled’ with you.”
“As long as we’re more than three hundred meters apart, I feel a pain in my heart, like my heart is tightly wrapped by a fishing line several times.”
“This is so strange, after all, I don’t even have a heart now.”
“You just said there’s a thread on your finger? Can you see it? What color is it?”
“Why does the thread on your finger connect with the thread on my chest?”
“Xiao Ling, why aren’t you talking?”
Xiao Ling, who had worked all night and now just wanted to sleep, had a gloomy expression. Yawning endlessly, his dark circles almost reaching his chin.
He struggled to lift his eyelids and glanced at He Jinchao with difficulty: “Mr. He, could you not speak while half of your body is on this side of the wall and half on the other side?”
“This isn’t a game bug!”
But He Jinchao didn’t answer the question: “So you can hear me? Then why didn’t you reply?”
“I didn’t reply because it’s my rest time now.” Ling Chen wanted to close the bedroom door, but He Jin Chao completely ignored the physical barrier and followed him in.
— Six hours ago, Ling Chen saw the deceased He Jinchao at the funeral home.
— Six hours later, Ling Chen still couldn’t “send” He Jinchao away.
If it weren’t for the fact that He Jinchao’s agent slipped him a 10,000 yuan makeup bonus, he wouldn’t have brought He Jinchao back to the dorm.
Ling Chen glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 9 a.m. The sunlight boldly streamed through the window, occupying the whole room. Even Ling Chen felt the sun was scorching, but some ghost didn’t seem to mind the bright sunlight.
“The hearse should be in Ji Province by now, right?” He Jinchao furrowed his brows, lost in thought.
Why is his body already on the highway, but his soul is still here?
Ling Chen ignored him. He yawned again, took some clean clothes from the closet, and staggered toward the bathroom.
When He Jinchao seemed about to follow him to continue their conversation, Ling Chen grabbed a bottle of spray from the living room cabinet and sprayed several bursts toward He Jinchao’s face.
The mist passed through He Jinchao’s semi-transparent body and floated for a few seconds in the sunlight before drifting to the ground.
Although He Jinchao wouldn’t really be sprayed, he instinctively stepped back and cautiously asked, “What is this?”
Could it be some sort of incense water?
Ling Chen continued spraying him: “Disinfectant,” spray, “poison,” spray, “medicine,” spray, “water!”
He Jinchao: “…”
Ling Chen’s job was special, so after serving “guests” every day, the first thing he did when he got home was shower. To prevent bringing viruses back, his home always had disinfectants—spraying his coat, spraying his shoes.
“Mr. He, I’m sure you know how to write the word ‘privacy’, right?” Ling Chen put down the disinfectant and pretended to undress. “Or do you want to watch me shower?”
After all, they’re both guys. If He Jinchao wants to watch, so be it. Everyone is naked in the shower room at the swimming pool, right? The key was that He Jinchao shouldn’t keep nagging while he was showering.
Seeing Ling Chen actually unbuttoning his collar, He Jinchao could only helplessly give in.
Ling Chen: “Not following me anymore?” He deliberately said, “I was hoping the best actor would help me scrub my back.”
He Jinchao: “…”
Ling Chen entered the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the warm water wash away all his exhaustion. He scrubbed his face, his fingers, all the exposed skin, until it became smooth. Then he changed into his pajamas, slid on his slippers, and walked out.
He Jinchao, who had been waiting in the living room, immediately approached: “While you were showering, I thought about something…”
“Don’t think, please don’t think.” Ling Chen, after pulling an all-nighter and encountering such bizarre things, couldn’t think anymore and just wanted to sleep. “Let’s talk when I wake up.”
—-
Ling Chen slept until the afternoon.
The blackout curtains in the bedroom were tightly drawn, but a few rays of sunlight boldly slipped through the edge of the curtain. Ling Chen, in a daze, groped for his phone beside the pillow, rubbed his eyes, and then opened Weibo.
Trending entertainment topics:
Looking through the news, the same old things; but there was no entry about “A certain Best Actor died in the middle of the night and was buried in the morning.”
Ling Chen thought to himself, so this must be a dream, right?
It must be because he recently went to watch He Jinchao’s new movie again during his time off, which is why he had such a bizarre dream.
Even if He Jinchao really died, it wouldn’t be possible for him to turn into a ghost and haunt him! That’s too unscientific!
With this realization, Ling Chen felt refreshed. He got up to wash up, calculating what takeout he would order. After each night shift, he had a full day off, which allowed him to comfortably stay in the dorm as a snail.
He was thinking about dinner as he opened the bedroom door, but as soon as he stepped out, he froze in place—
—-
In the living room, a semi-transparent figure was half-lying and half-reclining in mid-air. He was resting his cheek on one hand, his phoenix eyes lazily looking out at the chirping birds, with an invisible beauty couch underneath him.
Ling Chen: “…”
“Xiao Ling, are you awake?” Upon hearing the door open, the beautiful man, in a ghostly form, turned his head and looked over, speaking in a familiar tone, as if they had been long-time friends.
Ling Chen: “…”
The man continued speaking on his own: “After you fell asleep, I tried to sleep too, but I realized I don’t seem to need sleep anymore.
I tried meditating, maybe I’m a natural immortal, but filming interrupted my path to immortality. However, after meditating for a while, I couldn’t feel any ‘heat flow’ in my meridians.”
Then, he tried picking things up, but everything was intangible. “However…”
Before he could finish, Ling Chen had already retreated back to his bedroom, locked the door in one swift motion.
He was definitely dreaming—he was absolutely dreaming!
The next second, the semi-transparent ghost had already passed through the door, with his upper body hovering into the bedroom, leaning over to look at him with a smile that seemed to ask, “Xiao Ling, I wasn’t finished talking. Why did you leave?”
Ling Chen reached out, intending to push him away, but how could a soul be touched? His hand swiped through empty air and hit the door, causing his hand to sting painfully.
He Jinchao asked with interest: “Oh, are you trying to pin me against the wall?”
Ling Chen, expressionless, replied: “No, a little buzzing insect flew past, and I slapped it to death.”
At this point, Ling Chen had no choice but to believe what was happening—He Jinchao really had died.
Not only had he died, but he had become a ghost and was now haunting Ling Chen.
“Why me?” Ling Chen muttered to himself.
He Jinchao: “I’ve thought about this too. Maybe it’s the ‘imprint effect’. You were the first person I saw after becoming a ghost, so we’re bound together.”
Ling Chen: “So you’re the little duck, and I’m the mother duck?”
“I usually don’t compare myself to animals. But if I had to, fans say I’m a lion.”
Ling Chen didn’t understand: “What do you mean by lion crisp? I’ve heard of lion head.”
“…” He Jinchao didn’t expect that one day he would have to explain fan terms to someone else. “It means ‘like a lion.’ There are also terms like wolf sculpture, snake sculpture, and fox sculpture.”
“Pfft, like a lion? Fans always talk nonsense. Just listen and forget about it.” Ling Chen criticized, “From now on, you’re a duckling sculpture in my eyes.”
He Jinchao retorted, “Why do I feel like you have a problem with me? Every word seems like you’re attacking me?”
“Of course, I have a problem with you!” Ling Chen replied straightforwardly, “No one wants to be haunted by a ghost, right?”
Unexpectedly, He Jinchao instantly switched to a different expression. As a natural actor, he lightly furrowed his brows, parted his lips slightly, and looked as if he were about to cry: “Aren’t you my fan? Your idol turns into a ghost, and only you can see him. Aren’t you happy?”
Ling Chen wasn’t so easily fooled: “My liking for you is based on a materialistic scientific worldview. Now that you’ve become a ghost, I couldn’t care less about you—wait, hold on, who said I’m your fan?”
“That chubby, somewhat balding man,” He Jinchao described the director he had met last night. “When you were doing my makeup last night, he came in and talked to you. He said you were my fan, and you didn’t deny it. How could you take back what you said?”
Ling Chen silently cursed the director for being a blabbermouth and argued, “I’m not your fan! I’ve never gone to your events (because I don’t like crowded places), I’ve never bought your endorsements (because everything you endorse is too expensive), I’ve never done data work for you (I don’t understand what reposting Weibo does), and I’ve never argued with haters online (I just block them). I’m just an ordinary viewer who watches your movies!!”
“Ordinary viewer?” He Jinchao said leisurely, “Then how did I find three tickets for I Want to Ride the Wind on your living room table? Don’t say you watched them with friends. The times on those three tickets are different. Clearly, you’ve watched it three times.”
“…”
“In general, someone who watches my movie three times is no longer an ‘ordinary viewer,'” He Jinchao smiled, “I’ll call you—’my movie fan friend.'”
Looking at the smug spirit in front of him, Ling Chen deeply regretted not pushing him and his body into the cremation furnace earlier.
But at this point, there was no use in saying more.
Ling Chen took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.
“He Jinchao, let’s talk.” Ling Chen pushed open the bedroom door again and looked up at the man floating in the air. “I think you, like me, want to get out of this state as soon as possible, right?”
If you have to die, then die a clean death—let the dust return to dust, the body to ash, and let it vanish without a trace.
If you have to live, then live freely—let your soul wander the world, with mountains to climb and deep lakes to dive into.
He Jinchao stopped smiling, fell silent for a few seconds, and then nodded gently.
“Then, I have a very important question. I need you to answer honestly,” Ling Chen said slowly, “—How did you die?”