A Secret (GL) - Chapter 1

Gu Shuge was dead.

She died in a car accident on her way home.

She was currently standing right next to her own corpse. Her body lay face down in a pool of blood in a strangely contorted position. Not far away lay one of her shoes—a black high heel, her favorite pair, which she had specifically chosen to wear today.

The car that hit her was parked further up the road. Beneath its tires was a dark red track pressed into the asphalt, topped with a white, viscous substance—she wasn’t sure if it was shredded flesh or some other kind of human tissue.

Gu Shuge watched blankly as a crowd began to gather. A middle-aged man scrambled out of the offending vehicle. He ran toward the body in a state of sheer panic, but his legs gave out three paces away. He collapsed to his knees, large beads of sweat rolling off his forehead.

It’s winter, though, Gu Shuge thought, somewhat inappropriately.

With trembling hands, the man reached into his pocket for his phone. It took him a long time to succeed at such a simple task. Holding the phone in one hand, he used his index finger to frantically poke at the screen.

The man was a coward; his hands shook so violently he could barely hold the device. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. His clothes were rumpled, his cuffs were filthy, and his hair was messy and greasy as if it hadn’t been washed in ages. He looked like someone worn down by the daily grind of making a living.

Gu Shuge didn’t know why she had the presence of mind to observe him so closely at a time like this. But the truth was, she felt like an outsider—even though she recognized that the mangled corpse lying on the ground was her own.

The driver spoke to the person on the other end of the line in broken sentences, giving their location and gasping for breath every few words. He looks like he’s about to cry, Gu Shuge thought. Even though he was the one who had killed her, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pity for him.

The onlookers whispered among themselves or watched in silence. Many looked away or covered their eyes, unable to bear the sight.

The condition of her body was indeed gruesome—so bad that anyone could tell just by looking, without even getting close, that she was no longer breathing.

The driver knelt on the ground, covering his face as he sobbed. Gu Shuge could vaguely make out his muffled voice repeating: “I killed someone… I killed someone.”

He had killed someone. He had killed her. Gu Shuge could grasp the concept, but she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the reality: if she was dead, then what was she now?

She could hear sounds; she could see images. She could even move. She felt no different from a normal person.

Gu Shuge took a slow step forward. She wanted to go over and look at the corpse. She was certain it was her. It was wearing her clothes, it had her face, and next to it lay a crushed cake box. She had picked it up from the bakery not long ago. Today was Shen Juan’s birthday, and she had ordered the cake two days in advance.

She had wanted to give Shen Juan a surprise.

But now, it seemed that surprise would never happen.

Gu Shuge’s calm demeanor finally began to fracture.

She took another step, intending to figure out exactly what was happening. The sound of sirens wailed from a distance, growing louder and more unsettling. The surrounding pedestrians cleared a path as a series of footsteps approached from behind. Gu Shuge stopped and turned to see a group of people in white coats jogging toward her.

Instinctively, she tried to step aside to give them room, but the doctors were moving too fast. She couldn’t get out of the way in time, and they were about to collide.

Gu Shuge sharply held her breath—if she even had breath left—and the doctors passed right through her body.

The sirens, the footsteps, and the murmurs of the crowd suddenly intertwined into a dense, buzzing roar in her ears. The world began to spin.

A doctor ran to her corpse. The one in the lead bent down and checked her heart with a stethoscope. Almost the instant it touched her, he shook his head at his colleagues.

The doctors were accustomed to life and death. They gave a soft sigh and, with the police’s permission, moved aside professionally to let the forensics team take over. Their movements were so practiced it felt as though they had handled countless accidents just like this one.

Gu Shuge looked down at her palms. She finally realized how she was different. She was a phantom—like a holographic projection in the air. She had her appearance, but no physical substance.

Her body felt light. To be precise, she couldn’t feel her own weight at all. She felt airy, as if she might dissipate at any moment.

So, what am I? A ghost? A soul?

The police set up a cordon. One officer took photos while two others busied themselves near the body. The driver was taken into custody; he was still crying with his face covered, the sound of his sobbing beginning to grate on Gu Shuge’s nerves. The doctors eventually lifted her body into the ambulance.

Gu Shuge didn’t know what to do. She still couldn’t fully accept that she was dead.

Perhaps because she was detached from her physical body, her human emotions felt dampened. She felt a sense of panic, but it was abstract. She couldn’t figure out what she was panicked about; she just felt a pervasive sense of dread.

The people around her were still whispering. Words like “car accident” and “poor girl” drifted into her ears, becoming a chaotic jumble of noise that made her even more irritable. As the driver was led to a police car, an officer said, “Identify the deceased quickly and notify the family.”

Hearing the word “family,” Gu Shuge finally snapped out of her wandering state. She felt a sharp, stabbing pain where her heart should be.

Shen Juan.

She murmured the name in her heart.

The body had been loaded into the vehicle, and the doctors climbed in.

Gu Shuge glanced at the bloodstains on the ground. An instinct rose within her, driving her to stay close to her own body. She walked toward the ambulance and followed the stretcher inside.

As the doors closed, Gu Shuge felt as if a gaze was fixed on her. She turned to look back but saw only a sea of stranger’s faces.

The driver shut the doors from the outside, blocking her view.

“So tragic. She was so young,” she heard a female doctor say softly.

A male doctor sighed and added, “We need to find a way to notify the family immediately. I can’t imagine how heartbroken they’ll be.”

Then, they began to lament the unpredictability of life. Gu Shuge wondered if they made these same comments after every fatal accident.

The interior of the ambulance was cramped, but it posed no difficulty for her. Her body floated ethereally, half-overlapping with the female doctor.

The doctor didn’t feel a thing. She kept talking, her topic shifting from “So young, how tragic” to “What’s for dinner? There’s a movie that looks pretty good, want to go see it?”

Gu Shuge watched with a wooden expression as her corpse lay on the stretcher, now covered with a white cloth.

The hospital wasn’t far. She was taken directly to the morgue. Perhaps because it was winter and there was no fear of immediate decomposition—or perhaps it was just protocol—she wasn’t put into a freezer. Instead, she was placed on a bed in a small, private room.

The room was dim. If she were still human, she would likely find it eerie and terrifying. Unfortunately, she wasn’t, so she felt nothing other than the dim lighting and the narrowness of the space.

Gu Shuge moved closer to the bed. She felt that being near her corpse made her feel a bit better, as if she wasn’t drifting quite so precariously. So, she stood right by the bedside.

There was no one here, and no sound. It was silent, filled with a suffocating atmosphere. Gu Shuge began to wonder how Shen Juan would react to the news of her death.

The moment the thought surfaced, that feeling of panic returned. This time it was more concrete—not just panic, but a suffocating heartache. Gu Shuge bit her lower lip. She reached out, wanting to touch the edge of the bed, but her hand passed right through the frame.

Once again, it was a clear reminder: she was dead. She had become a ghost.

Gu Shuge clenched her hands into fists. A fist should be full of strength, but hers were pale, translucent, and weak beyond measure.

The police were efficient. Gu Shuge didn’t have to wait long.

She heard footsteps in the hallway—the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles. They were fast and urgent, getting closer.

Gu Shuge straightened up and stared tensely at the door. She recognized those footsteps. It was Shen Juan.

The steps grew louder and finally stopped outside. The sound of a hand gripping the doorknob followed, and the door was pushed open.

Shen Juan walked in. She was wearing an evening gown, her hair swept up, her makeup exquisite. Gu Shuge remembered now—there was a cocktail party at the company this afternoon to celebrate her birthday. She must have received the terrible news at the party and rushed here.

Her expression was one of pure chaos, a stark contrast to her composed and elegant attire. She took large, frantic strides, reaching the bedside almost instantly. The body on the bed was covered from head to toe in a white sheet. Shen Juan reached out and gripped a corner of the cloth.

Her fingers turned white from the force of her grip. she stared fixedly at the spot where the face would be, her eyes dry and bloodshot, but she couldn’t find the courage to pull the sheet back.

Gu Shuge took a step back, her body half-vanishing into the wall. As she looked at Shen Juan’s face, a wave of guilt made her want to cry.

“Sister,” Gu Shuge called out. To her surprise, she could actually make a sound, but Shen Juan clearly couldn’t hear her.

Shen Juan pulled the cloth back inch by inch. Gu Shuge’s face was revealed bit by bit. That face was covered in blood. Half of it was mangled and terrifying, whether from the impact or the friction against the road. Even Gu Shuge herself didn’t dare look at it for long.

But Shen Juan didn’t look away. She even reached out to touch her cheek, as if confirming it was really her. Gu Shuge saw Shen Juan’s hand tremble the moment her fingertips touched the cold skin—as if she was in disbelief, yet forced to accept the truth. Large tears began to fall.

When humans are helpless in the face of death, their only way to vent grief is through tears. Even Shen Juan—her dearest Shen Juan—could not escape this.

Immense sorrow flooded Gu Shuge’s soul in an instant. Feeling helpless, she carefully reached out to place a hand on Shen Juan’s shoulder, wanting to comfort her, to tell her she was still there. But her hand passed straight through Shen Juan’s body.

Shen Juan’s face was a mask of grief, anger, and indignation. She found Gu Shuge’s hand beneath the white sheet. It was a bloody mess, stained with dust and gore, but Shen Juan acted as if she couldn’t see the horror of it. She held it in her own hands without a hint of revulsion and called her name: “Xiaoge.”

“I’m here,” Gu Shuge answered urgently. “I’m right here.”

But Shen Juan couldn’t hear her, leaving Gu Shuge to watch helplessly as Shen Juan suffered for her sake.

“Ms. Shen,” a voice at the door interrupted inappropriately.

Gu Shuge looked toward the entrance. It was a police officer. He was in uniform, not very tall, thin as a rail, and he looked both awkward and intimidated. Addressing Shen Juan’s back, he said, “The Bureau Chief is taking this case very seriously. Captain Chen is already at the scene. If you have time, you can go take a look as well.”

He left quickly after speaking, as if he were only there to deliver a notification; he didn’t dare stay to see if Shen Juan would actually go.

Gu Shuge knew Shen Juan would go. Now that she was dead, Shen Juan would certainly find out exactly how it happened.

After a long time, she saw Shen Juan rein in her grief, her entire aura turning cold and calm. But she didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she gently placed Gu Shuge’s hand back on the bed, pulled the white sheet all the way down, and leaned over to search her pockets.

Gu Shuge felt a bit puzzled. Is she looking for something?

Shen Juan searched her pockets, but her hands came up empty.

Gu Shuge thought that whatever she was looking for might be in her bag. Her phone, wallet, keys, and other personal items were all in there. That bag was likely still at the accident site.

Tears still clung to Shen Juan’s lashes. Her hands weren’t steady as she searched the pockets; they shook, yet she checked meticulously. Finding nothing, she still didn’t leave. She began to unbutton Gu Shuge’s coat.

Gu Shuge immediately understood what she was looking for.

After unfastening three buttons, the collar fell open, revealing two red strings. Shen Juan pinched the strings and pulled them out. At the end was a talisman pouch—yellow, looking no different from one you’d get at a typical temple.

Shen Juan removed the talisman pouch and put it into her own pocket.