A Secret (GL) - Chapter 14

Shen Juan walked to the spot where Gu Shuge had just manifested. Beneath the curtains, a sliver of moonlight filtered in, shining exactly on that patch of floor. She spoke again: “Could it also have something to do with the moonlight?”

Gu Shuge brushed aside her wandering thoughts. She walked over and stood in the moonlight, feeling it carefully. Under the lunar glow, things did feel slightly different. The difference was subtle; if she compared it closely, she could feel her soul-form becoming lighter and more ethereal.

A sense of dread washed over Gu Shuge. She worried that if she stayed under it too long, the moonlight might dissolve her away.

“Xiaoge!” Shen Juan’s voice sounded anxious.

Gu Shuge quickly looked at her.

“Don’t stay there. Come out, come to my side,” Shen Juan said, looking toward the window.

Gu Shuge froze for a second, then obediently floated over to Shen Juan’s side.

Somehow, after staying there for just a moment, she felt her soul-form consolidate, becoming less unsteady than it had been under the moonlight. But Gu Shuge was more concerned about something else.

Shen Juan could actually guess her position so accurately. She still understood her so well, despite… despite the four years they had been apart.

Four years ago, when Shuge suddenly insisted on going abroad, what did Shen Juan think? When she abruptly distanced herself for no reason, unwilling to say even an extra word over the phone—what had Shen Juan thought?

She must have been terribly disappointed.

“Tonight is your Touqi (the seventh day after death).”

Gu Shuge turned to look at Shen Juan.

Shen Juan had beautiful skin, delicate and smooth. Now that they were standing close, Shuge could see her tiny pores. The bridge of her nose was straight—not very high, but elegantly shaped. Her lips had a cool, detached contour; when she wasn’t smiling, there was a sense of unreachable distance, yet when a smile touched her eyes, she became so soft.

Gu Shuge hadn’t looked at her this closely in four years. Now, up close, every inch of Shen Juan’s skin felt so familiar and dear, yet so distant.

Shen Juan didn’t know the ghost beside her was observing her meticulously. She continued her solemn warning: “The sun belongs to Yang, and the moon to Yin. Moonlight is the ultimate Yin; don’t stay in it for long. Tonight is the Touqi, the time when a soul’s Yin energy and malice aura are at their peak. It’s likely the combination of these two factors that allowed you to manifest.”

Gu Shuge nodded and said, “I’ll remember.”

She knew why.

For a soul to become a ghost, there are two ways: through obsession or through magical artifacts. But the state of being a ghost doesn’t last long; usually, they descend to the Underworld quickly and cannot linger in the human realm. The longest a ghost can stay is seven days. On the seventh day, the Yin energy accumulates to its heaviest point, and it is then that ghosts often manifest.

This is the origin of the folk belief that “the soul returns home on the seventh day.” In reality, the seventh day is a ghost’s last day in the world of the living.

Excessive Yin energy attracts the Underworld Messengers. By the hour of Yin (3:00 AM to 5:00 AM), the messengers will hook the ghost and take them away.

This was why, no matter how much Shen Juan wanted to see Gu Shuge, she had never thought of a way to add more Yin energy to Shuge’s soul.

Shen Juan drew the curtains and said, “Be careful tonight.”

Gu Shuge nodded repeatedly. The hour of Yin, when Yin energy is strongest, hadn’t arrived yet; she couldn’t let her guard down. After thinking for a moment, Shen Juan turned on the lights, sat back at her desk, and added, “I’ll stay here with you tonight.”

Gu Shuge stopped nodding and said softly, “It’s okay, I won’t go out to sunbathe in the moonlight and dissolve myself.”

Shen Juan turned on her computer, then went to the kitchen to brew herself a cup of coffee, preparing to stay up all night. Gu Shuge followed behind her.

The coffee was steaming. Just looking at it, Shuge knew it must smell wonderful. She couldn’t help leaning in to sniff, but of course, she smelled nothing.

Only then did she realize she hadn’t eaten in seven days. Her stomach wasn’t physically hungry, but in that moment, she felt a psychological hunger—like watching a cooking show after a full meal. You aren’t hungry, yet you want to eat.

Ideally something piping hot, something that would warm her through the moment it hit her stomach.

Even just a bowl of rice would do. The fragrance of cooked rice, carrying the broad and generous flavor of the earth; with every bite, one could feel a sense of groundedness.

Dejected, Gu Shuge followed Shen Juan back to the study.

Shen Juan placed the coffee on the desk and set to work. Gu Shuge sat in the chair beside her and began to daze, just as she had for the past few days.

But dazing is ultimately boring. She shifted her gaze to the bookshelf. If only she could read a book—any book—at least she wouldn’t be bored. While thinking this, she reached out to try and pull a book out, only to see her hand slide right through the volumes.

Helplessly, she sat back in her chair and focused on dazing.

An hour later, Shen Juan spoke: “Xiaoge, come here.”

Gu Shuge floated over.

The computer screen no longer showed documents and spreadsheets; it was playing a movie.

Gu Shuge was overjoyed and instinctively said, “Thank you, Sister.” It was an old habit.

She stood by the side and started watching. Shen Juan stood up, walked to where Shuge had been sitting, and moved the chair over so it faced the screen perfectly.

“Can you sit?” Shen Juan asked.

“I can,” Gu Shuge sat down.

And so, they watched movies together until dawn.

They watched two: The Reader and The English Patient. Neither was new, but both were classic and re-watchable.

However, after the two movies, Gu Shuge couldn’t say whether she had spent more time looking at Shen Juan or looking at the screen.

She suddenly found she was no longer afraid to meet Shen Juan’s eyes or look at her face.

Her brother had been gone for two years. Shen Juan would eventually have to start a new life. Shuge thought that if she were still alive, perhaps in a few years—once her brother had faded from Shen Juan’s heart—she might have pursued her.

She said “perhaps” rather than “definitely” because she was still afraid. She feared that once everything was out in the open, they wouldn’t even be able to be family.

Compared to a life spent without Shen Juan’s company, what was even more terrifying was having no connection with her at all—not even as family.

But thinking about it now was useless.

She was dead.

Daylight comes late in winter. It wasn’t until around 6:40 AM that the sky was fully bright.

Gu Shuge ran outside and found that it had snowed; she hadn’t noticed at all last night. The snow wasn’t very thick yet. Shuge crouched in front of the lawn, wanting to gather a handful of snow. She tried for several minutes, but she couldn’t even feel the cold. The white snow on the grass remained perfectly smooth, undisturbed by even a fraction.

The sound of the door closing came from behind as Shen Juan emerged holding an umbrella.

Gu Shuge gave up on the snow and left with Shen Juan.

The car was already waiting outside.

Today, they were going to the Criminal Investigation Division.

The moment they arrived, they were received by an officer. He had a layer of stubble on his face and a wrinkled shirt; it seemed he hadn’t slept all night.

The impact of this case was terrible—on one hand, due to the victim’s identity, and on the other, due to the nature of the crime which caused public panic. Until the culprit was caught, people would feel like a pervert who steals bodies was living among them.

The moment the Criminal Investigation Division received the file transferred from Captain Chen yesterday, they began working overtime. Aside from those on other calls, the entire team had worked through the night.

The officer receiving them was Captain Li of the Criminal Investigation team. As soon as he saw them, he said, “Ms. Shen, you’ve come at just the right time. We’ve found out how the culprit stole the victim’s remains.”

As he spoke, he signaled for Shen Juan to follow him inside.

The office was a bit messy, with all sorts of A4 papers and photos scattered everywhere. But the two women and the ghost didn’t mind these trifles.

Captain Li showed Shen Juan a stack of log sheets. “Every body entering or leaving the morgue is recorded. We compared the records with the surveillance and found an extra instance of transport.”

He pushed a photo across the desk.

It showed a person in funeral home work clothes pushing a coffin on a gurney. They wore a hat and a mask; from the photo alone, one couldn’t even determine their gender.

“Is this them?” Shen Juan asked after looking at the photo.

Captain Li nodded and pulled up the surveillance footage.

At 4:00 PM, this person arrived with the coffin. From his manner, he even greeted the two security guards at the door.

4:00 PM is exactly when people are at their most relaxed; they are tired from the day’s work, and the end of the shift is in sight. The body and nerves naturally slacken.

According to the time on the surveillance, he was inside for about seven minutes before pushing the coffin back out. When he emerged, he also nodded to the two guards.

Then, he calmly left the view of the cameras.

“Our colleagues are tracing his direction based on other surveillance cameras. As soon as we have a lead, we’ll move out,” Captain Li said, being much more cooperative than the traffic police. During an investigation, the police have the right to withhold details from the public, but he chose to be open.

Gu Shuge was not as optimistic. You couldn’t even tell what this person looked like; they hadn’t shown a single physical trait. Escaping via surveillance wouldn’t be a very difficult task.

Shen Juan felt the same. She asked, “Any other findings?”

“Not for now,” Captain Li replied.

As he finished speaking, the office door was pushed open. A young man in a white lab coat and thin-rimmed glasses rushed in holding a lab report: “The analysis is out!”

He was breathing heavily, clearly having run the whole way. Only then did he notice someone else in the office. He paused and didn’t continue.

Captain Li tapped the desk and said, “This is the family of the victim. We must find the truth and give the victim and family an answer. Tell us what you found.”

The man in the lab coat finally placed the report on the desk. “I’m the forensic pathologist. Yesterday I analyzed some evidence from the morgue—mainly the white chrysanthemums.”

He paused, his expression turning strange. “We found a substance in the flowers called Jingluolan (Whale-Fall Orchid).”

“Jingluolan…” Shen Juan’s face changed, and even Gu Shuge felt a chill down her spine.

The pathologist saw her reaction and knew she had heard of it.

“What is it?” Captain Li asked.

The young man turned to Captain Li to explain: “Jingluolan isn’t a type of orchid, but a fragrance. It’s very rare and expensive. Its scent is unique—like a drug, it makes people intoxicated, as if falling into an old dream. Originally, during the Renaissance, Italian nobles burned it at balls to heighten the mood. Later, more and more nobles used it, until Jingluolan became a symbol of the ballroom. Once lit, it must be accompanied by dancing.”

Once he explained, even Captain Li was stunned.

In an empty morgue, under white lights, with a coffin-like freezer in the center… inside lay a person who had been dead for six days, her face mangled beyond recognition, blood congealed, and tissue fluids turned yellow and hardened with the gore.

A person pushing a coffin had walked in. At first, they acted normally. They closed the door, took out the incense and lit it—perhaps even preparing music and red wine. They circled the corpse, dancing gracefully, perhaps even picking up the white chrysanthemums by the body, stepping and spinning in a trance, as if lost in an old dream.