A Secret (GL) - Chapter 17

Gu Shuge’s mouth was more honest than her brain, and she blurted out immediately: “I like you too!”

The moment the words left her mouth, she turned red from head to toe, like a boiled prawn. She could even feel a rolling heat on her pale, translucent face. She hurriedly covered her mouth, looking at Shen Juan in terror, deathly afraid that she had heard.

Shen Juan heard nothing. She received no response. In the empty study, she was all alone; if anyone else had seen this scene, it would have looked like she was leaning against a door, talking to thin air.

As Gu Shuge imagined this, she slowly lowered her hands.

Shen Juan seemed to have composed herself. She went to the computer, searched for a movie to open, and said to the air: “I’m going to rest for a bit. You watch a video here.”

Gu Shuge said, “Okay,” and sat properly in the chair.

Shen Juan’s hand left the mouse. She shifted her gaze to the space above the chair, paused for a moment, said nothing, and left, closing the door behind her.

Under that gaze, Gu Shuge was so nervous that her translucent phantom form went stiff. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that she let out a soft sigh and turned to watch the video.

She watched for about three minutes. Then, she rubbed her face in distress; her cheeks were still burning hot, all because of Shen Juan’s sentence: “But… it’s not true that I don’t like you.”

Not disliking equals liking. Gu Shuge was a master of the double negative.

But this is the “liking” of a sister for a sister, Gu Shuge thought as she rubbed her face, quickly warning herself not to overthink it. Of course Shen Juan liked her; otherwise, why would she be doing all this? Leaving the newly inherited estate unorganized, leaving such a massive industry unmanaged, running every day to the morgue, the police station, and various temples, effective or not.

She definitely liked her.

Gu Shuge felt a sweetness in her heart, but also a hint of bitterness.

And her face grew hotter and hotter. No matter how much she told herself that Shen Juan’s “like” was just a sisterly “like,” she still couldn’t control the rising temperature of her face.

This was exactly why she had insisted on the distance, why she had refused to see or call Shen Juan—because in front of her, she simply couldn’t control herself. Forget four years; she probably would have exposed her heart completely in four days.

Unable to lower the temperature of her face, Gu Shuge used her ultimate move that she was usually loath to employ: she meditated on the thought, You are already a ghost; you don’t have such rich human emotions.

She recited it three times, but it was useless.

The move that worked a hundred percent of the time actually failed at the crucial moment.

Gu Shuge had no choice but to accept her fate. With a face that felt like it was nearly cooked, she sat up straight and watched the video Shen Juan had played for her.

She watched for two hours. She didn’t know what era the movie was set in, didn’t know the plot, didn’t know who the protagonist was, and didn’t know when the video ended. Every image projected into her eyes was automatically replaced by Shen Juan’s face.

She began to feel restless. Because of that “not true that I don’t like you,” she couldn’t calm down. It felt as if her chest had been hollowed out, and a lively, leaping deer had been stuffed inside, charging around recklessly.

It must be because they had been separated for too long; being by Shen Juan’s side almost every moment these past few days wasn’t enough to make up for the four years of separation.

She wanted to see her.

Gu Shuge rose from the chair and floated out of the study.

Two servants were cleaning the living room. Gu Shuge walked past them, and no one noticed her existence.

Outside Shen Juan’s bedroom, she lingered for a turn but didn’t dare go in.

If she didn’t have feelings for Shen Juan, going in wouldn’t matter—after all, they were both girls; seeing each other was nothing. But once feelings were involved, it was different.

She felt guilty.

After thinking it over, Gu Shuge walked away and entered the room next door—her own bedroom.

The bedroom was as clean as expected, without a speck of dust. The curtains were open, and outside it was snowing; a few snowflakes hit the window and melted, blurring the glass so the scenery outside was indistinguishable.

Gu Shuge stood with her back to the window, looking at the spacious bedroom, and found it surprisingly foreign. She stood in place for a while, then walked to the bookshelf and saw the stack of books related to criminal investigation, all arranged neatly. There were other books too—a very mixed collection: novels, biographies, history, essays, and even various reference books.

Gu Shuge remembered that when she left, she had just stuffed them in randomly, but now they were arranged by category. If she had seen this before, she would likely have thought a servant had categorized them while cleaning, but now, she thought it was probably Shen Juan.

The bookshelf was at one end of the window, with a lounge chair in front of it. At the other end of the window was a round table with a round stool. It was a very light and pleasant arrangement.

Gu Shuge sat on the round stool and saw a bottle of ink, a fountain pen, and a stack of paper on the table. Much time had passed, and she couldn’t clearly remember what was originally placed here; she naturally assumed these were things she had left behind and didn’t pay much attention.

It wasn’t until her gaze swept over the stack of papers and she saw Shen Juan’s handwriting that she realized these must belong to Shen Juan.

Why would Shen Juan come to my bedroom to write things?

Was it because she was too lazy to go downstairs to the study, so she used this bedroom as a temporary office or writing space?

Gu Shuge was curious. She leaned forward to see what was written on the paper. As she leaned, half of her body became embedded in the table, and she saw the content clearly.

It was a character analysis. Gu Shuge knew this character—they were from a novella she had read. Not only had she read it, but she had also complained to Shen Juan about that specific character. This analysis was about that very person.

At the time, Shen Juan had listened to her seriously and then thought for a moment, saying, “I haven’t read this one. Once I do, I’ll exchange views with you.”

Shen Juan was always so rational; she wouldn’t easily express an opinion on something she didn’t understand. Unfortunately, within a few days, Shuge had overheard her brother’s proposal to Shen Juan, and so they never discussed the novella again.

Shen Juan’s handwriting was like her person—the brushstrokes carried a sense of cool decisiveness. Gu Shuge read it word by word, slowly; her attention was focused far more on the handwriting itself than the content.

It was only after reading every single word that she turned her attention to the meaning, seeing how Shen Juan analyzed the character.

The stack of papers was about as thick as a notebook. Gu Shuge read the analysis on top four or five times from beginning to end before a great sense of regret welled up. Because she couldn’t touch physical objects, she couldn’t turn the pages to see what was written on the papers underneath.

Writing always invites curiosity and imagination, because words can transmit a person’s thoughts and feelings.

Gu Shuge stared at the stack of papers for a long time.

A slight sound of a door opening came from next door.

Shen Juan had woken up.

Gu Shuge put the papers out of her mind. She passed through the bedroom door to the outside; Shen Juan had just reached the stairs. Gu Shuge followed her.

After her sleep, Shen Juan’s complexion looked much better. She walked down and went straight to the study. The computer was still on, though the video had long since finished.

Shen Juan looked at the chair in front of the computer, likely assuming Shuge was still sitting there obediently, waiting for her return.

Gu Shuge walked over and sat down so that Shen Juan was looking right at her.

“Was it good?” Shen Juan asked the chair.

“I’ll have to re-watch it next time; I didn’t focus well this time,” she replied.

Shen Juan sat in the chair she had occupied the night before and said, “We’ll try again later to see if we can find a way to ‘talk’.”

Over the past few days, they had tried many methods—writing in incense ash, writing on cinnabar, writing on mirrors—many of them, and none had succeeded.

Gu Shuge had failed so many times she was almost numb, but she still said, “Okay.”

“I want to try letting you possess my body,” Shen Juan added.

Gu Shuge’s expression changed instantly. Although they had tried many things, they were all mild methods; success was good, and failure carried no terrible consequences.

Possession was different. If possession wasn’t handled correctly, it would affect the selected physical body!

Gu Shuge protested: “No! I don’t agree! Get that thought out of your head immediately!”

“Alright, since you’ve agreed, then it’s decided. We’ll wait until dark,” Shen Juan said without changing her expression.

She was forcibly making the decision for her—how could she be so overbearing? Gu Shuge could only reiterate: “I did not agree, and I will not cooperate!” After a thought, she added, “Quickly throw that book away.”

The method of possession was also introduced in the book brought back from Guangping Temple. Using this method, if successful, two souls could coexist in one body. Some ghosts, in order to seize a new body, would forcibly possess someone with a “light” birth chart (Bazi) and then devour the original soul to completely take over the vessel.

Shen Juan was letting her possess her, not to feed herself to Shuge, but to allow them to communicate within the same body. Furthermore, possession had another benefit: it could hide Yin energy and avoid the capture of the Underworld Messengers.

It was likely that last night, when Shuge’s Yin malice was at its peak, it had frightened Shen Juan. She was worried it would attract a messenger to take her away.

They seemed to be engaged in a back-and-forth, but in reality, Shen Juan was only talking to the air.

Gu Shuge originally had no problem with the book, but now that Shen Juan wanted to try a dangerous method, she felt the book was entirely superstitious and not worth keeping.

She suddenly felt a resonance with the head of a household whose family members have been deluded by feudal dross. For a moment, she forgot that Shen Juan couldn’t hear her and spoke a long paragraph in one breath.

“That book must be a lie. Look, we’ve tried so many methods and none have worked. Besides, I’ve been a ghost for seven or eight days now and I haven’t seen any other ghosts besides myself—not even in a place like the morgue where bodies are kept. These things about Underworld Messengers and Yin malice might just be made-up lies to trick people. I am the only ghost in the world; the methods in this book don’t work on me. Don’t believe it.”