A Secret (GL) - Chapter 24

Since she wasn’t particularly hungry anyway, Shen Juan took out some fruit and made herself a salad.

As she prepared it, she wondered: since Xiaoge could touch her blood, if she put a little blood into the food, would Shuge be able to taste it?

She just didn’t know if human food would harm a soul’s form.

As she was thinking, Gu Shuge floated in.

Shen Juan was slicing fruit; her long, fair fingers pressed against an apple while her other hand held the knife, cutting it into cubes. Her movements weren’t exactly expert, but they weren’t clumsy either. The rhythm of the blade hitting the cutting board—a dull, rhythmic thud—was oddly comforting.

Standing by her side, Gu Shuge thought that even if she just listened to Shen Juan slicing fruit, she could listen for a whole year without getting tired of it.

Shen Juan finished slicing, put the fruit in a bowl, added some salad dressing, found a fork, and carried it to the dining table. She sat down and asked, “Is Xiaoge here?”

Gu Shuge reached out to tap her hand as usual, but to her horror, her finger passed right through Shen Juan’s hand. Gu Shuge’s eyes widened in panic, and she looked at Shen Juan frantically.

Unaware of the situation, Shen Juan asked again into the air: “Are you here?”

Gu Shuge tried again, but still couldn’t touch her. Panic spread through her heart like a wildfire. Why can’t I touch her?! She looked down at her hand; the bloodstains on her finger were gone.

Is it because the blood on my hand ran out? Gu Shuge guessed frantically. She looked at Shen Juan. Receiving no response, the older woman didn’t start her dinner; instead, she set down her fork as if waiting for something.

Gu Shuge ran to the study. The half-dish of blood was still there. As soon as she entered, she smelled the fragrance of the blood. Shuge breathed a sigh of relief, though her heart remained in her throat until she actually touched the blood in the glass dish. Only then did she feel truly safe.

It must have been that the blood on her fingertip was gone, so she couldn’t touch Shen Juan.

Thank goodness. She had been truly afraid that even Shen Juan’s blood had lost its effect.

If that happened, Shen Juan would be so disappointed. Shuge realized that what she feared most wasn’t returning to a state of being unable to communicate, but rather Shen Juan’s disappointment.

After all, Shen Juan had been so happy to talk to her. She had even meticulously asked Dr. Mu how to draw and store blood, preparing herself to “nourish” Shuge for the long term.

Gu Shuge dipped her finger, only to find the blood in the dish had coagulated into a jelly-like mass. She rubbed her finger against the surface until a bit of red was visible, then headed back to the dining room.

She had forgotten to remind Shen Juan to add water earlier. The blood was already becoming difficult to use. Fortunately, she could still scrape a bit off the surface; she needed to buy anticoagulants first thing tomorrow.

Back in the dining room, Shen Juan still hadn’t started eating. She hadn’t received a response earlier, but she had sensed a faint wave of panic nearby. She was worried. When Gu Shuge returned, she immediately tapped her once to signal her presence.

Shen Juan sensed carefully. The panic was gone, and no other emotions could be felt, indicating Xiaoge’s mood was now relatively calm. Only then did she pick up her fork again.

Gu Shuge sat beside her. It was strange; when she was alive, she loved fruits and vegetables. When she was busy, she’d often just grab an apple to make do. But now, she had absolutely no interest in that bowl of salad. Conversely, just thinking about meat made her mouth water.

She seemed to have become a total carnivore.

Was this the influence of the “Yin Malice” after becoming a ghost? Yet her personality didn’t seem to have changed at all.

Shen Juan swallowed her food and asked, “Were you here the whole time?”

Hearing the question, Gu Shuge drew a cross on Shen Juan’s left hand. Shen Juan spread her palm, and Shuge figured she wanted to know why she hadn’t responded the first two times and if she had been away.

So, she wrote word by word in her palm: “The blood on my fingertip ran out just now, so I couldn’t touch you. I got a scare, then went to the study to get some more.”

Shen Juan realized where the panic had come from. Filled with tenderness, she said, “Don’t be afraid.”

Gu Shuge quickly drew a smiley face in her palm.

Shen Juan smiled and said no more.

After dinner, she played a movie for Gu Shuge and went upstairs to wash up. This time she used the screen projector—a massive screen—and even turned off the lights to create a better viewing atmosphere.

Laziness is a common human trait. Even though Gu Shuge didn’t feel “tired” as a ghost, she kept her human habits. As soon as Shen Juan went upstairs, Shuge’s posture slumped; she leaned back on the sofa, sitting cross-legged, and stared intently at the screen.

Shen Juan was upstairs for roughly the length of a movie. When she came down, the end credits were just starting to roll. Gu Shuge had been quite absorbed; Shen Juan had excellent taste and always picked high-quality films with good plots.

One second, she was wondering about the meaning of the final shot; the next, she saw Shen Juan and everything else was forgotten.

Shen Juan had finished her bath. Her hair was still damp, draped over her shoulders. She wore soft trousers and a cream-colored knit sweater, still carrying the faint mist from the bathroom. She looked soft and gentle, even the corners of her eyes held a trace of languor—nothing like the sharp edge she presented to the outside world.

Gu Shuge was entranced by this version of Shen Juan. Her heart raced; she stared blankly without blinking.

Shen Juan didn’t sit down immediately. Not knowing exactly where Gu Shuge was and afraid of sitting on her, she first asked, “Was the movie good?”

There was no response.

Shen Juan was puzzled. Is Xiaoge not here? She quieted her mind and sensed carefully, feeling a strange, inexplicable emotion nearby.

It felt like a series of wavy lines, rising and falling like the surging of ocean waves.

Shen Juan was confused. What kind of emotion was this? Joy or sadness?

Raising a ghost was clearly much harder than raising a human or a pet. Because she couldn’t see her, she didn’t know Shuge’s expression or state. Now, this strange, unfathomable emotion had appeared.

But Shen Juan’s patience for Gu Shuge was inexhaustible. She tried to guess but failed to find a clue, so she simply called out, “Xiaoge.”

The amplitude of the “waves” grew even larger—just like the heart rate monitors in TV dramas when a patient suddenly experiences a violent surge.

Shen Juan was startled and didn’t dare speak again.

After a short while, cold fingers carefully touched her palm. Shen Juan deciphered two words: “I’m here.”

Getting a response at least meant Gu Shuge could communicate. Shen Juan sat at the other end of the sofa, wondering how to figure out what that previous emotion was.

Gu Shuge was still looking at her, and her heart rate hadn’t slowed down. She was almost glad Shen Juan couldn’t see her; if she could, Shuge would never dare to stare like this. The soft, gentle Shen Juan was truly beautiful. It wasn’t a weak, submissive softness; she was still Shen Juan, possessing a sharp presence and a resilient character. It was just that the comfortable, relaxed state after washing up had softened her aura. Her elegant, pale neck and her gentle eyes under the lamp all reflected her tenderness.

“Why didn’t you answer me?” Shen Juan asked.

Gu Shuge felt a sudden guilt as if her secret thoughts had been exposed. She didn’t dare stare anymore, lowering her eyes and writing in Shen Juan’s palm: “I was thinking about the plot of the movie and got distracted.”

Distracted… Shen Juan thought pensively.

“Was the movie very complex?” she asked.

Perhaps having been a leader for so long, even when her tone was soft, she always took the lead. Gu Shuge instinctively followed her lead: “Complex, and many shots held deep meaning.”

So the “wavy lines” a ghost produces mean “complex” in their emotions. Shen Juan realized this and made a mental note of it, like a scientist recording new knowledge while exploring a brand-new field.

It was late, nearly 10:00 PM. But as per her routine, Shen Juan intended to wait until midnight to record the duration the ghost could be sensed tonight.

With two hours left until midnight, Gu Shuge felt a bit uneasy. Doing this for a night or two was one thing, but if it happened every night, Shen Juan’s schedule would be ruined, and she wouldn’t get enough sleep. Since the sensing time was increasing every night, Shen Juan would only sleep later and later, which was too taxing on her health.

She wrote these thoughts into Shen Juan’s palm. Shen Juan waited for her to finish writing slowly before saying, “If it gets too long, I will go to sleep.” She paused and said with a smile, “Maybe one day, when I wake up, I’ll still be able to feel you’re there.”

Gu Shuge looked determined and wrote in her palm: “It will definitely happen!” She even added an exclamation mark for emphasis.

Over the past nine days, the sensing time had increased nightly. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before Shen Juan’s wish came true.

They had only been communicating for half a day, yet Shen Juan had already grown used to Gu Shuge being by her side, writing words in her palm. She had even adapted to her slow, deliberate writing speed.

The palm felt ticklish. Sensing it closely, she could tell that Gu Shuge’s finger felt different from a human’s; the fingertip always carried a trace of eerie coldness, like a jade stone dipped in ice water—not soft, but somewhat rigid.

Yet Shen Juan wasn’t afraid at all. She could even picture the way Gu Shuge looked as she focused intently on writing word by word in her palm, finding it quite adorable.

“I don’t need to sleep now. After you go to sleep, I’ll write down what I know about the case so you can read it when you wake up tomorrow,” Gu Shuge wrote in her palm.

They hadn’t spoken about the case yet, and Shuge took the initiative. Shen Juan nodded. “Okay.”

At midnight, Shen Juan felt the sense of presence beside her.

From initially only having a blurry sense that Gu Shuge was there, Shen Juan could now sense her silhouette clearly, even being able to tell whether she was standing or sitting. Aside from not seeing her, her presence had become very three-dimensional.

She described these changes to Gu Shuge and said with a smile, “Maybe in a few more days, I’ll even be able to sense exactly what posture you’re standing or sitting in.”

Influenced by Gu Shuge’s slow writing, Shen Juan’s speech had also slowed down accordingly.

Hearing this, Gu Shuge immediately sat up straight, displaying her best posture.

Shen Juan felt the person beside her move and guessed she was adjusting her posture, and she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.