A Secret (GL) - Chapter 28

Shen Juan hesitated for a good while before asking carefully in a warm, gentle voice, “Xiaoge, do you have a dissociative identity disorder now?”

Gu Shuge froze, recalling the definition of DID.

A psychiatric phenomenon where an individual possesses two or more relatively distinct and separate personalities, with the original personality (the patient before the split) as the primary identity, and the split/derived personality as an alter.

Matching it up, except for the fact that she was currently a ghost and not a human, everything else fit. The Wicked Thought was, for all intents and purposes, her other personality.

She had unknowingly developed a mental illness without realizing it—she had even felt quite smug about it, wanting to make use of her sub-personality.

Gu Shuge wrote a single “Mhm” in Shen Juan’s palm and said nothing else.

Shen Juan looked at the empty passenger seat, practically able to imagine Shuge’s disappointment and unease, like having a bucket of cold water thrown over her.

She felt somewhat troubled herself. Did she need to go and take a crash course in psychology? But a ghost’s condition might differ from a human’s; one couldn’t necessarily treat them the same way. This made things quite complicated.

Keeping a little ghost really wasn’t easy; difficult problems cropped up every other moment.

But though Shen Juan felt troubled, she didn’t find it a nuisance. Her distress stemmed from a worry that there were things she didn’t understand, and that she wasn’t “raising” Xiaoge well.

“Don’t panic. The Wicked Thought has been inside you for more than a day or two, and hasn’t there been no issue?” Shen Juan said softly.

Gu Shuge was panicked, but her rationality remained. She thought about it and realized she was right—she was already a ghost, so why fear a mental illness? Furthermore, the Wicked Thought, as an alter personality, was actually terrified of Shen Juan. Whenever Shen Juan was around, it didn’t dare come out to cause trouble.

“I’m not afraid, I have you,” Gu Shuge rallied and wrote in Shen Juan’s palm.

Shen Juan looked at those words and smiled. “Yes, you have me.” Then she added, “Tell me about the Wicked Thought in detail.”

Gu Shuge told her everything—when it first appeared, what the symptoms were, and what happened the second time. She wrote it all in Shen Juan’s palm, though she naturally omitted the part where the Wicked Thought urged her to forcibly “possess” Shen Juan.

It was only now that she realized the Wicked Thought was quite unreliable. She didn’t even have a body; she couldn’t even hold Shen Juan’s hand properly. How was she supposed to “possess” her?

Yet the word “possess” still made Gu Shuge feel a surge of heat. She stole a glance at Shen Juan, who was focused intently on sensing the characters being written in her palm. They were sitting very close.

They hadn’t been this close in many years.

Gu Shuge recalled the past—during her senior year of high school, Shen Juan feared she would be too stressed, so she came to pick her up from evening self-study every single night. During that period, Shen Juan canceled all business trips and social engagements, giving her entire evenings to Shuge.

One day, Shuge was stumped by a problem and sat in the classroom deep in thought. The problem was beyond the curriculum; she could tell it wasn’t something a high schooler could solve, but she had managed to find a lead and was loath to give up. She racked her brain, desperate to solve it.

She lost track of time while working. By the time she realized it, Shen Juan was already sitting beside her.

It was late spring. The night breeze was warm. The lights were on in the classroom, but it was pitch black outside. The other students were all gone, with only the occasional senior student walking past the corridor with a backpack.

In that senior year classroom, desks were packed tightly, reference books were piled high, and exam papers were everywhere. On the blackboard, someone had written “31 days until the Gaokao!” The number 31 was highlighted in red chalk, making it exceptionally eye-catching.

Shuge was wearing her oversized school uniform, pen in hand.

Turning her head to see Shen Juan, even though she saw her every day, she couldn’t help but daze for a moment. Shen Juan’s long hair was slightly curled, her makeup was exquisite, and she looked beautiful and sophisticated—completely out of place in this student-filled classroom. In Gu Shuge’s eyes, it felt as if her heart no longer belonged to her.

“What’s wrong? Is the problem too hard?” Shen Juan said, leaning down to look at the paper.

Back then, she could still talk to Shen Juan without restraint. She pushed the paper toward her and said, “Look, it’s this one. Is it beyond the syllabus?”

Shen Juan casually took the pen, read the question, and began calculating on the scratch paper.

Before she arrived, Gu Shuge’s eyes held only the test questions. After she arrived, no question or exam could compare to a single strand of Shen Juan’s hair. Her gaze was locked onto Shen Juan, her heart silently overflowing with joy and pride, thinking: She is so good. Such a wonderful person belongs to me.

While she was mooning over her, Shen Juan finished the problem. “This requires a formula they only teach in university…” she said, turning her head toward Shuge.

As she turned, her cheek brushed against Shuge’s lips.

Gu Shuge’s eyes went wide. Shen Juan’s entire face turned red. Both of them froze, not daring to move.

Shuge’s lips were still pressed against Shen Juan’s cheek. They were so close they could feel each other’s breath. The night wind blew into the classroom, rustling someone’s exam papers; the sound of a door closing echoed from afar, likely a classroom nearby. The school was quiet; most of the lights had been extinguished.

Gu Shuge held her breath, staring blankly at Shen Juan’s eyelashes. The soft sensation beneath her lips felt as if a hand had gripped her heart and gently scratched it twice.

After what felt like forever, Shen Juan pulled back slightly. She looked down at the paper and continued steadily, “I’ll explain it once; try to understand.”

But Shuge no longer had the mind for math. She nodded vaguely, her eyes constantly darting toward Shen Juan’s face.

Thinking of this memory, Gu Shuge couldn’t help but smile. Not counting the closeness of her childhood, that was the closest she had been to Shen Juan since realizing her feelings. When she was in a foreign land, she often pulled this memory out, savoring it over and over. Sometimes it tasted sweet, sometimes bitter, and sometimes like tears.

Back then, she was certain that she and Shen Juan felt the same way about each other; all that was missing was the words. But she thought a confession should only happen once in a lifetime, and it had to be solemn—she couldn’t be flustered. Fortunately, she was young then, her feelings were hazy, and she sought perfection in everything. She couldn’t allow for a single flaw, so she hadn’t managed to say it.

“And then?” Shen Juan asked.

Gu Shuge snapped out of her trance, only then realizing she had stopped writing while lost in thought. She looked at Shen Juan; her current appearance seemed to merge with that girl from the high school classroom.

She quickly lowered her head and continued writing in her palm: “The Wicked Thought is afraid of you. If you are here, it disappears.”

“Afraid of me?” Shen Juan asked.

Gu Shuge thought about the two times the Wicked Thought had appeared.

The first was outside Guangping Temple, and the second was at the police station. Both times she returned to Shen Juan’s side, the Wicked Thought vanished. But it might not necessarily be Shen Juan herself, because Shen Juan carried the talisman pouch.

Thus, the Wicked Thought might fear Shen Juan, or it might fear the pouch. If it were the latter, it made sense—the pouch already possessed many miraculous qualities. But the former would be rather strange.

So Gu Shuge wrote: “It should be the talisman pouch on you that it fears.”

Another thick mist of mystery; the truth couldn’t be reached by guessing.

Shen Juan made an immediate decision: “To Guangping Temple.”

Yanjing had many ancient and famous temples, each with its own Buddhist legends. Shen Juan had visited several but returned disappointed each time. So far, the only ones who had demonstrated actual power were Master Jingyun and that monk at Guangping Temple.

With Master Jingyun’s whereabouts unknown, Shen Juan decided to consult the monk.

They drove out of the city. Two hours later, they reached the foot of the mountain, and Shen Juan hiked up.

By the time they reached the temple gates, it was already 2:00 PM. Gu Shuge tapped the back of her hand. Shen Juan opened her palm, and Shuge wrote: “I can’t go in.” After a pause, she clarified, “There’s a barrier.”

Shen Juan understood. It was likely a Buddhist restriction meant to prevent spirits from approaching.

After Shuge finished writing, she looked at the temple gates, feeling an instinctive fear. It was only natural for a ghost to fear Buddhist light.

Shen Juan felt slightly displeased. Why was there such prejudice in a Buddhist place, blocking all spirits regardless of good or evil?

She didn’t show her displeasure, however, addressing a little monk sweeping the entrance: “Could you please inform the Abbot that I have come to see him?”

The little monk dropped his broom and ran inside, shouting for the Abbot.

They had been here once before. Since Shen Juan had traveled so far to bring her here a second time, it meant there was definitely a master in this temple she trusted.

But… will the master exorcise her?

In legends, high monks are always portrayed as hating evil and feeling compelled to subdue any demon they see. She was lingering in the human world instead of reincarnating; would the master act against her?

She certainly wouldn’t be able to win a fight. In stories, ghosts are powerful and know all sorts of spells, but she knew nothing at all.

Terrified, Gu Shuge hid behind Shen Juan, but she was still afraid, so she reached out and gripped Shen Juan’s index finger.

Her thumb and forefinger were stained with blood, so she could touch people. Out of nervousness, she gripped tightly, holding onto Shen Juan.

This was the first time Xiaoge had touched her of her own accord for a reason other than writing. Shen Juan was naturally happy. Realizing Xiaoge was scared, her heart softened, and she comforted her softly: “Don’t be afraid. Monks are people of the world too; they won’t act recklessly.”

Guangping Temple was deep in the mountains, but it was still part of the secular world. As long as one is in the world, one must have scruples. Furthermore, she had some connection with Master Jingyun.

This was why she had dared to bring Gu Shuge here.

Gu Shuge nodded, still not quite at ease, and gripped even tighter.

A ghost’s strength was less than that of a newborn baby; though she was squeezing hard, Shen Juan didn’t find it painful. Footsteps echoed from inside the gate, and an old monk in a kashaya robe appeared.

When he saw Shen Juan, he pressed his palms together and chanted a Buddhist prayer in greeting.

Gu Shuge let out a sharp intake of breath. This Abbot looked a bit like Fahai from the TV dramas. Fahai was the most hated monk in history—he was powerful, but also heartless.

Gu Shuge didn’t dare move a muscle, standing stiffly behind Shen Juan for fear of being discovered.

The old monk, seeing Shen Juan, did not look behind her. He said with a smile, “The benefactor has come at just the right time. That Jade Buddha in your talisman pouch—I felt I had seen it somewhere before. After you left, I thought about it for several days and searched through many scriptures before finding its origin. This Jade Buddha is called a ‘Soul-Nourishing Buddha’.”

Shen Juan had come to consult him about the Wicked Thought; she hadn’t expected to be told this first.

She immediately grew concerned and asked, “What is a ‘Soul-Nourishing Buddha’?”

“A Soul-Nourishing Buddha was used by ancient cultivators to keep spirits; it has the effect of nourishing the soul-form. The most powerful of them could even nourish a ghost until they grew a physical body,” the monk said, glancing behind Shen Juan. “But that is impossible nowadays. Growing a physical body requires more than just a Soul-Nourishing Buddha; a cultivator must also irrigate it with spiritual power for a thousand years. A ghost raised that way would be a ‘Ghost Immortal’. It can no longer be achieved.”