A Secret (GL) - Chapter 30

Shen Juan came down in a soft set of loungewear, only to see the small cookies scattered across the floor, several of them shattered.

There was only one human and one ghost in the house; Shen Juan didn’t need to ask to know who was responsible.

Gu Shuge was already feeling dejected from not getting the answer she wanted, but now she had to explain to Shen Juan why she was throwing cookies on the floor. She was actually quite bad at lying. When she insisted on going abroad years ago and Gu Yian demanded a reason, she could only repeat that she wanted to study; she couldn’t think of any other excuse.

After going abroad, she really did study diligently for four years, almost as if she were trying to make the lie true.

As Shen Juan approached, Gu Shuge took a step back. Shen Juan stopped in front of the cookies, her tone helpless: “Why the sudden temper?”

Gu Shuge’s eyes widened, realizing Shen Juan thought she had thrown the cookies in a fit of rage. She certainly couldn’t admit she was using them for divination to see if Shen Juan liked her, so she remained silent, letting the “temper tantrum” be the assumed reason.

Shen Juan didn’t say anything more. She bent down, picked up the cookies, threw them in the trash, and wiped the floor. After washing her hands, she came back and sat down.

“Come here,” Shen Juan said.

Gu Shuge walked over, sat to her left, and tapped her left hand to signal her presence.

Shen Juan was used to speaking to the air. Knowing Shuge was there, she turned slightly to the left and asked, “What’s making you so unhappy that you had to bully the cookies?”

I didn’t do it on purpose, Gu Shuge argued silently. She then wrote three words in Shen Juan’s palm: “I am sorry.”

Shen Juan hadn’t intended to scold her; she was just worried. Once Gu Shuge apologized, she couldn’t bear to say anything else. Shen Juan felt a bit at a loss. She remembered her comment outside the temple about Shuge being “someone very special” hadn’t received a response yet.

She had originally intended to use that phrase to test Xiaoge’s reaction. But before leaving, the monk’s final words had left her unsettled, and she began to reflect: Was keeping Xiaoge here truly meaningful?

Shen Juan fell into a long silence. Gu Shuge shifted uneasily and wrote in her palm word by word: “I won’t throw cookies around anymore.”

Shen Juan smiled and was about to say it didn’t matter, but she suddenly recalled the monk’s words: “Whatever the little ghost feared most in life, the wicked thought will also fear.”

If that were true, the reason the Wicked Thought didn’t dare emerge wasn’t because of the talisman pouch, but because of her. But had Xiaoge really feared her in life?

“Xiaoge,” Shen Juan called out.

Gu Shuge looked at her.

Shen Juan felt a touch of agitation. She couldn’t see Xiaoge, couldn’t see her expression, and couldn’t be sure with what kind of gaze she was looking at her. She steadied her heart, keeping the agitation hidden, and asked in a calm tone: “Are you afraid of me?”

Gu Shuge immediately drew a massive “X” in her palm. After drawing it, she lowered her brows. She didn’t fear Shen Juan, but she feared herself turning bad—feared Shen Juan would dislike her. Hiding her love and leaving for four years were both born from the fear that Shen Juan would find her loathsome.

She remembered a Sunday, a week after she overheard her brother proposing to Shen Juan.

She had stayed in the library all day, intending to finish her homework. But the entire day, her mind had wandered; she did nothing, and the homework remained untouched.

She returned home at dusk.

It was autumn. Their garden was beautiful year-round, but the autumn scenery was golden, much like a gouache painting. She went to her bedroom and stood by the window overlooking the backyard. Shen Juan was sitting on a swing; her brother was standing nearby. They were talking.

The swing wasn’t moving. Shen Juan looked up at her brother. He was wearing a white shirt with sleeves rolled up, and the setting sun bathed him in a light that made his smile look exceptionally gentle.

She felt it clearly—at that moment, she felt jealousy. Yet she was able to suppress her emotions without a sound. She quietly pushed the window open, leaning against the sill to listen to their conversation.

“Have you decided? Don’t hesitate anymore,” her brother said with a hint of complaint.

Shen Juan waited a while before saying, “I’m worried about Xiaoge.”

Her brother sounded confused: “What’s there to worry about with Xiaoge? She’ll definitely listen to you.”

Shen Juan didn’t speak.

“I know you’re worried she won’t accept it, but if we talk to her properly, it’ll be fine. Getting married is good for everyone,” her brother joked. “At most, outsiders will mock me, saying my dad brought you back to be my child-bride.”

Shen Juan laughed too: “Stop talking nonsense.”

Gu Shuge felt a surge of hatred in that instant. Why can they talk like that? Clearly, Shen Juan should belong to me. She wondered why her brother had to compete with her. Her love for Shen Juan was so obvious—couldn’t he see it?

The intensity of that hatred had startled her.

That was the first time she realized she couldn’t stay in that house anymore. She feared that if she saw too much of Shen Juan and her brother together, her heart would become twisted.

She loved her so much that she simply couldn’t stand by calmly and watch her love someone else. If she became twisted, radical, or bitter out of jealousy, Shen Juan would certainly not like her.

That was when she decided to leave.

Gu Shuge wrote in Shen Juan’s palm: “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of becoming bad, and then you would hate me.”

Over four years, she had thought many times about letting go, even imagining that one day she might like someone else. But no matter how she tried to imagine it, or how excellent she imagined that person to be, she found she couldn’t love them. Her love seemed to belong exclusively to Shen Juan; no one else could take it, not even in a hypothetical scenario.

“I will never hate you,” Shen Juan said.

Gu Shuge looked up at her. Shen Juan’s eyes were like a starry sky, twinkling with light.

Gu Shuge suddenly felt the heavy pressure that had been built up in her chest vanish. She smiled and thought: Of course. See, I didn’t turn bad. I went far away where I couldn’t see, so I wouldn’t be jealous. I would never let you hate me.

She lowered her head and wrote a single word in Shen Juan’s palm: “Good.”

Confirming that Shuge didn’t fear her, Shen Juan also began to smile. She hadn’t eaten all day except for a bit in the morning, and she was hungry.

There was dinner left by the servants in the dining room. It was cold, so Shen Juan reheated it and made do with a simple meal. Gu Shuge wanted to suggest keeping two live-in servants so she could have hot meals, but then she realized with them in the house, it would be inconvenient for Shen Juan to talk to her.

She chose to remain silent.

The nightly routine was to wait until midnight to record the sensing duration, but tonight she successfully convinced Shen Juan to go to bed. They had to wake up early tomorrow to go to Bailong Temple.

Bailong Temple was located in the urban area of Yanjing. The location was prime, so it attracted many pilgrims and had a flourishing atmosphere; it was also a famous tourist attraction.

The temple had a long history and had produced many famous monks. The current Abbot was highly prestigious in the religious community. Shen Juan had contacted the temple’s management early on. When she arrived with Gu Shuge, several monks were waiting at the gate.

Gu Shuge followed nervously behind Shen Juan. The monks greeted her with smiles, chanting Buddhist prayers with their palms pressed together. Gu Shuge noticed that two of the monks didn’t even have “Jieba” (moxibustion scars) on their heads, and her fear of monks dissipated by half.

The gates of Bailong Temple were much more grand than those of Guangping Temple; the red paint on the walls looked brand new, giving off a sense of golden, resplendent wealth. Shen Juan stepped through the gate and then stopped. The monks, though surprised, didn’t rush her and stopped as well.

It wasn’t until Shen Juan felt a scratch in her palm that she continued walking.

They had agreed beforehand: if Bailong Temple also had a barrier that kept her out, Shen Juan would borrow the scriptures from the library to read. It would be more troublesome, but not impossible. If she could enter, that was even better—it would save a lot of trouble.

The scratch in the palm meant Gu Shuge had also entered the gate.

Having visited an ancient temple protected by true Buddhist light, it was hard to feel much reverence for this grand temple that was mostly surface-level. Shen Juan burned incense at the Mahavira Hall and then went straight to the Library of Scriptures.

Lin Mo had already settled the arrangements with the temple; Shen Juan could stay in the library for five days and read any scripture. Aside from bringing food and water, the monks were not to disturb her.

Once Shen Juan entered the library, Lin Mo left and the monks dispersed. The monks at the temple surely wondered: why would Chairman Shen leave her massive company to stay in their library for five days under the guise of “silent meditation”? Was she looking for something?

But first, all the scriptures in the library were cataloged, and after thousands of years, no one had heard of any hidden treasures. Second, they had an agreement: Chairman Shen could copy any scripture she liked, but she couldn’t take a single book out. Because of this, even if there were treasures, the monks weren’t afraid of losing them.

The library had three floors and was quite large, roughly the size of a small public library. As Shen Juan walked in, she smelled the quiet scent of sandalwood mingled with the ancient fragrance of books. The two merged, creating an instantly tranquil atmosphere, as if the air itself held thousands of years of stillness.

There was dust on the floor—not thick, but enough to show the monks rarely came here.

Shen Juan checked every floor first to ensure there were no cameras before she spoke. She first called out, “Xiaoge.”

The ghost immediately drew a circle in her palm, signaling she was there.

Shen Juan smiled and asked, “Do you feel uncomfortable being here?” There were many Buddha statues in the temple, incense was burning, and bronze mirrors hung everywhere. She worried they might harm Shuge’s soul-form.

Gu Shuge felt nothing and floated normally beside Shen Juan, writing in her palm: “None.”

Relieved, Shen Juan surveyed the rows of bookshelves and felt a bit overwhelmed: “So many books. Had I known, we should have asked for more time.” Even if they just flipped through every book once, five days might not be enough.

Seeing her rare expression of being overwhelmed, Gu Shuge laughed and wrote in her palm: “Jiayou!” (Go for it!)

The worry on Shen Juan’s brow vanished.

She first browsed each floor to see what kind of books were there. Fortunately, though there were many, they were categorized by type, making them not too hard to find. They discovered the collection was rich—not just scriptures, but also legends, myths, and even many Taoist and Confucian texts. It truly showed the “broad-mindedness” of the Buddhist school.

Gu Shuge found it interesting. She and Shen Juan had discussed last night which area to start with. Since they were looking for a way to cultivate a physical body, they would start with ghost cultivation, Buddhist cultivation, and look for relevant myths, legends, or secret scriptures.

However, these were bound to be hard to find.

Gu Shuge had already seen how hard scriptures were to understand when Shen Juan read the Fundamental Vow Sutra. But that was nothing compared to this. After just a few pages of obscure sentences that she couldn’t even parse, she felt sleepy.

Shen Juan, however, read with total concentration, keeping paper nearby for notes.

They spent the entire day looking with no success. How spiritual energy came about, how a ghost practiced, and how to obtain a body—it was all still a total blank. Shen Juan wasn’t discouraged, comforting Gu Shuge: “We’ve only looked at one small corner. There are so many scriptures; we’ll definitely find something.”

Gu Shuge wrote an “Mhm!” in her palm.

After dinner, they lit the lamps and continued their struggle.

Around 9:00 PM, while flipping through a book of myths and legends found in a corner, Shen Juan saw a passage about the benefits of fresh blood for the tempering of a soul-form.