A Secret (GL) - Chapter 33

The three-story Library of Scriptures was a wooden structure, giving the interior a natural scent of timber. Gu Shuge guessed this library had likely stood for many centuries.

The area where they read, took notes, ate, and rested appeared to be part of the library from the outside, utilizing the same building materials. However, once inside, the difference became clear; the section they occupied was a newer addition. Though not brand new—about ten years old—it was a youthful “youngster” compared to the ancient library itself.

From the outside, the two sections appeared integrated, but inside they were separated by a thick wall to protect the ancient scrolls and books.

This method of preservation, however, was somewhat outdated. Anyone who understands preservation knows that “paper lasts a thousand years, but silk lasts only half that.” Ultraviolet rays from sunlight cause paper to yellow, fade, and become brittle, while dust and insect eggs damage the fibers. Gu Shuge felt a pang of heartache seeing the condition of several books inside.

Shen Juan and Shuge hadn’t discussed how to maintain the books since arriving, but Shen Juan was clearly trying to minimize the number of trips and the time spent inside. She usually delegated the task of finding books to Gu Shuge.

A place steeped in such ancient history tended to feel eerie at night, especially in winter. With the occasional gusts of cold wind and the silent thud of snow falling from eaves and branches, the atmosphere became even more chilling and ominous.

Even under the soft glow of the lamp, the calm and composure in the corners of Shen Juan’s eyes did not fade, yet her words and the smile on her lips held an incredible tenderness.

Gu Shuge quickly averted her gaze, silently reciting the scriptures she had repeated a dozen times that afternoon to steady her mind. Four years ago, she had misunderstood once already, and back then, she could flee in a panic. If she misunderstood again now, she would have nowhere to run.

Shen Juan did not press her after speaking. Gu Shuge forced herself to finish a full recitation of the scripture before barely regaining a sliver of rationality. She picked up the pen and wrote earnestly: “What if eight hundred milliliters of blood a year isn’t enough? How much blood do you have for me to squander? And what if the blood makes me violent, generates more Yin Malice, and causes me to turn on you? What then?”

She still did not agree.

Shen Juan remained steady. This clearly wasn’t a sudden impulse; she had considered it thoroughly.

“You’ve been touching my blood every day. Have you felt even a hint of malice?” she asked.

Gu Shuge was silent for a moment before denying it. She hadn’t.

This was something Shen Juan had already guessed. Given Xiaoge’s self-awareness, if the blood had any effect on intensifying her Yin Malice, she certainly would have told her and refused to use it again.

“If eight hundred milliliters a year isn’t enough, there’s the next year, and the year after, and every year following. No matter what, it’s far better than trying nothing at all,” Shen Juan continued to persuade her. Since there were no downsides, the only thing Xiaoge worried about was the harm blood loss would do to Shen Juan’s body.

Shen Juan targeted the root of the concern: “I will act within my limits. With you by my side, you can monitor me at any time.”

At this point, Gu Shuge seemed to have no reason left to refuse. After another long while, a single word—“Okay”—appeared on the white paper.

The stubborn little ghost was finally convinced. Shen Juan stood up and went into the lounge.

Gu Shuge knew she was going to draw blood and followed her.

In the suitcase Shen Juan brought, there was complete blood-collection equipment. The collection bags came in various sizes; when Shen Juan reached for the 400ml bag, Gu Shuge silently pushed the 200ml one under her hand.

This time Shen Juan did not insist and listened to Gu Shuge. Shuge breathed a sigh of relief. Lately, Shen Juan hadn’t been sleeping or eating well; her physical condition certainly wasn’t at its peak, so she couldn’t afford to lose too much blood at once.

Shen Juan picked up the collection needle, found the brightest light, connected the tube and bag, and rolled up her sleeve. Gu Shuge turned her head away, unable to bear the sight.

But Shen Juan proceeded step by step, methodically.

When Gu Shuge looked back, the needle was already in the vein, and blood was flowing through the tube. She froze for a moment, realizing immediately that Shen Juan must have been secretly practicing how to insert the needle in private.

They were together all day; the only time they were apart for long was at night when Shen Juan went to her bedroom alone to sleep.

She must have practiced during those hours. How many times had she tried?

Gu Shuge looked at Shen Juan’s profile and her pale face. As if sensing her gaze, Shen Juan looked over, her eyes calm and steady. Gu Shuge felt her heart tighten at that look; even though she knew Shen Juan couldn’t see her and was only looking at the air, she couldn’t help but stand up straight, frozen in place.

Shen Juan turned back to watch the collection bag. Gu Shuge walked over to her side.

Once the bag was full, Shen Juan withdrew the needle, sealed the bag, and pressed a cotton ball against the puncture site. The process was complete. She pressed it for a while to ensure the bleeding had stopped, then packed everything away. She didn’t throw the used items in the trash; instead, she put them in a separate bag inside her suitcase to take with her when they left.

Then, she carried the bag of blood out.

Gu Shuge followed closely, watching her steps and her complexion, terrified she might have lost too much blood. But Shen Juan walked steadily, and her color seemed okay.

Still, Gu Shuge wasn’t at ease. Given Shen Juan’s willpower, she could probably endure even intense discomfort while appearing perfectly fine.

Shen Juan poured the blood into a glass. A full glass.

A sweet, metallic scent of blood hung faintly in the air.

A gnawing sense of hunger instantly gripped Gu Shuge’s stomach. She walked over, her eyes fixed on the glass. She had overcome her craving for blood these past few days, but with this much of it and such a concentrated aroma, she felt herself on the verge of losing control.

Shen Juan sensed her desire and offered a faint smile.

It was a very slight smile. When Gu Shuge forced her eyes away from the blood to look at her, the smile lingered only in the corners of Shen Juan’s eyes before vanishing.

“How should I feed you?” Shen Juan said.

Gu Shuge certainly couldn’t lift such a large glass on her own. Shen Juan picked up the glass and tilted it slightly toward one side, bringing the liquid to the rim. Then, she saw the surface of the liquid ripple.

Gu Shuge licked a bit to wet her lips, then began to drink from the rim.

The blood surged into her mouth, sliding down her esophagus and into her stomach. Then, she clearly felt the blood spread from her stomach to her entire body. The “dried up” vessels in her form felt as if they were being awakened.

Gu Shuge could no longer restrain herself and began to drink ravenously. She drank so fast that Shen Juan was startled, adjusting her grip to accommodate her. When the glass was empty, Gu Shuge licked her lips.

A sense of peace and tranquility—like mist rising from a river—ascended from her stomach until it permeated her entire body. It felt incredibly comfortable, and her stomach felt warm. She raised a hand to her chest; there was no heartbeat, yet her palm felt a searing heat where her heart should be.

It felt… as if she could come back to life.

After an unknown amount of time, the changes settled into stillness. Gu Shuge returned to her weightless state, but the difference was palpable. Her soul-form was much more stable; it felt as if she were a kite in the air, but the string was now held by someone much more secure. The feeling that she might dissipate at any moment was gone.

During this time, Shen Juan had remained silent. Gu Shuge looked at her and didn’t speak either.

Because Shen Juan didn’t know where she was, her gaze was a bit unfocused, looking at one spot and then shifting to another, as if trying to judge where Shuge was but unable to be sure.

Another long while passed.

“You,” Shen Juan finally spoke, her voice hesitant. “How do you feel?”

For some reason, Gu Shuge didn’t respond immediately. Shen Juan paused, pursing her lips as worry and anxiety finally surfaced on her face.

“Xiaoge, where are you?” she asked again, her tone full of trepidation. “Are you okay?”

Gu Shuge still didn’t respond. She saw Shen Juan’s pale lips, her unease, her frantic worry, and her determination to give everything for her. She had a momentary illusion that Shen Juan loved her too.

Shen Juan asked twice but received no response or emotional feedback. Her expression changed; she stood up from her chair, her eyes full of terror: “Are you still there? Xiaoge, are you there?”

Gu Shuge snapped out of it and hurriedly picked up the quill from the desk to show her presence.

The quill floated up. When Shen Juan saw it, the tight corners of her mouth relaxed slightly. She reached out blankly to touch the quill—specifically, she wanted to touch the hand holding it.

But, naturally, she touched nothing.

Gu Shuge watched the terror in Shen Juan’s eyes slowly dissipate. Shen Juan withdrew her hand and said, “Why did you…” Her tone was a bit sharp. Gu Shuge could hear that she wanted to scold her for not responding and making her worry.

She lowered her head, feeling deep self-reproach, yet she didn’t dare say why she had been dazed. She wanted to apologize and write “I’m sorry” on the paper, but before she could, Shen Juan forced her tone to shift. As if afraid of scaring her, she asked with a stiffness born from forced composure: “How are you? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”

Gu Shuge clearly heard the treasuring and protection in her words. When she put the pen to paper, the words became: “I’m fine.”

“It’s good that you’re fine,” Shen Juan said. This time, her voice and tone had returned to normal, making no mention of the terror she just felt. After a moment, she asked, “Do you feel any better?”

Gu Shuge felt her nose tingle with a phantom sting of tears and wrote down in detail the changes she felt after drinking the blood.

Shen Juan watched her write. When she finished, she smiled and said, “Then it really is useful.”

Gu Shuge couldn’t bring herself to smile. She felt that Shen Juan was so unlucky—unlucky to be loved by her, receiving no benefits and only being dragged down. She couldn’t look at Shen Juan anymore, lowering her head to fix her gaze on the paper.

“The effect should be reflected in the time you can be sensed,” Shen Juan said. “It’s only eight o’clock; four hours until midnight. Let’s keep looking. Since the monk at Guangping Temple pointed us here, there must be something.”

Gu Shuge was aghast and shook her head repeatedly, writing: “No, you must rest.” Shen Juan’s complexion was terrible, and her lips were white. If she kept pushing herself like this, something would happen.

Shen Juan sat back down, reaching for a book. Gu Shuge wrote two words: “Go sleep.”

“There isn’t much time left,” Shen Juan hesitated.

There is plenty of time. Since the monks were willing to lend the library for five days, they could surely borrow it for five more. They could come back and look slowly after the case was solved. Nothing was more important than Shen Juan’s health.

Gu Shuge knitted her brows and drew a large exclamation mark after the words “Go sleep,” making it non-negotiable.

Shen Juan saw the domineering exclamation mark, thought about it, and stopped being stubborn. But she said: “Sleep with me.”

Gu Shuge’s face turned bright red instantly, and she wondered if her ears had malfunctioned.

“You, with me,” Shen Juan repeated firmly.

She stood up and walked straight toward the lounge without waiting for a response. Gu Shuge stood dazed for a moment before following her, her movements a bit stiff.

The light was on in the lounge. When she entered, Shen Juan was already lying down. She lay on the inner side; on that small single bed, she had left half the space empty.

It was left for her.

Gu Shuge’s heart was in turmoil. She couldn’t process why Shen Juan suddenly wanted her to sleep beside her; she clearly knew that ghosts didn’t need sleep. But then she remembered Shen Juan’s terror and panic earlier when she hadn’t responded, and she understood.

Is she afraid I’ll disappear?

All her messy, romantic thoughts vanished, replaced by guilt and heartache. It was her own fault for scaring her earlier.

She lay down on the bed, near the edge. But the bed was so small that even lying on the edge, she was very close to Shen Juan.

Shen Juan had already closed her eyes.

Gu Shuge thought for a moment, then slowly reached out and rested her index finger on the back of Shen Juan’s hand, telling her she was there.

Shen Juan didn’t open her eyes; she extended her index finger, and Gu Shuge—just as she had outside Guangping Temple—gripped her finger with her thumb and forefinger. This way, Shen Juan would always know she was right beside her. She should be able to sleep peacefully now.

Gu Shuge told herself several times: Shen Juan was just scared, that’s why she asked you to sleep here. Don’t overthink it.

After convincing herself, she finally managed to lie there calmly.

Just then, Shen Juan turned on her side to face her. Gu Shuge went as stiff as a little zombie, staring straight at the ceiling, not daring to move an inch.

Shen Juan’s breathing was very close, almost against her ear. Gu Shuge thought of the softness of her lips; her heart raced, producing a massive surge of wavy lines.

All night, she didn’t move. Her eyes were wide open, listening to Shen Juan’s light breathing. Her heart was a mess. Countless scenes flashed through her mind: how they used to be, her years of living alone, Shen Juan weeping for her after her death, and the way Shen Juan calmly said “Sleep with me” earlier.

All the images converged into Shen Juan’s face.

Gu Shuge wanted to turn her head to look at her but didn’t dare, so her body became even stiffer.

It wasn’t until dawn, when the first light began to filter in and the misty window turned white, that Gu Shuge finally defeated her cowardice. She turned her head to look at Shen Juan. Shen Juan was sleeping deeply, her back to the window, her face in the shadows—peaceful and serene.

Gu Shuge realized with a start: I just spent the whole night sleeping beside the person I love.

A belated sweetness bloomed in her heart. She bit her lower lip, gathered all her courage, and very carefully leaned a bit closer, secretly wanting to kiss her cheek.