A Secret (GL) - Chapter 39

The accumulation of snow outside the window was thick; it was hard to tell when it might finally melt.

By their fourth day here, they hadn’t been entirely without success. Through trial and error, they had confirmed the efficacy of Shen Juan’s blood on the soul-form and discovered a key hidden in a secret compartment. Though its purpose remained a mystery, anything tucked away with such deliberate care in this ancient library had to hold significant value.

But these gains were far from enough; they were insufficient to truly bring Gu Shuge “back.” They remained separated by the barrier of life and death.

Gu Shuge felt a bit awkward. Suddenly stroking someone’s brow for no apparent reason must have made Shen Juan think she was acting strange. She hesitated, wanting to withdraw her hand, but the tactile sensation beneath her fingertips made her exceptionally loath to let go.

“With me, you can do anything you want.”

Gu Shuge’s hand gave a tiny tremor and then froze. she looked at Shen Juan in shock and confusion, wondering exactly what that sentence was meant to imply.

Shen Juan did not flinch, offering herself up to the ghost’s touch. Gu Shuge’s fingertips moved, lingering on the brow for a moment before sliding cautiously down onto her cheek.

A ghost’s soul-form has no temperature; her touch was icy and filled with Yin energy, but Shen Juan felt no discomfort or fear. Instead, she felt a profound peace—Xiaoge was right here beside her.

I must keep her here, Shen Juan thought. As long as Xiaoge was willing, she would keep her, whether as a human or a ghost—as long as it was her.

As she thought this, the fingertips resting on her cheek slid downward with careful precision until they reached the corner of her mouth. Shen Juan’s heart instantly tightened.

But at that moment, the fingers pulled away.

Shen Juan felt a wave of disappointment. She suppressed the urge to touch the spot Xiaoge had just caressed, merely pursing her lips. Gu Shuge lowered her head as if she had done something wrong. She stole a restless glance upward and clenched the hand that had just touched Shen Juan into a fist; she could still feel the phantom warmth of Shen Juan’s skin on her fingertips. Her entire focus became centered on that sensation.

So soft, Shuge thought. Girls were soft to begin with, but the temperature of Shen Juan’s skin did more than feel soft—it felt as if it were coating her heart in a layer of honey, leaving a lingering sweetness that clung like lotus silk.

She knew it was because she loved her; that was why every detail of the woman felt so extraordinary.

Thinking back to Shen Juan’s words—”With me, you can do anything you want”—Shuge’s heart grew hot, a mix of guilt and nerves swirling within. Shen Juan likely had no idea what she truly wanted to do to her; only then would she dare say such a thing.

Shen Juan looked at her and suddenly asked, “What was that surprise you wanted to give me that year?”

“Xiaoge, what was the surprise you wanted to give me?” At 4:00 AM, Shen Juan leaned against her headboard, her phone pressed to her ear.

Gu Shuge had been gone for nearly a year. Shen Juan had kept in constant contact.

At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it when Xiaoge acted spoiled, saying, “I really have a very, very important surprise for you, you’ll definitely like it.” Shen Juan had only thought that after her own confession, Xiaoge would be very happy. She had forgotten to care about what the surprise actually was.

After Shuge left, Shen Juan had replayed every past interaction in her mind over and over, except for the events of that specific day, which she didn’t dare revisit.

But the word “surprise” had stubbornly struggled free from the memory of that day, occupying Shen Juan’s mind. She gradually began to wonder what it could have been. She began to regret never receiving it. Whether it was a gift or good news, it felt precious beyond measure.

She hadn’t intended to ask, but she was sick that day, her mind hazy with a fever. Hearing Gu Shuge’s voice, her longing became uncontrollable, and the question slipped out.

Gu Shuge did not answer.

Shen Juan’s breath was hot, the bedside lamp cast a dim, yellow glow that induced drowsiness, and the stifling heat of the late-summer dawn outside was oppressive.

Gu Shuge’s silence disappointed her.

Her eyes were heavy, and her thoughts grew blurred: “Xiaoge, I miss you so much. Can you come back? I promise…” Promise what? Promise to never cross the line again? Or promise to control herself and stop loving her?

Shen Juan’s head throbbed with pain, but the physical ache was nothing compared to the agony of not being able to see Gu Shuge. Unable to maintain her composure and restraint, she said to the phone, “Don’t you listen to me the most? I’m begging you to come back, even if it’s just for two days.”

After a silence, Gu Shuge said, “My advisor says I have a lot of talent in this field. The UK has the most advanced research and equipment.”

Shen Juan closed her eyes.

“He suggested I stay for a PhD and a faculty position.”

Staying for a PhD and faculty meant putting down roots abroad and never coming back. Shen Juan wondered if her fever was making her hallucinate. She forced herself to focus and asked, “Then do you like your current research?”

Her tone had returned to a forced calm. Gu Shuge felt dazed, thinking that the Shen Juan who just said “I miss you, can you come back” might have been an illusion. She replied coldly, “I do.”

Shen Juan couldn’t hold on any longer. Straining to maintain consciousness, she said, “That’s good, then. I’ll hang up first.”

Gu Shuge was surprised. For the past year, she had always been the one rushing to hang up; Shen Juan had never been the first to end a call. The moment Shen Juan finished speaking, the line went dead.

Gu Shuge looked at the call duration: almost five minutes.

It was the longest call they had had in nearly a year.

If only it could be longer, Shuge thought, sitting in a daze for a long time.

After Shen Juan ended the call, the phone slid onto the bed. She wanted to call for a doctor but lacked the strength. Fortunately, she soon fell asleep, losing the sensation of physical misery, though her consciousness drifted in and out.

“I’ll be home soon. I miss you.” She seemed to hear Gu Shuge’s voice. But even in her stupor, she knew it was a lie, a product of her own imagination. She won’t come back, Shen Juan thought.

Xiaoge always waited fifteen seconds before picking up—no more, no less. She did it on purpose, maintaining a cold, distant gap.

Perhaps she truly was a disturbance to her.

Shen Juan was sick for three days. Once recovered, she contacted the research institute where Gu Shuge was based. The institute was prestigious, and Shuge’s advisor was one of the academic heads.

Shen Juan made a donation to the institute—not in the name of the Gu Group, and without touching corporate funds. It was her personal savings from years of work. As a high-ranking executive, her salary was substantial, and aside from clothing, she had few expenses.

She donated it all with only one condition: she wanted to see Gu Shuge’s research progress.

Gu Shuge had only been at the university for a year, and her academic foundation was still developing, but her talent was staggering. she absorbed knowledge like a sponge. She could spend an entire day in the lab, completely focused on experiments without a single distraction, keenly identifying breakthroughs and new lines of thought.

The advisor didn’t refuse Shen Juan’s request. No matter how talented Shuge was, she was new to the field and hadn’t reached the core secrets; letting an outsider look wouldn’t hurt. Shen Juan saw Shuge’s experimental reports, results, and data logs. The advisor spoke of her talent, his tone growing excited as he proclaimed that in time, “Gu” would surely make a major discovery that would shock the academic world.

“However,” the advisor noted, “she has one strange habit. Every day, starting from 6:00 PM, she becomes restless, as if expecting something yet fearing something. She leaves the lab and doesn’t return until after 8:30 PM. Each time she returns, she’s in a daze for quite a while.”

He figured geniuses often had eccentricities, so he hadn’t mentioned it to Shuge.

It was only then that Shen Juan realized the “little thing” who used to follow her with soft eyes was a genius in the eyes of others.

She felt both proud and desolate, her heart feeling as if it had been carved out. she thought: Xiaoge really won’t come back. She’s found something to replace me; her focus is no longer just on me.

So, her daily calls really were just a hindrance and a bother. And her pleas for her to return were only making things difficult for her.

She had lost the right to be a part of her life.

She hadn’t expected her to return to her side, especially in this form.

When she received news of Gu Shuge’s death, her first reaction was: Impossible. Why would Xiaoge come back?

When she reached the hospital, lifted the white sheet, and saw the mangled remains with her own eyes, she hated herself. If it hadn’t been to avoid her, Xiaoge never would have gone abroad four years ago. Her life wouldn’t have taken such a sharp turn, and she never would have been murdered.

Nothing she did could ever make up for it.

Hearing Shen Juan bring up the surprise from that year, Gu Shuge was suddenly at a loss.

“The time we had dinner plans but you couldn’t make it because of work,” Shen Juan reminded her. After all these years, she thought Shuge might have forgotten.

But Gu Shuge remembered. How could she forget? That was the day she had planned to confess to Shen Juan.

But she didn’t dare say it, yet she didn’t want to lie. So, she slowly wrote in Shen Juan’s palm: “I wanted to tell you something at dinner.”

Shen Juan asked, “What was it?”

Gu Shuge hesitated and stopped writing.

Still, this was better than before; before, she had only given her cold silence. Shen Juan thought for a moment and asked, “Did I neglect you too much in the past?” Shuge looked at her curiously, as if she didn’t understand why she would say that.

Sensing her looking up, Shen Juan smiled, a smile full of guilt. She had replayed the days leading up to that date countless times, finding nothing unusual, unable to guess what the surprise was about.

“No,” the icy fingertips wrote firmly in her palm.

“I was always busy with meetings and business trips, I didn’t take care of you properly.”

Gu Shuge immediately shook her head. Shen Juan was indeed busy, but she never neglected her. Even during the peak of her work, she had cleared her evenings for Shuge’s college entrance exams. She never forgot a birthday gift. Whenever Shuge had a cold, Shen Juan would notice immediately and take her to see Dr. Mu.

There were so many things, but writing them all out would take until tomorrow.

Eager to comfort Shen Juan, Shuge wrote in her palm: “You were busy making money for me to spend.” Without Shen Juan managing things, how could she have lived so peacefully on campus? Feeling that wasn’t persuasive enough, she added, “You donated money to the institute to support my research.”

A research project costs a fortune, but as long as she was interested, funds were never short. The senior staff at the institute were also exceptionally polite to her. At first, she thought she was just brilliant enough to conquer a room full of geniuses, but she soon realized that with so many veterans around, she wouldn’t have been given such priority unless Shen Juan had invested—and continued to invest—heavily.

After she figured that out, she was happy for half a year. Every time she went to the lab, she felt a burst of joy, even finding her lab coat beautiful.

In Gu Shuge’s mind, Shen Juan could do no wrong. Everything she did was right.

Shen Juan knew of her stubbornness in this regard. She used to find it heartwarming, but now it only made her heart ache.

The rest of the day brought no further discoveries; they were still at a total loss regarding spiritual energy. Shen Juan considered another trip to Guangping Temple, but remembering the monk’s demeanor last time, she knew he had said all he could.

The search for Master Jingyun remained a dead end. The old monk seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Liu Guohua sent over files on the four most likely suspects among the group of eight. Suspects were determined by the means to commit the crime—the killer in this case was definitely wealthy.

Of the four, three were children of Gu Group executives, and the last was the Hong Kong man from a wealthy family who had pursued Gu Shuge.

When Shen Juan and Gu Shuge emerged from Bailong Temple, the police were summoning and questioning these four individuals separately. Because three had ties to the Gu Group, the police were again considering if the case was related to an internal power struggle. At the start of the case, that had been their first lead, but they had pivoted to Shuge’s personal relationships because of the highly personalized nature of stealing the remains.

Now, it had come full circle.

“The surgery for Zhang Meng’s daughter, Zhang Ting, is happening in the next few days. The organ donor specified her as the recipient, and a charitable foundation has provided funds for the surgery and recovery,” Lin Mo reported to Shen Juan. “The police are investigating the donor’s background; someone definitely pulled strings. The foundation is called the ‘Haoshan Foundation,’ and their reputation is poor.”

Lin Mo adjusted his glasses, a look of disgust in his eyes. “Years ago, they were suspected of embezzling donations, but no evidence was found. They changed their name, and people forgot. This time, they’re using this case to buy trending topics and write articles, emphasizing the driver’s hardship, his love as a father, and how life hasn’t been easy. They’ve posted many ‘touching’ interactions between the father and daughter, winning over a lot of unsuspecting netizens and gaining a wave of donations for the foundation.”

Lin Mo guessed it was exactly this “profit-at-all-costs” courage that led the killer to choose them.

“I’ve already obtained evidence of their illegal activities,” Lin Mo added. He was always efficient.

“Hand it to the police,” Shen Juan said.

With the police involved and the Gu Group applying pressure, a foundation of that size would be scoured until every hidden secret was exposed. They would surely find out why the decision-makers were willing to offend the Gu Group to fund Zhang Ting’s surgery.

“Understood,” Lin Mo said. Then he mentioned another matter: “Zhu Ruizhong, Zhou Xingrui, and Xiao Yu have contacted you several times, wanting to pay their respects at the house.”

These were the three who had placed their children near Gu Shuge. Their true intentions were hard to say, but with things as they were, they were clearly feeling the heat.

Speaking of paying respects, Lin Mo hesitated, a look of doubt on his face. He glanced at Shen Juan. “It has been half a month since Miss Gu passed away. The Chairman needs to decide on the arrangements for the memorial service and the funeral.”

It had been so long, yet Shen Juan, as Gu Shuge’s sister-in-law and heir, hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t organized a memorial, hadn’t gone to the office, and instead spent five days in a temple. Outsiders were growing suspicious.

But Gu Shuge was right beside her, and she intended for her to stay forever. A funeral felt far too unlucky. Shen Juan said, “There’s no rush.”

Lin Mo struggled for a moment but finally spoke up: “Since you stayed at the temple for several days, rumors have started that you are being haunted by Miss Gu’s ghost. They say you were too terrified to sleep and fled to the temple for protection.”

Gu Shuge was furious. Shen Juan wasn’t afraid of being “haunted” by her, nor was she trying to exorcise her. Why were people always talking such nonsense?

They were sitting in the car; Shen Juan and Gu Shuge were in the back, and Lin Mo was in the passenger seat.

After her burst of anger, Shuge wrote a single word in Shen Juan’s palm: “Hmph!”

Shen Juan looked down and gave a soft smile, speaking calmly: “Xiaoge is not haunting me.”

Lin Mo nodded. Who would believe such superstitious nonsense?

“I am haunting her.”

Lin Mo nodded again, but stopped halfway as something felt off.

“I went to the temple to find a way to see if I can haunt her a little longer.”

Lin Mo let out a sharp intake of breath, his eyes widening in terror. For the first time, he lost his composure in front of his boss, stammering, “Y-you… you… you…”

Gu Shuge frantically drew crosses in Shen Juan’s palm, thinking: Shen Juan says she’s haunting me… and that she wants to stay with me longer. The speed of her drawing slowed down. She bit her lower lip, unable to even look at Shen Juan.

Shen Juan felt her palm being gently scratched, a ticklish sensation. Then, she noticed with surprise that the “wavy lines” that had disappeared for two days were back.