The silence inside the carriage now felt even deeper—a little scary, even. Chóng Fēi had a feeling this was the silence before the storm.
And life's pattern seemed so painfully predictable that he wasn't expecting anything good right now.
Either a slap with a judgmental look—from Lìngxiāo, or seeing that dead face again at this creepy place—ten times scarier than the washroom one.
One would happen for sure. Or both.
"F-fēi.. Gōngzǐ.." Lìngxiāo called in a faint, tight whisper. His face was beet red, and his bamboo hat had long fallen from his head, lying down like an earthquake had passed over him.
Reality and thought were completely different. Chóng Fēi wasn't even registering what Lìngxiāo was saying. Perhaps he was acting strange and embarrassing in front of him. Or maybe embarrassing him.
All he knew was that he needed to grab an alive, breathing being—or he would really faint just by re-experiencing the worst moment of his life. It felt both heavy, because of the upcoming payoff and the past regrets, and lighter, because he had finally gained it all—which was only a past for everyone else to worry about. Because only he felt and saw this ghost. Not even the Red Robe one.
The Red Robe one simply tried to kill him. This one saved him—but also killed him bit by bit in silence. This one changed colors faster than the wind.
He didn't even think he was sane anymore since then. As anyone perhaps expected: if this soul returned, it would be a distraction for everyone. But it came for him. Not for those people.
And he didn't know what color it might take this time.
'Lord of Earth.. don't make my grave here..'
Chóng Fēi kept praying in his mind, remembering the words from their Bible again. His breathing was silently shallow, but controlled. He would not fall into a full panic this time.
Not in front of any stranger.
This ghost didn't torture nor trap. He just reminded him of the whole incident—every day, repeatedly. Especially if he remembered him this way. He reminded him how scared and stupid he was, and that he had ruined himself by his own actions, and with Xiǎo Lìng too. He couldn't believe that guy's ghost had ended up with that other traumatizing creature who had eaten Xiǎo Lìng—and he could only watch from behind.
The most haunting words of the mummy exorcist were the few that kept digging deeper, making him feel like a passive murderer.
The exorcist had said, after coming back from middle-hell:
"My friend did what was right. He ate your little helpless, hopeless friend before you had seen him jump from this valley. Because you were one of the reasons of his fall—while he was already living like a worm."
"Would it have been any easier? You could not even handle my throat being cut, and you can handle his?"
"Come on, boy. I know I am cruel. But that kid you used to technically bully in an indirect way—he was innocent. You exposed his father. You exposed him too—to be a hero. The result is the same from the very beginning."
"You have successfully failed."
"What is left for you to do here, where people are already living like worms? You are just a shiny one here."
"And that is why you are stuck with me... like you are me and I am you. Inside out."
"I would leave you only when you can leave your past self behind."
'How will I even.. while you fucking never go away for a moment?'
He waited for the only person who saved him—even in death: Xiǎo Lìng. But now he didn't come to answer him.
Panic just kept rising. He had promised not to even speak of the exorcist's return to any exorcist—for the sake of a little peace. The fact that he had actually dared to speak about this past to anyone, while for the whole two years he had acted like it never affected him or never existed and he told those to him felt brave of himself.
But still, unknown is unknown.
He wasn't sure if Lìngxiāo was someone different—better, as any friend to share thoughts with, or someone special—atleast that was sure: he had lowered his guard for this person, while a few people had used those same words, that same language.
Yet that guy's words just felt like he gave them extra depth or meaning more than others.
That alone was enough for now, for someone like him who had just been pretending to be too powerful, too composed, and dangerous. He perhaps looked like a villain from the outside to some people too, because of always repeating that temple challenge like he hell wished they would go and die there.
He just did what little things his father had told him to do—things he needed to handle now that he had become half-officially an heir, which probably meant none of his brothers could pop out of nowhere and claim his throne.
It was now his.
His father just needed to place the crown on him in front of the common people. The Zhèng clan might not come to congratulate him like they did as main guests to every clan, every heir who had built something remarkable.
But staying away from their touch was better than anything else. If the Hàngwō clan couldn't see them without twitching eyes, then how would they? Those two clans were like a leaf with a violet flower bloomed.
While thinking those, he could only sigh—not even in real life, but in thought.
'So I guess I'll be rotting here forever, like anyone else of my generation did.'
His breath caught when he felt a hand slam flat over his chest. A little hard enough to make a sound, flat enough that the ruthless heartbeat could be clearly felt.
"Chóng Fēi Gōngzǐ?" Lìngxiāo called again, his voice faintly trembling at the edges. His smile was awkward. "Wake up!" He whispered through his teeth, keeping Chóng Fēi at a slight distance.
His eyes were confused and off guard, a little concerned too, mixing with the embarrassment still burning bright over raised cheeks and nose—as if he had never handled someone like Chóng Fēi, even when they were lost in trauma.
'M-my eyes. Ah, head hurts too.'
Chóng Fēi blinked, clearing his vision. And that's when he realized—he was clinging to Lìngxiāo's full arm out of this memory and fear. Almost clinging to his whole body. He was doing exactly as he had warned—holding him like a piece of meat.
But Chóng Fēi found no confidence to let go, though he could feel how embarrassing it was. He was already misunderstood by this whole past—or maybe undone by something he never wanted to admit.
But he knew at least that the skull mummy might not come if he was close to an exorcist—though it had killed a pair before, right after it had died and returned.
"You are.. not keeping the boundary I have set.. even though I should not have set it, Gōngzǐ.." Lìngxiāo almost whispered. His expression twitched like he was trying hard to stay calm but couldn't.
But his gaze sometimes went to Chóng Fēi's chest—perhaps because he had felt how troubled he was from inside, and he wasn't lying about gripping or other things.
'He is.. reading me too..'
'He is going to suspect me again with the wrong reason—just like he is doing to zhù fù.'
And then—
"Worried about me?~" The skull mummy purred.
Chóng Fēi's breath stopped for a second. He didn't know where it spoke from—without surprising him by the upside down. Just a voice echoing from somewhere.
Perhaps from behind. Or above.
"I asked you..." The skull mummy pressed. "Worried.. about me? Or are you worried that perhaps.. I might play with this friend of yours..?"
Chóng Fēi just held Lìngxiāo's arm tighter. He didn't answer. The ghost kept pressing more words:
"You know I hate someone in my old profession. Especially famous ones.."
"How they dare to step on land.. which I had dreamt of claiming?"
"He is the next one I would crack the neck of. I'm done seeing him." His tone started to get angrier with each word.
"WHY DID YOU BRING HIM HERE?!"
"IF HE TELLS YOU TO JUMP INTO THE VALLEY OF LAVA, YOU WOULD DO THAT TOO? WHILE YOU REFUSED TO RULE THIS LAND THE WAY I WISHED?!"
Chóng Fēi blinked tightly. He had no ways to express or even hide this rising panic. All he could do was wish there wouldn't be any violence with any exorcist.
Not this one.