Chapter Four: Should He Be Burned or Not?

What is it? Tell me.” Tang Wange’s throat tightened, her gaze wavering.

The light in Zhao He’s eyes vanished in an instant. Bracing himself on the table, he leaned forward slightly. “To wander the world is lonely and long. But fortunately, I met you. Thank you for appearing in my life, Tang Wange.”

The boy’s voice slipped from his lips, every word striking Tang Wange’s heart like a heavy blow.

Was that not true for her as well?

In the days when she had been alone, Zhao He’s appearance had filled the emptiness in her chest...

The light in the room flickered violently, and a nameless wind swept in.

The boy turned into a thin paper charm, slowly drifting down through her vision...

Her hand trembled as it rose to her lips.

Tang Wange’s legs gave out, and she sank straight to the floor, too stunned to react for a long while.

The next day, she took leave from school and, in the afternoon, went to the fortune-teller’s shop in the narrow alley.

“Did you bring it?”

The hand that emerged from behind the gauze curtain was still the same wrinkled one.

Tang Wange stood before the curtain, gripping the spirit paper tightly with both hands, unable for a long time to hand it over.

She clenched her teeth and looked toward the figure behind the curtain. “What are you planning to do with him?”

From within came the fortune-teller’s sharp, cackling laugh. “Of course I’ll soak him in cinnabar water and then burn him to ashes. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s completely and utterly wiped out.”

Completely and utterly wiped out...

“He isn’t a malicious ghost. Can’t he be sent on his way peacefully?”

Tang Wange’s grip on the spirit paper tightened further.

“This isn’t a temple.” The fortune-teller’s voice sank, clearly displeased by her hesitation. “Burn it or don’t. If you don’t, take him back and let him keep haunting you.”

“Burn it... burn it...”

Tang Wange said anxiously, loosening her grip at last and extending the spirit paper toward the fortune-teller’s hand...

With only a hair’s breadth between them, she suddenly stopped.

Her gaze fell on the paper.

When she had a fever, he had kept her company in her dream all night.

When she was trapped by Song Jing in the alley, he had suddenly appeared and scared Song Jing away.

When she had panicked and leaped out of the window, he had saved her and stopped her from doing something foolish.

Though he feared fire and water, he had still gone to the trouble of keeping her happy, asking her to let him stay, even making rice porridge for her to eat.

He liked to frighten people, but he had never done anything to hurt her...

And he, too, had been the first after her parents left who had been willing to stay by her side...

At that thought, the hand she had extended jerked back all at once.

She stepped backward again and again, then clutched the spirit paper tightly in her hand. Turning at once, she ran for the door, her voice full of unmistakable panic. “I’m sorry, I—I just remembered something urgent! I’ll come back another time, another time to visit you...!”

The woman behind the curtain withdrew her hand and looked out toward the girl’s disappearing figure.

Then she turned her gaze away, picked up the incense burner on the table, and lit it.

Amid the curling smoke, she lifted the framed photograph at the corner of the table and stroked it gently, letting out a long sigh. “Another doomed entanglement...”

The faint smoke wound its way out of the hall, then dissolved into the boundless red glow of sunset...

Racing home before the last sliver of daylight disappeared, Tang Wange shut the door and, as if all her strength had gone out of her, slid down the door and sat on the floor.

The spirit paper slipped from her hand.

A chill wind rose, and in its place appeared Zhao He, eyes half-closed, lying there on his back.

“Zhao He? You’re not dead, are you... No, wait, you were already dead. Wake up. I’m not chasing you away anymore, as long as you wake up...”

“This is what you said.”

The boy slowly opened his eyes, a smile on his face. “I heard everything. You’re not allowed to go back on your word.”

...umm...

Why had he woken up so quickly? And... why did she feel as if she had just been tricked by a ghost?

That night, Tang Wange huddled in the corner of her bed clutching a blanket, the blue glow of her phone screen falling across her face.

The internet said that staying too long with ghosts would drain a person’s vitality, leaving them weak and listless, until their spirit scattered and they died...

Her gaze moved away from the screen and toward Zhao He, who sat at the dining table, using knife and fork to eat beef.

...fine, let me die then. At least I can go see Mom and Dad sooner!

“Why do you keep staring at me? Is it because I’m handsome?”

At the table, Zhao He set down his cutlery and rested his chin in his hands, gazing at Tang Wange without blinking. “If you want to touch me, I don’t mind.”

The moment he finished speaking, he flashed and appeared directly in front of her, then seized her wrist and pressed her palm against his cold cheek.

“...”

A faint blush touched Tang Wange’s face.

She yanked her hand back at once, then turned away and refused to look into his eyes. “You can stay in my house, but we need to set some rules!”

Set some rules?

Zhao He blinked, his long lashes fluttering like a girl’s, even prettier than one’s.

“First, this bed and this desk are my private space. You are not allowed to cross the line.”

“Second, you are not allowed to touch me without my permission. No touching, anywhere!”

“Third, when you take human form, you have to wear clothes! Tomorrow is Saturday and I’m off, so I’ll buy some clothes for you to wear.”

“And also, no deliberately scaring me. Verbal threats don’t count either, or else there’ll be no meat for you!”

“You must stay home obediently during the day. No running around...”

Before she could finish her three rules, the boy before her had already bit his lip and leaned over with an aggrieved look, his strong arms draping around her neck. “There are too many rules. I can’t remember them...”

“...If you can’t remember them, then I’ll write them down!!!”

Tang Wange shoved his arms away and hopped off the bed, her face red.

In her bear-print pajamas, she sat at the desk and wrote on the paper with a serious expression.

He sat against the bed, staring intently at her profile, watching moonlight spill over her, watching the breeze lift the hair at her temples.

It was hard to imagine what would have become of him had the one he met not been her.

Perhaps he would already have vanished into ashes.

A curve of a smile lifted his lips. He reached out and took the hand that held the pen.

She froze slightly, then turned to glare at him in annoyance. There was no trace left of the fear and terror she had first shown when they met...

“I’m sleepy. We’ll write it tomorrow.”

His hand tightened slightly, and she was pulled into his arms.

“The bed is mine. You can sleep on the floor.” Under the blanket, she pushed at his chest, then kicked at his leg.

“I’m afraid of the cold.” He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her waist.

Afraid of the cold? Tang Wange felt as though she had heard the funniest joke in the world.

He didn’t even have a human body temperature. How could he possibly be afraid of the cold?

“Zhao He! You—” She was still trying to speak when he suddenly lowered his head, his lips brushing her hair. His tone had lost all playfulness; it was now serious, even carrying a hint of warning.

“Tang Wange, if you don’t shut up, I really will eat you.”

“...”

Tang Wange surrendered.

What could she do? He was a ghost, and she was alive. Besides enduring it, what other choice did she have?

Sleeping in the same blanket with Zhao He brought no feeling except coldness. Half-asleep in the middle of the night, she instinctively curled into his arms, only to find herself getting colder the closer she drew.

By morning, Tang Wange had sneezed several times in a row.

Outside, the sky was already bright, but the light was blocked completely by the heavy curtains. The room was lit by a lamp, and Zhao He, bare-chested, sat under it with a book in his hands, reading with great interest.

Half-dazed, Tang Wange looked over and saw the title in bold letters on the cover:

— Kiss My Ghost Husband...

She was just about to throw off the blanket and sprint over to snatch the shameful book from Zhao He’s hands when there was suddenly movement outside the door, followed by a somewhat urgent knocking.

“Tang Wange, are you home? It’s your uncle-in-law!”

Hearing the voice outside, Tang Wange’s dazed eyes snapped toward Zhao He, who was still stuffing spicy strips into his mouth.

“Hide! Hide right now!”