Chapter 15: Possession

Tan Xueci didn’t know when he had fallen asleep. He only remembered clutching a few of He Xunye’s fingers tightly before losing consciousness entirely. When he opened his eyes again, it was already broad daylight.

He sat up, clutching the quilt, and looked around blankly. After the ordeal of the previous night, his already thin face seemed even paler. He looked up to find only his manager sitting on the sofa.

Seeing him awake, Lu Xi stood up quickly. “How are you? Are you okay? You scared me to death—I couldn’t wake you up no matter how much I called.”

The storm had been heavy last night. Although flights weren’t canceled, another artist under Lu Xi’s management was too terrified to leave, so Lu Xi had to rebook his ticket and stay one more night.

He had messaged Tan Xueci saying he couldn’t accompany him to the hospital. When Tan Xueci didn’t reply, he grew worried. After all, Tan Xueci had mental health issues—serious ones, like schizophrenia—and shouldn’t really be left without a guardian.

Lu Xi had a spare key card. When he returned and rushed into the room, he found the bed in a state of total disarray.

Tan Xueci was clutching the edge of the quilt, his pale face streaked with tear tracks, his eyelids red and swollen from crying. His wet eyelashes drooped, and there were dark purple bruises visible on his exposed calves.

Lu Xi nearly fainted, frantically pinching his own pressure points to stay conscious.

He thought that in the single night he was gone, someone had “pounced” on Tan Xueci. Moreover, Tan Xueci had been sleeping so deeply it was hard to tell if he was unconscious or just exhausted. He looked exactly like someone who had been played with until they collapsed.

Tan Xueci looked at Lu Xi’s face with a sense of numbness; he didn’t even feel afraid anymore. After a moment of daze, he suddenly scrambled up and knelt on the bed, looking around frantically.

“What are you looking for?” Lu Xi asked, puzzled.

Tan Xueci didn’t know if what he felt was disappointment or something else. He pursed his lips, his voice still thick and raspy from crying. “My… my husband is gone,” he said blankly.

He could still remember the feeling of wrapping his arms around He Xunye’s waist. He Xunye was much taller than him; he could fit entirely within the man’s embrace. He Xunye had called him “Xiao Xue,” wiped his tears away gently, and asked if he was still scared.

…He had even promised he wouldn’t leave.

Lu Xi: “?”

Lu Xi was filled with overwhelming regret.

The Tan family hated it when Tan Xueci was sick. Every time it happened, he received blame and insults instead of care. They blamed him for bringing bad luck to the household.

Businessmen are often superstitious. Whenever Tan Xueci fell ill, Father Tan would have servants burn talismans and mugwort leaves at his door.

Once, when Lu Xi went to the Tan house to pick him up, the area outside the small attic was thick with smoke. Tan Xueci sat alone on a cold, dim bed on the other side, his pale face flickering through the firelight and stinging smoke.

It was as if Tan Xueci were the evil spirit that needed to be exorcised, as if he were something “dirty.” Eventually, Tan Xueci came to accept that he was dirty.

When the burning finished and the family finally let him go, Tan Xueci was careful not to touch Lu Xi as they walked out.

Tan Xueci knew people disliked his illness, so he didn’t dare speak up when he was hurting. During the last movie, an extra had bumped into his wrist. He didn’t say a word until dinner, when Lu Xi noticed he couldn’t pick up his chopsticks. Only when he saw Tan Xueci silently gnawing on a bun with eyelashes soaked in cold sweat did Lu Xi realize something was wrong.

When he rolled up the boy’s sleeve, the wrist was so swollen and red the skin was tight, looking like a little pig’s trotter.

Lu Xi had been shocked and rushed him to the hospital.

For Tan Xueci to actively ask to go to the hospital meant he felt the situation had become unbearable—it must have been an unimaginable level of pain.

Smack!

Tan Xueci, who had been searching for his “husband”—lifting the quilt, checking under the pillow, holding up his toy lamb—flinched at the sound of the slap. He shrunk his neck, not daring to breathe, and looked timidly at Lu Xi.

Lu Xi was holding his own face, looking solemn. “Fine, don’t say another word. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

If he had known, he would have taken the flight back last night. So what if there was a thunderstorm? It wouldn’t necessarily have struck him dead.

The boy was already talking nonsense.

Having been terrified all night, Tan Xueci’s brain wasn’t functioning very clearly. He tried his best to explain, “No, it’s not that… My husband was staying with me last night…”

As soon as he thought of the hospital, he began to shiver. He shook his head, his voice raspy. “I’m not going to the hospital…”

He didn’t realize that he looked even more like a piteous psychiatric patient right now. Lu Xi quickly handed him He Xunye’s spirit tablet, telling him to hold it. “Okay, okay, you have a husband. Your husband is right here. Let him stay with you. I’ll go get some food, then we’ll go to the set instead of the hospital.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci pursed his lips and silently hugged the spirit tablet.

Lu Xi walked out, rubbing his neck and grimacing.

“Brother Lu,” Tan Xueci asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”

Lu Xi’s face fell.

Just thinking about it made him angry.

Earlier, seeing Tan Xueci in that state, he thought someone had slept with him. Since it was just two guys, he didn’t think it was a big deal, so he had intended to pull down the boy’s pants to check for injuries.

However, as soon as he reached the bed, he tripped over a charging cable. As he scrambled up, the cable somehow wound itself around his neck. It pulled tighter and tighter until there wasn’t a breath of air left in his throat. His tongue had turned purple and lolled out—he nearly hung himself right at the head of Tan Xueci’s bed.

If the police had come, they probably would have suspected he had a grudge against the kid. Not only was he trying to kill himself, but he was also trying to scare Tan Xueci to death along with him.

Perhaps the room just didn’t allow for “swinging.” Suddenly, the tension on his neck released, and he fell from the air. He had just been sitting on the sofa gasping for air when Tan Xueci woke up.

Lu Xi waved his hand tiredly, unwilling to say more.

Beijing had been plagued by rain for days, but today the sun was out in full force, as if it could drive away all evil.

Tan Xueci sat alone in the bedroom with the spirit tablet for a while, then called out softly, “Husband?”

There was no response.

He rubbed his eyes and rested his pale, thin chin on the tablet. He knew it.

It really was just a dream.

When they arrived at the production set, Zhai Fang was there as well.

Zhai Fang had been photographed by paparazzi going to the hospital yesterday, and the internet was in an uproar, with people claiming he must have visited the plastic surgery department.

Zhai Fang’s previous PR move had been very effective; he was now essentially “tied” to Tan Xueci in the public eye. Whenever someone mentioned he’d had surgery, his fans assumed Tan Xueci was behind the rumors and would rush to the front lines to curse Tan Xueci out.

Lu Xi told Tan Xueci to uninstall Weibo. Out of sight, out of mind—they didn’t have any other options anyway.

Tan Xueci stared at Zhai Fang and froze.

In just one day, Zhai Fang’s face had returned to normal, as if those red, swollen scars had never existed. But that wasn’t what mattered. Tan Xueci curled his fingers, his breathing becoming shallow.

There was a little girl standing by Zhai Fang’s leg.

The girl wore a small white dress. Her skin was a ghastly pale green, and she looked about the same age as the previous ghost—three or four years old at most.

Sensing a gaze behind him, Zhai Fang turned around. Seeing it was Tan Xueci, his expression immediately darkened. But since Wen Yaochuan was still on set, he only let out a cold sneer and turned to leave.

Seeing Tan Xueci staring, Lu Xi pulled him away. “Just accept it,” he advised. “We can’t win against him.”

“…No,” Tan Xueci pursed his lips, his palms cold. He knew he’d be seen as crazy, but he couldn’t help whispering, “I saw a child following him…”

Lu Xi’s expression became even more somber. “I know you feel wronged, but you can’t go around saying he’s raising a Xiao Gui (Little Ghost). Even if he is, you can’t just say it out loud. You’re dead meat if he hears you.”

Tan Xueci asked blankly, “What does ‘raising a little ghost’ mean?”

“Raising a little ghost…” Lu Xi found a quiet spot and sat down to explain. “Do you know what a Kuman Thong is? It’s basically the same. You enshrine a child spirit at home to seek wealth or fame.”

But using one for post-plastic surgery recovery was a first for Lu Xi.

Lu Xi scratched his chin. Are the services of Little Ghosts that broad nowadays?

“Little ghost?” Tan Xueci’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. He pressed further, “Bro… Brother Lu, how do you raise one?”

Lu Xi wasn’t worried about Tan Xueci raising a ghost; after all, the boy was terrified of them. He told him directly, “I don’t really know, but I think you have to get the person’s body or ashes.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci clutched the talisman pouch on his chest.

“Then you enshrine a spirit tablet at home.”

Tan Xueci lowered his head and shifted his feet guiltily.

“I guess you just light some incense and pray to it every now and then.”

Tan Xueci swallowed hard. The more he heard, the more wrong it felt. He… it seemed he was also raising a ghost. But He Xunye wasn’t “little”; he was nearly thirty. He was just raising a male ghost.

It should be… fine, right?

There was more than an hour before Tan Xueci’s scene. Lu Xi went out to take a call, and Tan Xueci took out a notebook to practice his writing.

He didn’t know what he was thinking, but by the time he realized it, he had written “He Sui” on the paper.

Tan Xueci froze.

He hadn’t seen He Sui since that night, and He Sui hadn’t contacted him.

He had liked He Sui for over a decade. He, He Sui, and Tan Yanning were actually all the same age. He Sui was just a few months older. Tan Yanning and He Sui had been in the same class since elementary school.

He Sui often came to the house to play with Yanning. Once, Tan Xueci was peeking through the attic window when He Sui spotted him. He Sui asked Yanning who that was, and Yanning said it was his second brother.

Father Tan was a very prideful man. Afraid of being accused of mistreating Tan Xueci, he let the boy out to play with them for a while. From then on, whenever He Sui came over, Tan Xueci was allowed out.

He Sui wasn’t a spoiled brat; he had excellent grades and attended prestigious schools his whole life. He was skilled in horse riding and skiing, and he was very handsome. During the decade Tan Xueci was trapped, his world was filled with rain—only He Sui was different. Everyone thought it was perfectly normal for Tan Xueci to have a crush on him.

Even when learning to write, Tan Xueci said he wanted to learn He Sui’s name. But the name “He Sui” was difficult to write. Every time, he wrote the “He” character crookedly, and the “Sui” character was always disproportionately large.

He didn’t see a problem with it and even ran to show He Sui.

He Sui was silent for a moment before letting out a low sneer. He said nothing, simply waving Tan Xueci away. He had never seen such ugly handwriting in his life—especially since it was his own name. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the boy was trying to curse him.

Tan Xueci pursed his lips, looking at He Sui’s name on the paper. He still wasn’t very good at writing it. He was about to rewrite it when the set suddenly became noisy. It seemed someone had arrived. He looked up curiously but saw nothing.

However, when he looked back down, he was stunned.

The “Sui” character he had just written was scattered across the paper in a mess of strokes—as if a person had been pushed from a height, falling until they were bloodied and torn apart.