Chapter 28: The Ghost’s Enduring Promise

Mmm—

Qian Xidong had barely thought to enter the room when Qian Surou suddenly embraced her, her first step, half-taken and suspended in the air, causing her whole body to tense.

Her slightly arched back tingled like a small animal’s, and her restless fingertips curled and straightened, until she suddenly heard her sister’s muffled sobs.

“What was that all about?”

“The milk was just too heartwarming; I couldn’t hold it in. You’re truly wonderful, Xidong.”

Having uttered these words, she darted out the door.

Qian Xidong stood, lost in thought, holding the empty cup.

It was just like a cat that would immediately flee after a moment of closeness.

Although she typically found herself overthinking various matters, at this particular moment, an unexpected calm settled over her.

Perhaps it was an indiscernible sisterly affection at play, but regardless, she managed to quiet her mind and listen for her sister’s movements.

***

She stormed her sister’s soft bed, rolling over on it as if staking her claim.

Unexpectedly, the tension she anticipated never materialized; instead, a comforting sense of peace enveloped her.

After inhaling the scent of the bedding, she approached her sister’s workbench and noticed the nascent stages of a painting.

Nothing discernible was visible, but the open notebook captured Qian Xidong’s attention.

“Two girls, a park, wedding dresses… is Big Sister still fantasizing about Sister Yushu?”

At this point, Qian Xidong no longer harbored any jealousy towards Ji Yushu.

Matters of affection, after all, were inherently unpredictable, much like her own love for her sister—a mere unrequited desire, a rootless duckweed.

Most affections in this world remained unfulfilled, and often, those involved couldn’t even claim to have bad luck.

It was simply that her sister had fallen too deeply.

She recalled the first time she saw her sister, in the villa’s garden, on a dark and windy day.

Whether it was raining then, she couldn’t quite remember, only that the vast garden felt like a labyrinth with no exit, and it was her soul, not her childish body, that wandered aimlessly.

At that age, she didn’t comprehend much, yet she already understood that boys and girls always came in pairs.

Her father’s absence manifested in her kindergarten drawings of family, in the incomprehension of her peers, and in the pervasive, damp whispers of gossip.

Her mother always insisted her father loved her; indeed, the man in the half-torn photograph possessed gentle eyes.

Sometimes, she would fantasize about a tall figure standing beside her, teaching her how to cut paper, celebrating festivals with dumplings and soda, and presenting her with a beautiful doll, identical to the one her classmates showed off.

Ultimately, a man did enter their lives, but he wasn’t the one from the photograph.

Though he was meticulously attentive to her mother, he didn’t love her as deeply as her mother claimed.

She then began to perceive love as a proper fraction in mathematics: no matter how the denominator changed, the total amount always had a limit.

Fancy ribbons and gift boxes were the numerator, a black Bentley was the numerator, a grand estate was also the numerator, but the spectral figure in the garden was not among them.

The spectral figure was waiting.

The spectral figure was always waiting.

She still remembered the spectral figure, clad in a pure white dress, perched on the edge of the flowerbed, unresponsive to any sound she made.

Its curled-up body remained as still as an oddly posed bronze statue at school.

As she quieted down and crept closer, the spectral figure, with its disheveled hair, suddenly spun around—”Ugh-yah-yah-yah-ha-ahh!”

It emitted a strange sound, reminiscent of a cat-and-mouse cartoon, its small face contorted by pale hands into a bizarre, comical expression.

The self-proclaimed mature elementary student, full of herself, believed she could never be frightened by such childish antics.

Thinking back, she was probably quite smug then; even after falling hard on her bottom, she feigned composure.

Yet, that composure quickly morphed into anger upon hearing mocking laughter.

For her sensitive disposition, violence was an effective recourse, but the anticipated screams were nowhere to be heard.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

The spectral figure, with a slap mark on its face and messy hair, inquired.

She shook her head, and the spectral figure smiled brilliantly.

Fallen leaves and pine needles clung to the ground in a decaying mess, and all the flowers in the flowerbed looked sickly, yet only the spectral figure shimmered brightly.

It was then that she realized this peculiar being was the “sister” her mother had mentioned, and the instruction to get along well had just been ruined by her, or so it should have been—

The spectral figure took her hand and suddenly started running.

Seemingly aware of her and her mother’s presence, the spectral figure appeared overjoyed, leading her to a corner beneath the villa, where it strenuously lifted a delicate little ladder, like a toy, propping it against an arched window on the second floor.

Before she knew it, the spectral figure was already standing by the window, waving at her.

Driven by a competitive spirit, she scrambled up recklessly, only to feel a pang of fear when she realized the height.

Upon landing, her legs gave way, and she tumbled directly into the spectral figure’s embrace.

Suddenly, the temperature soared, perhaps primarily due to the underfloor heating, yet that embrace was equally undeniable.

She mused that while she had two fathers—one in a photograph and one in reality—this extraordinary individual before her was utterly unique.

Like a puppet on strings, she followed into the opulent room, witnessing a myriad of toys.

Still, she couldn’t marvel at the spectral figure’s good fortune, for no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall the room’s appearance.

It was like a dull argumentative essay written on an exam paper, its core purpose merely to earn a score; even with a perfect structure, one wouldn’t remember what they had actually written.

Indeed, it was neither interesting nor cozy, indistinguishable from a meticulously staged display home at a furniture store.

Once such a room underwent change, it lost all trace of its former self, making it entirely understandable not to remember it.

The world inside the window and the world outside seemed like two distinct realms, at least to her.

Yet, for the spectral figure, it might simply have been a transition from an unkempt spectral figure to an elegant and beautiful one—its essence remaining unchanged.

“My sister and mom are here to pick me up,” the spectral figure remarked, though to whom, she couldn’t tell.

Behind a silver photo frame, devoid of pictures, the mirror reflecting the spectral figure’s face resembled a polished, gleaming tombstone.

In this very villa, before her and her mother’s arrival, everyone had ignored the spectral figure unless the spectral figure issued a command.

This was because anyone who grew close to the spectral figure would be fired, regardless of whether their motive was pity or affection.

As long as the spectral figure was absent, the new father wouldn’t frown or appear irritable.

As long as the spectral figure didn’t appear, they could laugh freely, emitting loud, authoritative voices, making everything seem flawless.

Beyond these instances, however, the spectral figure’s presence or absence made no difference.

Then, somewhere she didn’t know, the spectral figure began to transform into a human, and she, this rebellious girl who considered herself lonely, started chasing after the spectral figure.

Etiquette, music, dance, foreign languages.

Consequently, words began to materialize on the silver photo frame that held no pictures—

You’ll love me yet!

and I can tarry your love’s protracted growing.

(You will love me one day, and I can wait for your love to slowly grow.)

She and her mother were one such wait.

And the other wait—

“Why are you trying so hard?” she asked.

“Because—”

“Xiao Ji and I made a promise.”

“She’ll come for me in ten years, to make me her bride.”

“So, until then… I can’t give up halfway.”