Chapter 6: The Doctor

The tip of Tan Xueci’s tongue was so badly scalded that it throbbed with pain, nearly losing all sensation. When a sudden, fleeting coolness touched it, he didn’t have the capacity to think too deeply about it.

He hadn’t eaten for a long time. Consuming something so spicy caused his stomach to cramp until cold sweat poured down his face, but he was too hungry. Not knowing if the He family would feed him again, or if those two men would return shortly, he kept his head down and focused only on stuffing food into his mouth.

Sure, enough, he had only shoveled in a few mouthfuls of rice when a flurry of hurried footsteps sounded outside.

It sounded like more than two people.

Tan Xueci’s hand gave a violent jerk, and even his chopsticks clattered to the floor. In a panic, he tried to crawl back to the bed, but his legs were so weak he couldn’t stand at all. He could only slump on the ground, curling into a corner.

Behind the wooden table was a purple-gold sandalwood chest. He tried his best to curl into the gap between the cabinet and the wall, burying his head and clutching his legs, his entire body shivering visibly.

However, it was the butler who arrived, not the two men from before.

“Young Master Tan?” The butler’s expression was heavy as he entered. When he saw no one on the bed and only a black memorial tablet toppled over, he instantly paled with alarm. “Young Master Tan!”

Dense, heavy layers of clouds loomed above, making the daylight dim. No lights were on in the bedroom, and everything was shrouded in darkness; at first, he didn’t even see Tan Xueci.

He wasn’t under the quilt, nor under the bed, nor in the wardrobe.

The butler spun around and rushed to pull open the bathroom door, searching everywhere from the sink to the bathtub. “Young Master Tan!”

He searched for a full cycle, his black shirt soaked through with cold sweat, before finally finding Tan Xueci in the corner. He let out a long breath of relief.

The muscles on the butler’s face were stiff, as if he had seen something exceptionally terrifying; the fright he had received was no less than Tan Xueci’s. He forced a smile and said, “Why is Young Master Tan sitting here?”

He then waved to the two maidservants behind him, telling them to quickly help the boy up.

But with the gloomy weather, the man’s black clothes, and that ancient, decaying face, his smile only looked more frightening.

Tan Xueci was deathly pale. His eyes were wide, and tears flowed in terror down his thin chin. Only his lips were bitten red by his own teeth, making him look utterly pitiful.

The butler, however, did not force him back to hold the tablet. He even bent down, speaking cautiously as if afraid of scaring him. Seeing that the boy was still clutching half a bun in his hand, he asked softly, “Is Young Master Tan hungry?”

Tan Xueci bit his lip and did not speak.

With a wave of the butler’s hand, the maidservants immediately understood. They hurried out to bring more dishes, and the leftovers on the table were cleared away.

Food was brought up quickly: poached white pork served with red oil chili sauce and minced garlic, braised pork that was fatty but not greasy, sweet and sour fish, several stir-fried vegetables, and a large bowl of rice.

Tan Xueci’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. He stole a glance at the food on the table. The butler and the servants didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping him; in fact, they kept urging him to eat.

Only then did Tan Xueci climb up. He managed to finish half a bowl of rice and ate most of the dishes on the table. He stopped crying, but his gaze remained vacant, and he still seemed a bit dazed.

The butler had also heard that this Second Young Master of the Tan family had some intellectual issues and was sickly. Seeing how timid and fragile he was, the butler didn’t even dare to speak loudly anymore.

He was afraid that if he said a single wrong word, he too might end up “acting separately.”

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with lingering fear, the butler leaned down and spoke respectfully to Tan Xueci. “Young Master Tan, you’ve finished eating, right? The Master is waiting for you downstairs and wishes to see you.”

Tan Xueci looked up slowly.

The butler had the two maidservants find a shirt and trousers that belonged to He Xunye when he was alive to replace the wedding dress.

Tan Xueci didn’t know what they were going to do to him or where they were taking him, but he didn’t resist. He allowed himself to be manipulated obediently.

Because of his poor health and mental state, his fate had never been in his own hands. He was like a soft, fluffy piece of dough that could be kneaded into any shape by others. If squeezed slightly, he could puff back up on his own after a while, but if squeezed too hard, he would stay flattened for a long time.

The He family was a bit worse than he had imagined because it was so scary, and the husband he had never met was already dead. But it was also a bit better than he expected; at least they didn’t hit him, and they gave him food.

The man must have been very tall. When Tan Xueci put on the shirt, the backs of his hands were completely covered. It was loose and baggy, revealing large patches of snowy-white, thin collarbones. The trousers were also a section too long, leaving him feeling very hollow inside the clothes, like a child who had stolen an adult’s outfit.

The maidservant had no choice but to roll up the cuffs and pant legs for him. After finishing, she accidentally glanced at Tan Xueci, and her heart skipped a beat for some reason, leaving her feeling uneasy.

Tan Xueci kept his head down, looking terrified of everything around him. She hadn’t fastened the top button for him, thinking that reaching out would surely scare him.

But now, that button had already been fastened neatly, leaving not an inch of extra skin exposed.

The butler waited for Tan Xueci to get dressed before leading him downstairs. Tan Xueci followed honestly behind him. Looking up, he met an exceptionally grim face.

The Head of the He family was named He Wuling, a prominent figure in the world of Feng Shui. However, not all descendants of the He family practiced Feng Shui; He Sui did not.

He Sui worked at his grandfather’s company. When he occasionally mentioned the He family to Tan Xueci, his tone was even filled with disgust, as if they were all charlatans and liars.

He Wuling wore a black Tang suit. There was a deep vertical furrow between his brows, making him look naturally authoritative without even being angry. He sat on the sofa, his gaze cold and heavy as he stared at Tan Xueci.

He hadn’t expected the Tan family to dare switch the person. According to wedding customs, no one was allowed to see the bride’s face before the groom. Therefore, he had sent paper figures to fetch the bride and hadn’t checked upon arrival.

However, He Wuling didn’t completely trust the Tan family either. If he wanted to check, he naturally had other ways.

But before going to fetch the bride last night, he had cast a divination. It was the “Kui” hexagram—Kui meaning deviation and betrayal—but the overall omen was neutral-to-good: finding life within a crisis, rising from death. Reckless action would bring humiliation; staying still would bring clarity.

To put it simply, the wedding was destined to have problems, but it was best for him not to intervene rashly. Thus, He Wuling had given up on the inspection.

He looked at Tan Xueci, his gaze becoming complex. Actually, Tan Xueci wasn’t unacceptable; in fact, he was even better.

It was just that he was too suitable.

He needed a bride with a “pure Yin” birth chart. Although Tan Xueci and Tan Yanning had the same birth charts, the Yin energy on Tan Xueci was a hundred times denser than Tan Yanning’s, almost to the point of becoming tangible.

If an ordinary person carried such heavy Yin energy, they would likely already be haunted by evil spirits—perhaps more than one. Even if they weren’t killed, they would have died of illness. Yet Tan Xueci had lived until now.

Even including last night. He thought Tan Xueci would die last night, or at the very least wouldn’t survive today. He hadn’t expected both people guarding him to die while Tan Xueci remained alive.

This couldn’t be explained by luck alone. Surely that thing didn’t actually treat Tan Xueci as a wife and couldn’t bear to kill him?

He Wuling stroked the cold green jade ring on his hand, his eyelids half-closed to hide the irritability and gloom in his eyes.

Regardless, the marriage was already complete. Even the living need to queue for a number at the Civil Affairs Bureau to get a divorce; a ghost marriage was even more permanent.

The Tan family had indeed guessed correctly: he only wanted the birth chart, not the person. The only thing that made He Wuling dissatisfied was that Tan Xueci was a fool; the wedding ceremony had almost been ruined.

Last night, Tan Xueci was the only person in the ancestral hall, but his paper figures had their “seven apertures” opened; he could perceive what happened inside.

He Wuling’s face was grim, and a pulse throbbed in his forehead.

God knows how he endured last night. One moment the boy was crying like a little ghost, and the next he was whimpering and calling for his “husband.”

He had seen the Tan family’s younger son; he was gentle and refined, hundreds of times better than Tan Xueci.

The veins on He Wuling’s temples bulged. Finally unable to restrain himself, he slapped the sofa armrest hard and scolded with a cold face, “How improper! Who taught you to shout ‘husband’?!”

This fool. It was bad enough that he was stupid, but he was also shameless.

Tan Xueci was startled by him, shrinking back so much he didn’t even dare to look up, his body shivering instinctively.

He Wuling took a deep breath. Recalling those two bloody, mangled things the butler had shown him earlier, his brow twitched, and he didn’t scold Tan Xueci any further.

“Come forward,” He Wuling said.

Tan Xueci bit his lip. He was most afraid of such stern elders, but he still walked over obediently.

He Wuling handed him a small red triangular pouch, like a talisman bag commonly used by Taoist priests. He didn’t know what was inside, but it had a string attached and looked like it could be worn around the neck.

He Wuling raised his aged but sharp eagle-like eyes, scrutinizing Tan Xueci critically before saying, “Wear this. If you don’t want to die, never take it off or lose it. Otherwise, even I won’t be able to save you. Also, since you are married, Xunye is your husband. From now on, you will be the one to maintain his memorial tablet.

“You must offer incense every morning and evening. The He family doesn’t expect you to carry on the family line, so surely you can manage such a small task?”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci clutched the red talisman bag. He felt that since arriving at the He house, he hadn’t heard a single word that sounded human. But things had come to this, and he had no way to refuse, so he could only mumble his agreement.

Seeing that he was quite obedient, He Wuling’s expression softened slightly, and he finally got up to leave.

The butler sent Tan Xueci back to his room. He also had Tan Xueci’s luggage brought over; while Tan Xueci was eating, he had sent people to the Tan house to fetch it.

The Tan family probably hadn’t expected Tan Xueci to survive, as they hadn’t given him anything when he left.

However, Tan Xueci didn’t have many things anyway—only a small backpack that wasn’t even full. Inside were stuffed a very old mobile phone, two or three sets of clothes, and a small lamb plushie.

Tan Xueci lay on the bed, hugging his little lamb and his flat backpack. Even he himself was unnaturally thin, though his belly was unusually round for once from having just eaten his fill. The shirt bulged slightly, which, paired with his overly slender limbs, only made him look more pitiful. He said softly and obediently, “Tha… thank you, Uncle.”

However, his final syllable was muffled. Before he could finish, his back arched uncontrollably, and he was seized by violent spasms and coughing, turning his head over the side of the bed and vomiting all over the floor.

“Young Master Tan?!” The butler was startled.

Tan Xueci didn’t even have time to cover his mouth. He could only lean out as far as possible so as not to dirty the sheets or He Xunye’s clothes.

His eyelashes trembled, soaked by the tears brought on by the coughing. He reached out, wanting to wipe the mess on the floor, his voice low and trembling. “S… sorry, I’ll clean it up right away.”

Butler: “…”

Even the King of Hell would have to get up at midnight to slap himself after seeing this.

The butler quickly stopped him and sent a servant to call a doctor. Tan Xueci was in so much pain he couldn’t open his eyes, and he heard the doctor asking in a daze, “You have diarrhea and vomiting. What did you eat before coming here?”

Tan Xueci’s lips moved, and he said very softly, “I didn’t… didn’t eat anything…”

Since the He family had set the wedding date, he hadn’t eaten anything at all.

Everyone froze on the spot, looking shocked, unable to imagine what kind of life Tan Xueci had led at the Tan house.

Even in prison, they would give a condemned man a final meal before execution. The Tan family, upon realizing Tan Xueci might die, had abandoned him without even letting him go on his way with a full stomach.

Tan Xueci was burning hot, developing a high fever again. His thin, white fingers curled in a spasm, trying to grab the pillowcase, but he accidentally touched something icy cold and very comfortable.

Is it the doctor’s hand?

The other person’s long, cold fingers stroked his cheek. The tip of their tongue was also wet and cool, of a length different from a human’s, tenderly licking away the tears on his face. Tan Xueci fell into a cold embrace, his brow finally relaxing a bit as he fell into a heavy sleep.

It was three days later before Tan Xueci could barely get out of bed. He had thought there would be many ghosts in the He house, but he had actually slept very soundly.

His illness occurred regardless of day or night. In the past, during the day he would see the person in the mirror performing the opposite actions of himself; while washing his face, someone would blow air onto his fingers; before sleeping, the sound of nails scratching the bedboard would come from under the bed; and once he fell asleep, he would have nightmares of a ghastly pale ghost face clinging to his back.

Although he could take medicine, one dose only lasted about three hours, and he could take it three times a day at most. Most of the time, he had to face those ghosts and monsters on his own.

During these few days at the He house, he saw nothing—except that the doctor would come to see him every night.

Each time, the doctor would use a large, icy hand to pinch his neck, stroking upward bit by bit. Then, he would stuff several cold, slender fingers into his mouth, prying his lips apart and mercilessly pulling out his red tongue, as if taking his temperature.

Tan Xueci felt something wasn’t quite right, but he felt as if his heart were possessed, unable to figure out exactly what was wrong. He didn’t think further and plucked up the courage to ask the butler about the night of the wedding.

“The wedding?” The butler’s aged face wore a smile. He said, “When the Master sent people to fetch you, you were still sleeping. You only woke up after the wedding was over, but you didn’t seem to be in good spirits. The Master took you to offer incense before the Eldest Young Master’s spirit, but you fainted as soon as you reached the funeral hall. How could there be paper figures? It was likely a nightmare.”

Tan Xueci was half-convinced, but since he had mental issues after all, maybe he really was having a nightmare.

He stayed at the He house for a few more days until his manager, Lu Xi, called him.

Tan Xueci was a minor celebrity who had debuted half a year ago. He had filmed a drama six months back, and the broadcast results were decent; he had gained over six hundred thousand followers, mostly “face fans.”

He had even landed a role in a new drama.

But Tan Xueci had fallen ill just as filming started and had asked for leave several times. If he didn’t go soon, he would surely be kicked out. The manager was anxious and finally contacted Tan Xueci, saying he would drive over to pick him up that evening.

Tan Xueci was originally worried that the He family wouldn’t let him go, but He Wuling didn’t seem to intend to restrict his movements. His only requirement was that he take the memorial tablet with him and offer incense to He Xunye.

Tan Xueci packed the tablet into his small backpack. Before leaving, he looked at He Xunye’s funeral portrait, hesitated, and whispered a greeting. “Mr. He, I’m leaving.”

The man in the portrait naturally did not respond.

That face was blurry, as if shrouded in a mass of dark shadows, but the corners of his lips still bore that very gentle smile—a curve that was practically perfect. Staring at it for too long made one’s heart go numb for some reason.

Tan Xueci didn’t dare look further and hurriedly lowered his head to leave.

The manager parked the car outside the He house. He told Tan Xueci to get in quickly and then rushed toward the film set.

Tan’s mother had suddenly agreed to let Tan Xueci go out half a year ago. But having been locked up for over ten years, being suddenly let out left him not knowing where to go. Tan Yanning suggested he check out a film set.

Tan Xueci didn’t really understand, so he went to ask He Sui. He Sui directly arranged a company for him and found him a manager.

He Sui had extensive connections in the Beijing circles. Although his grandfather’s family wasn’t involved in the entertainment industry, they were business tycoons; arranging a small celebrity was just a matter of a single word. It was just Lu Xi who had the bad luck.

He didn’t even know why He Sui would agree. At that time, Tan Xueci didn’t even know how to write his own name and couldn’t speak coherently.

If he fell into someone’s hands, it would be a wonder if he wasn’t played to death.

Perhaps if he were being touched, he would think they were giving him a physical exam.

Lu Xi felt as if he were managing a beautiful monkey. His head throbbed as he taught Tan Xueci starting from the alphabet. Tan Xueci was quite obedient, but he learned slowly; he still didn’t know many words now.

He was told to manage an artist, not a wild man!

Lu Xi performed a “suffering old monkey clutching its head” routine on the spot.

Fortunately, Tan Xueci was good-looking, especially those eyes—dark and moist, with upturned corners that carried a hint of goat-like charm. But his complexion was too pale and he was terribly thin, with a face only the size of a palm, which diluted that eerie air and left only a sense of being pitiful.

The entertainment industry was full of beauties, and he had seen many, but this was the first time he had seen this type.

And his acting was unexpectedly decent; a little teaching from the director and he could act quite respectably.

A light rain drizzled in the evening. As the dim, cold lights outside passed by, Tan Xueci heard Lu Xi praising his acting. His beautiful eyes looked up, his gaze flickering slightly in the dark car.

As the car started, beneath the heavy curtain of night, no one noticed a pitch-black, blurry shadow standing quietly in place behind the car. As the vehicle pulled away, it slowly turned its head.

…

“By the way,” Lu Xi’s neck felt inexplicably cold for a moment. He didn’t pay it much mind, rubbing his neck and assuming it was just the cold night. Then he asked curiously, “Why are you at the He house?”

People in the entertainment industry were very superstitious about gods and ghosts. Lu Xi hadn’t managed any famous artists, but he had heard of the He family. He didn’t know how Tan Xueci could be involved with them.

Tan Xueci awkwardly told him about the marriage alliance.

“What?!” Lu Xi’s mouth dropped open. The cigarette he had just lit fell, burning him so he let out an immediate yelp.

In the misty rain and fog, the car was exceptionally dark. The boy’s pale, vacant face was hidden within the cabin, with only the tip of his nose and lips showing a flush of red, looking exceptionally helpless and pitiful.

Lu Xi didn’t know what to say anymore. What era was this, and they were still doing ghost marriages? But the He family was a Feng Shui family, and the Tan family was a minor elite family; it wasn’t something he could interfere with.

He scratched his head and had no choice but to comfort him, saying, “Don’t overthink it. Since you’re already married, he’s your husband. He surely won’t harm you; maybe he can even bless you?”

Hearing this, Tan Xueci’s eyes brightened slightly. He leaned over the car seat and asked him, “Really?”

“…” The manager said, “Really.”

Blessing, my foot.

The more he heard, the more his heart felt numb. He Xunye’s “Seventh Day” had already passed, yet the He family hadn’t buried him and were even doing a ghost marriage. And the things Tan Xueci saw—he felt they weren’t entirely fake.

What blessing? It would be good enough not to be entangled by something dirty.