⚠️ Trigger Warning: This chapter contains themes of self-harm, suicidal ideation, and attempted suicide. Please read with caution.
The lights in the room were off, everything within sight was dimly lit, and the scent of another person had become very faint.
Qi Changying lay on Fu Sang’s bed, pulling his blanket over his head, wrapping himself in deeper darkness and Fu Sang’s scent.
Qi Changying hadn’t seen Fu Sang face to face in a long time.
Since Qi Changying didn’t show himself, Fu Sang had even left the Snake Bone Nail aside and no longer carried it with him.
Fu Sang’s shop was in the main urban area, while his rental apartment was close to the school. He usually shuttled between the two, staying wherever was closer. Since there wasn’t much going on at school during this period, Fu Sang didn’t go home often, so most of the time, Qi Changying was alone in this apartment.
Occasionally, when Fu Sang came back to stay, he would stay inside the nail and not show himself, at most coming out to watch Fu Sang when he was fast asleep, sitting by his bed and smelling his scent.
Qi Changying wasn’t deliberately hiding from him, nor was he still angry.
He just hadn’t figured something out.
He was thinking about what that kiss from Fu Sang actually meant.
The core principles Qi Changying had been taught from childhood to adulthood were more or less the same: for example, there should be strict separation between men and women, no physical contact between the sexes, restrain oneself and observe propriety, do not look at what is improper, do not speak of what is improper, do not listen to what is improper… Although he and Fu Sang were both men, he thought that not everything could be done even between people of the same sex.
If what Fu Sang had given him that day was a hug, or something else, it wouldn’t have left him so confused.
But it was precisely a kiss.
Qi Changying wasn’t a child who knew nothing of the world; he knew exactly what kind of intimate relationship a kiss represented.
And that was precisely the problem.
In his view, two people could only engage in such intimacy after they had been married, after making vows under the blessings of heaven, earth, and their parents, to be husband and wife, loving each other and never doubting one another.
But Fu Sang didn’t seem to think that way.
Speaking of which, people in this era, a thousand years later, generally seemed to have a much more casual attitude toward such things.
There was a large square box in Fu Sang’s home. Fu Sang had taught him how to open it, and after opening it, images of people would appear. Qi Changying understood this object as a theatre stage from a thousand years later.
People on the stage would sometimes kiss to music, but Qi Changying had never seen their wedding ceremonies before those scenes.
So perhaps in this era, kissing wasn’t something private that required special attention. There was no need for marriage, or even for liking or love. It was just a very normal way for people to interact?
Qi Changying couldn’t quite understand.
And even with that premise, he still couldn’t face such a thing calmly.
He couldn’t accept it.
“Click!”
Qi Changying heard the sound of a key unlocking the door from downstairs.
A ghost’s five senses are very sharp. Even though he was upstairs and under the covers, the faint sounds from downstairs were still clearly audible.
It was Fu Sang coming back.
Realizing this, Qi Changying threw off the covers and listened carefully to the sounds from downstairs, ready to hide back in the Snake Bone Nail at any moment.
Actually, he didn’t really like the current dynamic between him and Fu Sang. Staying hidden and not seeing each other like this wasn’t a solution in the long run.
He really wanted to find an opportunity to properly bring up what had happened with Fu Sang and talk it through with him properly, but he hadn’t figured out what to say, nor had he come up with a truly proper way to handle the situation.
Should he ask Fu Sang to apologize for that offensive kiss? That was unnecessary and impossible.
Tell Fu Sang that from now on, that matter was settled, and that in the future, they would interact the way they used to, the way he was used to…kissing was not allowed, and even more intimate things were even less allowed, because he was not a ghost of this era. That he had his own principles and convictions, and he couldn’t casually accept this level of intimacy?
That was also unlikely. Given Fu Sang’s domineering personality, he would probably mock him and then stubbornly do the opposite just to spite him.
It was really hard to reason with a stubborn, contrary person like Fu Sang, who often said the opposite of what he meant. In the past, Qi Changying just went along with him; except when he (Fu Sang) told him to get lost and did things that hurt himself, Fu Sang said what he wanted and he went along with it.
Because Fu Sang would never bow his head or show weakness. To get along well with him, Qi Changying often had to yield.
Fortunately, Qi Changying didn’t like to fight over who was right or wrong, and he didn’t mind often yielding, bowing his head, and coaxing. It was only regarding this one matter that Qi Changying had principles he couldn’t bring himself to abandon; he couldn’t and didn’t want to go along with it. And so, the matter had easily become a dead knot that had dragged on for so long without being untied.
After listening for a while, Qi Changying didn’t hear Fu Sang come upstairs.
He glanced at the clock by the bed.
It was dark outside, and the short hand pointed at “1”.
Fu Sang had taught him how to read it, which meant it was nearly the fourth watch.
It was very late.
Even though people a thousand years later had no curfew and could travel freely, coming home at this hour was still rather late.
Qi Changying quietly got up from the bed and went to the top of the stairs to observe what was happening below.
It was very dark downstairs, with only the bathroom light on.
Soon, he also heard the splashing sound of water.
Qi Changying lowered his eyes, a little hesitant.
But he didn’t hesitate for too long, because he smelled a very unpleasant odor, so he decided to go down and check.
It was a very strong smell of alcohol, mixed with the scent of unpleasant, dark, and irritable emotions.
Realizing this, Qi Changying quickly walked to the bathroom door and pushed open the half-closed door…
The sound of water was indeed coming from here. The shower head in the bathroom was turned on full blast, pouring down. Fu Sang was lying on the floor, his clothes completely soaked.
Beside his hand lay a familiar folding knife, and his left forearm was covered in crisscrossing knife wounds. The wounds were very fresh and very deep, and blood mixed with water flowed into the drain.
It must have hurt a lot.
But Fu Sang was smiling.
He probably wasn’t very clear-headed, because there was a strong smell of alcohol on him; it was unclear how much he had drunk.
His hair was wet and matted into strands. He squinted, with droplets of water on his eyelashes.
The corners of his lips were raised, his smile clear, revealing the particularly sharp tiger tooth on the side.
“Fu Sang…”
All the tangled thoughts in Qi Changying’s mind vanished in an instant. He went over and pulled Fu Sang up from the floor, half-holding him in his arms.
The water falling from above was icy cold. Qi Changying wanted to turn it off, but after fumbling for a long time, he couldn’t find the right way to operate it. He could only carry the person to a place where the water wouldn’t reach him.
“…Get lost.”
Fu Sang struggled violently. He forcefully pushed Qi Changying away, and because of his movement, the wounds tore a little deeper, blood instantly staining half his arm crimson.
Fu Sang didn’t actually like drinking very much, because he didn’t like the feeling of his body and emotions not being under his control when drunk.
But occasionally, he didn’t mind drinking a bit more, because in a state of complete drunkenness and loss of control, the pleasure was also amplified. At those times, he didn’t have to think about anything, just enjoy the happiness and the pain until he sobered up at dawn.
“Don’t bother me…”
Fu Sang pushed Qi Changying away and stumbled to his feet. He rummaged through the shelf beside him and found half a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out and held it in his mouth, then leaned against the wall with his head down and lit it.
During the struggle, blood mixed with water had splashed onto his face. Droplets of blood fell on his hair and eyebrows, the red streaks made his skin look even paler.
He finally managed to light it, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled.
Maybe it was due to the blood loss, or perhaps he was simply too drunk. He couldn’t stay standing and soon collapsed back onto the cold, blood-tinged water on the tiled floor.
The cigarette he had just managed to light went out. He took a puff, realized it had gone out, raised his hand, and angrily threw it aside: “Fuck!”
It was rare for him to swear, but Fu Sang wasn’t actually that angry; instead, he laughed again.
It was the first time Qi Changying had heard him laugh so happily.
Still laughing, he licked the blood from his arm, and the blood stained half his face.
Qi Changying watched, somewhat dazed.
If he remembered correctly, this was the most intense display of emotion from Fu Sang since Qi Changying had known him.
Fu Sang always gave him a sense of danger. This danger wasn’t directed at others, but rather that Fu Sang himself was in a precarious state, as if he were teetering on the edge, as if one wrong step would send him plummeting into the abyss.
His emotions were strange, either faint and stagnant like dead water, or suddenly surging to extremes.
Seeing Fu Sang reach for the folding knife that had fallen aside, Qi Changying almost instinctively grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward himself:
“Stop hurting yourself, Fu Sang.”
“Get lost,” Fu Sang’s voice was a little hoarse, still struggling:
“I won’t die.”
There was nothing inherently wrong with using various methods to torture and torment himself for pleasure as long as he wouldn’t die. Because he wasn’t causing trouble for others, nor was he truly threatening his own life. By both reason and sentiment, outsiders had no right or grounds to judge or dissuade him.
But Qi Changying couldn’t bear to watch.
He couldn’t accept it.
He held Fu Sang tightly in his arms, restricting his movements, while his other hand reached for the small pouch at Fu Sang’s waist containing his talisman paper.
He knew it held Fu Sang’s reversal talismans.
Ghosts couldn’t directly touch magical artifacts and talismans, as it would cause them considerable harm. So, just touching the edge of the talisman paper, Qi Changying’s fingertips felt a burning pain as if scorched by fire.
But Qi Changying didn’t care. He quickly pulled out a talisman. Not knowing how to use it, he could only press it against the wounds on Fu Sang’s forearm with his palm, hoping it would help.
It really hurt.
Qi Changying could feel all of Fu Sang’s pain, and naturally, Fu Sang could feel his as well.
The soul-deep agony and pain caused by the talisman’s burning, layered with the wounds from the knife, made Fu Sang tremble all over with excitement.
But for some reason, he shook off Qi Changying’s hand and suddenly became angry, “Qi Changying, can you just go die already! Scram!! Keep your overflowing saintly heart to yourself and stop meddling in my affairs, okay?! What relationship do I have with you, why do you have to get in my face?! Your Su Li is dead…he’s already dead! He was dead a thousand years ago, so don’t you dare project him onto me, it makes me sick!”
Fu Sang had indeed drunk a lot tonight. So much so that Huo Wei had kept advising him to stop, afraid that he might just drop dead from drinking too much.
But Fu Sang wouldn’t listen.
He never listened to anyone; he only ever listened to himself.
Actually, he didn’t know why he had drunk so much, or what it was for. After thinking about it, it was probably to calm some subtle discontent and pent-up frustration in his heart.
What the hell did Qi Changying think he was? How dare Qi Changying lose his temper with him?
Qi Changying was his ghost. He lived if Fu Sang wanted him to and died if Fu Sang wanted him to. He had to do whatever Fu Sang told him to…
But Qi Changying was unwilling.
Why was he unwilling?
‘I hate him.’
‘I want to kill him.’
‘Kill him.’
Fu Sang put on the Ghost Blood Whip, raised his hand, and grabbed Qi Changying by the throat.
The moment the artifact touched the Crimson Evil, Fu Sang’s own neck also burned with a searing pain.
He didn’t know how far the shared connection between him and Qi Changying went…whether it was limited to shared pain and wounds, or whether life and death were also bound together.
It didn’t matter… if killing him meant he would die too, that didn’t matter either.
With that thought, Fu Sang stopped exerting force.
Instead, he moved his hand downward, brushing the artifact over Qi Changying’s body, letting the pain travel from his chest all the way down to his abdomen, scorching out wisps of white smoke.
“My temper isn’t as good as Su Li’s, is it?”
“…”
“Does he listen to you?”
“…”
“Since you’ve forgotten him, he probably wasn’t that important, right?”
“…”
“Qi Changying…”
“…Yes?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
With that, Fu Sang grabbed Qi Changying by the collar and bit down hard on the side of his neck.
The bite was deep; Fu Sang used almost all his strength.
Cold blood spread between his lips and teeth, bitter and not very pleasant-tasting. Yet Fu Sang seemed quite satisfied, using the tip of his tongue to draw all the bitterness into his own mouth.
“I’m going to kill you…”
As he repeated this, Fu Sang lifted his head, searching for Qi Changying’s equally cold lips.
But just as he was about to kiss him, Qi Changying turned his face away and dodged.
Fu Sang couldn’t help but laugh.
He lowered his head, resting his forehead against Qi Changying’s shoulder, his shoulders shaking and heaving with laughter.
When he had laughed enough, he shoved Qi Changying away:
“Get lost.”
His white hoodie was now mostly stained red with blood.
Fu Sang tugged at his shirt, staggered to his feet, and left the bathroom.
Qi Changying knelt there for a moment.
Just for a moment.
Soon, he got up and followed him out.
“Fu Sang…”
Fu Sang didn’t even put on shoes. He went straight out the door and climbed up the last flight of stairs to the rooftop.
It was early morning, the coldest time of the day.
The wind on the rooftop cut through Fu Sang’s soaked clothes, finally sobering him up a little.
He raised his chin, squinting slightly, looking at the dazzling night view of the city.
This world was really so boring.
There were so many boring rules, boxing people into boxes. Other people had to assign meaning to your existence. If you didn’t follow the prescribed path, you were casually dismissed.
Fu Sang was trying his best to be a normal person.
But he couldn’t help it.
He was born with an abnormal soul.
He was not the same species as other people.
He was a madman.
He was born to be a ghost.
Thinking about it now, Qi Changying’s appearance had truly brought him a lot of change and a lot of pain.
Originally, he had his own way of keeping himself balanced, which was enough to keep him running despite all the bugs. But Qi Changying was like a rigid programmer, determined to eliminate those bugs one by one, trying to make him run a little more smoothly.
But bugs couldn’t just be removed at will.
Those things had grown into his very bones and blood. To remove them, you’d have to cut away part of his flesh and blood.
Yet, Qi Changying took away his rotten flesh and blood, but couldn’t fill the gap with anything new. So he could only continue to grow incorrectly using his old methods, but Qi Changying was dissatisfied and wouldn’t allow it.
He really did want to kill Qi Changying, or use other, more forceful methods to make him obey according to his wishes.
He had plenty of ways.
But something in his bones and blood restrained him, like an unbreakable genetic lock. This feeling of not being able to control everything as he pleased instinctively disgusted him.
…Then destroy it all.
Let it all die.
Fu Sang tore off all his accessories, including the Ghost Blood Whip and all his reversal talismans.
He threw those things aside and, without a moment’s hesitation, jumped from the rooftop into the cold, bright night.
Alcohol could indeed affect human reason.
For example, when he was sober, Fu Sang could remember Huo Wei at around ten years old, crying so hard she could barely breathe beside his hospital bed, holding his hand with the IV still attached, begging him not to die and pleading with him to live well. She constantly said stupid things about how beautiful life was and urged him not to give up so easily.
That image was so vivid that later, no matter how badly he treated himself, he always remembered to leave himself some leeway, not to truly lose his life and make Huo Wei cry so ugly again.
But now Fu Sang didn’t want to think about anything. He only wanted to listen to himself.
He wanted to be happy.
He wanted to die.
He should have died long ago.
He shouldn’t be alive.
After dying, if he could become a ghost, he would use the cruelest methods to kill everyone he disliked.
He’d kill them.
He’d kill them all.
The wind whipped through his wet body, chilling to the bone. Fu Sang squinted his eyes slightly, enjoying the last moments of peace in the wind.
In a daze, he saw a wisp of smoke heading towards him against the wind.
The wisp of smoke wrapped around his body, like a cold embrace, and fell downward with him.
Fu Sang was very familiar with the process of jumping off a building. He knew that although the scene before his eyes seemed to stretch on, in reality, it wouldn’t be long before he hit the hard concrete ground.
But this time, it was a little different.
For a moment, he seemed to fall into a void of deep blackness, where he couldn’t see or hear anything.
The process was very brief, almost just a blink of an eye.
When he came to his senses again, he and the night were separated by a pane of glass, and the cold wind was blocked out…
He was back home.
Qi Changying held him tightly.
Realizing it was this ghost’s doing again, the irritation in his heart grew even more intense.
“Qi Changying, you…”
Fu Sang stopped mid-sentence.
Because the next moment, a cool, soft touch pressed against his lips.
It was Qi Changying holding his face, pressing against the corner of his mouth.
It was an unskilled and very brief touch. Soon, Qi Changying pulled back.
Fu Sang was momentarily stunned when he finally got a good look at him.
He saw a tear-like drop of ink-black liquid fall from Qi Changying’s eye.
The ink-black liquid flowed from his eye, slowly splitting the rune on half his face into two halves, the color contrast strange and vivid.
“Will this keep you from hurting yourself?” Qi Changying asked.
“…” Fu Sang frowned slightly. Instead of answering his question, he asked, “What are you crying about?”
Qi Changying seemed startled. He raised his hand and wiped under his eye, as if only then realizing he had shed tears.
Maybe not knowing how to react, he smiled faintly, looking sad and helpless, and shook his head: “I don’t know.”
“I’m not hacking at you with a knife, nor am I dragging you down with me. What are you crying about? Are you the one who’s wronged here?”
The tears that Qi Changying had wiped away fell from his eyes again. He shook his head, repeating: “…I don’t know.”
After a pause, he added:
“I just can’t stand seeing you like this.”
“So you had no choice but to kiss me?” Fu Sang sneered, “You flatter yourself. I’m not lovesick and wouldn’t die if I didn’t get what I wanted. But you’re too kind; you can’t bear to see someone die because of you. You pity me, so you reluctantly grit your teeth and do something you find disgusting and have strongly refused to do, just to be nice? How pathetic.”
“No.”
“Don’t think too highly of yourself. I jumped because I was happy and because I felt like it. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Mm.”
“I kissed you only because kissing you is more enjoyable than jumping off a building.”
“Mm.”
“I don’t like you at all, Qi Changying.” Fu Sang reiterated.
“I know.”
Qi Changying responded seriously to every sentence, and only after Fu Sang finished speaking did he say, “I’m not flattering myself, I don’t find it disgusting, and I’m not pitying you. I just think… if doing this can make you happy and can keep you from using other methods to find pleasure that hurt you… Fu Sang, you can use me however you want.”
Even though Qi Changying was the one who had bowed his head and yielded, Fu Sang still inexplicably felt unhappy.
He unconsciously ground his teeth, raised his hand and gripped Qi Changying’s chin, his voice hoarse and low:
“…Anyone would do?”
“What?”
“Just because some random person hurt themselves right in front of you, you would wrong yourself and let them use you out of your ridiculous kindness, sympathy, and pity?”
“I don’t know.” Qi Changying didn’t tell a lie that would please Fu Sang just to go along with his mood. Instead, he answered truthfully:
“I don’t know, and I won’t make assumptions. Fu Sang, my eyes are only on you.”
“…”
A flicker of emotion passed through Fu Sang’s dark eyes.
By the time he came to his senses, he was already gripping Qi Changying’s chin and kissing him.
Fu Sang’s kiss was not skilled. He pecked at the lips, pried his teeth apart, bumping and fumbling as he instinctively asserted his dominance.
He released Qi Changying’s chin and instead grabbed his neck. The blood on both of them mixed together, making the kiss seem even more bloody and brutal.
Fu Sang was so domineering that Qi Changying was pressed down so hard he could hardly sit up, and had to lean back, propping himself up on his elbows.
And Fu Sang gripped his neck and forced him down, straddling him as he did, like a beast lowering its head to viciously tear into its prey, as though it could not wait to leave its mark all over the prey’s body.
This was what he wanted.
Fu Sang didn’t care what it actually was.
He only knew that this was indeed more profound than pain or death.
“Whose are you?”
Fu Sang didn’t know how long they had been kissing before he finally pulled back.
His voice was a little hoarse.
He asked Qi Changying again.
Qi Changying was still being gripped by the neck. He didn’t need to breathe, so this grip wasn’t actually a threat to him, but he still tilted his chin up slightly, in a submissive posture.
His gaze was a little unfocused, and his thoughts a little slow, so it took him a moment to answer.
“…Yours.”
“Who am I?”
“Fu Sang.”
“Fu Sang is your what?”
The room was pitch black, with only a line of light seeping through the half-closed bathroom door.
One human and one ghost were entwined by the window, with the city’s night behind them, their bodies soaked in blood and water. Their posture of total dominance and submission made them seem like mortal enemies locked in a fight to the death.
But only they knew that twisted together between them, alongside pain, life and death, was a long, lingering kiss that held no tenderness.
Qi Changying’s eyes shifted slightly.
He looked up into Fu Sang’s dark eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly:
“…Master.”
