Perhaps a Ghost, But All I See Is...

Tang Shuyu hadn't always been without taste, nor had he lost it passively.

In the first two years after he became a True Deity, the days were quite hard to endure. His past memories had been washed away to near blankness, while the memories he received from the Guye Immortal were far too vast, tormenting Tang Shuyu with a splitting headache at every moment.

But those were secondary. There were far more painful things—things that made a person, or rather, a deity, unable to find a single empty beam to hang themselves from, even if they wanted to.

Luckily there was no empty beam, because if he had hung himself up there, he would have discovered he couldn't die, which would only make his current situation seem even more pitiful.

Among the many troubles, the one that plagued Tang Shuyu the most was a nightmare—the four months he had been trapped inside the shrine as a sacrifice.

The karmic debt left behind by Gu Ye could be distributed among the puppets. The 'family' members he had no memory of but felt a visceral disgust toward at first sight could be sent a gift package of nine-generation extermination. The sects he found displeasing could be cast out directly.

But this one nightmare alone could not be expelled, could not be forgotten. Even though Tang Shuyu did not need sleep, the nightmare would cling to him like a shadow the moment he let his mind wander.

Other memories had faded and blurred, but the memories of those four months remained vivid and sharp. He could even recall the sensation of his fingers scraping across the floor of the shrine.

The jade-polished floor was cold, staining the pool of blood that had gathered on it with the same temperature.

A pampered child could not endure pain. He had clawed at the floor with such force that his fingernails flipped backward. But what was more terrifying than the pain was the feeling of a foreign soul trying to force its way into his body.

The nightmare that could not be dispelled tormented the nerves of the young True Deity. After forcibly pulling himself out of his trance, he had to face the massive karmic debt left by Gu Ye, as well as the overt or covert probing from other True Deities.

Tang Shuyu was not someone who could endure hardship. After being tormented by the nightmare too many times, he found it unbearable, so he simply cut it off together with his 'fear' and threw it beneath the shrine—like tossing away a piece of trash.

Since cutting away his 'fear,' Tang Shuyu discovered that his sense of taste had disappeared along with it. He could no longer taste anything he put in his mouth.

The reason was unknown, and Tang Shuyu understood it as a kind of balanced exchange. Precisely because he was a True Deity, he was more subject to the constraint of 'balance.'

Although not being able to taste things was somewhat inconvenient, Tang Shuyu accepted this one flaw quite well. Because even back when he could still taste, the nightmare would always torment him to the point where food became tasteless.

Back then, having a sense of taste was torture in another sense.

Besides, Tang Shuyu never lacked food. From childhood to now, anything he was interested in eating, he could get his hands on, so he had no obsession with food—at least, that was what Tang Shuyu believed of himself.

But the problem was—he could taste things now.

Why?

Could there be a problem with the shrine again?

...Could Xiao He be implicated too?

Tang Shuyu calmly took another sip of the divine nectar, his expression unchanging, while a storm of curses ran through his mind.

He now thought everyone left guarding the Divine Palace had brains like pig's head, or else they were heaven-crippled or earth-deformed. Why did things always have to go wrong when he wasn't around?

Did it please them to cause him trouble all the time? If they loved making mistakes so much, why didn't they just go die.

Lowering his lashes, Tang Shuyu kept a bright, harmless smile on his face. After setting down his cup, he walked aside and carefully picked out a few dishes that looked good from the feast to eat.

The other True Deities did not know that Tang Shuyu had previously lacked a sense of taste, so they didn't find anything odd about him eating.

Tang Shuyu pretended to focus on eating—though he was also half-distracted, tasting things. After chewing a couple of bites, he found it mediocre and spat it out.

At the same time, he sent a sliver of divine sense to search for the 'trash' he had casually tossed beneath the shrine. Along the way, he flipped through the memories of the Blind Puppet inside the shrine. The Blind Puppet had been staying obediently in the shrine and was no longer cursing him—perhaps it had finally realized its mistake. But he would not forgive a troublemaker.

Also, it had not seen Xiao He, and Xiao He had not seen it. Though that was only to be expected, it still made Tang Shuyu feel a bit better.

His divine sense continued to sink, passing through the shrine, deep into the earth.

That 'fear' had been discarded by Tang Shuyu for far too long, and he was not someone who kept track of things. If he hadn't suddenly regained his sense of taste, he probably would never have remembered that he had tossed such a thing beneath the shrine.

The vast gap in time had made Tang Shuyu forget the days tormented by nightmares, so when curiosity struck, he retrieved it without a second thought, wanting to understand what had changed about it.

Those four months of crystal-clear memories came flooding back into Tang Shuyu's mind along with the 'fear.' His posture of pickily sampling food froze for a moment. Though his face still habitually wore a smile, his eyes betrayed a hint of bewilderment.

The nightmare... the memory—had changed.

There were two sets of memories.

One was of him being trapped for four months, completing an initiation ceremony inside the sunless shrine. After coming out of the shrine, Tang Shuyu sometimes wondered: was he now Gu Ye, or Tang Shuyu?

Unlike the sacrificial child who had felt fear merely considering the possibility, Tang Shuyu asked himself this question out of pure curiosity.

But in the other set of memories, there was Xiao He—seen from a child's perspective. Xiao He was no longer a pitifully small thing, but tall and reliable.

She toppled the idol, pulled the sacrificial child by the hand and fled together. The wooden sword tapped out a 'thump thump thump' echo in that narrow escape tunnel. Her eyes were bright as she told the sacrificial child that he looked a lot like her boyfriend, Lin Qingyun.

Two utterly contradictory memories tangled together, making it nearly impossible to tell truth from falsehood.

The nightmare, left unmanaged, would cycle on its own. But He Zhuoming's unexpected intrusion broke that loop—she dissolved the nightmare that terrified Tang Shuyu and created new memories for him.

The two conflicting memories now coexisted in Tang Shuyu's mind, plunging him into a false daze. But as the daze lingered, Tang Shuyu suddenly broke into a smile.

Ah, no wonder.

No wonder he had suddenly shown kindness, helping others for only a token bearing the name 'Lin Qingyun.'

He Zhuoming had intruded into the nightmare, disturbed it, and the memories she created were false. What was false could never become true. But even false memories were still memories that existed.

And a True Deity had a subtle perception of karma concerning himself that transcended time.

A future He Zhuoming had created a false memory for Tang Shuyu, and the ripple it caused gently brushed against the past Tang Shuyu, sparking his interest in an ordinary wooden token, which he took to wearing.

And that wooden token bearing the name Lin Qingyun had in turn helped him gain the trust of a past He Zhuoming.

What did this mean?

It meant that he and Xiao He were destined to meet.

Tang Shuyu was in an excellent mood. Without realizing it, he ate several bites of food he otherwise found unremarkable.

*

He Zhuoming crawled out of the circular opening, expecting to see some scenery outside. But when she looked up, she saw a somewhat familiar white room.

The ceiling, the walls—everywhere hung crimson threads, piled up like a giant spider's nest.

He Zhuoming was like a groundhog poking its head out, only her head and shoulders visible. She stared blankly at everything before her, stood frozen for a moment, then opened her mouth and let out a bewildered, "Huh?"

Those red threads moved—He Zhuoming wasn't sure if they moved on their own or if something blew them, but she immediately recalled the all-red monster from a few days ago.

Startled, she was about to shrink back when someone suddenly grabbed her shoulder from behind. Like pulling a radish out of the ground, the person seized He Zhuoming's shoulders and yanked her out.

He Zhuoming screamed in fright, and while shrieking, she elbowed the person.

Her elbow was blocked. A familiar voice carried exaggerated tones, "Xiao He, are you trying to murder me?"

He Zhuoming looked up and saw Tang Shuyu's face.

The room had no candles lit, but it was bright everywhere, so she could see his face clearly: around his eye sockets were clumps of dried blood, which was a bit startling at first glance.

He Zhuoming was indeed startled, her eyes going wide as she stared at him.

He raised an eyebrow slightly and flicked his finger against He Zhuoming's forehead. "What are you spacing out for?"

He Zhuoming: "You, your face..."

Tang Shuyu: "What about my face?"

He Zhuoming stammered: "There's blood on it."

Tang Shuyu wiped his eye sockets with his sleeve, rubbing off the dried blood stuck to his skin, revealing a pair of beautiful eyes—beneath slightly sharp brows were long-lashed, smiling eyes with upturned corners.

His brow area was perfectly unharmed, not even a scratch. Clearly, that dried blood was not Tang Shuyu's.

He said in a calm, light tone: "Got some accidentally. Xiao He, why are you here?"

Normally, a normal person wouldn't have other people's blood smeared around such a vulnerable spot as the eye sockets. But He Zhuoming didn't think of that. Seeing Tang Shuyu, she only felt a wave of relief. She clutched his arm and poured out everything—going to find her friend, stumbling into a strange secret room, meeting a child who looked like him, and so on.

Tang Shuyu listened patiently with curved, smiling eyes, his lips curling upward ever so slightly, the symmetrical dimples surfacing on his skin.

As He Zhuoming talked, she saw his smile and marveled again: "That kid really looks super similar to you, especially the dimples. They're exactly alike. Qingyun, do you have any missing relatives?"

Tang Shuyu gave a gentle shake of his head: "I don't have any relatives that young who look like me. But, Xiao He—"

He changed the subject, deliberately lowering his voice, and asked: "You said you brought that kid out too, but I only see you here all alone."

He Zhuoming froze, instinctively retorting: "That's impossible! I was just holding his hand a moment ago..."

She turned to look, but the snow-white floor was immaculately smooth—not only was there no opening she could have crawled out of, there wasn't even a crack! Naturally, neither was there any trace of that elementary-schooler with runes written all over his skin.

He Zhuoming felt around the floor in disbelief, "How could it disappear? I just... I clearly crawled out from here!"

But no matter how she touched it, the floor was only a smooth expanse, and no opening magically appeared.

Tang Shuyu crouched down in front of her, meeting her flustered gaze at eye level, and said: "Xiao He, I didn't see any opening. I only saw you suddenly appear here, crouching on the ground."

He Zhuoming dumbly patted the floor, "I... I was crouching on the ground? I wasn't standing in a hole?"

Tang Shuyu: "No."

He Zhuoming felt her brain turning into mush, and asked dazedly: "Then what about Tang Shuyu?"

Tang Shuyu smiled and explained in a soft voice: "Maybe it's a ghost. You ran into a ghost's wall, Xiao He."

He rolled up his sleeve and gently wiped the traces of blood and dust from He Zhuoming's face, saying: "Xiao He really surprises me. You barged into a strange secret room, met a kid covered in red cloth, and you even dared to strike up a conversation with him. That scene sounds like an evil ghost or a demon to me."

If he hadn't said anything, she wouldn't have thought of it. But now that he mentioned it, He Zhuoming belatedly realized how eerie that room and the child had been. A chill ran down her back, and her heart trembled.

But strangely enough, He Zhuoming didn't feel particularly scared.

Even though the secret room was eerie, whenever she recalled that child, she always thought of how he obediently lay on her back, clinging to her neck.

He Zhuoming was an only child. Her parents didn't have close contact with relatives, and she had no close younger siblings—but when she was with the elementary-schooler Tang Shuyu, she felt an adult sense of accomplishment.

He Zhuoming thought about it and said: "But I don't think he's a bad person. He seemed weak, and he didn't eat me. And even if he were some kind of ghost or demon, he brought me to a place where you are... Ouch!"

The sleeve rubbing against her face suddenly pressed harder, and He Zhuoming's head instinctively tilted back: "Ow ow ow—"

Tang Shuyu smiled, his expression sunny and utterly remorseless, "Oh? Does it hurt? I'll be more careful next time."

Because he didn't think he'd done anything wrong, he didn't even say sorry.

He Zhuoming swatted his hand away, rubbing her cheeks that had been rubbed warm, and said: "Forget it, stop wiping. That's not important. What's important is that Feixian is still in there!"

"I don't know if she's woken up yet. We need to go save her. Is it day or night now..."

She kept talking, and her words drifted into Tang Shuyu's left ear, were automatically filtered by his brain for unimportant parts, and drifted out of his right ear.

Because not a single thing Xiao He said was about him, he automatically judged it all as unimportant.

He pulled He Zhuoming up to stand properly, then pressed her shoulders and spun her around in a full circle.

He Zhuoming: "I left that path-lamp thing to her. The musician said as long as she holds that lamp, the living souls can't see her... Hey! Lin Qingyun! Are you even listening to me?!"

After being spun around three times, He Zhuoming felt a little dizzy and couldn't help shouting his name.

Tang Shuyu stopped, looked at her, and without the slightest awareness that he should answer her, asked instead: "What's wrong with your right foot?"

He Zhuoming wiggled her right foot at the prompt, feeling a faint swelling pain at her ankle, "Oh, I twisted it a little in the secret room, but after I rested for a while, it feels much better..."

Seeing the smile fade from his face, He Zhuoming reached out with both hands from either side and clapped them onto his face.

A crisp 'smack' echoed.

Whether it hurt Tang Shuyu or not, He Zhuoming really hurt—she didn't know why Tang Shuyu's face had gotten so hard. It felt like she'd slapped a slab of wood.

He Zhuoming immediately pulled her hands back and shook them: "Ow ow ow..."

Tang Shuyu had been stunned for a moment, his cheeks reddened slightly from the slap. Seeing He Zhuoming complain about pain first, he couldn't help laughing: "I'm the one who got hit. Why is the culprit yelling so loud?"

He Zhuoming: "Because forces are mutual, and it's because you never listen to me that I slapped your face!"

"Slapping your face is just slapping your face! It's not being hit!"

She grumbled while continuing to shake her hands, her palms stinging hot.

Tang Shuyu found it both exasperating and amusing. He reached out and gave He Zhuoming's cheek a gentle pat, mimicking her tone: "Slapping your face is just slapping your face, it's not being hit~"

His tone was softer, and when the same words passed through his mouth, they carried a subtle, teasing edge.