Too Many Tang Shuyus, All the Same Book

He Zhuoming was a beat slow to react. She wrapped her arms around Tang Shuyu's neck—he was so close that his cheek brushed against her cheekbone before burying itself in the crook of her neck.

The skin on the side of her neck began to itch from the sudden closeness, making He Zhuoming instinctively shrink her neck and shoulders. But that only wedged Tang Shuyu's head in tighter, making him press even closer.

He seemed to be someone who never got hot or sweaty. His short hair was soft and fuzzy, and the skin of his face was so cold, pressing against He Zhuoming's neck and making it even itchier.

Then He Zhuoming felt a damp trace spreading across her neck.

Because it was in her blind spot, she assumed it was tears.

He Zhuoming patted Tang Shuyu's back, comforting him in a slightly flustered way: "Qingyun, are you crying? Uh... you don't need to be this moved, really..."

She thought he was moved because she had just asked whether he wanted to go back to her hometown with her.

It only seemed natural to her that Tang Shuyu would be moved—because she believed her love and affection were precious.

If a person received something precious, of course they should be moved.

He Zhuoming was actually quite curious to see what Tang Shuyu looked like when he cried, because she had never seen it before—she loosened her arms from around his neck, quietly shifting them up to his shoulders, and was just about to push him away abruptly so he wouldn't have time to wipe his tears and pretend nothing had happened.

But when Tang Shuyu heard her still calling him 'Qingyun', he couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud: How hilarious... too hilarious. Just thinking about how Little He would also be calling the original body 'Qingyun' over and over when she was with it, it was really so dumb.

His suppressed laughter, mixed with the breath of his exhales, blew past He Zhuoming's neck and earlobe.

He Zhuoming's hand, which had been moving stealthily, stopped; she thought Tang Shuyu was putting on an act, not wanting anyone to find out he was crying.

After a moment, she patted Tang Shuyu's back again and said magnanimously: "You don't have to pretend anymore. I won't laugh at you—it's no big deal for a guy to cry a little."

The moment she finished speaking, Tang Shuyu laughed even harder, his whole back and shoulders shaking with the laughter—He Zhuoming couldn't understand what was so funny about what she'd said. She felt a little lost, and at the same time she could feel Tang Shuyu's palm pressing against her shoulder blade.

His fingers found the edge of her shoulder blade through the flesh, where a narrow dip between the slightly protruding bone and her spine happened to be just wide enough to fit his cold knuckles.

Soon He Zhuoming hunched her shoulders, her shoulder blades lifting slightly—she laughed out loud and grumbled: "Don't touch there, it tickles!"

Tang Shuyu's fingers stopped.

He suddenly realized, with regret, that Little He was human.

She couldn't really grow together with him the way trees did. Even if their flesh and bones were to merge, it would only scare Little He to tears—no, not "only." It definitely would scare Little He to tears.

After all, Little He was easily frightened.

He pressed his cheek against He Zhuoming's, then his ear, saying in a light voice: "Little He thought I was moved to tears? No, I wasn't."

"But Little He, you've been calling me the wrong name all this time."

He Zhuoming froze, puzzled: "Called you the wrong name? No, I haven't... isn't it Lin Qingyun?"

Tang Shuyu laughed under his breath: "Of course not. Ah, Little He, how can you be so silly? Someone as gullible as you would count the money for the person who sold you."

"Little He, haven't you noticed that in the Divine Palace, no one but you has ever called me 'Qingyun'? Of course it's a fake name. How could I possibly have such an ugly name?"

He said a long stretch of words until He Zhuoming's head spun. She could barely tell whether her light dizziness came from him talking too much, or from the scent of flowers on him.

He Zhuoming asked, dazed: "So you used a fake name? Then what's your real name?"

"Tang Shuyu. My name is Tang Shuyu."

His voice was light, smiling, with a hint of secret pride—mixed with the faint sound of his body gradually falling apart, pulled by red threads within.

The moment he spoke his real name, the puppet felt a thrill from his own malice.

He liked He Zhuoming very much, but that didn't stop him from feeling a subtle malice toward the girl from time to time; he wanted to scare her, to tease her, to make her so angry she'd curse at him.

Normal people didn't love like that, but when he thought about how he was a part of the original body, and that the original body was just such a false, dull, hollow person, the puppet accepted his own malice without guilt.

And He Zhuoming—

He Zhuoming had no reaction at all.

It wasn't that she was too calm; she was simply dumbstruck. The name 'Tang Shuyu' clung to her like a ghost... no, calling it a ghost wasn't quite right. If she had to find an apt comparison, it would be noodles.

Noodles multiplied the more you ate, and the name 'Tang Shuyu' seemed to be reproducing in the same inexplicable way, so that no matter where she went, she'd run into it.

In the original novel, the male lead didn't learn the archvillain's name until the middle or late stages, and the setting even said that the true name of a True Deity would not be easily revealed to mortals... yet with her, the name 'Tang Shuyu' was as dense as wholesale goods from Yiwu, and it even appeared on different people!

Probably because she'd been hearing the name 'Tang Shuyu' at such a high frequency lately, He Zhuoming, after her initial confusion, didn't immediately suspect the man had any connection to the archvillain 'Tang Shuyu'. She was simply shocked.

It took her a long moment to react, and she tried to push Tang Shuyu away to ask him properly—but He Zhuoming only gave him a light shove. She could swear to heaven she hadn't used any real strength—and even if she had pushed hard, she was just a young girl; how strong could she possibly be!

And yet Tang Shuyu fell apart.

Literally, fell apart.

His shoulders were the first to separate from his body, shoved apart by He Zhuoming's push, and then his body and head—Tang Shuyu's beautiful head tumbled into the grass, rolled twice, and bumped against the tombstone he'd been sitting on.

He Zhuoming froze in a pushing stance, staring blankly at her own hands. After a moment, she dazedly shifted her gaze to the ground.

The cross-section where Tang Shuyu's body had broken apart was a thick, writhing red. In the pale blue light of dawn, she could see what looked like a clump of crowded red threads.

He Zhuoming shrieked, her mind going blank. She bolted, running while crying. After getting some distance, she slammed to a stop, wiped her tears, and ran back.

Luckily, the area was still the same as before—only the shattered Tang Shuyu lying on the ground, with no new ghosts popping out.

He Zhuoming sniffled, walked over trembling, and straightened Tang Shuyu's head.

She'd been too scared just now to look closely at his head. Now that she'd finally gathered her courage, she saw that the eye sockets on his face were empty.

Although there were no eyeballs, the eye sockets were filled with traces of blood, yet the broken parts weren't disgusting flesh and blood—they looked like the cross-section of wood.

She was startled all over again by his appearance. Her hand twitched, failing to hold onto Tang Shuyu's head, and it hit the tombstone again.

His wooden head was hard enough to produce a crisp crack against the tombstone.

He Zhuoming quickly picked it up and set it back, but her tears flowed even harder. Sobbing and hiccuping, she said: "I, I knew it... waaa... dating in a cemetery... waaa... can't end... waaa... well... waaaa..."

She was too busy picking up Tang Shuyu's head to wipe the tears from her face; big drops of tears fell onto Tang Shuyu's face.

Tang Shuyu suddenly felt a pang of regret—why did he have to scare Little He? Since he was going to die anyway, couldn't he have found a place where Little He could see him quietly die?

He also shouldn't have hugged Little He.

Those eyeballs had been taken off a defective model in the first place; they were cheap and didn't last long. Since they could only see for that short a time, shouldn't he have spent it looking at Little He instead of staring at some lousy grass and a cemetery...

He let out a long sigh and spoke: "Stop crying, Little He."

He Zhuoming was startled by his voice. Her hand twitched, and she dropped his head again—Tang Shuyu's head rolled and rolled, eventually hitting the tombstone again.

He Zhuoming sobbed breathlessly: "Gh-gh-ghost, ghost, ghost, cough, cough, cough—"

After crying for a while, she felt that leaving Tang Shuyu's head unattended would be disloyal, so she wiped her tears and went to pick up his head again, crying: "You, you have your grievances and debts to settle, waaa—"

Tang Shuyu had already lost all his temper from being knocked around, and said: "I'm not dead yet, Little He. When I do die, there'll still be time for you to come cry over my grave."

He Zhuoming: "Waaa... so you need a grave to... to rest in peace, waaa... I'll go dig one for you, waaa..."

Even though he couldn't see anymore, Tang Shuyu could already imagine what He Zhuoming looked like, crying until her eyes were swollen.

He couldn't help but sigh. "That's not what I meant... never mind. Put me back, wipe your tears, and listen to what I have to say, okay?"

He Zhuoming, still crying, obediently placed Tang Shuyu's head back on the tombstone.

Through her tear-blurred eyes, she glanced at the tombstone and said: "Qingyun, the owner of this tombstone happens to be surnamed Tang too..."

Tang Shuyu: "I'm not called Qingyun."

He Zhuoming wiped her tears. "Oh, fine. But I'm used to it, so it might take me a while to change."

Tang Shuyu thought of something and smiled slightly. "It's fine. If you're not used to it, you can keep calling me Qingyun."

After all, it was the original body listening, hee hee.

"First, I'm not dead, so you don't need to worry about me, Little He. This situation is only temporary; I'll recover soon."

"Second, the reason I'm like this now is a special constitution issue. It's not that a ghost is after me, nor that you caused it. This place is actually very safe—no ghost will suddenly jump out, and no monster will suddenly appear either, so Little He, you don't need to be afraid."

His voice was very calm. Even though he was only a head now, he still managed to comfort He Zhuoming.

He Zhuoming asked in a small voice: "Then when can you change back?"

Tang Shuyu said: "Turn around and look at the ground."

He Zhuoming obediently turned and looked at the ground. Tang Shuyu's scattered body parts lay there, and the closest piece to her was his torso—at the center of the chest, a branch had pushed through the clothes and grown out, covered in green leaves and red flowers, looking full of life.

He Zhuoming was horrified: "Qingyun! You turned into flower fertilizer!"

Tang Shuyu said flatly: "Not flower fertilizer, just a little change... break off the branch growing from the center of my chest."

He Zhuoming acknowledged and did as told. Once she broke it off, the branch was just the right length to hold, perfect for using as a walking stick when planted on the ground.

He Zhuoming: "I broke it off! What should I do next?"

Tang Shuyu: "Use it as a walking stick to feel the way. Walk along the riverbank until you reach the last tombstone, then sit down and rest there and wait for me to come find you."

He Zhuoming didn't know why, but she obediently walked down along the riverbank. Tang Shuyu wouldn't hurt her, and he was stronger than her; following Tang Shuyu's instructions couldn't go wrong.

In the distance, the sun was slowly rising, its light shining on the lush grass and the rushing river. The river surface glittered with reflected light, and the rippling water shimmered against the bright red hem of Tang Shuyu's robes.

He crouched by the river washing his hands, while the dappled horse stood nearby drinking water, its huge horse eyes daring only to look at the reflection on the water's surface, not directly at Tang Shuyu beside it.

Tang Shuyu had just reclaimed two puppets. Both were from the earliest batch ever made, and because they had existed for so long, they had shouldered the most karmic burden.

One of the puppets had even long since degenerated into a half-mad Corrupted Deity, one that would react to exorcism talismans.

Having recovered so much karma at once, the dappled horse could tell with its hind legs, so to speak, that their boss should be in a terrible mood right now—but he was actually still smiling, and that was terrifying.

Upholding the principle that although it didn't know who would be the next to suffer misfortune, as long as it wasn't him, that was a good thing, the dappled horse kept its mouth shut tightly, striving to be a mute with no presence.

After washing his hands, Tang Shuyu casually wiped them dry on the dappled horse's neck and instructed: "Return to the Divine Palace and take charge temporarily."

The dappled horse: "...Okay."

Tang Shuyu left after those words. Once he was far away, the dappled horse immediately shook its head, fluffing the damp patch of mane until it was dry and airy.

As it shook its head, the corner of its eye caught a few sparse crabapple trees growing on the grass nearby, and a sudden pang of guilt rose in its chest. It quietly stopped moving.

*

He Zhuoming was sleeping.

Staying up all night was still too much for someone her age, so even though she was scared out of her wits, she eventually couldn't resist her drowsiness and fell asleep hugging the branch she used as a walking stick, leaning against the tombstone.

This sleep was uneasy. Shallow, fragmented dreams wove through it, and in the end, He Zhuoming was woken by the heat.

When she opened her eyes, she found a coat draped over her head—He Zhuoming pulled it off, and the suddenly bright sunlight stabbed her eyes shut again, squeezing a couple of tears from the corners of her eyes.

Those tears were quickly wiped away by a hand, accompanied by Tang Shuyu's smiling, light voice: "You're awake? I've been waiting for you for ages. Ah, Little He, you really can sleep."

He Zhuoming opened her eyes, dazed, her vision still blurry with a layer of tears, but she could already make out Tang Shuyu's figure.

He was crouching right in front of her, wearing clean, finely made clothes, his brows and eyes curved in a smile, with sweet, harmless dimples at the corners of his lips.

The coat over He Zhuoming's head was his too, because the sun was too strong; without anything covering her, He Zhuoming would have been woken by the heat soon enough.

He Zhuoming stared at him without blinking, not speaking, her mouth slightly open, looking a little silly.

Tang Shuyu snapped his fingers in front of her face, asking with some confusion: "Why aren't you saying anything? Did sleeping fry your brain?"

It took He Zhuoming a long moment to find her voice, and she stammered: "You, your eyes... your eyes..."

Tang Shuyu: "They're better now."

He Zhuoming: "The, the one that was split..."

Tang Shuyu said in a calm tone: "Already stitched back together, and I made it really sturdy this time. Want to touch it and see?"

His casual tone made it sound like he'd just put together a LEGO set.

He Zhuoming waved her hands repeatedly at that, but Tang Shuyu gave her no chance to refuse. He deftly grabbed her wrist and pressed her palm to his neck.

Still smiling, he said: "Just feel it. It's completely seamless."

Tang Shuyu's collar was back to its normal height. As soon as He Zhuoming's palm pressed against it, she felt his Adam's apple, the muscles of his neck and throat.

Her mind was a chaotic mess, her thinking functions stalled. After a moment of bewilderment, He Zhuoming squeezed his neck.

Tang Shuyu burst out laughing at the squeeze, quickly pushing He Zhuoming's hand away: "Don't squeeze, it tickles!"