After My Death, I Became the Scum Gong's White Moonlight's Back-Spirit - Chapter 4

Duan Cang and Bai Ziyan’s conversation was exceedingly pleasant. Towards the end, Duan Cang set down the goblet beside him and looked at Bai Ziyan.

He said earnestly, “Ziyan, you say that the most fortunate thing in this world is that things remain the same and the people do too.”

“I am still the same as I was before I left, but I just don’t know if you harbor the same sentiment.”

Seven years ago, Duan Cang had long since fallen deeply in love with Bai Ziyan, choosing to bare his heart on Bai Ziyan’s birthday.

He had prepared a grand birthday banquet for Bai Ziyan. When brilliant fireworks, like the Milky Way cascading down to earth, burst across the night sky, Duan Cang confessed his love to Bai Ziyan.

Bai Ziyan’s lips parted slightly, his voice muffled by the sound of the fireworks. Duan Cang clearly saw a gorgeous flush stain his cheeks, but after the fireworks faded away, Bai Ziyan apologetically rejected him.

The Bai family was expanding overseas, and it was a crucial opportunity of utmost importance to them at the time. Bai Ziyan was arranged to be sent abroad to manage the branch company.

With such a departure, no one could predict how the situation would unfold; it was entirely possible that Bai Ziyan would settle abroad and only return after a long time.

Decisively and leaving no room for hope, Bai Ziyan rejected Duan Cang.

Feeling that his pride had been wounded at the time, Duan Cang never saw him again from that parting until Bai Ziyan left for abroad.

Duan Cang could be certain that Bai Ziyan liked him.

And after passing through seven years, his love for Bai Ziyan had only grown more and more fervent.

Duan Cang looked intently at Bai Ziyan, making no effort to conceal his affection.

A pale flush crept up Bai Ziyan’s cheeks the exact same look as that night. Yet Bai Ziyan did not dodge away; instead, meeting his gaze openly and smiling, he said, “I have never changed.”

Today, Bai Ziyan was no longer the conflicted Bai family young master of back then, and Duan Cang had already taken over the Duan family’s company, becoming the unquestionable CEO of the Duan Corporation. Yet when the two locked gazes, their hearts would still race because of this tender affection that had grown from their youth up to the present day.

The two figures, both top-tier individuals within their social circle, would actually grow flushed and have their hearts race simply from exchanging a glance, looking precisely like a pair of green novices experiencing first love.

Mo Han watched as sunlight fell into their pupils, casting mottled, fine shards of light, beautiful enough to resemble a painting.

Being childhood sweethearts coupled with a heaven-sent romance, even as an onlooker, he could only utter a single word: a match.

Never before had he felt so clearly, so desperately, a heavy, profound sorrow rising from the hollow depths of his heart.

Yet none of this mattered anymore.

Mo Han looked away.

Anyway, he was already dead.

From this point on, the entanglements of love and hate had nothing to do with him.

Perhaps when people in the future reminisced about their romance, they would also briefly mention him in passing, treating him merely as a piece of unromantic stone wedged stubbornly between lovers, quickly glossed over with a single stroke.

Dinner concluded, and the two stood up.

Their statuses were no longer what they used to be, especially lately—busy to the point of madness. While Bai Ziyan had Eldest Brother Bai holding down the fort at home, Duan Cang was indeed bogged down in relentless affairs. Being able to specially carve out a morning and afternoon itinerary for Bai Ziyan was already extremely precious. If they lingered outside any longer, his assistant would likely come looking for them with a tearful face, forcing them to reschedule for another day.

Watching the two of them get into their respective cars, Mo Han sighed. Acting like a kite being flown was truly unpleasant, but he had no desire to share a confined space with Duan Cang.

He was afraid that if he got too close to Duan Cang, the memories of their seven years together would surge forward like a tidal wave and engulf him entirely.

Surveying Duan Cang’s car, Mo Han simply seated himself atop the rear trunk lid.

Mo Han was light and weightless, yet he deliberately bounced up and down, revealing a somewhat mischievous smile that strongly resembled a child’s extremely naive retaliation.

Back when he was with Duan Cang, Duan Cang had forced him through a prolonged period of etiquette training. The etiquette teacher he found for him was dead serious, and whenever he failed to complete a training session, he would even be struck on the palm with a ruler.

Mo Han’s hands were extremely important to him, and he had once tried to negotiate for a different form of punishment. However, Duan Cang said that he specifically asked the teacher to use ruler strikes so that he would remember it and never make the mistake again.

At the time, he simply assumed Duan Cang was doing it for his own good. To avoid being hit on the palms and to keep from disappointing Duan Cang, he had summoned every ounce of his resolve to practice his posture, suffering no small amount of misery.

It wasn’t until he met Bai Ziyan that he understood.

Now, he no longer had to abide by those rigid rules.

Who was he? He was none other than Mo Han, who as a child had mastered everything from climbing trees and catching birds to scooping fish out of ponds.

Thinking of this, Mo Han simply stood up on the trunk lid, hands planted on his hips, completely abandoning all posture. Imagining how dark Duan Cang’s face would look like the bottom of a pot if he could see him right now, he couldn’t help laughing, feeling quite thoroughly vindicated.

Just as he was thinking this, his body suddenly grew light, tilting at an angle and flying further and further away from Duan Cang’s car. Before he could even react, still maintaining his hands-on-hips posture, he flew off at a slant, truly resembling nothing so much as a kite.

Mo Han froze, turning his head back to look at the direction pulling him along—

Bai Ziyan?

How could it be Bai Ziyan?

Mo Han was utterly baffled.

If he were following Duan Cang, he could explain it—nothing more than unfulfilled desires in life turning into post-mortem obsession keeping him tethered to Duan Cang but why on earth was he following Bai Ziyan?

Although he knew a thing or two about the history between Bai Ziyan and Duan Cang, the truth was that when he was alive, he had never once met Bai Ziyan face-to-face.

Infatuated with Duan Cang though he was, he wasn’t a fool; in this romance, Bai Ziyan was entirely innocent, with the core problems stemming squarely from Duan Cang. Therefore, he actually held no excess emotional baggage toward Bai Ziyan. If he had to name one, it was perhaps a trace of envy.

That was all.

Bai Ziyan had already opened his car door and stepped out, with Mo Han being dragged along in his wake.

He could only sigh at the unpredictability of worldly affairs—who could have predicted that two people who had no intersection in life would become tightly bound together after death?

Perhaps because he had been pouring his heart out to the person he loved, Bai Ziyan’s mood seemed quite pleasant. A smile graced the corners of his lips as he walked toward the villa.

This was a remarkably well-kept little townhouse. Being the height of midsummer, climbing roses blanketed the walls, pink, white, and deep purple blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. The trees planted in the courtyard cleverly blocked out prying gazes from the outside world without obstructing the sunlight.

The exterior walls of the townhouse were painted white, with flowers cascading down from the balcony, brimming with vitality.

Mo Han was captivated by the scenery here, his mood improving significantly as a result.

He praised it from the bottom of his heart, wondering who the designer of this courtyard was. If he were still alive, during his lifetime he would definitely have hired this designer to style a courtyard for him.

The flowers outside failed to make Bai Ziyan pause; he walked straight into the villa and called out, “Miaomiao, I’m back.”

Miaomiao?

No sooner had Mo Han’s confusion surfaced than he saw a streak of lightning charge right at them, slamming straight into Bai Ziyan’s leg. Fixing his eyes on it, Mo Han was instantly struck dumb.

This was actually a tuxedo cat (cow cat).

They always said tuxedo cats were the huskies of the feline world, and it was truly no lie the creature actually came running out with a steel basin gripped in its mouth.

At that moment, it flung the basin onto the floor, latched onto Bai Ziyan’s lower leg, and let out a prolonged cat yowl: “Meow-ao!”

That sound carried the exact dramatic flair of someone who hadn’t eaten a meal in days.

Following that, the tuxedo cat patted the basin on the floor with its paw, causing the steel basin to emit a clattering, noisy din, projecting a total “this lord is starving” attitude.

Bai Ziyan raised an eyebrow, scooping the tuxedo cat up from the floor. “Miaomiao, did you get fat again?”

“Meow-ao!”

The tuxedo cat looked deeply indignant.

Mo Han couldn’t whether to laugh or cry at the cat’s garlic-clove-shaped paw pads and melodramatic antics; if the cat weren’t so exceptionally well-fed and pampered, it might have actually pulled the act off.

Taking advantage of the fact that no one could see him, Mo Han smiled and lightly poked its little paw.

The tuxedo cat’s pupils shrank to pinpricks, and it abruptly whipped its head around to fixate right on him.

Its pair of emerald-green eyes resembled the finest jade.

Mo Han’s heart seized.

Word had it that animals could perceive things invisible to human eyes—could Miaomiao actually see him?

Mo Han took a deep breath, experimentally stretching out a finger to wave it back and forth in front of the cat.

The tuxedo cat’s attention was instantly captured. Hesitantly, it extended a paw, following the swaying motion as if debating whether it should leap forward and pounce.

It really could see him.

Mo Han couldn’t describe what he was feeling.

“What’s wrong, Miaomiao?”

Feeling the tuxedo cat’s restless movements, Bai Ziyan turned his head in surprise, and Mo Han instantly yanked his hand behind his back.

He could actually catch the look of “vexation” on the tuxedo cat’s face, as if it were regretting its failure to pounce and investigate whatever entity stood before it.

Bai Ziyan looked back; the courtyard was tranquil, a breeze rustling through the leaves and flowers with a soft, whispering susurration.

Withdrawing his gaze, Bai Ziyan carried Miaomiao further inside, presumably accustomed to the tuxedo cat’s sudden bouts of weird behavior.

The interior designer of the villa was likely the same person who designed the courtyard. A considerable amount of greenery was cultivated on the balconies and windowsills. Ventilation and lighting were both optimal, suffused with a warm glow and caressed by a gentle breeze, creating the wonderful illusion of being immersed in nature.

In the small parlor stood a piano. Having returned to the Mo family for so many years, Mo Han naturally recognized this particular model. Though he wasn’t skilled in music, he remembered this piano primarily because of its jaw-dropping, exorbitant price tag.

Bai Ziyan’s musicianship was peerless, hovering on the verge of becoming the nation’s foremost talent. If he hadn’t devoted all his energy over the past few years to the Bai family’s external expansion, he surely would have achieved even greater heights.

Catching sight of the piano, unpleasant memories flooded back. His fingers began to ache faintly, causing him to instantly look away toward the roses climbing the courtyard wall.

After playing with the tuxedo cat for a while, Bai Ziyan walked toward the bathroom. Dragged along in that direction, a flash of insight struck Mo Han as he suddenly recalled a dreamlike, hazy scene.

At the very end of that “dream” was the tear mole beneath the young man’s eye.

Bai Ziyan also possessed an identical tear mole in that exact spot.

Once dragged inside the bathroom, Mo Han thoroughly confirmed that the bathroom scene had indeed been no dream.

A sense of guilt welled up inside Mo Han.

“…Sorry.”

Naturally, Bai Ziyan offered no response. Unbuttoning his collar on his own accord, his graceful neck was fully exposed.

Mo Han immediately turned around, attempting to walk back out. Even if he could only reach outside the doorway, this damned invisible force insisted on binding him, pulling him right into the bathroom’s boundary. The door, standing a mere step away from him, felt precisely like a carrot dangled before a donkey.

The sound of clothing friction was soft, rustling like spring rain. Then the faucet was turned on, and white mist began to diffuse throughout the entire bathroom.

Mo Han stood with his back to Bai Ziyan. He simply could not fathom why this inexplicable force had tied him to his nominal love rival.

Was it because it saw he was unreconciled in death, and wanted to let him take a good look at just how exceptional Bai Ziyan was from head to toe, so he could willingly and contentedly move on?

Amidst the sound of flowing water, Mo Han let out a long sigh.