After My Death, I Became the Scum Gong's White Moonlight's Back-Spirit - Chapter 5

Not long after, Bai Ziyan finished cleaning up, and Mo Han only turned back when he heard the rustling sound of clothing friction cease.

The smart system concealed in the dark began automatically cleaning the bathroom. As the ventilation system switched on, the mist inside dissipated, bringing Bai Ziyan’s features clearly into view.

With a complexion like jade and an extraordinary appearance, as he stepped out amidst the haze, it easily created the illusion that some immortal from the heavens was walking forth.

A love of beauty is universal.

Even Mo Han who had been chosen as a substitute solely due to his resembling facial features and had dragged a whole mess of romantic debts upon himself had to admit that he fell short of Bai Ziyan.

If Bai Ziyan resembled an exquisite mutton-fat jade ornament, meticulously sculpted and worthy of being passed down as a masterpiece, then he himself was merely an ordinary piece of porcelain.

Under normal circumstances, someone might pause to appreciate him, but the moment the porcelain was placed beside the white jade, everyone’s gaze would inevitably gravitate toward the jade.

Physical form and skin are bestowed by one’s parents, and reflecting upon this, Mo Han didn’t feel particularly inferior.

It was simply that the porcelain had never intended to vie with white jade for brilliance; it had merely been placed by its side, prompting every passing visitor to instinctively compare them.

Yet none of this mattered to him anymore.

Anyway, he was already dead.

At this moment, a ringtone sounded, and Mo Han saw the name displayed on the screen: “Dr. Chang.”

A doctor? Was Bai Ziyan sick?

As he thought this, Bai Ziyan answered the call and greeted him: “Dr. Chang.”

The voice spilled out from the other end of the phone, and Mo Han discovered that even though he was some distance away from the phone, he still heard it exceptionally clearly.

Had his five senses become even more acute in his ghostly state?

“…Yes, mm. How is my younger brother’s condition?”

The voice on the other end replied, “Slightly improved. The instances of him waking up in terror from nightmares at night have decreased, but the impact of the car accident was too severe. He still doesn’t dare ride buses, and he experiences stress reactions to rocks, dirt, and open flames.”

Bai Ziyan’s lips straightened into a thin line, and he frowned. “Alright, I’ll have to trouble you further, Dr. Chang.”

“You’re too polite, Mr. Bai. This is simply my duty.”

The call ended, and the smile that usually graced Bai Ziyan’s face vanished entirely.

The Bai family was renowned in the industry, and Mo Han had heard some things about them.

The head of the Bai family and his wife shared an exceptionally close relationship, and they had four children in total, with Bai Ziyan ranking second.

Bai Ziyan clearly shared a very close bond with his younger brothers. Barely moments after finishing the call, he headed out once again.

Before leaving, Mo Han saw the tuxedo cat widen its eyes in absolute disbelief, pressing its paw against the glass and meowing angrily as if interrogating: Slaves of cats, how can you possibly want to leave the moment you just got back?!

With no other choice, Bai Ziyan turned back to pat the glass window, his slender fingers casting a lovely play of light and shadow across the pane. “Be a good cat, Miaomiao. I’ll come back to play with you later.”

With that, Bai Ziyan instructed the household AI, “Cat Spirit, open a can of wet food for Miaomiao.”

Seeing an extra can of food appear in its bowl, the tuxedo cat promptly cast its departing human servant out of its mind.

Watching the slick, oil-gleaming fur of the tuxedo cat, Mo Han felt a craving, though unfortunately, he couldn’t touch it.

Compared to Duan Cang, Bai Ziyan drove far more steadily; acceleration and braking were virtually free of any perceptible jolts. Seated in the passenger seat and gazing at the scenery outside, this was the first time Mo Han had ever experienced such a pleasant car ride.

The ringtone chimed once more. Thinking it was another call from the doctor, Mo Han was surprised to hear Duan Cang’s voice instead.

“Ziyan, have you reached home?”

Bai Ziyan’s brows and eyes softened somewhat. “I have. I had to head out for a bit—have you reached the company?”

“I have.”

Duan Cang asked again, “What was it about? You just returned to China—shouldn’t you be resting?”

Driving through the downtown area where traffic was beginning to get tricky, Bai Ziyan was slightly distracted and failed to notice anything amiss, simply replying, “My youngest brother had an incident and got hurt a while ago. I went to check on him.”

The conversation between the two drilled straight into Mo Han’s ears. Those seven years spent accompanying Duan Cang made him keenly perceive a trace of abnormality.

Duan Cang’s mood did not seem particularly good.

Subconsciously, Mo Han felt a flicker of worry, but snapping back to his senses, he laughed at himself with self-deprecating irony.

What was there to worry about? Duan Cang had finally paired up with his white moonlight in a match made in heaven and had shaken off a clingy pest like himself; he was currently riding high and full of spirit what on earth was there for him to worry about?

Leaning feebly against the car door, Mo Han listened to the dialogue between Duan Cang and Bai Ziyan, drifting slightly into a daze.

Due to his past experiences, his sense of security was extremely fragile. He would always worry about the physical safety of those around him, insisting that they confirm they had arrived home safely after parting ways.

His good friend Que Ping used to tease him jokingly, calling him “Mother Mo.” Fortunately, he had good fortune and always managed to meet friends willing to accommodate him. Over time, all his friends developed the habit of reporting their safe arrival home, and even Que Ping a fitness enthusiast pushing two meters in height would grumble while dutifully checking in.

Until he met Duan Cang.

Duan Cang disliked making a special return call. Sometimes he simply forgot, while other times he found it annoying and couldn’t be bothered to reply, tossing his phone to his assistant and letting the screen light up over and over again.

Later on, Duan Cang bluntly asked with a harsh and irritable tone, “What, are you trying to install a surveillance camera on me? Afraid that the high branch you finally managed to climb onto is going to run away?”

Mo Han’s brain exploded with a loud buzz.

Is that really how he viewed him?

In the beginning, it was clearly Duan Cang who had taken the initiative—why would he say something like that?

Could it be that some of his usual behaviors were inappropriate and had caused Duan Cang to misunderstand?

Duan Cang turned and walked away without the slightest hesitation. Though a fire of indignation still simmered in Mo Han’s chest, seeing that Duan Cang still carried the smell of alcohol, he ultimately called Duan Cang’s assistant and told him to keep an eye on him.

That night, Mo Han thought hard for a long time. In the end, packing his luggage, he resolved to leave.

Yet the moment he stepped out the door, he bumped right into Duan Cang returning home. Seeing the suitcase in his hand, Duan Cang’s expression darkened instantly.

“What are you doing?”

Mo Han tightened his grip on the suitcase handle. “Let’s break up.”

Speaking clearly and logically, he looked straight at Duan Cang. “Duan Cang, getting together in the first place was your idea. I have no intention of climbing any high branches, and I can’t accept your views regarding me. We see things differently—let’s break up.”

Not a single word he uttered was spoken out of spite, and his tone remained entirely flat and calm. Only the bulging veins on his hands betrayed just how much effort it took for him to spit out those words.

Yet looking at him, Duan Cang wore a dazed expression. His demeanor rapidly softened as he pulled him straight into an embrace, apologizing in a muffled voice, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I was wrong. I drank too much last night—don’t leave me.”

Holding him, Duan Cang apologized over and over again, and even presented him with an inexpensive yet heartfelt handmade little gift. As Mo Han gripped that lopsided, felted wool kitty, the words of refusal caught firmly in his throat.

He was exceptionally sensitive to the emotions of others, and because of that, he could sense that Duan Cang’s apologies and retention attempts were genuine. He was truly regretful, and he truly wanted to keep him.

Mo Han compromised.

It wasn’t until later, when he learned about Bai Ziyan, that he finally understood: the person Duan Cang was apologizing to that day wasn’t himself, but Bai Ziyan.

What Duan Cang wanted to keep was Bai Ziyan, who was about to go abroad.

His guilt stemmed from his own lack of consideration back then, failing to see Bai Ziyan off before he left the country.

The calm manner in which Mo Han had analyzed the pros and cons before proposing a breakup closely mirrored Bai Ziyan rejecting him after the fireworks faded that night.

He simply hadn’t expected that there would come a day when Duan Cang, too, would chase after someone asking if they had made it home safely.

The two quickly concluded their conversation, and before long, they arrived at a secluded yet elegantly landscaped hospital.

Looking around, Mo Han mentally guessed that the landscape design here was likely crafted by the same person who designed Bai Ziyan’s villa.

Upon reaching the top floor, the layout bore zero resemblance to a hospital; instead, it felt entirely like a home.

“Second Young Master, you’re here?”

A neatly dressed nanny took the bag from Bai Ziyan’s hands.

“How is Xiaowen doing?”

The nanny followed behind Bai Ziyan. “He’s better. The number of times he’s woken up in terror at night has decreased these past few days. Dr. Chang says he’s already passed the most dangerous stage and can return to the main estate in a few days.”

However, no sooner had the words left her mouth than a whimper echoed from behind the door, sounding precisely like a grievously wronged little animal letting out a mournful cry.

Bai Ziyan pushed the door open with brisk strides, though his voice remained exceptionally gentle. Pulled along through the doorway, Mo Han caught sight of the child lying in bed at a single glance.

The child was exceptionally cute, yet his complexion was deathly pale, with cold sweat plastered across his forehead clearly trapped in the grips of a nightmare.

Seeing the child’s face, Mo Han was startled.

This child was none other than the one to whom he had gifted the cat pendant on the day of the natural disaster.

One had to admit, the unpredictability of life was truly unfathomable.

Mo Han was very fond of Bai Ziwen. Seeing the boy in this state filled him with a sense of anxiety. He walked toward Bai Ziyan’s younger brother, only to halt his steps.

He didn’t know whether his current form, much like the ghosts and spirits in legends, would drain the vital energy of the living and cause their bodies to gradually weaken.

Being tethered to Bai Ziyan was a matter of sheer helplessness, but children were far more fragile it was better for him not to get too close.

Mo Han watched as Bai Ziyan wiped the cold sweat from his brother’s forehead, scooped him up into his arms, and gently patted his back. “Xiaowen, don’t be afraid, Second Brother is here.”

Cradling his brother, Bai Ziyan hummed a soft, gentle melody. Mo Han had never heard this tune before, yet he found its soothing, moving rhythm strangely reassuring.

Outside the window, sunlight streamed down brilliantly, leaves rustled softly, and a gentle breeze made the light blue curtains billow slightly. Chirping birds provided a natural harmony for Bai Ziyan.

Mo Han watched as his gaze softened with tenderness and pity, his refined profile looking as though meticulously traced by a fine-brush painter, overflowing with gentleness.

Bai Ziwen wrapped his two small arms tightly around him, like a drowning person clutching a piece of driftwood, and the agonizing expression on his face gradually eased.

A sudden jolt pulsed through Mo Han’s heart.

He recalled an encounter he once had with Duan Cang.

During the period when Duan Cang was pursuing him, he still hadn’t figured out his own sexual orientation, so he politely declined. Moreover, the experiences of his past years made him hesitant to easily entrust his heart ever again.

He had assumed Duan Cang would merely be a passing traveler in his life, until one day while crossing the street, a child lost his grip on a hydrogen balloon and chased after it, wandering heedlessly into the roadway.

Mo Han was working a part-time job by the roadside. Seeing what was happening, he didn’t even stop to think as he pulled the child back by force.

Witnessing the roaring truck speeding past, the child having cheated death was terrified into wailing tears. Meanwhile, Mo Han had scraped a patch of skin raw, the stinging pain draining the color from his lips.

It was right at that moment that Duan Cang had rushed over in a flurry.

He ran up with his jacket in disarray and a panicked expression on his face, taking the gauze and iodine handed over by a kind passerby to clean his wound, and then gently coaxing and comforting the child.

Just like that, the child was coaxed by Duan Cang until his crying gradually subsided.

It was precisely this incident that made Mo Han lower his guard against Duan Cang and begin gradually accepting him.

After all, someone so gentle toward a child simply couldn’t be a bad person.

How remarkably similar that version of Duan Cang was to the Bai Ziyan of the present moment.