After My White Moonlight Killed Me - Chapter 5

The next day, when Shen Yu woke up, he found Song Huaiyan asleep beside the bed.

He was leaning against the back of the chair with his arms crossed. Morning sunlight streamed through the window lattice onto his face, casting long shadows beneath his thick eyelashes.

Song Huaiyan suddenly opened his eyes. Shen Yu instinctively flinched backward, though he quickly recovered his composure.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Song Huaiyan asked straight to the point, but judging by the blank and innocent look on the person’s face right now, he likely didn’t remember a thing.

Sure enough, Shen Yu blinked his eyes and then shook his head.

“Do you know who I am?” Song Huaiyan furrowed his brow.

“Senior Brother,” he called out.

Song Huaiyan pressed his lips together, feeling that he was truly hopeless—he always lost his bearings the moment he was called “Senior Brother” a couple of times.

“Then… are you hungry?” His tone unconsciously softened by another notch.

Shen Yu nodded.

Before long, a small plate of custard buns and a bowl of millet porridge laced with white sugar were placed before him.

Song Huaiyan remembered that his junior brother had always been casual and unpicky about food, yet still maintained a slight preference for sweets. He propped his chin on his hand and watched Shen Yu eat bit by bit; whenever they used to eat breakfast together in the dining hall, he would always wait patiently like this until he finished.

His junior brother was always swift and decisive in everything else, except when it came to eating, which he did very slowly. Back then, Song Huaiyan had been somewhat indulgent toward that feeling of watching his little youngster eat obediently, and coupled with the fact that Shen Yu was noticeably smaller and shorter than children his own age, he was always finding ways to make him eat just a little bit more.

The Shen Yu before him now was also very thin. Unlike his past slenderness and small stature, it was a thinness fraught with a weary, sickly pallor.

He ought to have been an unmatched talent destined to be looked up to by the masses… Yet how had those later years turned out like this? Skin and bones, covered all over in scars.

Was it because of… Mu Changfeng?

After his own death, if Mu Changfeng hadn’t used Shen Yu’s blood to cure his ailments, what method had he used instead?

“Your junior brother has already promised me; from now on, we won’t even need your blood anymore.”

What had Shen Yu promised him? Could it be that kind of… dual cultivation mentioned in novels?

Song Huaiyan rubbed his wandering, overactive mind to snap himself back to reality, and saw that Shen Yu had put down his spoon and was staring straight at him. He had eaten about half of both the custard bun and the millet porridge.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’ve already eaten.” Song Huaiyan shook his head.

In truth, he hadn’t eaten anything; he simply felt a churning discomfort in his stomach and couldn’t keep anything down.

Shen Yu studied him for a moment before pushing the two remaining custard buns on the plate across toward him.

Though he said nothing, his gaze carried an unyielding insistence that brooked no refusal.

Song Huaiyan felt that he seemed somewhat different from yesterday—closer to the original Shen Yu he had first known, carrying a natural, bone-deep detachment and alienation.

Perhaps he was slowly recovering.

Song Huaiyan was momentarily unsure whether to feel glad or worried.

Hesitating for a moment, he smiled helplessly, picked up a custard bun, and took a bite.

It had a molten lava filling, and it was quite sweet.

He watched Shen Yu lower his head to drink his porridge, a smile gradually blooming at the corners of his eyes. Anyway, overthinking things was useless; whatever was meant to come would come eventually, so let tomorrow’s self endure tomorrow’s suffering.

Suffering first didn’t necessarily guarantee sweetness later, but tasting sweetness first was truly sweet.

After finishing his bun and clearing away the bowls and dishes, Song Huaiyan used his chin to gesture toward the clothes resting on the bedside: “Put on your clothes properly and come downstairs.”

By the time Song Huaiyan finished tidying up the kitchen and emerged, Shen Yu was already seated at that same spot by the window. Seeing him come out, he turned his head and said, “Senior Brother, milk tea.”

As he spoke, he batted his eyelashes lightly, half-veiling those glassy, translucent eyes, letting a subtle, indescribable cuteness seep through his icy detachment.

It might as well be called natural airheadedness.

Song Huaiyan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Shen Yu might be unhinged at night, but his daytime junior brother was truly adorable.

Before his memory fully recovered, he’d better take as many glances as he could get.

“Today I’ll make you Six-Meridian Ginseng Tea.”

This particular beverage originally tasted rather bitter, but he deliberately added a bit extra honey to it.

Cradling his milk tea, Shen Yu sat at the doorway for half the entire day, continuing to draw admiring glances like a magnet and proving quite eye-catching.

Song Huaiyan considered his own looks passably decent, but compared to his junior brother, he certainly fell somewhat short. Modern girls, as expected, still seemed far more fond of this cold-beauty archetype.

Thus seven days drifted by. Shen Yu did not slip back into a state of deranged incoherence, though his condition every night remained rather poor, causing him to fall asleep early. This symptom of his might stem from a cultivation deviation, or perhaps from unstable soul integration after crossing into this world, but Song Huaiyan’s shallow medical knowledge was still insufficient to diagnose the root cause.

To prevent any nighttime accidents, Song Huaiyan reinforced his soul stability every single day, burning a batch of sleeping incense infused with several calming and soothing medicinal herbs by his bedside each night to ensure he enjoyed a sound, unbroken sleep.

Ye Wan dropped by every other day, relentlessly devoted to persuading Shen Yu to launch a live-streaming career with her. However, Shen Yu remained a mute in front of outsiders, whose only operational function was eating. Meanwhile, Ye Wan would endlessly nag about Song Huaiyan’s aesthetic tastes, arguing that a classical beauty like Shen Yu required traditional Hanfu attire to properly manifest his inherent temperament. Consequently, Song Huaiyan spent the night frantically purchasing seven sets of light-toned men’s Hanfu on Taobao.

As a result, the long-haired, Hanfu-clad handsome man at Liang Buyi blew up in popularity overnight, becoming even more sensational than before.

Friday’s foot traffic was noticeably heavier than usual, with an unending stream of visitors dropping in to check in. Although Shen Yu sat as unmoving as a mountain, displaying neither grief nor joy, Song Huaiyan noticed a faint trace of weariness on his face and decided to close up shop a little earlier than usual.

The bamboo wind-chime at the entrance suddenly emitted a deep, resonant chime.

Shen Yu instantly lifted his gaze toward it, only to find no one entering outside, nor was there any wind blowing, yet the wind-chime continued to swing incessantly.

It was an octagonal wind-chime featuring slender bamboo tubes of varying lengths attached to each corner, carved with intricate patterns and characters somewhat resembling those on the dark-crystal coffin, while three ancient copper coins hung suspended in the center. The impact sound generated between the bamboo wood and copper coins differed distinctly from the crisp clatter produced by ordinary customers coming and going it sounded heavy and profound, as though echoing from another distant spacetime.

He turned his head to see Song Huaiyan gazing at the string of wind-chimes with a grave expression.

“Junior Brother, stay here and don’t go outside; I’ll go take a look and be right back.”

Song Huaiyan had already picked up a black long umbrella and was about to step out the door when he noticed Shen Yu following right behind him.

“Together,” Shen Yu said.

Hesitating for a moment, Song Huaiyan felt somewhat uneasy leaving Shen Yu behind alone, so he brought him along.

The weather had been bright and sunny just moments before, but the sky had now turned pitch-dark, as though a storm was brewing.

Pedestrians hurried along the old street. Shen Yu’s long hair and Hanfu attire were rather too eye-catching, prompting Song Huaiyan to lead him along the alleyways behind the old street to bypass the crowds. A somewhat cloying, sweet fragrance drifted through the alley, reminiscent of the glutinous rice and red bean pine-flower pastries from his childhood.

Yet Uncle Li, who used to sell those flower pastries, had passed away many years ago. Realizing something was amiss, Song Huaiyan halted his steps. The surrounding scenery suddenly blurred before snapping back into sharp focus like a video transition—the alleyway remained the same, but the scenery had undergone subtle shifts. The pear tree within the courtyard wall that ought to have been in full bloom had already withered, while the surrounding area was lush with green foliage and filled with the endless droning of cicadas, marking the height of midsummer.

They had entered someone else’s dream phantasm.

“Junior Brother, stay close to me…”

Song Huaiyan turned his head, only to discover that Shen Yu was no longer behind him!

Sensing that his own voice sounded somewhat strange as well, he looked down and discovered that he was dressed in a blue-and-white school uniform, complete with a red scarf tied around his chest. He touched his crew-cut hair and pinched his cheek, confirming that he was currently an elementary school student no older than twelve.

If one’s appearance shifted upon entering a phantasm, the phantasm’s master must undoubtedly be someone with whom he shared past ties. Judging by this 1990s school uniform, it ought to be an “old acquaintance” from this world during his life before last.

He walked forward a few paces and heard voices drifting over. In a connecting alley, he spotted one boy pinning another against a corner.

“From now on, this alley is my territory. If you want to pass through here, you’ll have to hand over your pocket money every single day, understand?”

The youth spoke with vicious menace.

His face could not be discerned from behind, but judging by his voice, he wasn’t very old—though he stood quite tall, perhaps around fourteen or fifteen, wearing a faded striped T-shirt.

“Not speaking means you’re not convinced?” The youth’s tone carried displeasure. “Then I’ll just search you myself!”

With that, he violently spun the person in the corner around, yanked the school backpack off his back, pawed through its contents, and muttered in disgust, “How come there are only books and broken stationery? Even the backpack is this tattered!”

He tossed the backpack down beside his feet and looked the other person up and down: “What other valuable stuff do you have hidden on you?”

The child in the corner had remained silent throughout. The tall youth reached out to yank at the boy’s trouser pockets. Amidst their physical scuffle, Song Huaiyan saw that the person pinned below was an even younger boy, perhaps only eleven or twelve years old, dressed just like him in a blue-and-white school uniform except that his was long-sleeved.

“Hiding it so well—turns out it’s just a broken fountain pen?”

At that moment, the tall youth snatched away the item the little boy had been desperately protecting. He glanced at the boy’s lowered head and the two droplets of water falling onto the stone slab pavement, then lifted the pen to inspect it in mid-air before letting out a light click of his tongue: “Still, it’s worth more than the rest. We’ll take this one!”

Seen from profile, the youth possessed a slightly dark complexion, a neat crew-cut, and distinct facial contours, with a silver-white stud earring on his left ear glinting dazzlingly in the sunlight.

He tucked the fountain pen into his pocket, shoved both hands into his trousers, and whistled as he walked toward the other end of the alley.

“Hey, little bean sprout,” he called back over his shoulder while walking away without turning around. “Pay the protection fee, and big bro will cover you from now on.”

Until his figure vanished around the corner of the alley, the boy in the corner finally moved, picking up his backpack, patting off the dust, putting it back on, and walking away with his head down in the opposite direction.

Song Huaiyan had never caught a clear look at his face, nor had he heard him speak. He followed the boy for a short distance, and after rounding an alley corner, he spotted Uncle Li’s flower pastry stall alongside the tall, slender white figure standing before the pushcart.

“Shen Yu!” He ran forward, but abruptly halted his steps.

He was an elementary school student right now! Being seen looking like this by his junior brother carried an inexplicable sense of mortification.

Just as he was standing there with lowered head, clutching his red scarf in hesitation, that chillingly aloof voice dropped down from above:

“Senior Brother?”

Shen Yu had already walked up to him, squatting down halfway to look him in the eye.

Song Huaiyan raised his gaze, his “little face” flushing bright red.

“Senior Brother, that.” Shen Yu used his gaze to point toward the flower pastries, appearing entirely unsurprised by Song Huaiyan’s current appearance.

As expected, for the current junior brother, eating remained the absolute top priority.

Song Huaiyan glanced at the colorful glutinous rice flower pastries displayed on the pushcart, suppressed his sour, complicated feelings, and explained to him: “We can’t eat the things here; I’ll buy you some when we get back.”

Since they were currently inside a “phantasm,” which was equivalent to someone else’s dreamscape, as external intruders who had accidentally stumbled in, they were merely illusory projections; the people here could neither see them nor could they touch any objects inside.

Song Huaiyan had likely known the two youths from back then, which was why his projection in their phantasm automatically shifted to match his appearance during that specific timeframe, whereas Shen Yu had no prior connection to anyone here, causing him to manifest in his original appearance.

Hearing this, Shen Yu nodded, then stared blankly and unblinkingly at Song Huaiyan, as though only just noticing his shrunken form.

Feeling somewhat awkward under his gaze, Song Huaiyan said, “We need to catch up to that boy ahead if we want to get out of here. He’s walking away fast, we need to hurry.”

With that, he broke into a small jog to follow, but his body suddenly tipped backward and his feet lifted lightly off the ground as he realized he had been scooped up horizontally into an embrace.

“Senior Brother is small, can’t run fast.”

Shen Yu wore no particular expression on his face, yet his feet took a few light taps against the ground, carrying Song Huaiyan as he dashed swiftly in the direction of the boy.

As for Song Huaiyan, his face burned in alternating waves of red and white, feeling at that moment like a half-cooked shrimp curled tightly inside Shen Yu’s arms.