After Being Watched by My Paranoid and Gloomy Deceased Wife - Chapter 29

So It can also speak in a voice that I can hear.

Looking at Its beautiful face, full of joy and expectant of a response, an indescribable emotion rose in my heart.

It felt both sour and astringent, with a sudden twist of bitterness that made me unable to distinguish my own feelings.

“Did you go to Tengger with me?” I asked again.

I wasn’t sure if It was avoiding the question or didn’t understand what I meant.

“Lu Lu.”

It still placed my hand on Its throat, letting me feel the vibration of the sound waves produced by the airflow passing through.

This is actually quite a dangerous gesture. Placing a fragile and fatal vital spot in someone else’s palm signifies accepting complete control from the other party, and it’s a sign of complete trust.

It might understand or It might not, after all, for It, the throat might not necessarily be the true vital spot.

But maybe it is. When It placed Its heart under my palm before, and my fingertip pierced the heart, Its expression was clearly one of pain, yet… It also seemed to enjoy it so much.

It makes it even harder to tell if It is being harmed.

Even so, I couldn’t bear to hurt It.

I attributed the emotions It aroused in me entirely to Its beauty. The delicate features, the graceful and fluid curves of Its body, all achieved the ultimate of human fantasy…

Even though Its eyes are currently missing, some beings can make you feel extreme beauty without even opening their eyes.

It truly is an existence that can only appear in a hallucination. I paused my gaze for Its breathtaking beauty, ignoring the eerie bloody color—

Well, I didn’t completely ignore it. If the bloody color appeared in other scenes, it would surely be shocking and terrifying, inevitably triggering a deep sense of panic about danger in one’s heart.

But when it appeared on It, I was initially afraid, too.

Perhaps my nerves were numbed after repeated scares from the same visual stimulation, or perhaps it was Its appearance, which completely fits my aesthetic.

In short, amidst the pervasive bloody color, I now feel a strangely moving kind of beauty that easily captures my shallow heart.

I repent, I’ve had thoughts, but it’s hard to change, because It really is very beautiful.

My heart pounded louder in my chest, beating so hard that I almost forgot what year it was, and almost forgot that different species should not fall in love.

Interspecies is too forbidden. I think it’s unacceptable.

Yet, my heart was still anticipating, hoping that one day I could see Its eyes. I always feel that It should have eyes, and eventually will.

This intuition is always vague and inexplicable, making my heart feel weak, yet inexplicably trusting, believing that one day my wish will be granted.

It moved closer to me, lifting the hand I had placed on Its throat and putting it on Its soft cheek.

Logically, since It is composed of bl00d-water, Its cheek might be like Its chest cavity, covered with a thin layer of liquid film, light and delicate, but the tactile sensation would be different from human skin texture.

But Its cheek was so soft, and Its deliberately lowered eyelashes were so thick and long, as if afraid of startling me.

My fingertip touched Its sheer eyelashes, like a cicada that flew away before summer could even arrive. It was suddenly startled and seemed to want to open Its eyes—

This made me curious whether the world It saw would be different with Its eyes open or closed.

As soon as the eyelid slightly lifted, It tightly closed Its eyes again.

This movement was so forceful that I could clearly see the tightly furrowed brow, which also had skin-like lines, rather than rippling like water waves.

I don’t understand.

It wants me to remember It, but It won’t tell me, who exactly is It?

The bl00d-stained tissue couldn’t dry my tears. It seemed quite vexed.

So a gentle breeze blew, taking away the moisture from my face.

The icy black mist shackles on my ankles were still there. I couldn’t leave the current environment. Losing the freedom to move makes it hard not to panic.

No matter how real it is, all of this is ultimately a creation of a hallucination through my imagination.

I withdrew my hand, and saw a look of deep disappointment on Its face.

“Lu Lu, you’re not touching me anymore?” Its voice was still low, but sounded very wronged.

It took my hand and gently shook it. Tiny bl00d-colored droplets fell on me, like a light drizzle, completely soaking my clothes.

The thin clothes clung to my body. Its presence lowered the surrounding temperature, and the wind was still rampaging indoors.

I felt a little cold.

But It didn’t seem to realize It was the culprit. Its bloody hand, through my soaked clothes, slid down from my cheek, as gently as a feather sweeping past.

It was a bit awkward. I subtly shifted in the chair.

The bl00d-jade-like beauty spoke with curiosity. Since It hadn’t yet been able to produce a normal volume of sound, Its tone was also gentle.

“Lu Lu, are you wet?”

The excessively gentle voice sounded like a suggestive tease, yet it didn’t carry too much ambiguous meaning. Instead, it only held simple confusion, a detached question based only on objective reality.

This made me feel ashamed, and at the same time, I really wanted to retort like Xi Rong, “So what?”

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the courage to do that with It.

Not only are my clothes soaked…

I never imagined that such a simple touch, through the bl00d-soaked, semi-transparent thin clothing, could actually stir up a storm in my nerves.

How embarrassing. Why am I so, so desperate for someone else’s touch?

The physiological dissatisfaction made me anticipate Its next move, like in the bathroom before, or like that damp and overwhelming quilt.

I was startled by my own genuine longing and forcefully suppressed those inexplicable emotions and desires.

I shouldn’t be like this. I can’t be like this.

How can a person be so casual!

Even if I’ve been single for thirty-seven years, I shouldn’t be so desperate just because I’m lonely!

By relying on self-loathing, I finally managed to compose myself, but when I looked down, I had an embarrassing encounter with the already aroused desire.

Softness can also become elastic due to external forces, even causing the thin fabric to rise up.

I’m referring to a certain organ that serves no known purpose unless it’s for breastfeeding. Normally, it is held by a small amount of fabric, not tightly bound, only to ensure health during vigorous exercise.

Forget it. If I can’t see it, I can pretend it doesn’t exist. I averted my gaze, but It touched the vulnerable desire.

The coldness was almost burning me. I couldn’t help but shiver, and a slight moan escaped my nose. I didn’t know if it was because I was so aroused or because I was cold.

It should be because I’m cold, right?

If it’s the former, then I want to find a crack in the ground and crawl into it right now.

I couldn’t help but turn into a stubborn rat… silently diving deep into the mud…

At this level of embarrassment, my brain still knows how to play background music and modify the lyrics. For a moment, I admired my own sense of humor.

I grabbed Its wrist, and paused when I actually held it.

Although my memory was blurry due to the ambiguous atmosphere, I hadn’t completely lost it.

Last time, my hand could only pass through the invisible bl00d-water. This time, I could grab It.

I don’t know if this change is good or bad.

My brain sluggishly thought, at least now our interaction is not limited to me being unilaterally controlled.

That’s great, isn’t it?

I finally mustered a bit of courage, and when It looked at me with confusion because Its movement was hindered, I quietly said, “You can’t do that…”

Even a hallucination should know manners.

Of course, I didn’t dare to say this out loud, only daring to add it silently in my heart.

“Hmm?” It also lowered Its voice, and Its beautiful face, with Its eyes closed, was full of bewilderment.

For a moment, I didn’t know if It genuinely didn’t understand or was pretending not to.

Gritting my teeth, I really wanted to speak fiercely, ‘No rude touching allowed!’

But faced with Its dreamy and eerie beauty, the bloody color added a captivating and seductive charm, and all that anger was quelled.

I could only tell It softly.

“This is not good.” In a dejected and spineless manner.

It was more frustrated than me, leaning forward to get closer. The dense, seaweed-like hair draped down, lightly brushing my cheek.

My hand was taken by It again. It placed my hand on Its chest, trying to press it back into the chest cavity.

My heart tightened. I don’t want to cause It such harm every time I talk to It.

Moreover, isn’t It able to speak words I can hear now?

Suddenly withdrawing my hand, I didn’t expect Its force to be the opposite of before, completely devoid of any controlling intent. Instead, due to the force, I almost fell backward along with the chair.

The bl00d-colored skirt billowed like waves, reaching out to prop up the chair, preventing me from falling.

I was still in a dazed state from almost falling, when I saw the bl00d-jade-like beauty furrow Its brow, and a faint sadness reappeared on Its face.

“Lu Lu.” It called my name, so gently, so intimately.

Whenever It calls my name like this, I can’t help but want to see Its eyes.

My gaze touched the bloody eyelids. I thought I would see a pair of clear eyes, filled with a gentle smile.

Ai Jiaxin’s eyes vaguely appeared before me, dark, overly deep pupils, with a soft focal point of light.

That soft light was like sunlight filtering through the gaps in a dense forest, reflecting on a deep pool that hadn’t seen the sky for a long time, giving rise to delicate and viscous ripples, both chillingly cold and dazzling.

If this wasn’t a hallucination, I would have thought that the kind sister Ai Jiaxin mentioned was the bloody beauty right in front of me.

Those eyes match It too well.

But beneath the bloody eyelids was void and emptiness. Suppressing the disappointment in my heart, my gaze drifted past It to look at the water stains trailing on the floor.

Wet footprints reached here from the bathroom. I suddenly remembered that wet footprint.

If it’s truly a hallucination, would it be like this?

Constantly, everywhere.

Occupying my life so ordinarily, hidden in every detail.

I still remember the previous test reports. My physical data was extremely normal, at most categorized as sub-healthy. In short, no serious illness. It wasn’t to the extent that the money was still there but the person was gone.

Do I really have mental hallucinations?

After completing those psychological tests, the doctor frowned, and finally spoke some polite, general words.

My face was burning at the time. I could tell the doctor’s perfunctory subtext without needing serious analysis.

I also remember that exceptionally upright and rigorous doctor pinching the bridge of her nose, and quickly calling the next patient after I stood up.

As I was leaving, I vaguely heard her mumble.

“How come people who are clearly not sick insist on trying to be sick these days?”

I didn’t dare to bring up the hallucination situation, only doing the tests and X-rays.

No abnormalities.

It reached out and embraced my head, holding it close to Its chest, whispering softly, sweetly, and lingeringly.

I remained silent in the bloody waves, unsure whether I should face reality.

“The past us, we knew each other, right?” I raised my head from Its soft embrace, and It lowered Its head in response to my voice.

This made me almost kiss Its chin.

I actually felt a little regretful that I didn’t manage to kiss Its beautifully sculpted jawline.

Pervert!

I secretly cursed myself.

The skin was touched by a cool breeze. My wet clothes clung to me. In Its icy embrace, the cold almost seeped out from my bones, yet I was reluctant to leave.

How strange. Why do I feel so secure in this embrace?

All the frantic, burgeoning, and thirsty desires and delusions caused by the anticipation of being invaded were soothed by this embrace.

I hugged It back, embracing Its waist, like a small boat with a faint oil lamp lit, rushing recklessly toward the vast icy mountain on the sea, thinking it could land ashore.

The tiny candle flame was extinguished by the rushing cold, yet the one who reached the shore found a warm illusion in the bone-chilling coldness.

It’s so cold, yet I’m greedy for this embrace and unwilling to let go.

It rested Its head in the crook of my neck. The wet, bloody moisture permeated me. Bl00d-colored droplets fell from Its hair tips, wetting my hair.

Bl00d-colored and black hair intertwined. I saw a strand of raised black hair also condensing a drop of bloody water.

It was extraordinarily ordinary, yet it gave me a sense of seamless intimacy and ambiguity.

This scene is probably bizarre, right?

But the overwhelming sense of contentment arose inexplicably from the bottom of my heart, making me question the accuracy of the psychological test conclusion.

With things like this, is my mental state still normal?

Forget it, I shouldn’t question the doctor’s professionalism. The person who treated me was an authoritative expert. I can’t deny their certificate, which was hard-earned through decades of rigorous study, like this.

We were inseparable in this embrace. Even the distance between our souls seemed to have narrowed.

It was so satisfied with this intimacy.

Even though I couldn’t see Its face, the splashing water turning over on the bloody skirt, and the slightly floating bloody hair, all proclaimed Its good mood.

“Why is Lu Lu crying?”

It reached out helplessly to touch my face. The bloody, slender finger gently scraped across my cheekbone. I shook my head, not understanding why It said that.

Am I crying?

Being close to It was like being close to an iceberg. I had lost my sense of temperature, until It held that transparent tear, looking at me cautiously and worriedly.

I hadn’t expected that tear wouldn’t dissolve into Its body like the others before. Instead, it gently swayed in Its bloody palm, like a dewdrop on a lotus leaf, with a thin layer of silvery light where it touched, crystal clear.

I stared blankly at It, like examining an exquisitely beautiful foam phantom.

Is it real? Or an illusion?

Its bloody palm also had the same messy fine lines as mine. The one representing life was only a short segment. I was mesmerized and reached out to stroke that line.

That tear seeped into Its palm, merging into one, and It obediently spread Its palm open, letting me do as I pleased.

This posture makes it hard not to feel pity and affection.

Even though It had done so many outrageous things, I still softened my heart and chose to forgive.

I spread my palm next to Its, trying to compare the length of the life lines.

It subconsciously reached to cover my palm, Its fingertip about to weave through my fingers. I gently tapped It, not heavily, but with a clear sound, and It immediately drooped Its head as if deeply wronged.

No, you…

What are you doing?

It makes me seem like an evil villain who commits all sorts of atrocities, but who actually did those things?

My speechlessness lasted only a moment. Facing Its pitiful appearance, I couldn’t muster any anger, and instead had to explain, as if placating a child.

“Don’t move. Let me see your hand, okay?”

It still hung Its head in distress, but honestly spread Its palm open again. Its obedient look made me lose myself in thought for a moment.

Such cooperation, is it part of a revenge plan? If so, this is quite an elaborate scheme.

I knew I was gradually accepting the reality.

So what if I ran into a ghost? What’s so scary about it? I’m 37 years old. Is there anything that can still scare me?

I’m very sorry, but that definitely can scare me. I’m afraid of nothing except ghosts.

But Its appearance always makes me feel a sense of pity.

As long as It’s not here to claim my life, even if It wants to eat me from head to toe… well, that’s still not entirely acceptable, although I’ve already been sampled like a little snack.

I can maintain my current calmness entirely because of the continuous stream of inner monologue and sarcasm.

My fingertip tracing Its palm lines was trembling a little. I swallowed, thinking, my lack of calmness is a little too obvious.

The severed life line was like an impassable deep-sea trench, ending abruptly after a short segment with no clear continuation.

My heart trembled as my finger was blocked, beating so anxiously that I couldn’t calm down. I thought this was out of fear.

After all, no matter how beautiful or good-looking It is, It’s still a female ghost.

I had previously wiped that wet footprint with a tissue. The tissue quickly became lightly stained with bl00d color, and I dismissed this bl00d color as a phantom, and the faint smell of bl00d as a hallucination.

I’ve never been very brave, otherwise, I wouldn’t rather go see a psychiatrist than accept the fact that I’ve encountered a ghost.

Alas, anomalies are everywhere. It just depends on whether I am willing to see the elephant in the room.

But even if I see it, then what?

Oh, there are benefits. I save on the consultation fee, and I save on the treatment fee. My money can temporarily outpace inflation, so I don’t have to worry about retirement issues caused by premature retirement.

Being persistently entangled by a beautiful and eerie female ghost might be considered a great stroke of luck for some, but for me, who is somewhat ascetic, it is completely outside my comfort zone.

That layer-by-layer expansion of soreness and distension is genuinely not a purely pleasant experience.

Actually, I might not have encountered a ghost.

Maybe this is just a dream. When I wake up, Xi Rong will be lying on the side of my bed, just like when I was hospitalized for surgery. The moment I move, she will immediately wake up, looking at me with intense sleepiness and exhaustion, but with joy.

‘Lu Lu is awake?’

Every time I struggled awake from the true-to-life dreams back then, I would see Xi Rong’s worried, red-rimmed eyes.

‘I heard you talking in your sleep a lot. Does Lu Lu remember what you dreamed about?’

She would tightly hold my non-IV-drip hand, nervously waiting for my answer, not understanding why talking in my sleep was something to worry about.

It always took me quite some time to recognize people after waking up from a nightmare. I would stare at her for a long time, and at the sunlight outside the window, until Xi Rong mercilessly pinched me, only then would I snap back to reality in the pain.

“I don’t remember.”

She would then sigh in relief, as if a great burden was lifted, “It’s good that Lu Lu doesn’t remember.”

Sometimes, the dream would cunningly reproduce the same scenarios as above, making it hard for me to distinguish reality from the dream. Fortunately, with Xi Rong and Guan Lan there, I eventually found relief from the chaotic state.

Will it be a repeat of yesterday now?

As I was lost in thought, It suddenly caught my finger and asked me, “What is Lu Lu afraid of?”

I realized Its voice was becoming clearer and clearer, unlike the initial faintness. Even Its eyelashes were more distinct, and the hand holding mine was gradually gaining temperature.

My heartbeat quickened with every beat. It leaned down and pressed close to my chest, tilting Its ear to listen, devout and earnest.

It then said, “Lu Lu’s heart is beating so fast.”

Yes, my heart is racing so anxiously.

What am I afraid of?