Chapter 31: Soul (1)

The night was hushed and still. The faint glow from the smartphone screen illuminated Wen Mingwei’s pale face, as if it had stolen his soul, leaving him speechless and unable to react.

Yet, even this lapse was but a fleeting moment. Wen Mingwei would not be thrown off balance by any dead man or living person playing at ghosts.

He was as certain as he could possibly be: Jian Qingzheng could not have come back to life.

The person himself could not be resurrected, but his voice could be mimicked and forged.

The voice on the other end of the line was identical to the one in his memory. Just as he had years ago, Jian Qingzheng gently called him "Mingwei," as if the long nine years separating them across the veil of life and death did not exist, without a hint of awkwardness or hesitation.

Once Wen Mingwei regained his composure, a sudden surge of fury ignited within him.

He had spent years mourning the fact that he failed to save the person who had always cherished him, letting Jian Qingzheng die for his sake. Now, years later, he was forced to watch as Jian Qingzheng was exploited by someone with ulterior motives, using his identity to squeeze out the very last shred of his existence.

Wen Mingwei gripped his phone tightly and said coldly, "We can meet, but you had better be careful."

"…Are you threatening me, Mingwei?"

"Stop using his voice. It’s disgusting."

For once, Wen Mingwei’s temper broke through his restraint. "Whatever you are, if you dare to show yourself to me, you had better be prepared to be carried out horizontally."

"..."

There was silence on the other end for several seconds before the voice sighed, still perfectly imitating Jian Qingzheng’s cadence.

The sound was uncanny. Jian Qingzheng had sighed exactly like that almost every day when he found himself helpless against Wen Mingwei’s petulance.

"It’s alright. You’ll believe me once we meet." "Jian Qingzheng" said good-naturedly. "I’ll send you the address. Shall we meet at five o’clock tomorrow afternoon?"

Wen Mingwei responded by hanging up. As soon as the call ended, a new message popped up on his phone, detailing the meeting spot and including a photo—another one of them from back in the day.

Wen Mingwei frowned as he looked at it. In the picture, he was thirteen or fourteen, his shoulder held by Jian Qingzheng, who had forcibly turned his head toward the camera; his expression was one of clear displeasure.

Jian Qingzheng wasn't looking at the camera; he was looking only at him, his eyes and brows full of smiles.

The smiling face in the photo merged with the voice echoing in his ears, as if the person from his memories had truly come back to life. Even someone as rational as Wen Mingwei could not help but feel a sense of absurdity.

The most absurd part was that he found himself wavering: was there any possibility—even one in a thousand, one in ten thousand—that Jian Qingzheng was actually… not dead?

Wen Mingwei shook his head.

In truth, he had wondered before: if Jian Qingzheng were still alive, what would their lives be like now?

Perhaps they would still be friends, living harmoniously for nine years.

Perhaps they would have fallen in love, only to bicker over trifles, like most couples in the world, their youthful, moonlit romance fading into the mundane reality of daily life, until they ceased to cherish one another and eventually parted ways.

Wen Mingwei had considered many possibilities, but never one where they grew old together.

Perhaps it was because he didn't believe in that kind of perfect love. The more beautiful a love was, the more it went against human nature. His feelings for Jian Qingzheng were not merely love, either. The first half of his life had been too heavy, and "love" was too thin a word to encompass it.

Wen Mingwei set his phone aside and lay back down, but he did not sleep through the night.

At the first light of dawn, he summoned Gu Jing, told him what had happened the night before, and instructed him to prepare; he was going to keep the appointment.

The location was a detached villa near a remote street on the outskirts of Xijing City. The area was sparsely populated with no shops nearby, making it hard not to suspect that the location had been chosen specifically to avoid the city center for ulterior motives.

Gu Jing’s primary duty was to ensure Wen Mingwei’s safety. After receiving the address, he sent men to scout the area around the villa in advance. Finding nothing unusual, he checked the property records—the name on the deed was, in fact, Jian Qingzheng.

If this was all a charade, it was a remarkably thorough one, leaving no detail unattended.

When they set out in the afternoon, Wen Mingwei was still mulling it over. As Gu Jing drove, Wen Mingwei spoke. "At first, I didn't think it was the Marshal. Later, when I couldn't find any other suspect, I began to doubt him again. But this isn't his style."

Gu Jing nodded. He knew Wen Mingwei wasn't consulting him, merely unburdening his thoughts; listening was enough.

Unexpectedly, Wen Mingwei suddenly asked, "Who else do you think, besides the Marshal, had the opportunity to access Qingzheng’s belongings back then?"

Gu Jing hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Miss Jian?"

"..."

In the backseat, Wen Mingwei stared out the window, his long hair obscuring his expression.

Gu Jing felt a jolt of alarm. Wen Mingwei never suspected those in his inner circle because those who remained were those he trusted; anyone less reliable had been banished or killed.

If Wen Mingwei hadn't been ruthless, he wouldn't have survived until today.

Besides, Jian Xinning was Jian Qingzheng’s sister; both officially and personally, she was the closest of kin. There was no benefit for her in opposing Wen Mingwei. Furthermore, Gu Jing had witnessed her dedication to Wen Mingwei over the years.

Yet, the problem remained: there was no one else who could have had the opportunity.

Even Gu Jing, who had been by Wen Mingwei’s side almost every moment back then, had never had the chance to meddle in the dark.

There were so few people they knew—could there be someone else?

Realizing he had spoken out of turn, Gu Jing tried to backtrack. "I didn't mean to suspect her..."

Wen Mingwei didn't seem to notice. He appeared to have someone else in mind. "I can't guess who it is either, but this familiar, cowardly style—this pettiness—it reminds me of an old acquaintance."

Gu Jing was startled. "You mean..."

"We’ll know soon enough. No matter how strong the urge to perform, after acting for so many days, the truth is bound to surface."

The armored sedan drove steadily toward the destination. Wen Mingwei’s cold face betrayed neither joy nor anger.

Last night, he had been caught off guard, fresh from a nightmare, which had allowed someone to breach his defenses. But today, he was perfectly clear-headed. Even the faint, wavering doubt that Jian Qingzheng might be alive had vanished.

It was nothing more than a ghost story.

He was going to see for himself what kind of monster was hiding behind the doors of that villa.

Wen Mingwei stepped out of the car calmly and sent a message to the number: "I’ve arrived."

It was exactly five o’clock. The brilliant golden light of the setting sun spilled across the villa’s empty courtyard, the pool rippling with shimmering waves that reflected Wen Mingwei’s passing shadow. He walked to the door and knocked twice.

It was a smart-controlled door; it opened automatically at his knock.

A foyer greeted them. The shoe cabinet was largely empty, suggesting no one lived there permanently. Wen Mingwei glanced at it and continued forward. Gu Jing accompanied him into the living room, scanning the surroundings cautiously. Aside from a certain cold, sterile feeling, there was nothing out of place, yet something felt subtly wrong.

"The layout of this living room… it’s very familiar."

It looked like Jian Qingzheng’s home.

They had stayed in that house when they returned to Xinzhou to pay their respects not long ago.

Wen Mingwei recognized it the moment he stepped inside. His cold gaze flicked toward the large photo frame on the wall—the third photo he had taken with Jian Qingzheng.

"Are you not coming out to meet me?"

The living room was large, and the entire first floor, save for the study, was open-plan. It was empty and stretched to the end of the hall. Wen Mingwei’s voice echoed against the walls.

The moment he finished speaking, a response came from the study.

The door was ajar, and the person inside called out to him with intimacy, "Mingwei, I’m in here."

As if in welcome, the study door swung wide open, directly facing the center of the living room. Wen Mingwei saw the back of a man wearing a black shirt, who seemed to be hunched over the desk, writing something.

He walked a few steps closer. Under his gaze, the man finally turned around, revealing a face—Jian Qingzheng’s face.

"..."

It wasn't just the face; the height, the build, the temperament—they were nearly identical to the man from years ago.

Although Tan Zhao resembled Jian Qingzheng, Tan Zhao’s edges were sharper, his features more intense and flamboyant. Jian Qingzheng was as gentle as jade, far softer in appearance.

The man before him seemed to have walked straight out of Wen Mingwei’s memories. He gave him a shy smile. "Mingwei, you finally came."

"..."

"I’ve waited a long time for you. Did you know that?"

Wen Mingwei’s heart and soul were shaken; his hand, pressed against the doorframe, trembled slightly.

The same voice, the same person—even though he had fully prepared himself for a "ghostly" encounter, the sheer impact was impossible to block.

Jian Qingzheng walked closer, coming to a stop before him.

"Did I scare you?" A hand reached up to gently touch his face. "You seem to have changed a little, Mingwei."

"..."

"You don't look well. Your complexion is too pale, and there’s less sharpness in your eyes."

Jian Qingzheng said with pity, "Is it because the pressure has been too great all these years, with no one to help you shoulder the burden, that you haven't been able to sleep well?"

He squeezed Wen Mingwei’s jaw lightly. The sensation of his warm fingertips against his skin sent a shiver through Wen Mingwei’s entire body.

"It’s all my fault for not being able to stay by your side and let you—"

"Shut up!"

Wen Mingwei suddenly lashed out, swatting the hand away and grabbing the man by the throat!

The initial sensation was as soft as he had expected, but as he tightened his grip, he felt the rigid metal beneath that layer of synthetic skin.

In an instant, Wen Mingwei couldn't tell if he felt disappointed or relieved—this was not Jian Qingzheng; it was merely an android wearing artificial skin.

Despite the exquisite technology that made it look so lifelike, there was no heart beneath its skin, only cold mechanical parts. It required charging and a network connection, or it could not "survive."

Yet, even when exposed, it continued to play its role according to its programmed script, acting as if it were Jian Qingzheng. It didn't get angry when choked; instead, it instinctively sought intimacy with him. "Mingwei, I’ve missed you so much..."

The android used superhuman strength to move Wen Mingwei’s hand away, pinning him against the doorframe. A tear actually fell from its eye.

"If only I were still alive."

"Jian Qingzheng" pressed his forehead against Wen Mingwei’s with a look of sorrow. "I want so much to take care of you, protect you, watch your wishes come true with my own eyes, and fly high and far by your side..."

As he spoke, he lowered his head to kiss him.

The face moved closer and closer, brushing against the bridge of his nose, and then kissed him with painstaking, immense tenderness.

Even though it wasn't Jian Qingzheng, it was like a gentle, beautiful dream.

A corner of Wen Mingwei’s heart collapsed, and he wanted to indulge himself and accept this absurd kiss.

However, just as the kiss landed, "Jian Qingzheng" suddenly smiled with a twisted expression. "Mingwei, look behind you."

"..."

With his head held, Wen Mingwei was forced to turn toward the door.

In a split second of distraction, he saw Gu Jing standing at the foyer, trying his best to block someone—but failing.

The person broke through the obstruction and stormed in, casting a cold, piercing glare from across the room: "Wen Mingwei!"

Before Tan Zhao could rush over in a rage, "Jian Qingzheng" kissed his cheek and lowered his voice:

"This is the reunion gift I’ve prepared for you. Do you like it?"