For fear that Tunshe Nalin would notice something, I forced myself to remain calm and slowly spread the scroll on the table, fearing that I would tear the already brittle leather canvas in a fit of impulse.
I looked up at him and saw that his face was calm. I didn’t know whether he was looking at me or the painting through his blindfolded eyes. I became more and more unsure, flustered, and guilty. I picked up the brush and dipped it in a little black ink. Still, my hands trembled. I kept my eyes on the deity in the painting, suspended on the paper, unable to make the first stroke—just like a student facing their first art exam.
“Are you, afraid?” His tone fluctuated slightly.
“I’m nervous, isn’t it because I’m afraid of ruining it while trying to fix it for you?” I smiled at him, stood up, took an empty can from the back basket, went to the window to fill it with some snow to use as brush-washing water, and patted some on my cheeks. The coldness finally helped me calm down.
Back at the table, I didn’t dare to look at him. I picked up the brush and re-dipped it in the pigments. Perhaps it was the passion and determination to capture him that fueled me. Although my hand trembled, the brushstrokes on the paper were surprisingly steady. The first patch I made was incredibly meticulous, and not a single drop of color overflowed from the outlined area. There was no color difference, and the saturation and brightness were perfectly balanced.
I let out a sigh of relief when the first stroke went smoothly and smiled as I looked up at Tunshe Nalin.
He remained motionless, only his adam apple slightly moving.
“Continue.”
Tunshe Nalin, I hope you’ll be just as obedient when it’s your turn to let me paint you.
Perhaps because I knew he was probably more nervous than I was, although my aversion to the painting hadn’t diminished, I gradually found the flowing rhythm I used to have as I painted the second stroke. Before long, I had repaired the areas where the colors had worn away the most.
Just as I was about to make more detailed repairs, I noticed a flaw—it wasn’t caused by age but by a mistake the artist made while outlining. In fact, when I first saw the painting, I felt that the lines were not smooth, with many retraced strokes, and that was one of the reasons I didn’t like it. This spot was the worst—the line had completely broken off. I raised my brush to fix it, but just then, a cold hand seized my wrist, and a voice said, “Leave it.”
I looked up and saw that the corner of Tunshe Nalin’s lips was tightly pressed.
Was this flaw also a mark left by his beloved?
“Leave all the lines as they are.”
I smiled and said, “Alright, I’ll listen to you, leave them.”
He has someone in his heart. If I forcibly erased the marks, he would care even more. Subtle influence is the best strategy. He let go of my wrist, and only then did I notice the sky outside the door had darkened—I had been painting for quite some time. I set the brush down and stretched with a lazy yawn.
My stomach started to ache again, letting out a soft growl.
Since my stomach was sensitive, I knew I couldn’t go too long without eating. I rubbed my stomach and said, “Tunshe Nalin, I think… I’m hungry again. Let’s have dinner before I continue the repairs.”
“The lighting isn’t good. You can continue tomorrow.” He rolled up the painting and placed it into his sleeve.
“Alright.” I replied helplessly, though I really wished I could stay up tonight and finish the repairs so I could paint him tomorrow. But it was clear that Tunshe Nalin had a stubborn temperament, and rushing things would only backfire.
As he stood up, I tugged at the hem of his robe. “Tunshe Nalin, I don’t want rabbit for dinner anymore—I want fish. I did a good job, didn’t I? Could you send your servant to fetch me some seasoning? My mouth feels so bland, it’s starting to taste like bird feathers.”
“Got it.”
Perhaps as a reward for helping him with the painting, not long after Tunshe Nalin left, his strange servant actually brought over a plate of fish, and indeed, there were seasonings, though a bit mild, but the fish was fresh and had a natural sweetness. I finished the warm soup, and my stomach, which had been aching slightly, finally felt much better.
I put the remaining half of the fish at the door, and soon the red-feathered vulture arrived as expected. I sat on the doorstep and watched it eat the leftovers I had specially left under the moonlight.
“Hey, can you tell me where your master went?” I looked at the corridors on both sides and asked, “Did he go back to his room to have dinner? Which room does he live in?”
The vulture tilted its head to glance at me and continued to eat, seemingly refusing to accept my bribe.
I suddenly found it quite cute and scratched its red feathers with a smile: “Hey, did he accept that painting?”
The vulture still ignored me, perhaps feeling that the dignity of the lead bird had been offended. It shook its head, avoided my hand that was trying to touch its head feathers, and gently prodded my palm with its sharp beak.
I pulled my hand back in frustration. “Brother Vulture, could you bring me a few sheets of paper or some canvas? Make sure they’re white—I want to paint. Don’t you want to see your own majestic self? I’ll paint it for you. As the leader of the birds, you can’t go without a portrait, hey…”
The vulture swallowed the remaining fish and flew away, leaving me alone, staring at the large, round moon above. Although the view was indeed stunning, the temperature on the snow-covered mountain in November was anything but mild. I shivered all over after sitting for a while, and the idea of exploring the mountain’s buildings to find Tunshe Nalin faded. I closed the door and returned to the room.
With nothing to do and no phone, and the room still cold, I scooped fresh snow into a copper basin to warm it. After a quick wash, I climbed back into bed.
I’m not sure if it’s a bit of altitude sickness or something else, but as soon as my head touched the pillow, my mind became heavy.
“Wuwu…”
Half asleep, half awake, it seemed like a woman’s sobbing sound floated through the air, sometimes distant, sometimes right next to my ear. Who… is crying? I groggily opened my eyes, and the red curtains around me swayed, like the swirling hem of a ghostly skirt.
Didn’t I close the door and windows? How could there still be wind?
“Mi Jia… Mi Jia… wuwu…”
A woman? How could there be a woman here? Is she one of Tunshe Nalin’s people?
I propped myself up and looked towards the door, only to see it wide open. A slender figure sat with her back to me on the railing of the corridor outside, her long hair swirling in the wind, looking like a young girl.
“Hey!” A sudden, alarmed thought crossed my mind, worried that she might be trying to jump off the snowy mountain. I quickly got out of bed and walked towards the door, ignoring the fact that a girl was inexplicably here in the middle of the night.
“Wuwuwu… why… did you come back?”
The girl’s shoulders shook, her sobs sounding especially sorrowful.
“Hey… no matter what you’re upset about, don’t sit there, it’s dangerous.” I cautiously walked closer to her. In the moonlight, I saw she was dressed in red—a traditional Jiangsu-style outfit, covered with strange black symbols.
“Mi Jia, haven’t we already suffered enough because of these people? Why did you have to come back?” Her sobs grew even more heart-wrenching, echoing through the still night like the cry of a wildcat.
“Little sister, I’ll… I’ll carry you down, alright?”
Fearing she might suddenly jump, I cautiously extended my arms and pulled her close. But instead of holding her, my hands grasped nothing but empty air, and something soft and slippery slid down to my feet.
I looked down and saw a blood-soaked, flat face without eyes.
It was a piece of human skin… a whole, intact layer of skin that had been peeled off.
I stood frozen, hearing the mournful cry echo behind me.
“Mi Jia, why… did you come back?”
I slowly turned my head, and a bloodied, flesh-mutilated face without skin was inches away.
“Ahhh—!”
I stumbled several steps back, my back colliding with the wooden railing with a loud “crack,” and my body tipped backward, my feet lifting off the ground! Just then, a hand gripped my waist, and my forehead struck something hard and cold. Cold, heavy droplets fell onto my face. When I looked up, the first thing I saw was the man’s pale, slender neck and the graceful lines of his chin.
“Tun, Tunshe Nalin?”
Still shaken, I instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders and looked back. Behind me was a sheer cliff, shrouded in thick mist, with the forest below hidden from view. The wooden railing was missing a section.
“Why did you come out, at night?”
“I… I think I’ve encountered a ghost again.” Trembling with fear, my body was shaking so much that even my teeth chattered. Without thinking, I instinctively clung to his waist like a koala, using all four limbs.
Tunshe Nalin didn’t say anything. He supported my hips and carried me into the room.
He was very tall, and surprisingly, he only used one hand to hold me, almost like carrying a child. Probably due to the shock, once he placed me back on the bed, my body couldn’t control itself. I couldn’t loosen my grip on him, and I was trembling uncontrollably.
“Let go.” He said in a deep voice.
“I really want to.” I said. I didn’t want to embarrass myself like this, but ever since I met him, I had been a mess around him every time. In Tunshe Nalin’s eyes, I probably looked like a shy quail, with no charm to catch his attention at all.
How embarrassing, I gritted my teeth. “Tun, Tunshe Nalin, I… I can’t move.”
Cold fingers gripped my stiff feet, and I shivered in response.
His hands released each of my limbs one by one, but he didn’t get up. Instead, he hovered above me, seemingly staring at me in the darkness.
“You just said, you encountered ghosts again?”
“Mm.” I shivered, curling up in the blanket, nodding slightly.
“But in my domains, little ghosts wouldn’t dare cause trouble. Unless, it was you who brought it here, and it is a vicious one as well.”
I was startled and then realized that as a shaman, Tunshe Nalin must have a deep understanding of such supernatural things—but, I attract it? A vicious one? Why did I attract that skinless female ghost in red? I have never done anything to let a girl down before…
“Your deceased ex-lover, even dared to break into my land. He is no ordinary evil spirit.” He said word by word, “He was the one who pestered you in the past few days. Don’t you understand?”
I was stunned.
A few days ago, my deceased ex-lover…
Fragmented images flashed before my eyes—the man who handed me the amulet seemed to be of Thai descent, the colorful bracelet in the stream that looked like particles of paint, the Thai coffin I saw in the mirror yesterday, and that familiar voice…
The one who was pestering me the past few days… could it be, could it be, Ming Luo?
“Ming Luo…” I couldn’t help but exclaimed. “How do you know that Ming Luo is dead? Do you have yin-yang eyes or something, so you can see him?”
He sneered, “I can sense those who invade my domain.”
Wait, but what I just saw was not Ming Luo, but a female ghost!
“If you still linger on him, be careful, or your soul will be taken away.” Tunshe Nalin whispered grimly in my ear, his voice as captivating as that of the Judge Yama suppressing the little ghost.
“I… I didn’t.” My heart trembled, and I shook my head. If I really couldn’t let go of Ming Luo in the past year, it was partly because I was nostalgic for him and partly because, without him, my inspiration and passion were gradually exhausted, so I was trapped in my own trap and got deeper and deeper. But since I met Tunshe Nalin, my heart as a painter has been completely burning for him, the new muse I met. During this period, I didn’t think about Ming Luo at all.
To a certain extent, Tunshe Nalin appeared when I was in deep despair and on the verge of collapse. It was he who pulled me out of the abyss and became my life-saving straw.
“I’m not attached to him. What I just saw was not him, but a… female ghost…” My mind was in a mess. I was both shocked and scared, and I explained to him subconsciously.
“You even provoke a female ghost?” He sneered again.
“How is that possible!” I was stunned and blurted out, “How could I have provoked this female ghost? It must have been here originally!”
“This place, was once where I practiced forbidden cultivation in seclusion, and women were never allowed to enter.” His tone grew even colder. “How could a female ghost, appear here? You’ll have to explain that.”
Practice in seclusion, forbidden cultivation? Just what kind of person is he—a monk?
I didn’t understand the first half of his sentence, but I understood the second half.
“I’m not the kind of person… you think I am.” I knew he had misunderstood.
Considering my appearance, the impulsive kiss a few days ago, and my teasing behavior last night, those words weren’t exactly convincing.
How can I make him believe that my feelings for my muse are not the same as those of a typical lover? It’s more akin to the love one has for a piece of art. I’m not someone with shallow affections—there are many who pursue me, but my standards are high. I’ve never been interested in those who chase after me. They don’t wish to become my muse; they are simply infatuated with my appearance and want nothing more than to sleep with me. As for the muse I choose, I have always been the one to take the initiative, enjoying the process of conquering and capturing. I can only accept being the one to make decisions, the one who leads the beginning and end of this unique relationship.
In this way, when the relationship begins to deteriorate, I can sever it cleanly and decisively, avoiding being bound.
“We, have nothing to do with each other, so you don’t need to explain to me,” He said. “I’m just reminding you, don’t lose your life, before you’ve finished fixing my painting.”
Seeing him stand up, I grabbed his collar, pulling off an agate button. With a sharp “snap,” it fell open, revealing a patch of pale skin on his chest.
“Don’t, don’t go, stay, alright? I’m… I’m afraid… afraid of ghosts.”
