Chapter 6.2: Social Ghost
Mu Mu thought it over and over again. If he hated it, then there was nothing to be done.
As a qualified friend, he should respect Mr. Painter’s different preferences. At worst, when he had the chance in the future, he could just make another new friend who liked going out.
“Alright,” Mu Mu said, looking at Fu Heqing as he gave in.
He struggled, wanting to jump back down to the floor, but the painter seemed to be holding him very tightly. Mu Mu could only kick his legs a couple of times before continuing,
“But I still think… Mr. Painter, isn’t your kind of life a bit too monotonous?”
“I’ve been in the villa for so long, but I’ve never seen any of Mr. Painter’s other relatives or friends come to visit.”
“And Mr. Painter doesn’t go visit them either.”
Fu Heqing was indifferent. “I don’t need to.”
“But—”
“And it also seems like Mr. Painter doesn’t have a romantic partner to go on dates with.”
“Some people call that being a single dog.”
Fu Heqing, who had been radiating coldness just a moment ago, was suddenly labeled a single dog. His fingers twitched.
The little skeleton, having secretly insulted him, felt a bit guilty. He glanced at Fu Heqing, unsure whether the other man had caught on, and tried to change the subject.
“Anyway, if you won’t take me out to play, I’ll be really bored,” Mu Mu said, twisting his fingers—his true intention finally revealed, even if his reasoning wasn’t entirely sound.
“Mr. Painter, you said before that you’d let me play with your phone and computer. Does that still count?”
Fu Heqing had still been holding onto the little skeleton. Hearing Mu Mu’s words, he immediately tossed him onto the small table nearby.
“You’ve really got nerve,” Fu Heqing remarked sharply.
“I was wrong, really,” Mu Mu said at once.
He immediately wrapped his arms around one of the painter’s fingers that hadn’t yet been pulled away, gently shaking it as he acted cute and tried to ingratiate himself.
Fu Heqing didn’t say anything, just watched him.
Mu Mu sneaked another look and hastily defended himself. “I didn’t know ‘single dog’ was an insult, okay?”
“Isn’t ignorance supposed to be innocent?”
Watching Mu Mu, who had already become extremely skilled at acting spoiled, Fu Heqing let out a soft laugh and casually stuffed a tablet he didn’t use into Mu Mu’s arms.
Mu Mu hugged the tablet—which stood upright and was nearly as tall as he was—and was instantly staggered by its weight. He wobbled, nearly tumbling off the small table together with the tablet.
“So this is a phone? It looks way bigger than the ones people usually hold in their hands!”
Watching Mu Mu clutch the tablet, Fu Heqing thought he looked like a normal person trying to carry a gigantic flat-screen TV—clearly struggling, and yet somehow comical.
But Mu Mu felt extremely satisfied—big enough, exciting enough.
To begin with, the little skeleton body Mu Mu was using only had two senses: sight and hearing. The large screen was perfect for pushing his visual enjoyment to the maximum.
He propped the tablet up on the small table and began to study every function on it.
Fu Heqing watched Mu Mu’s every move, seeing him clumsily swipe left, then swipe right, until he finally, quite accurately, found a search box.
“Ghosts can use the internet too?” Fu Heqing asked, his tone carrying a rare note of curiosity, no longer the calm, unruffled flatness he usually had.
“Of course! Don’t underestimate me.”
Then Fu Heqing saw Mu Mu poking at the 26-letter keyboard in the search box, one bony finger at a time.
“Not bad, you even know pinyin.”
“Of course,” Mu Mu said smugly. If his little skeleton body had a tail, it would probably be sticking straight up into the air right now.
“Back when I was wandering around outside, I was pretty well-traveled. I witnessed every generation of phone upgrades firsthand.”
Mu Mu poked away for two whole minutes before finally spelling out a line of text and tapping search.
[Excuse me, where is Aunt Du (Baidu)?]
The tablet page refreshed and jumped to a pile of completely unrelated results.
Mu Mu stared blankly, not quite understanding. So he deleted the entry and painstakingly tapped out another sentence.
[How do you ask Aunt Du a question?]
The webpage refreshed again, throwing up all kinds of chaotic answers—netizens joking around, and in the middle of it all he accidentally tapped on a small ad, which instantly forced him to jump from one website to another.
All kinds of trashy game promotions appeared, even virus-like pop-ups with explicit content that wouldn’t close no matter what.
Mu Mu was dumbfounded.
Fu Heqing quickly covered the little skeleton’s eyes and helped him close all the ads.
“Didn’t everyone say that if you have a question, you just ask Aunt Du?” Mu Mu said dejectedly.
“So it turns out going online is this hard too.”
“Humans are really amazing. I shouldn’t be so arrogant.”
Seeing Mu Mu looking thoroughly discouraged, Fu Heqing sighed and gave him a simple explanation of how search engines worked, then guided him into the app store.
The moment Mu Mu entered the app store, he was dazzled by the colorful world before him—as if a brand-new world had suddenly opened up.
In less than half a day, the ghost who had only just come into contact with the internet had already become proficient in things including, but not limited to, watching TV shows and movies, playing games, online chatting, and even online shopping and ordering takeout.
When Mu Mu discovered the food delivery app, he immediately jumped up, lifted the tablet, and hopped over in front of the painter.
“Mr. Painter! Look, so you can buy lunch and dinner on a phone too!”
“Too bad ghosts don’t have money. Otherwise, I could make it so you wouldn’t have to keep eating mushy bread anymore!”
Mu Mu sounded so genuinely heartfelt that Fu Heqing had the strange feeling that the mushy bread wasn’t something he ate himself, but something he used to abuse the little ghost in front of him.
Fu Heqing fell silent for a moment, then picked up his phone and sent a message to the very first contact at the top of his list, ordering dinner.
The message had just been sent when the other side immediately read it and then rattled off a long string of replies.
[Got it. Understood.]
[Oh my god, Brother Fu—you’ve actually taken the initiative to send this many messages in one week. This is unbelievable. You’re not possessed, are you? I’ll recheck your meds for you, are you already taking such a large dosage now?]
[And what was that “little beauty” you mentioned before? And you actually want to eat normal people food now? What’s going on here, have you had a change of heart?]
The long barrage of messages made Fu Heqing’s head ache. Without even thinking, he knew more or less what kind of questions the other party was asking.
He selectively replied to some of them, but as for that “little beauty,” he didn’t mention it at all.
No matter how many question marks the other side sent after that, it was all in vain.
When it was time for dinner, the front door—silent for who knew how long—suddenly rang with the doorbell. The sound startled Mu Mu so badly that his eyes flew wide open and he immediately ducked behind the painter.
Fortunately, the person outside seemed to know something; after pressing the doorbell just once, they left.
By the time Mu Mu ran to the balcony and craned his neck to peek toward the front gate, all he could see was something like a bamboo basket or a wooden box placed on the ground.
“What is it?” Mu Mu asked.
He watched as the butler robot brought the items inside from outside the door.
“Takeout.”
The instant he saw the food, Mu Mu finally understood why good cuisine was said to be about color, aroma, and taste all together. Even without smell or flavor, he could still feast with his eyes.
Even though he couldn’t eat or smell it, just looking was enough to leave Mu Mu completely satisfied.
“But I really want to eat it…”
Mu Mu gazed longingly at the dishes and soups inside the food containers. Watching them get picked up by chopsticks and delivered into the painter’s mouth made him drool with envy.
“What’s this?” Mu Mu asked as he saw Fu Heqing open a small jar. Inside was a thick, glossy broth, rich and sticky, glowing with a golden sheen.
“Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.”
“Is it good? What does it taste like?” Mu Mu gulped, swallowing saliva that didn’t actually exist.
“It’s alright.”
“Then what about this dessert? What’s it called, does it taste good?”
Mu Mu looked at the white, snowball-like pastry and couldn’t help wanting to reach out and touch it, but he held himself back, not wanting to contaminate the food.
“Dragon Beard Candy. It’s passable.”
Fu Heqing ate at an unhurried pace, his every movement carrying an air of elegance and refinement.
What Mu Mu couldn’t understand was that even though the painter was eating all these delicacies this time, his expression was no different from when he ate those slightly mushy, burnt bits of bread crust—there wasn’t the slightest difference, even in his evaluation!
Feeling both envious and indignant, Mu Mu scampered off.
…
At eleven-thirty at night—precisely the painter’s fixed bedtime—after exercising and bathing, without the slightest deviation.
After saying “Good night” to Fu Heqing, Mu Mu cheerfully left the room. If yesterday he had lingered a little before bedtime, tonight there was not a trace of hesitation or attachment.
He didn’t just disappear for the entire night—he wasn’t even back when Fu Heqing woke up the next morning.
Morning routines—washing up, breakfast—everything was quiet. No elaborate “good morning” greetings, no one chasing after him to ask what breakfast tasted like today.
It wasn’t until noon that Mu Mu finally appeared. Holding something unknown, he trotted across the living room and bumped into Fu Heqing. Without any explanation, he simply gave a quick greeting and went off on his own.
After this hurried encounter, Mu Mu’s figure was absent for the entire rest of the day.
Fu Heqing’s expression darkened. Following the trail of Mu Mu’s movements from that noon, he opened each room door in turn.
The rooms were pitch black. Fu Heqing glanced inside each for just two seconds before moving to the next.
It wasn’t until the very last room at the end of the hallway that he noticed a faint glow coming from the bay window as soon as he opened the door.
Familiar electronic devices emitted a pale light, illuminating the little skeleton.
Mu Mu lay across the bay window pillows, tilting the tablet slightly in front of him, tapping at the screen with his bony fingers.
But after a full day of transformation, Mu Mu was no longer the clumsy, single-fingered beginner he had been. The little skeleton now used both index fingers in tandem, tapping at incredible speed.
Fu Heqing never imagined he’d see something like this—a parent getting up in the middle of the night to check on a child playing on a phone.
He stood silently at the door for a few seconds, then quickly stepped forward. His eyes immediately caught the chat interface, messages flickering rapidly, one after another—and from different people.
He snatched the tablet away from Mu Mu in an instant.
“Confiscated.”
The voice falling from above was cold and merciless.
Mu Mu didn’t react at first. He stared blankly at his now-empty hands, and instinctively made a reluctant, clinging gesture.
Fu Heqing followed the little skeleton’s movement and scooped him up in one motion, his tone less than pleasant.
“Ghosts can get addicted to the internet too?”
Mu Mu knew “internet addiction” was a bad term. Instantly, he shrank his neck in fear.
But now the tablet was already filled with all kinds of entertainment apps. Even the contacts list was full of drifting “shake” messages, and he had chatted with more than a dozen small sparks.
Fu Heqing watched the tablet vibrate endlessly, message after message, many people asking for Mu Mu’s contact info and address.
“Tch.”
Still a social butterfly ghost.
Fu Heqing carried Mu Mu back to his room and casually tossed the little skeleton—tablet and all—onto his bed.
Mu Mu sank immediately into the soft mattress. He struggled just enough to poke his head up and restore his line of sight—only to be met with the painter’s fierce, scowling face.
Frightened, Mu Mu fell back into the blankets. When he finally peeked out again, he cautiously revealed his eyes and timidly asked:
“Le-Leniency to those who confess?”
