Chapter 7.2: “Delete it”
Last night, Mu Mu played on his phone and felt like he was back to normal—full of energy, almost like a vibrant ghost that had soaked up the sun’s vitality.
But maybe it was from playing with the drifting bottle that got wet, because today Mu Mu still felt damp and chilly all over.
He sat in the studio, looking at the sun outside, and tugged on the painter’s sleeve.
“It’s sunny again outside. Can we go out and soak up some sun together?”
“I feel like my bones have been softened,” he added.
Hearing this, Fu Heqing turned to look at the little skeleton toy sitting on the small table, frowned, and pressed it with his hand.
“They’re not soft.”
“Maybe it’s just in my head?” Mu Mu held onto Fu Heqing’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go, let’s go.”
“It’s my working time now.” Fu Heqing tapped the edge of the frame with the handle of his brush, giving a gentle hint.
Long ago, Mu Mu had already realized that the painter was a thorough workaholic. He didn’t like going out and didn’t need social interaction, so he spent almost all of his time working, with no real distinction between weekdays and weekends or holidays.
Mu Mu thought for a moment and figured this must mean he was being refused.
He instantly felt dejected.
But just as he was slumping, he heard Fu Heqing continue, “After I tidy up, we’ll go to the sunroom.”
Mu Mu stared for a couple of seconds as Fu Heqing folded up the easel, then quickly realized what he meant.
“Yay!”
Mu Mu happily helped Fu Heqing pack up, speaking enthusiastically, “I can help you carry a can of white paint!”
Fu Heqing smiled at that.
“Don’t all of you ghosts have some kind of special ability?”
Mu Mu slowly widened his eyes and asked back, “Wait, are we supposed to have special abilities?”
“What would you usually have?”
“Have you ever seen any other ghosts?”
It was as if Mu Mu had just discovered a whole new world. Hugging a can of white paint, he chased after the painter and asked eagerly. Fu Heqing, a bit helpless at the question, pulled out his phone and played a movie for Mu Mu.
Then, the whole day in the sunroom passed like this: Fu Heqing continued working beside him, while Mu Mu lounged in the rocking chair, basking in the sunlight. He finished watching several classic movies and even queued up quite a few more waiting to be seen.
Based on Fu Heqing’s recommendations and high ratings online, Mu Mu learned about “special abilities” found in all sorts of genres—fantasy, sci-fi, supernatural, you name it.
Mu Mu turned off the tablet, crossed his legs like the characters in the movies, and tried to meditate.
“What are you doing?”
Mu Mu spoke seriously, “I’m trying to draw energy into my body.
To see if I can practice immortality, maybe even fly on a sword.”
Fu Heqing looked at the little skeleton toy, with its cute face but adopting the posture of a Daoist immortal, and couldn’t help but chuckle.
Hearing the painter laugh, Mu Mu felt mocked and a little annoyed. He stealthily opened one eye and glared.
Perhaps because the sun was so bright, the painter’s usually cold gray eyes seemed to catch a ray of sunlight. The faintest warmth in his gaze reflected golden light, making his eyes look almost luminous.
“Wow.”
Mu Mu stared at Fu Heqing’s eyes and couldn’t resist climbing up, jumping onto the painter to get a closer look at those pupils.
Fu Heqing seemed unaccustomed to such close contact and leaned back slightly, but he still reached out and caught the jumping Mu Mu steadily.
The little skeleton immediately got bold, gripping the painter’s chest and climbing upward.
“Your eyes are golden right now!”
“If this were a novel, you’d be the chosen one with the bloodline of a golden dragon.”
“Why don’t you quit painting for a bit and try cultivating immortality? Who knows—maybe you really are some overpowered hero, destined to rule the Three Realms and Eight Desolations?”
Mu Mu spoke very seriously, looking every bit like a middle-schooler corrupted by xianxia novels.
“That’s not true,” Fu Heqing said.
He lifted Mu Mu up, trying to correct his warped worldview. “You’re just a ghost that doesn’t even know why you exist—and probably the only one in the entire world.”
“This world is scientific and boring. No immortality, no supernatural forces, no superheroes.”
“All you’ve got is a skeleton toy that talks and moves.”
With that, Fu Heqing moved his practice painting in front of Mu Mu.
On the canvas, the little skeleton lounging in the rocking chair looked lifelike, sunlight dappled over it in patches, serene and beautiful—a sweet, quiet afternoon glow.
“Wow, it looks so nice.”
Mu Mu’s attention was instantly captured. He gushed praise without thinking, unsure if he was complimenting himself or the painting.
“You made me look so warm and cozy, kind of like a little cotton teddy bear.”
“But the little skeleton is supposed to be hard and stiff.”
“Ah, I really love it!” Mu Mu’s eyes suddenly sparkled, and when he spoke, his voice came out embarrassingly eager.
“Can I have this painting?”
He looked at the painter, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and shook them slightly.
“Please, please! I really need this—it’s my first portrait ever!”
“No.” Fu Heqing said suddenly.
Mu Mu froze. He didn’t understand what the painter meant.
“This isn’t you.”
Fu Heqing lowered his gaze and said softly, “This is just a skeleton toy.”
Mu Mu was stunned for a few seconds, then finally remembered—he was a ghost.
He had gotten used to the little skeleton’s body and had even unconsciously treated it as his own.
Mu Mu fell silent for a long while, then looked at Fu Heqing and asked quietly, testing the waters, “Then… can you draw me?”
“You want me to describe myself, and you try… to draw me?” Mu Mu’s tone was hesitant, mixed with a shy hopefulness.
“I’m about this tall.”
Mu Mu stood up and gestured, “Roughly up to the painter’s neck.”
“My whole body is a little transparent, and at night I might emit a faint, faint blue glow.”
“My hair reaches about here, my eyes are about this big, my nose this long, my mouth this big.”
His descriptions became increasingly abstract, but the painter didn’t stop. With a pencil, he sketched a perfectly familiar face on the paper.
Mu Mu stood on tiptoe beside him, both amazed and delighted. “Wow!! Is this really me?”
In just fifteen minutes, a black-and-white character sketch was finished.
Fu Heqing hadn’t drawn the whole body—just the face, which Mu Mu himself had never seen.
“Is this really me? Is it really me?”
Fu Heqing nodded.
“Then this is me!” Mu Mu carefully took the portrait from the painter’s hands.
“If I ever get the chance to make new friends, I can show this to them.” Mu Mu stared at the drawing, so excited it was like his soul was about to leap out of his body.
His true form actually drifted out, floating over to the glass wall. Even though he still couldn’t see anything, Mu Mu could imagine it clearly now.
He floated around the sunroom a few times, then drifted back, pretending nothing had happened. He slipped back into the little skeleton’s body and sat upright again, all proper and well-behaved.
“Thank you so, so much, Mr. Painter!”
“This way, new friends will know what I look like!”
Listening to Mu Mu talk nonstop about new friends—about other people and the dull business of making friends—Fu Heqing, for once, didn’t feel that familiar surge of irritation rise in his chest.
His gaze followed that beautiful ghost the whole time, before finally settling back on the little skeleton. He suddenly asked softly,
“Can’t other people see you?”
Still caught up in his excitement, Mu Mu didn’t notice anything unusual and nodded as he replied,
“That’s right!”
“No one can see me. I’m a ghost, after all—even I can’t see myself.”
“Mirrors and glass don’t reflect me at all.”
“I used to think it’d be nice if someone could see me, so I’d know what I looked like.”
“Later, when I was wandering around, I saw some kids learning sculpture. I touched my face and kind of… tried to recreate how I might look.”
“Hmm… I guess I’m not too ugly. No weird scars, no strange bloodstains either.”
“At least if someone could see me, they wouldn’t faint like in the movies.”
As Fu Heqing listened to Mu Mu speak, he suddenly remembered the first time he’d met him.
The transparent ghost had floated up to the studio window, peering inside. When he saw that no one inside reacted at all, a clear look of disappointment appeared on that beautiful face.
Then the lovely ghost passed through the wall, sitting lightly on the windowsill, gazing into the room.
Later, when he checked the surveillance footage, he realized the boy didn’t appear at all—he had understood immediately. From then on, he paid extra attention.
At first, he thought this ghost could be seen by everyone, especially since the resigned servants all swore with certainty that they had encountered a ghost.
But only he—aside from the first meeting—had never seen that beautiful little ghost again.
So he decided to lure that beautiful little ghost out, step by step…
“So I’m the first one to see you.”
Fu Heqing smiled, his tone light and happy.
“Yeah, yeah, then I’m the second one!”
Mu Mu didn’t catch the meaning behind Fu Heqing’s words and thought he meant “seeing” the portrait. He eagerly agreed, following along enthusiastically.
“No, what I mean is…”
“The only one.”
Mu Mu’s eyes suddenly widened as he realized.
