Chapter 16: “The book says…”
Fu Heqing lowered his gaze to the transparent soul before him. Just as he was about to speak, he saw Mu Mu tilt his head, lean closer to his hand, and stare at it with wide eyes, looking again and again.
“Um… is this my head?”
Mu Mu stared at the skull for several seconds, hesitating as he tried to identify it. Then he suddenly jolted, fully waking up.
“You twisted my head off?!!”
With one hand holding the bowl, Mu Mu reached up in panic to feel his own head—and sure enough, there was nothing there.
He looked at the painter with his round, catlike eyes, long lashes trembling, his gaze filled with disbelief and a pitiful sense of grievance.
“Why did Mr. Painter take off my head?”
“I-if Mr. Painter likes this head too, then Mr. Painter can have it…”
Fu Heqing looked at Mu Mu’s reluctant expression and said deliberately, “Then Mu Mu won’t have a head anymore. What should we do about that?”
As Fu Heqing spoke, Mu Mu’s eyes drooped at the corners, the conflicted look on his face deepening.
He looked up at Fu Heqing, then at the skull head in the painter’s hand. “Then… no head it is.”
“It doesn’t really affect anything anyway. It’s just a bit unfamiliar—kind of less cute.”
Mu Mu puffed out his cheeks, hugged the bowl again, and put it back into the oven, proving that it really didn’t affect anything.
Fu Heqing chuckled, put the skull head back onto the toy body, and casually turned off the oven.
Mu Mu turned his head in confusion.
“Go back to sleep,” Fu Heqing said.
“Tomorrow I’ll make cake with you.”
After saying that, without even waiting for Mu Mu to nod, he removed Mu Mu’s “apron,” took him back to the room, and added,
“In the future, if you’re tired, just go to sleep.”
Mu Mu looked into the painter’s eyes. They were still dark and deep, without a trace of light, yet the gaze seemed to carry tiny hooks, snagging Mu Mu so he couldn’t look away—as if he were about to be drawn in.
He reflexively wanted to argue, “But a wandering spirit doesn’t need to—”
“Now it does.”
Mu Mu froze for a moment, then suddenly remembered that he really had learned how to sleep.
Before he could react, the painter placed him beside the pillow, using an expensive but incredibly soft scarf to roll up a temporary little nest, serving as both blanket and bed.
“For now, this will do. The custom-made furniture will be delivered soon.”
With that, he set Mu Mu into the warm little nest.
Mu Mu struggled in vain. The moment he was tucked into the warm scarf, he felt drowsiness wash over him.
“All right then. Since wandering spirits need to sleep now, I’ll just…”
Mu Mu’s voice grew softer and softer. Before he could finish his sentence, it trailed off completely.
Fu Heqing looked at the little skeleton that had once again fallen into stillness, staring at him for who knew how long. Then he removed the little headpiece again and set it aside, revealing once more the faint, fragile-looking soul of a youth.
The soul, glowing with a dim bluish light, flickered on and off, its steady, gentle rhythm resembling human breathing.
Fu Heqing picked up his laptop and rested it on his knees, opening his email. It was filled with unread messages.
The bodies of the emails were all blank. He opened them one by one to check the attachments—each contained photos of ancient texts or digital manuscripts.
[Brother Fu, this is everything. Since when did you get interested in folklore about spirits and the supernatural? Trying out a new style?]
[It’s almost the end of the year. Do you remember there’s a charity art exhibition early next year? If it really won’t work, I can cancel it.]
Fu Heqing skimmed them quickly, replied with two words—“We’ll discuss it later”—and began going through the ancient-text files.
Many of these digital manuscripts were extremely old, passed down orally in remote mountain villages and never formally written down. He had sent people to great lengths just to record them.
Page by page, Fu Heqing read through them with painstaking care, hoping that even a few scattered words might give him some information about Mu Mu.
Fu Heqing tilted his head and glanced once more at the fairly peaceful little spirit asleep beside him. He picked up a pair of glasses from the bedside table and put them on, preparing for a sleepless night.
To know nothing meant having no control. It meant that meetings and partings were left to fate. It meant that if Mu Mu suddenly disappeared one day, he wouldn’t even know where to start looking.
He didn’t like that feeling.
[…Heaven and Earth have spirits, all things are alive, spirits… awaken, to… offer to the spirit master, spirits vanish, spirits perish.]
The ancient texts were incomplete. After a whole night, Fu Heqing had made almost no progress.
“Good morning~”
When Mu Mu opened his eyes, he saw the painter sitting beside him with an outstretched hand. Instinctively, he grabbed Fu Heqing’s finger and rubbed it against his cheek.
“How are your eyes today, Mr. Painter? Feeling any better?”
Fu Heqing took off his glasses. His vision was completely clear now, almost fully restored. Yet he still lowered his gaze and shamelessly lied to the little skeleton, “Much better. Just a little inconvenient.”
“A little inconvenient, huh.”
Mu Mu repeated the words, completely unsure what they meant. He thought for a moment, then climbed back into Fu Heqing’s palm and said, “Then… should I help you watch the way?”
Fu Heqing looked down at the little skeleton and smiled, not refusing.
“All right.”
“Then Mu Mu shouldn’t run off these days, leaving me alone.”
Mu Mu didn’t hesitate. He even felt a pang of guilt for having sneaked away yesterday and quickly agreed.
After a simple breakfast, Mu Mu put on his transparent apron again, hugged an egg, and prepared to follow the process he had practiced yesterday to make a little cake.
“Mr. Painter, sit here and don’t move, okay?”
Mu Mu looked into Fu Heqing’s eyes and, for the third time, reminded him, “If anything happens, you must call me.”
Only after the painter nodded again to show he understood did Mu Mu leave with peace of mind.
“Bowl… egg whites… sugar.”
“Mix.”
Reciting the steps, Mu Mu added the ingredients into the bowl, then carried it over to Fu Heqing and handed him the electric mixer as well.
“Help!”
He shoved the tool into the painter’s hand and added, “This part is important—be careful.”
“All right.”
Fu Heqing cooperated.
Before long, Mu Mu grabbed another bowl, poured in flour and egg yolks, then climbed onto a small jar, standing on it while stirring manually.
After whipping the cream in his own bowl, Fu Heqing took the bowl in front of Mu Mu and asked, “Why did you suddenly want to make a cake?”
“Because I like it.”
Mu Mu sat on the little jar, humming and bobbing his head, adding, “I think it’s really fun.”
“And I heard from Kitty that Mr. Painter’s birthday is coming soon.”
Mu Mu wiggled his legs again, the little leather shoes on his feet clattering against the jar. “You have to eat birthday cake on your birthday!”
Fu Heqing froze for a moment. After thinking for a long time, he remembered his birthday was in March—but he had never celebrated it, let alone eaten birthday cake.
“It’s only the end of November,” Fu Heqing said, looking at Mu Mu. “Still early.”
“Can’t we prepare early?” Mu Mu asked, a little puzzled.
Prepare early…
Fu Heqing seemed to smile faintly. “Sure.”
“Lots of people like to prepare surprises. Mu Mu can do that too?”
Mu Mu nodded proudly. “Of course!”
The smile on Fu Heqing’s face deepened. “But… I already know. What do we do now?”
Mu Mu seemed not to understand, frozen in place.
“Yeah… what do we do?” Mu Mu widened his eyes and looked up at Fu Heqing, his expression full of confusion and a silent plea for help, hoping the all-knowing Mr. Painter would give him even the tiniest hint.
But after Fu Heqing put the whipped batter into the oven, he deliberately imitated Mu Mu’s tone and said, “I don’t know.”
Hearing that, Mu Mu spun around in place anxiously, as if maybe his brain could start turning faster that way.
“Then… can I just wait until you forget?”
Mu Mu grabbed Fu Heqing’s finger, pressed it against himself in a gesture of friendship, and stammered, “Or… could you pretend you don’t know?”
…
In the end, Mu Mu got exactly what he wanted. He sat at the table, looking at the small piece of cake in front of him, completely satisfied.
After taking a photo of the cake and letting Kitty “virtually” enjoy it, he wanted to chat a bit longer—but Fu Heqing suddenly scooped him up.
“What’s wrong?”
Mu Mu was confused.
“It’s nap time.” Fu Heqing carried him to the bedroom and placed him back in the same spot beside the pillow.
Mu Mu glanced at the clock. It was only eleven in the morning—far too early for a nap. No matter how much he struggled, Fu Heqing insisted he sleep.
“But I’m not tired!” Mu Mu put his hands on his hips, clearly unhappy.
“You have to sleep even if you’re not tired.” Fu Heqing’s tone was firm. Mu Mu was about to get angry again, but Fu Heqing suddenly lowered his gaze and said in a very soft, gentle voice:
“If you’re too tired, you won’t wake up.”
“You said it yourself—you felt so exhausted you could barely float.”
Fu Heqing lifted his eyes and gazed at the little skeleton before him. He reached out and gently removed Mu Mu’s head once more.
Their eyes met.
“Do you know how faint your soul has become?”
Fu Heqing’s voice was still cold, but Mu Mu could clearly hear the hidden worry beneath it.
Mu Mu felt a little guilty. He couldn’t see his own soul, and had never really paid attention to the sudden exhaustion he’d felt before—especially now, since he no longer felt anything at all.
He had even been thinking of finding a chance to see if he could touch something again.
“Then… if I rest, will I recover?” Mu Mu asked softly.
But this was exactly the question Fu Heqing couldn’t answer. His pupils constricted as if pricked by something, and after a moment of silence he said, “I don’t know.”
Mu Mu looked at the painter’s furrowed brows and, in that instant, felt a trace of Fu Heqing’s uneasy agitation.
He quickly patted the back of the painter’s hand to comfort him. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll listen to you… I’ll try sleeping more.”
Mu Mu obediently lay down on the bed, then turned to look at Fu Heqing. “Even if I sleep too deeply and can’t wake up, it doesn’t matter. I know how to fix it.”
Seeing the painter’s expression soften a little, Mu Mu continued.
“The book says… after falling into a deep sleep, one kiss is enough to wake the princess.”
