Chapter 17: Snow
Fu Heqing was stunned for a while and didn’t react at first. He asked, “Where did you see that?”
“In a book!”
It was rare for Mu Mu to have something Fu Heqing didn’t know, and he got so excited that he immediately sat up and earnestly began explaining to Fu Heqing.
“This is something I heard while wandering around. It’s what a mother read to her daughter. I remember it so clearly—there’s one called Aurora, and another called… Snow White!”
Mu Mu didn’t quite understand how humans categorized books. He looked up at the painter and said, “Don’t humans always say that what’s written in books is definitely true?”
“So these two princesses were under a really strong curse, but just one kiss could wake them up. I can definitely do it too!”
Fu Heqing, who also hadn’t read fairy tales, was silent for a moment, then cautiously asked, “You mean… Sleeping Beauty and Snow White?”
“Yes, yes! I think those are their names!”
“I’ve also heard about others, like the cursed Beast and the Frog. They only needed a kiss to turn back into humans too.”
Mu Mu counted on his fingers, listing all the characters who had been cursed, fallen asleep, and were finally restored by just one kiss. Every single one of them relied on a kiss.
“That’s… a fairy tale,” Fu Heqing said, somewhat helplessly.
“What’s a fairy tale?” Mu Mu asked, puzzled.
“A fairy tale is a type of children’s literature. It uses rich imagination, fantasy, and exaggeration to create stories suitable for children to enjoy.”
“Simply put, the stories are fictional. They’re meant to help human children understand society and life, guiding them to become sensible people who can distinguish right from wrong.”
After listening, Mu Mu suddenly brightened up, “I see now! I understand!”
Mu Mu looked at the painter and immediately clenched his fists. He said, “So that means fairy tales are real, right? After all, they’re meant to guide human children. They can’t be fake, or else everyone would be led the wrong way!”
Fu Heqing: …
He thought Mu Mu had a point… but not really.
He didn’t want to waste time arguing with Mu Mu. It reminded him of when Li Xunyang insisted on debating in kindergarten whether Ultraman really existed—exactly the same kind of situation.
“Hmm, Mu Mu does have a point.”
Fu Heqing placed the little skeleton back in its little nest and said to him, “If Mu Mu exists, then anything can exist.”
Mu Mu had just closed his eyes and hadn’t yet fully processed what that sentence meant when he began drifting off again, instantly falling asleep on the bed.
As Mu Mu slept with his eyes closed, it seemed he was dreaming.
In his dream, his soul felt extremely heavy, sinking down, falling endlessly, unable to float no matter how hard he tried. Then suddenly, he felt warmth all over, as if he were basking in the sun.
His body was still heavy, but the sensation of falling was gone. Mu Mu seemed to have found a balance point, floating in the void, neither rising nor falling, like his little skeleton toy floating in water.
When Mu Mu woke up again, it was already approaching evening.
Even he didn’t expect he could sleep so long in one stretch. He quickly got up, and his first instinct was to look for Fu Heqing.
He didn’t find him in the room, so he jumped off the bed and headed to the painter’s studio.
When Mu Mu quietly pushed open the door, he saw Fu Heqing sitting in front of his easel. On the easel was the sketch of the starry sky that Mu Mu had painstakingly found outside and brought back earlier.
“Hmm, Mr. Painter, can you already see it?”
Mu Mu looked at the canvas and noticed that many new lines had been added.
Fu Heqing didn’t answer Mu Mu, but asked, “Mu Mu, how did this nap feel?”
“‘Feel?’” Mu Mu looked puzzled, but he answered honestly, “It was warm, and it felt like swimming in water… very comfortable.”
Fu Heqing looked at Mu Mu, and suddenly his expression relaxed.
Seeing the painter’s sudden change, Mu Mu cautiously stepped forward and whispered, “Did something happen?”
Fu Heqing placed Mu Mu on the small table next to him. The table was level with the studio’s windowsill. When Mu Mu looked outside, he saw snow filling the sky.
“Wow! Has winter come?”
At first Mu Mu marveled at the scene, but he quickly realized something was off. “Wait… before I slept, the sun wasn’t out, but it shouldn’t have been like this, right?”
Fu Heqing looked at the confused little skeleton and softly said, “It’s already December.”
December?
Mu Mu looked at the calendar on the small table and counted the days back and forth several times before realizing that several days had passed since what the painter had called “the end of November.”
“What’s going on?”
Mu Mu was still puzzled. “The date before I slept… isn’t it the same as today?”
Fu Heqing looked at the little skeleton in front of him and said, “Mu Mu doesn’t seem to have a concept of time.”
“Three days have passed.”
“The last time was like this too. When you came back from outside, Mu Mu, you thought you’d only slept one night, right?”
Mu Mu hesitated but nodded.
“Actually, it was the seventh day,” Fu Heqing continued, looking at Mu Mu. “The day you got up to make the cake… you’d actually slept for a full two days.”
Fu Heqing knew exactly why Mu Mu had felt nothing.
Because, for Mu Mu, the previous time was spent completely detached from the world—naturally, that included time itself.
In the days that no one could see or touch, time was the most useless thing. Mu Mu didn’t need to remember what he had done on any particular day, or how many days had passed.
Perhaps for Mu Mu, a year only needed to be marked by the four seasons: spring comes, summer comes, autumn comes, winter comes. The months were unnecessary.
Mu Mu listened to Fu Heqing’s explanation and glanced at the calendar again. “B-but every time I open my eyes, it feels like it connects naturally to the previous day.”
“That’s because the time is short. As long as I don’t say anything and pretend nothing has happened, Mu Mu naturally won’t feel it.”
Fu Heqing looked at the little skeleton in front of him and suddenly said, “Suppose one day Mu Mu opens his eyes and finds that I have already turned completely gray… or even passed away—would Mu Mu feel it?”
Mu Mu’s eyes suddenly widened.
Seeing Mu Mu’s reaction, Fu Heqing smiled and gently moved the topic away. “It’s like, for Mu Mu, it’s only the second day, and my eyes have already recovered.”
Mu Mu suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
But this feeling only lasted for a moment. Fu Heqing laughed, flicked Mu Mu’s forehead with his finger, instantly clearing the heaviness, and said, “But I’ve found something, and I’m experimenting.”
“Before, Mu Mu always said this painting makes you feel warm. Even before touching the painting, you said the tips of your fingers felt warm.”
Fu Heqing watched as Mu Mu began sorting out the timeline. “At first, Mu Mu mentioned this feeling when that portrait was completed. At first, I thought it might be a visual effect, or perhaps the color scheme.”
“Then Mu Mu said he liked the painting also because of this feeling. But that painting uses cool tones, so it’s clear that this warm sensation mostly comes from Mu Mu’s soul body.”
“This was the second time.”
“The third time was when Mu Mu wanted to grab the painting.”
“If the first two were accumulations of energy, the third time was a release of energy.”
“I think even a ghost should still follow the law of conservation of energy, right?”
“So I tried continuing to paint.”
Fu Heqing paused at a crucial point, which made Mu Mu anxious. He hurriedly asked, “And… what happened?”
“The result hasn’t come out yet.”
“Mu Mu woke up on the third day.”
Hearing Fu Heqing’s deduction, Mu Mu’s eyes gradually lit up. He felt that the painter’s reasoning made perfect sense.
Excited, he looked at the painting Fu Heqing was working on, then closed his eyes and carefully felt it. Sure enough, that warm, comforting sensation was there.
“Great! Then I’ll just wait for Mr. Painter to finish it.”
Mu Mu said this as he reached out and grabbed Fu Heqing’s fingers. “But… can we go play in the snow now?”
“Can we? Can we? Before, I could only watch but not play. Now we finally have a chance!”
Mu Mu tugged on Fu Heqing and pleaded, “I just woke up and want to move around a bit. Mr. Painter should get up and relax too!”
Fu Heqing looked at the carefree little ghost, his eyes full of helplessness. Still, he stood up and took Mu Mu to the fourth floor.
“Hmm? Why are we going to the fourth floor? Isn’t that where the pool is?” Mu Mu sat on Fu Heqing’s palm, looking left and right, feeling very comfortable.
“You remember pretty well,” Fu Heqing said with a smile. “Since it’s snowing, I guessed that Mu Mu would want to play in it when he woke up. So I opened the skylight above the fourth-floor pool. There’s a layer of snow on the balcony, and the pool itself should have frozen.”
Fu Heqing stepped onto the fourth-floor terrace. Through the glass, Mu Mu could see that the snow on the outdoor terrace had piled up almost half the height of a little skeleton. Indoors, on a nearby sofa, sat a very exquisite little box.
Fu Heqing placed Mu Mu in front of the little box. “Open it and take a look.”
When Mu Mu saw the gift box, his eyes lit up so brightly that he could barely move. He opened it and found a pair of tiny ice skates inside.
“Wow!!”
Mu Mu immediately recognized them. “Are these the shoes for skating?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Wow!!” Mu Mu looked at the snow-covered world outside, then back at the one-to-one miniature ice skates in his hands. He was so overwhelmed that words failed him—he could only keep exclaiming, “Wow!”
“I really, really like them!”
Mu Mu watched as the painter helped him put on the skates and couldn’t help feeling amazed. “Mr. Painter actually prepared a brand-new activity for me that I’ve never tried before!”
“So happy!”
Looking at the thick blanket of snow outside, Mu Mu began listing all the snowy activities he had wanted to try for a long, long time.
“I’ve always seen others making snowmen or having snowball fights, and I’ve been super envious! Today, I must build a huge snowman and post it online so everyone will envy me too.”
Fu Heqing lowered his eyes and watched Mu Mu count for quite a while. What he listed were all very ordinary activities, but Mu Mu treated them with such ceremony. He handed his tablet and phone to the painter with great seriousness, then pressed his hands together in a prayer-like gesture.
“Can Mr. Painter take photos and videos for me later?”
“Pretty please.”
Fu Heqing watched Mu Mu step onto the ice skates. He immediately wobbled a little, which made Fu Heqing chuckle. “Okay,” he replied.
With the painter’s confirmation, Mu Mu was gently set in the very center of the pool. He nearly fell flat on his back, but Mu Mu was experienced in this.
“Don’t start recording yet! I’m not ready.”
Mu Mu struggled to adjust his body. First, he tried to pull his split legs back together, but failed. Then he tried to release his hands from the ground for balance—again, no luck.
If he let go completely, he might not be able to get up at all.
Mu Mu was well aware of that, and he had plenty of experience.
Fu Heqing held up his phone and recorded Mu Mu the whole time.
In the video, Mu Mu relied on his previous zombie-like walking techniques and his extremely flexible body—every joint moving to its maximum—to pull off a top-level, high-difficulty maneuver and successfully stand back on the ice.
Even professional Olympic skaters might be impressed.
“Success!”
Mu Mu proudly looked at Fu Heqing and waved his hand.
One advantage of being a skeleton toy was evident now: Mu Mu didn’t need to wear bulky clothing to keep warm, and he didn’t have to worry about playing outside too long and catching a cold.
He even had time to check on the painter, reminding him that it was better for humans to stay inside.
Fu Heqing spent the entire night playing wildly with Mu Mu. The little skeleton picked up ice skating very quickly. Even when he fell, he didn’t feel pain, so within half an hour, he was skating fast.
Well… maybe not gracefully, but very cute.
In the following days, Fu Heqing would paint in the mornings while Mu Mu slept beside him, sleeping from the previous night until the next afternoon. When Mu Mu woke up, it was just the end of nap time, and he would immediately climb up and drag Fu Heqing outside to play in the snow.
As more content was added to the canvas, Mu Mu’s sleeping schedule became more regular, and he grew increasingly close to human-like patterns.
Fu Heqing would occasionally take the little skeleton’s head off to carefully observe the soul inside.
“How is it? Has it changed back?”
Fu Heqing had lost count of how many times he’d looked directly into Mu Mu’s eyes, but every time, he felt those eyes were breathtakingly beautiful.
“Yes… it’s back to normal.”
Fu Heqing finally seemed to relax.
“Yay!!”
Mu Mu was overjoyed. Looking at the starry sky painting, which the painter had only just finished half of, he asked, “So… Mr. Painter, are you still going to keep working on it?”
The painting looked difficult. Nearly a month had passed, and only the outline of the whole piece had appeared so far.
Mu Mu didn’t quite understand. It felt like it had only just begun—many areas were still just rough, simple color blocks.
“Keep painting.”
Fu Heqing looked at the canvas, lost in thought. “But it probably won’t be finished before the end of the year.”
Mu Mu’s ears perked up at the words “end of the year.” He quickly said, “I know that’s a super important holiday for everyone!”
He picked up the small calendar. “It’s almost New Year! People online are saying tickets are so hard to get—they want to go home for the New Year, not spend it all alone.”
“Will Kitty and the others come to spend New Year with Mr. Painter?”
Fu Heqing explained to Mu Mu in his usual calm tone, “No, they’ll go back to their own homes too.”
“Oh…”
Mu Mu nodded, glanced at Fu Heqing, then, after a couple of seconds, looked again, his face practically carved with the expression “wanting to speak but holding back, holding back but wanting to speak.”
“What do you want to ask?”
Mu Mu tugged at the hem of his clothes. It was obvious he wanted to ask something about family or parents. But remembering that Kitty had seemed to tell him before that the painter’s relationship with his family wasn’t good, he twisted the words around in his mouth and swallowed them.
Finally, he hesitated but asked, “So… Mr. Painter, are you going to spend New Year alone?”
“Yes, alone.”
“Plus one little ghost.”
