Chapter 19: New Year’s Eve
Mu Mu was so excited that he stayed up until midnight, throwing punches at the air. His whole ghostly self was buzzing with energy. As he chattered nonstop, he laid out a jam-packed schedule of what he was going to do after waking up the next morning, while also asking Fu Heqing about what New Year’s Eve had been like in previous years.
“Before?” Fu Heqing pressed Mu Mu back down once again. “No different from ordinary days. Nothing worth talking about.”
“But this year is different!” Mu Mu went along with Fu Heqing’s force and lay back down, declaring solemnly, “This year, I’m definitely going to give Mr. Painter an unforgettable New Year’s Eve!”
“Trust me, okay!”
“The really unforgettable kind.”
“Alright, I trust you,” Fu Heqing coaxed.
Only after hearing Fu Heqing say “trust” did Mu Mu close his eyes in satisfaction and gradually settle down.
Watching Mu Mu grow quiet, Fu Heqing got off the bed as well, threw on some clothes, and headed to the studio.
Mu Mu was far too easy to read—whatever he was thinking was basically written all over his face. Since he had prepared a New Year’s gift, Fu Heqing had naturally prepared one too.
That was the kind of surprise a kid would like.
Fu Heqing looked at the painting before him. For the past half month, he had been staying up late, rushing to work on it, hoping to finish it before New Year’s Eve and give it away as a New Year’s gift—but the progress hadn’t been smooth.
That night, he stayed up the entire time and still didn’t finish it.
Rubbing his eyes, Fu Heqing looked at the gradually rising sun, then returned to the bedroom and lay back down on the bed, waiting for Mu Mu to open his eyes—so that the first thing he would see was him, and then say good morning.
At seven in the morning, Mu Mu still hadn’t woken up.
The morning market had already grown lively. Households were buying last-minute ingredients for the New Year’s Eve dinner, and even the road at the foot of the villa’s mountain saw an increase in passing cars.
Fu Heqing glanced at the vehicles below, then calmly withdrew his gaze and let it fall back on Mu Mu.
At nine in the morning, Mu Mu still hadn’t woken up.
Rare winter sunshine after the cold season had already fallen on the little skeleton. Still sleeping soundly, Mu Mu looked especially quiet and serene.
Fu Heqing saw Mu Mu roll over, unconsciously burying his head deeper into the blanket to block out the sunlight. He got up and pulled the curtains shut again for him.
The room instantly sank into the dimness most suited for sleeping.
At eleven in the morning, Mu Mu still hadn’t woken up.
Fu Heqing stared at Mu Mu for a long time, then glanced around. The house, so beautifully decorated, suddenly didn’t seem as satisfying as before.
He returned to the studio, picked up his brush again, and decided to continue with the final touches. He figured he could use the lazy sleeper’s time in bed to finish it—maybe even get it done before midnight.
During this period, Fu Heqing went back to the bedroom several times, but each time, he failed to see the scene he was hoping for.
At two in the afternoon, progress on the finishing work was slow. Fu Heqing felt restless and unsettled. In the end, he put down his brush and returned to the bedroom, choosing to wait quietly.
He tried reading. He tried handling emails. He tried doing anything—anything at all—but failed every time.
Fu Heqing let out a sigh, reached out to nudge the little skeleton on the bed, and asked softly, “Why are you still sleeping?”
By five in the afternoon, the sky outside had begun to darken, and the private restaurant delivered the New Year’s Eve dinner.
Fu Heqing looked at Mu Mu, went downstairs to carefully arrange the dishes Mu Mu had ordered on the dining table, then returned to the bedroom once more.
The sky fell completely dark. The entire villa sank into darkness—hollow and lonely.
At seven in the evening, fireworks gradually began to bloom outside the windows. The last people returning home through wind and snow had arrived, and the liveliest moment of the year officially began.
Yet Fu Heqing’s villa was as quiet as ever, as though completely cut off from all the bustle and splendor of the human world.
Mu Mu’s tablet vibrated twice. Li Yiyi sent a few photos—her family’s New Year’s Eve dinner, and fireworks going off in their yard.
Mu Mu didn’t see them.
Fu Heqing did.
At eight in the evening, the program Mu Mu had set up automatically started. In an instant, the entire villa lit up—every string of colored lights and decorative lantern flared on together with the Spring Festival Gala playing on the television.
The host’s spirited voice drifted up from the first floor.
But the dishes on the dining table gradually stopped steaming, cooling bit by bit until they turned cold.
Fu Heqing stood up. Starting from the living room on the first floor, he turned off the television, turned off the strings of lights on the walls and on the kumquat trees…
He turned off the lantern display in the courtyard.
The villa, once bright as day, was slowly and methodically swallowed by the night—room by room.
Fu Heqing returned to the studio. Lowering his gaze to the painting on the easel, he went back to his seat and sat there in silence for a long while, before finally letting out a soft chuckle.
“So people really do become greedy.”
He picked up the brush again and carried out the final steps, stroke by stroke. The light fell on Fu Heqing, stretching his shadow long and thin.
Ten p.m.
The last day of the year was nearing its end.
In the bedroom.
The little skeleton on the bed seemed to be sleeping uneasily. After tossing and turning for a while, Mu Mu’s soul—glowing with a faint bluish light—suddenly slipped out of the skeleton’s body and hovered hazily above the blanket.
Mu Mu’s eyes were still tightly shut, but his lashes trembled violently.
In his deep sleep, the glow of his soul flickered, suddenly shifting from faint to blindingly bright.
In the studio, just as Fu Heqing set down the final stroke of his brush, the dazzling light around Mu Mu vanished in an instant. A young boy’s human body fell from midair onto the soft bed.
The fall jolted Mu Mu awake at once. Still dazed, he only felt that what he was pressing against beneath him was cool and soft—an unfamiliar sensation he had never experienced before.
He snapped his eyes wide open and grabbed the blanket beneath him.
“I can feel it?”
He looked down at himself and pinched—
There was sensation.
A human body.
Mu Mu looked toward the window. Outside, the sky was already pitch-black, yet multicolored fireworks had long since burst open across the night.
By the faint glow of the fireworks, Mu Mu saw his own reflection in the glass for the first time.
Short black hair, round catlike eyes—exactly the same face as in Fu Heqing’s earlier portrait. It was unmistakably Mu Mu’s own body.
“I turned into a human?!”
Mu Mu sprang up at once. After rolling on the bed, he tried to jump down, stumbling as he staggered toward the door, shouting excitedly as he went.
“Mr. Painter!”
“Mr. Painter!”
“Mr. Painter, come look at me! I’m not dreaming, right?!”
He was so excited that he boldly called the painter by his full name.
“Fu—He—qing—!”
“Fu Heqing, are you there?!”
Fu Heqing was in the studio on the second floor. The moment he heard the first shout, he stood up abruptly, knocking into the drawing board in front of him and sending it scraping across the floor with a loud, grating screech.
He didn’t spare it a glance, hurrying straight toward the bedroom.
Outside the door, Fu Heqing heard the boy’s voice clearly—brimming with shock and delight.
He pushed the door open and instinctively looked down, but he didn’t see the small, short little skeleton on the floor.
“Mr. Painter! I’m here!”
With the boy’s voice, a figure suddenly appeared from behind the door. What flashed into view was a blur of pale skin—before Fu Heqing could fully register it, the figure pitched straight toward him.
Fu Heqing instinctively reached out, and a young human body collided into his arms.
