Chapter 20.1: Human
Fu Heqing looked down and felt as if his heart had skipped a beat.
“Mr. Painter, I’ve turned into a human!”
Mu Mu stretched out his hand toward Fu Heqing—not the skeletal fingers of the little skeleton anymore, but long, evenly proportioned, pale ten fingers of flesh and bone. At the same time, the boy’s shoulders, neck, and collarbones, smooth and white as jade, came into view…
After gaining a physical body, the boy’s voice seemed even stronger, clearer, and more pleasant to the ear.
Fu Heqing came back to his senses and, as his first reaction, took a coat from the coat rack by the door and draped it over the boy.
The black coat completely enveloped the person in front of him, leaving only the head and calves exposed. Mu Mu stared wide-eyed, his round cat-like eyes full of confusion.
“You… go change your clothes first. Everything else can wait.”
Pushed by Fu Heqing, Mu Mu returned to the room, and the curtains were automatically drawn tightly.
He looked back at Mr. Painter with some puzzlement. “But I don’t have any clothes… should I wear yours?”
Then, as if struck by a thought, Mu Mu cheerfully dove headfirst into Fu Heqing’s wardrobe, then looked back at him outside the walk-in closet. “Can I pick whatever I want from these clothes?”
“Anything you like.”
Mu Mu nodded and immediately disappeared into the closet.
“Put them on first before choosing, don’t catch a cold.”
“Most of the sections in the wardrobe have brand-new clothes, but… the underwear might not fit you.”
“You can tuck the pants if they’re too long.”
Fu Heqing stood outside the walk-in closet, his back to the transparent sliding door, reminding him while adjusting the floor heating and turning on the indoor warm-air heater.
“Okay, got it.”
Fu Heqing’s bedroom, including the walk-in closet, was fully carpeted with wool. Mu Mu, barefoot on it, probably because his newly-formed body was still delicate, felt a ticklish, prickly sensation under his feet.
The clothes Fu Heqing usually wore were mostly in cool tones of black and gray, hung toward the front of the closet. Mu Mu first casually grabbed a white shirt hanging at the very front and put it on.
This shirt was the style Fu Heqing wore most often. It fit him perfectly, but on Mu Mu, it hung all the way down past his thighs—it could almost serve as a dress.
Mu Mu looked down, then opened the deeper sections of the closet, following the instructions from Mr. Painter outside, gathering clothes piece by piece.
In the past, Mu Mu would have picked clothes based on how they looked, choosing what he liked visually. But now was different!
Mu Mu now had a human body, human senses of touch. He closed his eyes and felt each piece of clothing one by one.
Yet, by the time he reached the last pieces, Mu Mu suddenly realized that none of these neatly hung clothes felt as smooth and soft as the one he was already wearing. Just touching it was incredibly pleasant.
He hesitated for a long moment, then cautiously poked out half his body. Mimicking human shyness, he called out to Fu Heqing outside, “Mr. Painter, I really like this material. Do you have pants made from the same fabric?”
Fu Heqing heard Mu Mu’s call and turned around, only to see him wearing just a thin shirt. Mimicking a human gesture, he tried to cover himself, leaning out from the closet with his upper body as he asked the question.
But…
The door he was using to cover himself was a fully transparent sliding door.
Behind the glass were his bare, long legs, feet bare on the floor. His knees and toes, perhaps slightly cold, showed faint, pale pink hues, and they shivered slightly, rubbing together for warmth.
If Fu Heqing didn’t know that Mu Mu was a ghostly spirit, whose way of thinking differed from a normal human, he might have almost suspected that the boy was a fox spirit in disguise, deliberately trying to tempt humans.
“You actually have a good eye.”
The clothes Fu Heqing wore most often were usually the most expensive and the most comfortable. He had expected Mu Mu to pick something brighter, more eye-catching.
But he had chosen this one instead.
A secret thought in his heart seemed to crack open. Even though he didn’t want to face it, he couldn’t help thinking that this newly formed body, wrapped in this clothing, carried… his scent.
Fu Heqing looked away and said, “Silk isn’t usually used to make pants.”
“Ah, really?” Mu Mu’s expression instantly fell, looking plaintive. “But all the other fabrics are a little scratchy… uncomfortable. I don’t like them.”
Then Mu Mu looked down again, pressing his feet against the carpet, and complained to Fu Heqing, “This one’s scratchy too… I don’t like it.”
Even when Mu Mu was still a spirit, his cat-like eyes already conveyed innocence that made people feel tender.
Now, with a physical body, when Mu Mu made that pitiful, helpless expression again, those big eyes seemed to immediately fill with a soft mist, as if in the next second, they would crystallize into sparkling tears—making him even more endearing.
“I’ll arrange to have some custom-made.”
“But you need to put on pants first—”
Fu Heqing hadn’t finished speaking when he saw Mu Mu rummaging around and somehow pull out a pair of soft, short summer pajama bottoms. He put them on and proudly showed them to Fu Heqing, asking,
“Is this okay?”
Seeing Mu Mu’s still-bare thighs, Fu Heqing frowned slightly.
It was winter, and even with the heating and warm-air system on, there was still some temperature difference in each room of the villa.
Fu Heqing had Mu Mu sit back on the bed and play with the tablet while he gently draped a blanket over the boy’s legs.
Although Mu Mu didn’t fully understand, he obediently did as he was told. The moment he touched the bedding, he immediately recognized the texture—it was the same material that Mr. Painter used.
“Wow, this feels the same too!”
After playing with it for about ten minutes, someone suddenly rushed up to the door, flustered. They handed over a pile of packages to the housekeeper robot and then quickly left.
Curious, Mu Mu watched as Mr. Painter took the packages from the robot. First, he unpacked a white turtleneck sweater and handed it to Mu Mu.
“Don’t take off what you’re wearing underneath—just put this on over it.”
Mu Mu tentatively reached out and felt the fabric. It was soft, similar to the wool carpet in the closet, but even gentler.
“This cashmere isn’t scratchy, but still wear it over the shirt.”
Mu Mu heard Mr. Painter pause and continue, “The pants also go on over what you’re wearing.”
“Over what?”
Mu Mu looked at a small box that Mr. Painter handed him. Inside were long silk garments, but they weren’t pants.
Using the limited knowledge available to a non-human spirit, Mu Mu thought for a moment and guessed, “Socks?”
He glanced at Mr. Painter’s expression to confirm if he was right. Fu Heqing’s face was unreadable—he didn’t seem wrong, but Mr. Painter seemed hesitant to respond.
Mu Mu didn’t understand such complexities, but eager to move freely, he picked up the long white stockings and put them on without a second thought.
The white stockings reached all the way up to his thighs, perfectly overlapping with the shirt he was wearing. Even if there were slight gaps when he raised his arms or legs, it didn’t matter.
Mu Mu seemed very pleased with the outfit. When he looked up to speak to Mr. Painter, his gaze happened to meet Fu Heqing’s averted eyes.
Mu Mu froze for a moment, then stood up from the bed and ran into Fu Heqing’s line of sight. He looked up directly at him and asked, “Doesn’t it look good?”
Fu Heqing didn’t answer. He just turned, took the sweater, and pulled it over Mu Mu’s head, then guided his arms through the sleeves.
The soft cashmere was very light. The style was a hooded, open-knit pattern, fairly loose, but seemingly a little too big. The layered collar nearly covered Mu Mu’s chin, and the cuffs were so long that almost his entire hands were hidden.
“It’s too big… just make do,” Fu Heqing said, then pulled a pair of apricot-colored, fringed lantern-style pants from another bag.
Watching Mr. Painter’s movements, Mu Mu noticed a rare break in his usual calm and collected demeanor. Fu Heqing crouched to help him put on the pants. His long lashes fluttered slightly, his movements steady yet careful to avoid direct contact. Finally, he fastened a pair of small leather shoes.
“All done.”
Fu Heqing stood up, eyes lowered, letting out a deep, relieved sigh.
“Great! Let’s go set off fireworks! I shouldn’t have completely missed it, right?” Mu Mu, hearing Mr. Painter’s quiet approval, immediately grabbed Fu Heqing’s hand and excitedly dashed out of the room.
But as soon as he stepped out, the entire villa was silent. The hallway was pitch-black, and the living room was quiet—there was no sound of the Spring Festival Gala. All the little decorative lights that he had set up weren’t on.
“I…” Fu Heqing followed behind, trying to explain.
With a snap, Mu Mu manually turned on the hallway lights. Looking at Fu Heqing, he said, “You turn on the little lights here, and I’ll handle the TV and the garden lantern display—we’ll split up!”
“Programs like this really aren’t reliable. Better to do it manually.” Mu Mu was willing to blame the malfunction on the system, but he never once suspected that Mr. Painter had actually turned them off.
As Mu Mu ran downstairs, either because he was going too fast or because his new body wasn’t yet fully coordinated, he nearly tumbled down the stairs several times. Each time, Fu Heqing’s quick reflexes caught him just in time.
Seeing Mr. Painter following right behind him, ready to scoop him up at a moment’s notice, Mu Mu felt unusually sheepish. “Okay, splitting up doesn’t work. Let’s stick together.”
So, the lights in the villa that Fu Heqing had just turned off one by one were now switched on again by Mu Mu, lamp by lamp.
Finally, with a soft click, the television came alive with the voices of the Spring Festival Gala hosts.
“Wow! It really feels lively all of a sudden!” Mu Mu exclaimed, experiencing his first New Year celebration, completely wide-eyed and amazed.
Fu Heqing watched as the entire villa brightened in an instant, and it seemed even those cold gray eyes of his glimmered.
But the next second, he heard Mu Mu’s voice again from behind him:
“Mr. Painter, all the food on the table is cold!”
“You haven’t eaten a bite?”
Fu Heqing walked over to Mu Mu, keeping his expression perfectly casual as he lied, “No, I haven’t had the chance yet.”
“Then we can eat together, Mu Mu.”
The two words “eat together” instantly captured Mu Mu’s full attention. His eyes lit up, and he peeked eagerly over the table, practically bouncing in anticipation.
“I’ll have someone deliver another portion,” Fu Heqing said.
But Mu Mu stopped him.
“No need to trouble them. Everyone’s celebrating anyway—we’ll just warm it ourselves.” He then proudly carried all the plates from the table to the kitchen and placed them in the microwave.
“I know how to use this!” Mu Mu said, his tone full of pride.
“Vegetables two to three minutes, meat four to five minutes. Spherical items like potatoes, sweet potatoes, or eggs can’t go in—they’ll explode.”
Fu Heqing stood at the doorway, watching Mu Mu focus intently on the microwave, his little body obediently standing there, waiting for the ‘ding’ that signaled the food was ready.
Soon, the entire kitchen was filled with the aroma of food. As the microwave finished its cycle, Mu Mu hurriedly opened it, reaching out to take a plate.
“Use these.”
Fu Heqing grabbed a pair of thick heat-resistant gloves and snatched the plate first.
“If your brand-new skin gets burned, it could take ten or fifteen days to recover.”
Mu Mu paused, looking at the steaming dishes on the table, stubbornly curious and wanting to test it.
The moment his fingertips touched the edge of a plate, he immediately recoiled with a sharp “whoosh.”
“Burned?” Fu Heqing saw this and quickly stepped over to check.
“No, it didn’t burn,” Mu Mu said, embarrassed, frantically waving his hands and holding his fingertips out in front of Fu Heqing.
“I just felt the heat, it startled me, so I pulled back.”
“Even though I don’t know what it truly feels like to get burned, and I really want to try, I won’t do it on purpose and make Mr. Painter worry.”
Saying this, Mu Mu sat down at the table, happily waiting for Fu Heqing to sit, ready to taste what must have been the very first bite of real food in his many years as a spirit.
With the Spring Festival Gala playing softly on TV in the background, every new dish Mu Mu tried left him utterly amazed. He would energetically praise and recommend each one, his lively voice seeming even more vibrant and festive than the TV program.
“Ow, it feels like I burned my tongue—uhhh!”
“This one is really tasty! Spicy!”
“Mr. Painter, try this! The flavor is amazing! I can’t even describe it!”
Mu Mu was hardly picky. Whether it was chili, various fish, vegetables, or even some medicinal herbs and spices, he curiously took a bite of everything.
“Whoa, what is this? I feel like something bit my mouth—”
Fu Heqing’s expression tensed, and he quickly stood up to check. Mu Mu’s lips were bright red from the chili, slightly swollen. His fingertips moved gently to pry open the lips and take a look. Past the neat row of tiny white teeth, there were no actual injuries inside the mouth.
He glanced at Mu Mu’s chopsticks, where a tiny black round spice still clung. “Numbing?”
Mu Mu quickly nodded.
Fu Heqing let out a sigh, a little helpless. “You must have eaten a Sichuan peppercorn.”
Mu Mu’s eyes grew almost teary as he repeated in a dazed, numbed way, “Sichuan peppercorn?”
Then he cursed, “You little thing! You bit my mouth!”
“You bit it…” Fu Heqing tried to defend the peppercorn, but the furious glare Mu Mu shot him made him drop the argument.
Well, it wasn’t Mu Mu’s fault—he was a spirit tasting real food for the first time.
At that moment, fireworks suddenly went off outside the window. From the TV behind them, the hosts announced that it was eleven o’clock—just one hour before the new year would arrive.
“Wow, it’s starting already?”
Mu Mu immediately ran to the window, leaning on the sill to look outside.
The fireworks were beautiful, but they felt a bit sparse, not as grand as Mu Mu had seen before.
“It’s just the hourly countdown,” Fu Heqing explained. “Some families have the custom of lighting fireworks every hour.”
Mu Mu nodded, understanding.
“I want to light some too! Mr. Painter, can I light a few small fireworks?”
Looking out at the snowy landscape, Mu Mu suddenly changed his mind. “I want to build a snowman too!”
“The snowman I built before got laughed at by Kitty… she said it was too small,” Mu Mu said, still feeling a little wronged by it.
Back then, his body was just the little skeleton—so tiny. How big of a snowman could he even make?
Mu Mu looked at Fu Heqing and suggested, “I’ll just play for a little while. If I get cold, I’ll come back right away.”
Fu Heqing glanced at Mu Mu’s human body and didn’t stop him, only saying, “Okay, but put on another coat.”
Mu Mu added a coat and ran outside, only to return after less than a minute.
“Mr. Painter, can I put on one more coat?”
Fu Heqing chuckled. He dug out gloves, a scarf, a fleece-lined mask, and ear muffs, wrapping them all around Mu Mu. He even stuck several hand warmers inside the clothes.
Instantly, Mu Mu felt warm but cumbersome, like a little dumpling impervious to the cold.
“Spirit bodies and the little skeleton’s body don’t feel cold or hot… but a human body is so troublesome,” Mu Mu muttered softly. Then, reassuring himself, he added, “But a human body can eat food, go out to play, and make friends!”
Once he had comforted himself, he happily ran back outside. Holding the tools Fu Heqing had prepared, he began seriously building a full-sized snowman.
“Hello, Mu Mu Snowman Number Two,” he said, sticking a firework into the side of the snowman to serve as its arm.
“I’ll have you light the fireworks!”
Waving his hand, Mu Mu signaled Fu Heqing, who came over and first lit the sparkler in Mu Mu’s hand. Mu Mu then used his own sparkler to light the one in the snowman’s “hand.”
The faint glow of the sparklers reflected on the boy’s smiling, animated face. The smoke curled around his brows and eyes, and in that moment, Fu Heqing ran his fingers over the scene for a moment before taking out the camera he had used for fieldwork and snapping a photo.
When Mu Mu noticed that Mr. Painter was taking his picture, his first reaction was to wave, then mimic the classic human peace-sign pose, shouting “Yay!”
“Did you get the shot? Let me see, let me see!”
Mu Mu stuck another unspent sparkler into the snowman, letting it “help” him finish lighting the fireworks. Then he squeezed up close to Fu Heqing, eager to see the photos.
Fu Heqing’s photography skills were excellent, instantly drawing Mu Mu’s admiration.
“They look so good!”
Mu Mu’s face flushed with excitement as he exclaimed, “Can I take some too? I want to learn this!”
Fu Heqing smiled and silently handed over his camera, even teaching Mu Mu some simple photography techniques.
“This really is easy!”
Mu Mu studied the shutter button and the zoom ring. As long as he didn’t touch any other buttons, everything worked perfectly!
He snapped pictures of the snowman, then of Mr. Painter himself, proving that he had learned the basics.
Then he raised the camera high and turned it around at an angle, hoping to capture both himself and Fu Heqing in the frame.
“Look at the camera!” Mu Mu pulled Fu Heqing along and posed with the classic peace sign again. But before Fu Heqing could adjust his stance, Mu Mu accidentally pressed the shutter.
Click.
In the photo, the boy looked at the camera with pure joy. Behind him, the young man’s face was only half in frame—his expression hidden, but a slight upward curve of his mouth revealed a hint of a smile.
The whole photo was a bit blurry, but it had a unique, charming atmosphere.
“Ah, I didn’t get Mr. Painter’s full face,” Mu Mu said, looking at the picture with a hint of regret.
After studying it, he realized it was because he wasn’t as tall as Fu Heqing, so the full face couldn’t fit in the frame. Holding the camera, he thought for a moment—then a bright idea struck him, and he came up with a perfect pose.
“Mr. Painter, can you help me? I want to take another photo together.”
Fu Heqing looked at Mu Mu curiously and softly replied, “Okay.”
Mu Mu got the answer and happily stood beside Fu Heqing, still holding the camera upside down in one hand. Then, with a small jump…
Fu Heqing felt something soft and warm brush against the side of his face—fleshy, baby-fat, like the smooth skin of a peeled egg.
A human body’s warmth.
Click.
The camera froze the moment: their cheeks pressed together.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A deafening sound erupted in his ears as fireworks exploded in the sky, mixed with the TV host’s loud ten-second countdown.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The fireworks multiplied in the sky, overlapping with a faint yet clear sound—amid all the New Year’s chaos, only one person truly knew.
Mu Mu watched the fireworks burst above, counted down with them, and hurriedly grabbed his sparkler, eager to light the huge firework they had prepared together before the exact New Year’s moment.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One!!!”
“Happy New Year, Mr. Painter!!”
Mu Mu, overflowing with excitement, leapt at Fu Heqing for the first hug of the New Year.
“Mm, Happy New Year, Mu Mu.”
Fu Heqing also reached out, a smile in his eyes.
But when the slight wind brushed against him, it felt weightless—completely without substance.
Fu Heqing lowered his eyes and saw that he was only holding a pile of clothing; Mu Mu’s cyan spirit body had passed right through him.
Behind him, Mu Mu looked at the scene, then at his own body, and said in surprise, “Huh? How did I turn back again?”
