Sage 2
THE SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS DEPARTMENT relocated from 4 Bright Avenue to 9 University Road, which was only one block away from Dragon City University.
Before leaving, Lin Jing, who was reluctant to part with their old office, took his DSLR camera and zoom lens around 4 Bright Avenue and photographed every last nook and cranny, right down to the cobwebs. Then he picked out the few pictures he was happy with and submitted them to a magazine as a series he called “Places of the Past.”
The magazine’s chief editor was so shocked when he saw the photos that he had to be hospitalized. He even called the police, accusing Lin Jing of “intentionally creating supernatural photos to terrorize people.” It was a terrible look for the department, so Director Zhao had no choice but to quietly take care of it. Upon his return, he gave Lin Jing the beating of his life.
Life at 9 University Road settled back into a routine: eating, sleeping, and beating up Lin Jing.
The new office space was an appealing one. It had a little attic that got plenty of sunlight throughout the day, and there was a two-level basement. The lower basement housed the library while the upper basement had a mahjong table surrounded by a bunch of memorial tablets that gave the ghost employees somewhere to rest. They could even play a game of mahjong during bouts of insomnia.
With all the natural light the attic got, and thanks to a thick layer of sound-absorbing paint, one could go up there for a nice afternoon nap. Opening the window offered a lovely view of the front courtyard…or it would have, if a lovely view existed. Everyone had wildly different ideas about what to do with the space, so after it had been divided up for everyone to do their own thing, the result was the polar opposite of a cohesive whole.
As for the backyard, Zhao Yunlan claimed it entirely for himself. After a lifetime spent learning absolutely nothing about art, his taste was…rather unique. He vetoed the roses Zhu Hong liked, vetoed Chu Shuzhi’s suggestion of vines, and vetoed Lin Jing’s request for bodhi trees.
In the end, after careful consideration, he planted a garden full of vegetables, including bok choy, cherry tomatoes, pumpkin sprouts, pea shoots, xiangchun…a whole array of vegetables all next to each other. And in the center, like a bright moon shining among the stars, was one single slutty eggplant.
Zhao Yunlan said he eventually wanted to fill the back garden with napa cabbage and have a row of pickled cabbage and kimchi jars in the attic to snack on as they pleased.
Having heard his lofty aspirations, no one, human or ghost, had ever set foot in the garden again.
When Shen Wei finished teaching for the day, the sun was already due west, and it was still comfortably warm outside. It was just a leisurely five- or six-minute stroll from the university back to the new office, including waiting for traffic lights. Everyone at the SID had a copy of Shen-laoshi’s class schedule, and they eagerly anticipated his daily arrival. Ever since their boss, Zhao Yunlan, had stopped fucking around, he’d been leading a peaceful life at the office—he barely even set foot outside the vicinity anymore! It was a death knell for the SID employees’ opportunities to follow in their boss’s previous footsteps and skip work or leave early. As a result, despite having moved, everyone felt that life was as difficult as ever.
But as long as Shen-laoshi came, he could get their boss to leave immediately. Shen-laoshi was the bugle call of early dismissal, and by extension, the symbol of happiness. As a result, he always received the warmest possible welcome. Countless greetings—“Hello, Shen-laoshi!” “Shen-laoshi, you’ve worked hard!”—would ring out, accompanied by fond gazes.
On this particular day, when Shen Wei arrived, everyone started to pack up their things out of habit. Only Lin Jing was still focused on work: he was tinkering with his new listening device. The bug was the size of a young girl’s pinkie nail and looked similar to a fish scale. Apparently, the power of technology and magic combined was remarkable. The moment the bug stuck to something, it would turn invisible and start to eavesdrop.
Daqing was curled up on the stair railing. His black tail waved at Shen Wei. “He’s upstairs in the attic.”
“Mn, thank you.” Shen Wei nodded, glancing over as he passed by. The railing was only half as wide as the cat’s belly, making it seem like Daqing might roll right off at any moment. The words “Why don’t you go somewhere roomier?” slipped out of Shen Wei’s mouth. “Take care not to fall.”
Daqing froze for a moment, then realized Shen Wei was calling him fat. He gave a yowl, fur standing on end. “I’m! Practicing! Yoga! What’s wrong with practicing yoga? Is there a problem?”
Shen Wei gave his head a pat and then headed up the stairs, still smiling.
In a huff, Daqing lay back down on the railing. Further annoyance approached in the form of Lin Jing. “Daqing-gongzi, which yoga pose are you practicing right now?”
“…Cat Pose.”
Following the precept of “monks don’t lie,” Lin Jing responded appropriately. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
He earned two bloody claw marks on the face, and his bug flew out of his hand. It instantly stuck to something and vanished.
Ghost-like, lao-Li popped up out of nowhere and wordlessly handed over a cotton swab and band-aid, like a pet owner who’d come to deal with the mess their pet had made. The cat, however, didn’t appreciate it. Without even a hmph, Daqing jumped down from the railing, stretched, and left.
Sometimes, relationships had the fragility of glass. Whatever kind it was, once it shattered, it could never be put back together—not even if one forgot…or even forgave.
It was best if a person stayed consistent, whether that meant being selfish to the end, even at the cost of hurting countless other people, or carefully cherishing someone else’s feelings, however foolish the feelings might seem.
Shen Wei gently pushed the door to the attic open. There was a sofa bed up there, positioned for basking in the sun all day long. Zhao Yunlan had a throw blanket draped over his waist and a book in his hand, one finger tucked between the pages. Shen Wei walked over and bent to give him a light kiss.
Eyes still closed, Zhao Yunlan said, “Mn… You’re finished with your classes?”
With a noise of acknowledgment, Shen Wei reached down to tug Zhao Yunlan up to a sitting position. “Wake up, it’s getting late. If you sleep any longer you’ll have a hard time falling asleep tonight.”
Zhao Yunlan flopped across Shen Wei’s thighs as if he lacked bones. Voice muffled, he said, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Eyes cracked half-open, he shook the book—Vegetable Planting Techniques—that he was holding. “This book must be cursed. I’ve never even made it to the first chapter. The foreword alone knocks me out! Right now, I’m only on page eight, still in the introduction.”
Shen Wei took the book and flipped through it. It turned out to be a textbook from an agricultural university, without a single centimeter of page space wasted. Even the illustrations were in black and white. There was no trace of entertainment to be found in its pages. Shen Wei said off-handedly, “Why are you reading this? You personally planted every seed out in the garden. If they’re lucky, they might even cultivate into spirits one day. They’re certainly not going to die.”
Zhao Yunlan was stubborn. “No. Science and technology are the primary forces of production.”
“Then you can keep studying your science and technology,” said Shen Wei.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, Zhao Yunlan said, “The primary forces of production and I don’t get along. I fall asleep as soon as I start reading it.”
Looking down, Shen Wei saw that the sleepiness in Zhao Yunlan’s dark eyes had evaporated. He was now looking at Shen Wei with something akin to a smile.
He wrapped his arms around Shen Wei’s waist. “But if I can’t keep reading, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it. My mood will plummet, and if those bad moods last long enough, I’ll get depressed!”
Shen Wei raised an eyebrow.
Zhao Yunlan carried on with his bullshit. “Did you know people living in Nordic regions have a high suicide rate? That means people who live in cold places are more susceptible to depression. Kunlun Mountain is covered in ice and snow year-round, and there aren’t even any heaters there. I must have a genetic predisposition to depression.”
“I apologize for my lack of insight.”
“You must not love me anymore!” Zhao Yunlan exclaimed. “You fickle man!”
Shen Wei’s head was starting to hurt. Rubbing his temples, he said, “Stop whining. What do you want?”
The smile Zhao Yunlan flashed him was full of pearly whites.
“I’ll read it to you tonight at home.” Shen Wei’s voice was mild and resigned. “But you have to pay close attention. If it makes you sleepy, just go to sleep. You’re not allowed to start anything.” His earlobes were as red as those of a little wife being bullied and teased by a tyrant.