Astrology Hall with Flesh and Blood

Chapter 58

"Tomboy, you really are annoying!"

Shut up, you flat-chested loli! You're not allowed to kick someone when they're down! Yan Wuyue was so angry she wanted to bite her. If Maya hadn't shrunk back into her travel bag in time, she would have pounced on her and slapped her a few times.

"Mr. Luo... what happened to him?" the astrologer asked gently and calmly. "I hope I can make it in time this time."

"I...I don't know." Xiaoxue frowned, her delicate white eyebrows furrowing, her pale red eyes seeming to be veiled in a misty haze, making her look unusually cute and charming. "Grandpa suddenly stopped paying attention to me, he's not moving at all, he's lying in bed and won't get up. I'm so scared!"

"How long has he been like this?" Yan Wuyue interjected. There was no way around it; as soon as she sensed something suspicious, she would involuntarily transform into a beautiful girl detective—sigh, she was used to it!

"Probably..." Xiaoxue frowned and thought for a while, then stammered, "...several days, right?"

"Did he suddenly have a stroke?" Yan Wuyue whispered to the astrologer. "Old people, their health isn't good, and this house is freezing cold..." She then realized that her feet were numb from the cold, stiff and unresponsive. "A stroke or a heart attack are both possibilities. Honestly, how can she let such a young child take care of her grandfather!"

"What do you think, Mr. Tomboy?" Maya asked in a gruff voice.

"Of course, we should move into a nursing home or a medical facility!" Yan Wuyue got more and more excited as she spoke, and decided to spill the beans. "At the very least, we should hire a professional caregiver. You know, this family not only has elderly people, but also a young child who needs a professional caregiver! When the weather gets cold, the chances of the elderly getting sick increase, and we can't afford to be careless..."

The astrologer began to regret his decision to "kidnap Yan Wuyue." If she continued her nagging, he feared he wouldn't be able to finish the after-sales service before his own sonic attack killed him first. So, he coughed slightly in protest and smiled as he asked Xiaoxue:

"May I have the honor of meeting Mr. Shangluo?"

Without giving Yan Wuyue a chance to ramble on, he stood up and followed...

Volume Four: The Soul Singer, Second Movement: The Old Man and the Snow Boy (Part Four)

That bedroom was colder than anywhere Yan Wuyue had ever been. In fact, she felt like frozen pork in a cold storage, shivering in the icy chill surrounding her. Mr. Luo, lying flat on the bed, was of course unable to move. Although a quilt covered his body, his sleeping posture was so peaceful and serene, as if he were dead, in eternal slumber.

No, Yan Wuyue's heart clenched suddenly. It wasn't just a feeling; Mr. Luo was clearly dead! His ashen, dark complexion and his chest, which had never risen or fallen, didn't resemble that of a living person at all. In her shock, she completely forgot about the icy atmosphere around her, and quietly clutched the hem of the astrologer's coat, as if only that could bring her peace of mind, even though all she felt through her fingers was the cold touch.

"Grandpa, Grandpa!" Xiaoxue stood at a distance, calling anxiously. Yan Wuyue was quite surprised that she hadn't touched Mr. Luo's body—perhaps this was why she still didn't know about her grandfather's death.

The astrologer had clearly noticed this as well. He turned his head slightly and whispered in a voice that Xiaoxue could just hear:

"Xiaoxue, could you please tell your grandfather that an old friend of his has come to visit?"

Xiaoxue's eyes were completely red; she remained motionless away from her grandfather, simply conveying the astrologer's words to him.

"Xiaoxue, is your grandpa asleep and can't hear me?" Yan Wuyue couldn't help but interject. "Why don't you go and wake him up?"

Xiaoxue's hesitant gaze drifted from the astrologer's face to Yan Wuyue, her long, snow-white eyelashes trembling incessantly, sending a chill down one's spine. "No..." she lowered her large eyes and whispered, "Grandpa said it's forbidden..."

"What are you not allowed to do?" Yan Wuyue asked instinctively.

"No, I can't touch him!" Xiaoxue finally shouted with all her might, followed by a few crystal tears clinging to her eyelashes. "I'm sick, I have a serious infectious disease..." She clutched her head, squatted helplessly on the ground, and tears streamed down her face like broken pearls. "If I touch anyone, I'll infect them with the disease... I can't even touch Grandpa..." she sobbed incessantly.

So that's how it is. Behind the earlier unpleasantness lay such a hidden story. Xiaoxue, this unfortunate girl, not only suffers from albinism but also from such a highly contagious disease—no wonder she and her grandfather lived in seclusion in such a remote house. With a sense of relief, Yan Wuyue began to feel deep sympathy and pity for her. At this moment, the astrologer knelt down, extending his white-gloved hand to Xiaoxue:

"Have you never touched anyone since then?"

Xiaoxue cowered and arched her back, as if the person in front of her was a viper with its jaws wide open, ready to devour her at any moment. "No..." she uttered a soft protest from her pale red lips, "You'll get sick..."

The astrologer's hand moved forward slowly, allowing her no room for protest.

Seeing this, Xiaoxue's delicate body trembled like a fallen leaf in the autumn wind, making Yan Wuyue unable to bear watching any longer. "Astrologer, please don't force her anymore!" she cried out, "Xiaoxue is probably right, so please don't touch her anymore!"

"Please! Don't come near me again!" Xiaoxue's voice began to sob. "If this continues, you'll die..."

"Death?" The astrologer frowned, a desolate smile spreading across his face. "Can't you see that I'm different from humans? I wasn't summoned in the name of love between men and women, but by a will of evil and hatred?" He swiftly grasped Xiaoxue's soft, boneless, snow-white hand in his own. She let out a brief cry of surprise, then leaned softly against him. The astrologer lowered his head, gently kissing Xiaoxue's hand, while his icy green eyes fixed intently on Yan Wuyue. "I will not die. I will outlive any of your ancestors, and I will accompany your children, grandchildren, and descendants, following the path of your bloodline. Until the day this world is destroyed, I will dig a common grave for all of you extinct humans, and then, as the burial master, nail the last coffin to you. As long as the last human being on earth has a breath left, I, as a ghoul, will never die."

For some reason, the astrologer's lengthy confession wasn't as fierce as it seemed on the surface. Instead, sorrow, helplessness, and hopeless despair pierced Yan Wuyue's heart like sharp arrows. Indeed, the astrologer was a completely new figure to her. His mysterious identity and unpredictable actions constantly piqued her curiosity. However, to the astrologer who had traversed a thousand years, she was just an ordinary human girl. Her ordinary appearance, mannerisms, and behavior were perhaps nothing out of the ordinary in the astrologer's past—so, what were the astrologer's intentions in maintaining a relatively close relationship with her for so long, and why did he insist on dragging her along on this journey?

“See, I’ll be fine,” the astrologer said.

However, Xiaoxue actually allowed the astrologer to hold her hand. Could it be that Xiaoxue had already realized that the astrologer was not an ordinary human? Clearly, Xiaoxue wasn't so resistant to the astrologer. Yan Wuyue couldn't help but speculate that perhaps the astrologer had had close business dealings with the Luo family when Xiaoxue was a child. The evidence was that he himself had mentioned "after-sales service," wasn't that right? Between Mr. Luo, who died peacefully in his bed, and the innocent and ignorant Xiaoxue, what role did the astrologer play?

The astrologer gently turned his head to the side, as if afraid of waking Mr. Luo, and whispered to Xiaoxue:

"It would be best if we went out first, so as not to disturb Mr. Luo's rest."

Yan Wuyue and Xiaoxue opened their eyes wide almost simultaneously, but the former's gaze was filled with suspicion, while the latter's pale red eyes shone with an almost excited light; she was nearly moved to tears.

"So...Grandpa..."

“Your grandfather is fine,” the astrologer’s smile was as deep and solemn as if it were engraved on a bronze mask. “He’s just asleep, that’s all.”

"Great!" Xiaoxue cheered innocently, her movements becoming lighter and quicker, like a swallow darting down the stairs. Her cheerful voice, like silver bells, echoed behind her, "Great! Great!"

Yan Wuyue wasn't so relaxed. "Why did you lie to her?" She stared at the astrologer, having far too many questions that needed his answers. "And what exactly is your purpose in coming here?"

The astrologer didn't answer her directly. "Darkness is about to begin," he said, his icy green eyes reflecting the city lights outside the window, shrouded in a hazy mist. "Let me tell you a story to pass the long, boring night."

Volume Four: The Soul Singer, Second Movement: The Old Man and the Snow Boy (Part Five)

When she woke up, the person in front of her called her Xiaoxue.

He was an elderly man with white hair and beard, every wrinkle on his face etched with the marks of time, his aged smile concealing a hidden weight. When he smiled, his wrinkles smoothed out, and it was like a gentle breeze blowing across Xiaoxue's heart, warming and melting her soul as if she were bathed in spring sunshine. He introduced himself as her grandfather.

“You are my only family in this world,” the old man gazed at her from afar with deep affection, yet hesitated to embrace her stiff limbs, which had just awakened, into his warm arms. “My granddaughter, Xiaoxue.”

That was the origin of all her memories of her grandfather. She only recognized the wrinkled old face before her, and called him "Grandpa" as he had instructed, but knew nothing of her past. How she was born, who her parents were, what she had experienced in the more than ten years she had grown into this body—she knew nothing at all. Amnesia—that's what her grandfather told her, along with her strikingly pale skin, her rare infectious disease—all of this seemed like a huge, invisible black mystery, shrouding her entire being. She had lost more than just more than ten years of memories; she had lost her infancy, her carefree childhood, her relatives, her friends—all her social relationships had been wiped clean by an invisible hand. Now, all she had left was her kind grandfather.

Although kind, she is not approachable.

Fearing the terrible disease that afflicted her, Grandpa never touched her. No, it was almost like treating a plague patient; Grandpa kept her as far away as possible. Although he taught her to read and write, he never held her pen in his hand, only pointing out her posture. If she did well, Grandpa would never pat her head or shoulder to encourage her, only offering a few words of praise. If she was naughty or lazy and didn't finish her homework, Grandpa would at most mutter some unpleasant things, and at these times, his eyes would always be filled with a strange sadness. Even once, when she deliberately misbehaved, intentionally defying him and provoking his anger, even uttering harsh words, causing the good-tempered Grandpa to finally lose his temper and raise a hand to strike her delicate face—at that moment, she had already subconsciously closed her eyes, awaiting the sudden storm.

How she must have longed for that first contact! The way her long, snow-white eyelashes trembled was proof of how excited she was. Finally! Finally, she was going to be hit by Grandpa! Trembling, she leaned forward to meet his hand. Was Grandpa's palm as soft and cold as hers? Thinking of the wonderful moment that was about to come, a faint smile appeared on her lips.

However, what she hoped for never came. She waited for a very long time, feeling as if half a century had rushed past her ears, but the long-awaited "contact" ultimately came to nothing. Sometime later, her grandfather walked away alone, leaving her with only a heart that was cold to the bone.

She thought that perhaps she had hated her grandfather ever since that time.

Although she was already a teenager, the age for a normal middle school student, she had suffered from amnesia and had forgotten everything she should have learned in elementary school. Furthermore, her health condition prevented her from going out. Therefore, her grandfather effectively imprisoned her at home, taking full responsibility for her education. This secluded little villa completely isolated her from the outside world. She spent her days idly in her room, doing only some elementary school homework. Her only pleasure was listening to her grandfather tell stories—Grimm's Fairy Tales, Andersen's Fairy Tales, and the like, which he loved to tell her. Every time she heard the story of the Little Mermaid leaping into the sea for her beloved prince, turning into sea foam in the rising sun, her eyes would inexplicably well up with tears. "Prince," she turned her head and innocently asked her grandfather, "what is that? Is it pretty?"

Grandpa raised his head thoughtfully, his gaze as deep as if he had pierced through an unopenable portal of time and space. "Once upon a time... I guess so."

She knew that men and women looked different, but she wasn't quite clear on the differences. After all, she had only ever seen two people in her life: one was her own reflection in the mirror, fair and translucent, who, according to her grandfather, could be an exceptionally beautiful young woman if dressed in the right colors—what outsiders often called "makeup"; the other was her frail, elderly grandfather, ugly, withered, and wrinkled to the point that one couldn't bear to look at him a second time. Later, as her knowledge grew, she finally saw real men and women in the books and albums in her home. Their hair was all thick and black, their skin slightly yellow, and their lips a bright red, with crimson blood flowing beneath their thin skin.

And so she finally understood why the world had abandoned her. She was sick; she wasn't a normal human being. Therefore, she and her grandfather had to hide in this small house, barely surviving, never to see anyone again. No, the strange one was only her; her grandfather was an ordinary person, so he had to secretly hide her away. She knew that maintaining the family required money, so her grandfather often took on jobs, working alone in his room. Although he tried to leave when she was sleeping, how could she, so perceptive as she was, not hear his solitary footsteps? Perhaps her grandfather didn't want to hurt her fragile self-esteem, which was why he was so careful. But no matter what he did, a voice constantly echoed in her mind: "Monster! You're a monster!" This voice rang out day and night, like a relentless bugle call, loudly proclaiming her difference from her grandfather. This voice intensified her sense of alienation from her grandfather; she seemed to feel that her inexplicable hatred for him had deepened.

She didn't know which many years had passed since she woke up, but her grandfather grew increasingly frail, while her figure remained unchanged, light and joyful. She no longer clung to her grandfather as before; even during thunder and lightning, which she feared most, she no longer cried out to crawl into his arms—after all, countless experiences had proven that her grandfather would never open his heart to her. That selfish old man, only concerned with her illness, had no courage to embrace his trembling granddaughter—with age and knowledge, she developed an increasingly dignified and independent air, sometimes even causing her grandfather to look at her with a sidelong glance. "I'm not a child anymore," she thought to herself, "It's no longer possible to rely on Grandpa."

According to the book, she abandoned the naive idea that she was a monster, "I'm just sick," she comforted herself, "and with proper treatment, I can fully integrate into modern society."

Instead, she wondered why her grandfather hadn't simply treated her back then. But it wasn't too late; she planned to choose an opportune moment to formally ask her grandfather for permission to "go out." Whether he agreed or not, she had made up her mind.

But just at this crucial moment, Grandpa fell ill...

Volume Four: The Soul Singer, Second Movement: The Old Man and the Snow Boy (Part Six)

Grandpa had remained in that stiff posture for who knows how long, and she seemed indifferent to the recurring cycles of light and darkness outside the window. Although she understood it was a phenomenon caused by the massive celestial body called the "Sun," the flickering external light had no effect on her whatsoever. She could see the peach blossoms and willows outside, blooming and fading, leaving behind a carpet of withered yellow; she could see the wild geese flying south and then returning, the new geese surpassing the old, no longer resembling their former selves; the heavy snow falling like torn cotton, freezing the river into a still, smooth mirror, only to silently vanish into nothingness one day, its surface still rippling in the early spring breeze. But what did all this have to do with her? She simply lived alone in this small villa, letting the outside world rise and fall, changing endlessly. She had always thought that her grandfather was the one who had imprisoned her, but only now did she realize that the real culprit was her illness. As long as she could not have the same appearance as a normal person, she could not escape this cold prison.

Perhaps even fate was on her side; at just the right time, two guests arrived. The tall, pale-skinned man was one thing, though even she couldn't help but be slightly moved by his handsome appearance—far more captivating than her aging grandfather. No, what truly tantalized her was the young girl. Her lively, expressive black eyes were set against her ivory-white skin, her rosy, full complexion clearly visible even through the glass window. A vibrant, healthy, and energetic girl! The thought sent a tremor through her usually taciturn heart.

She wants that girl! She wants to live that kind of life!

Xiaoxue's crimson eyes stared unmoved at the astrologer, as if what came from those beautifully shaped thin lips wasn't her own inner journey, but merely a "story." The night, like a deep black robe, pressed down on the three people in the small villa. Yan Wuyue had been shivering since earlier, and now she felt even colder. Her temples throbbed, and her whole body felt itchy and numb, as if bitten by thousands of ants. Perhaps due to the low temperature, blood circulation in her brain seemed to have stopped, and she hadn't paid any attention to what the astrologer had just said.

"Your story," Xiaoxue finally spoke slowly, her face, which looked as innocent as a fourteen-year-old girl's, revealing the aura of a mature woman, "Are you finished?"

The astrologer smiled slightly, "I'm waiting for someone to take over."

Xiaoxue stared blankly at a certain spot, her gaze never glancing at the astrologer or Yan Wuyue, and murmured to herself, "The person you're talking about hates Grandpa, right? Because she's been locked up here by Grandpa since she was little..."

"But please tell me clearly," Xiaoxue raised her head, her eyes filled with confusion, only then did she reveal the childlike innocence of a young girl, "what exactly is this so-called 'hatred'?"

"So, do you love your grandfather?" the astrologer asked softly. As he expected, Xiaoxue neither readily admitted nor denied it; she simply opened her pale red eyes wide and gazed at him intently.

"I've seen the words 'love' and 'hate' in books... but I still don't understand the difference between them!"

Suddenly, a heavy thud was heard. The astrologer quickly turned around and saw that Yan Wuyue, unable to withstand the harsh cold, had collapsed to the ground, her strength failing her. The astrologer, somewhat alarmed, reached out and grasped her arm. Yan Wuyue's palm was as cold as a ghostly claw dipped in the River Styx, chilling to the bone. Even through the astrologer's gloves, he couldn't feel a trace of warmth emanating from her blood. Her eyes were tightly closed, her lips appearing bluish against a thin layer of frost. Despite the astrologer's repeated shaking, her once lively and vibrant eyes remained closed.

Xiaoxue couldn't help but find it amusing: the aloof man before her, with his clear eyes that seemed to see through the world, was actually flustered over the girl's fainting spell. "I told you, I have a deadly infectious disease," Xiaoxue said, raising a smooth, white arm, the very hand Yan Wuyue had initially tried to hold. "She touched my hand willingly, so it's not my fault if she falls ill or even dies because of it."

“I think you must be mistaken.” The astrologer slowly stood up, his imposing figure appearing taller than ever before. “She doesn’t have the same ‘illness’ you have.”

Looking back, Maya was filled with remorse and frustration; in short, she regretted it all. But there was nothing she could do; she was under orders from her master to hide in the bag and not to say a word or act on her own. The situation was this: before Xiaoxue could react, the astrologer, with lightning speed, untied the black trench coat tightly wrapped around himself and, with lightning speed, wrapped it tightly around Yan Wuyue's body. What was hidden beneath the coat? Xiaoxue only seemed to see a flash of black and white. In a split second, the astrologer held Yan Wuyue to his chest, using the coat to conceal his own body.

"What are you doing?" Xiaoxue asked, confused. "Are you playing a trick?"

The astrologer merely twitched the corner of his mouth slightly and replied, "For someone like you, the word 'cold' has no meaning whatsoever."

Perhaps it was the heavy trench coat that worked, for Yan Wuyue suddenly shuddered, then shakily opened her eyes. She then realized her situation was rather strange; she was wearing the black trench coat that astrologers usually wore, and her feet were dangling in the air, clearly suspended by something. She slowly turned her head, meeting the astrologer's smiling face, a face that blended gentle smiles with a vicious threat, as the astrologer said to her in a serious tone:

"Don't look back, or I'll eat you up."

Oh my god, the more you talk about it, the more I want to see! What does the astrologer's body look like without his trench coat? But Xiaoxue, who is facing the astrologer, looks perfectly normal, so it must be nothing serious... But I really want to see! The astrologer's body!

"Let's get back to our main topic!" The astrologer's face turned frosty as she quickly steered the conversation back on track. "Xiaoxue, do you love Mr. Luo, or do you hate him more?"

What surprised Yan Wuyue even more was what followed. He then said:

"If you don't hate him, why would you have the heart to kill him?"

Volume Four: The Soul Singer, Second Movement: The Old Man and the Snow Boy (Part Seven)

What? Yan Wuyue's eyes widened in disbelief. The Mr. Luo who was lying on the bed, already cold and lifeless, was actually killed by Xiaoxue?

Xiaoxue was also taken aback. She looked at the two of them with a puzzled expression and undisguised doubt, "What does it mean to die?"

Yes, Grandpa often has this problem. No, to be precise, every single day. Every night, as darkness falls, Grandpa's eyelids droop lower and lower, his withered head bowing ever lower against his chest. At that moment, Xiaoxue knows that Grandpa's illness has flared up again. She doesn't need to go forward to support him; past experience tells her that all she'll get in return is a distant look and a dismissive gesture. She simply sits quietly in her seat, waiting for Grandpa to drag his heavy steps toward his bedroom. Then, Grandpa will collapse onto the bed like a heavy corpse, lying there stiffly until dawn, until the morning sun awakens him from the ranks of the dead—this so-called "sleep" is a secret ailment unique to Grandpa, and she knows it all.

This time, it's just that the illness is more serious.

She firmly believed this.

“Grandpa is just asleep, that’s all,” Xiaoxue replied.

The astrologer then stopped responding and simply took out the letter summoning him from his robes. Yan Wuyue curiously leaned closer; the sender's signature was two characters: Luo Bing. That must be Mr. Luo's real name, she wondered.

If this letter had reached the astrologer earlier, and if the astrology office hadn't moved, resulting in multiple unsuccessful attempts to deliver it, perhaps none of this would have happened. Yan Wuyue stared at the densely packed postmarks covering the tattered envelope, surprised to find that the earliest postmark was from a year ago.

In other words, this was a letter that was a year late. A year may not seem like a particularly long time, but to someone whose life was at stake, it felt like one or two centuries.

“Mr. Luo was an old client of mine,” the astrologer raised his delicate eyebrows. “Since you came all this way to give me this special instruction, I have no choice but to obey, no matter how difficult it may be. However, I never expected that Mr. Luo would pass away before me, which puts me in a very difficult position…” As he spoke, he deliberately waved the flamboyant letter in front of him.

What secrets did Mr. Luo entrust to the astrologer in his dying letter? Yan Wuyue's curiosity was piqued, and she couldn't wait to snatch it and read it first. Xiaoxue must be even more anxious, right? She secretly glanced at Xiaoxue out of the corner of her eye, but saw that her face was still pale, without a trace of blush.

“If you have any questions, just ask Grandpa,” Xiaoxue replied steadily. “Once Grandpa gets better, he can do whatever he wants. It’s none of my business.”

Oh dear, this Xiaoxue, how can she be so stubborn? Yan Wuyue is almost driven crazy by her. She doesn't know what's wrong with her, but she always feels like she's talking to a brick wall, and there's no way to communicate with her! Yan Wuyue originally thought that she was mentally challenged or something, but sometimes when they talk, she is obviously a normal, educated girl; but other times, she gives completely irrelevant answers!

No, upon closer reflection, she was probably only confused about the "Grandpa sleeping" thing, right? Although it was obvious to anyone with eyes that her beloved grandfather had been dead for a long time, Xiao Xue, who was always by her side, insisted that he was "sleeping" or "sick," resolutely denying the fact that he had "passed away"—upon closer reflection, she was quite pitiful. Since she was so insistent on the idea that her loved one was still alive in this dream, why was Yan Wuyue so cruel as to pop that beautiful soap bubble herself?

However, the astrologer clearly didn't think that way. It's unclear how he managed to free his hands and leave Yan Wuyue suspended in mid-air. He took the letter from the neatly cut envelope and unfolded the thin sheet of paper in front of both of them. At this moment, Yan Wuyue didn't dare to breathe, listening intently. Xiaoxue's crimson eyes were fixed on the astrologer's lips, as if every word uttered from them would determine her future fate.

The astrologer smiled respectfully and read aloud in his deep, resonant voice:

"To the Astrologer: After my death, all my possessions, including those entrusted to you, shall be given to Ah Xue. Whether to keep or discard them, she must make a careful decision. Do not act rashly, or you will regret it. Remember this well!"