The Return of the Soul

Chapter 10

The dozen or so people on the bus heard the two sounds and all looked towards the source of the noise. Even the young girl looked up, puzzled, then looked again at the source of the sound with her glowing MP4 player. The lewd man, unaware of what was happening, trembled under everyone's gaze, thinking that his actions had been discovered and that they were being punished in some clever way.

"You've finally met your match!" I laughed, then went forward and kicked him again. Just then, the bus arrived at the stop, the doors opened, and he tumbled off the bus. A scooter sped past and, by sheer coincidence, hit him. The man was thrown into the middle of the road, his head hitting the ground hard, and blood immediately streamed down his face.

Well, in this short time, two bloody incidents have already occurred because of us.

Luo Yi rushed forward, grabbed me, and asked, "What happened? What happened? How could you hit someone?" The urgency in his eyes was no less than that of someone who hadn't eaten for three days seeing a steaming chicken. Ah, how familiar that scene was: a whole chicken, steaming hot, lying on a plate.

In my excitement, I patted him and shouted, "Big brother, I can do it! I can do it! You can do it too, really, I'm not kidding you. As long as you really want to do something, you can do it. I just wanted to slap that guy, and I actually did! Big brother, why don't you give it a try?"

While Luo Yi was happy for me, she also said with a mix of laughter and tears, "Who should I hit? I just want to hit you! How come you always beat me to everything? You're better than me at everything? What kind of monster are you, a little girl?"

He was shouting so loudly that he forgot himself, but his mother-in-law said calmly, "I told you long ago that this girl is an auspicious sign from heaven, she's extraordinary, don't you believe me?"

At this point, Luo Yi could only admire him. He said, "I initially thought it was because you were well-read, but now it seems that's not the reason at all. Oh, by the way, why did you slap that person?"

I said angrily, "Didn't you see? That bad guy is harassing this little girl. She tries to hide, but he keeps getting closer. I hate it when men bully women. He's so old, and he's bullying this little girl. She's so young; if this happens, she might have psychological trauma later in life."

Luo Yi remained silent for a while before saying, "What a disgrace to men."

That's more like it. I said magnanimously, "They're all the same. That woman with the dog wasn't a good person either. Men and women, there are good and bad ones."

The mother-in-law asked in a low voice, "What did that person do? You wanted to hit him? I didn't understand what you just said."

My mother-in-law wouldn't understand this kind of thing, so how could I possibly tell her? Although she's older than me, she's far more naive than I am. It's better for her not to know about such sordid matters. So I lied to her and said, "That person is a bad person. That's all you need to know."

Because of the bloodshed at the scene, the car was stopped and we were prevented from driving. A little later, a police car arrived with its siren blaring, and the officers jumped in to ask what had happened. Some people in the car, eager for a spectacle, chattered incessantly, while others, in a hurry, started clamoring to get off. We got out of the car and exchanged wry smiles.

Having something important to do turns out to be incredibly difficult.

The driver was detained for questioning, so we boarded another 911 bus. This time nothing happened; we arrived at the city square peacefully, then switched to the 13 bus and continued crossing the streets. The three of us fell silent. I thought about my superpowers; I guessed the other two had them too. A sudden question struck me: if confidence and a purpose could guarantee success, then why were we even looking for Little Ma?

The melody of "Ghost" floated into my mind, and I hummed it softly. With complete focus and concentration, nothing was untouchable. Why were we chased like mice that afternoon? Was it simply because our concern for others wasn't as selfless as our concern for ourselves? Is selfless love the most powerful?

I became scared, worried that my superpowers might be just a flash in the pan. Looking at the hanging ring on the roof bar that swayed with the car, I stood up and poked it with one finger. It moved.

Seeing the sorrow in Luo Yi's eyes as I watched my actions, my heart ached. My poor older brother, being hurt like this again and again by me. I went up to him, tugged at his sleeve, called out "Brother," and said, "Brother, I didn't mean it."

The older brother forced himself to stay calm and said, "It's alright. Everyone has different abilities. Miss Leng can see things that others can't."

I quickly replied, "Yes, I can't act in movies yet. There are thousands of people who act in movies, but only a handful can become superstars like Luo Yi. You're good at being a human, and I'm good at being a ghost. We siblings each have our own strengths."

Luo Yi forced a smile and touched the handrail above his head. The handrail moved, but he hadn't touched it. I couldn't bear to watch Luo Yi's dejection. His mother, who had been watching him closely, timidly came up and tugged at his sleeve, just like I had. Luo Yi could only smile at her.

The No. 13 bus terminates at the Wuli River. The stop isn't far from Fisherman's Wharf. The three of us got off and headed that way. I said, "I wonder if Brother Ma is there? Maybe he's off playing with some girl again?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. You shouldn't criticize someone in front of others, especially given Luo Yi's incompetence. He can still be a boss and date beautiful women even after he's gone; how could Luo Yi not feel resentful?

Luo Yi seemed used to being frustrated and said nonchalantly, "We'll see."

When we arrived at the Fisherman's Wharf parking lot, I called out, "Brother Ma, Brother Ma, are you there? Your little sister wants to come play with you. Let's make the crabs and lobsters fight again!" I called several times, but there was no response, so we had to wait. After waiting for a while, I got bored. On a whim, I went up to the roof and tried to touch the lobster's claws, just like Brother Ma had done. The lobster didn't give me any face at all and didn't flinch. I laughed and was about to come down when I saw a sea of candlelight on the Wuli River. One by one, lotus lanterns bloomed on the water, and the candlelight reflected in the water was warm and gentle.

I shouted and pointed to the river, "Brother, look! Someone is releasing river lanterns!"

Luo Yi and her mother-in-law, curious from my call, also went up onto the roof.

One by one, lotus lanterns drifted across the river, like stars in the sky, the dark water mirroring the dark sky itself. Who was releasing these lanterns in the dead of night? What kind of longing, what kind of sorrow, lay hidden within? The person releasing the lanterns must be incredibly lonely, as lonely as the lotus lanterns on the dark river—exquisite yet melancholic, beautiful yet helpless.

The old woman murmured, "Could it be that Ghost Month has arrived?"

When she mentioned Ghost Month, I remembered that the 15th of the seventh lunar month is the Ullambana Festival, also known as the Zhongyuan Festival or the Ghost Festival. The Zhongyuan Festival lasts for a month, so the entire seventh lunar month is considered Ghost Month. During this month, ghosts can return from the underworld to visit their relatives on earth, and the relatives will bring them money, clothing, wine, fruits, and other offerings. This custom has been preserved for thousands of years, and today, with the times changing, people are also giving cell phones and computers as gifts to the spirits.

Burning paper money is allowed throughout July, but releasing river lanterns is only done on the 14th. Is today the 14th of the seventh lunar month? No, if it were, it wouldn't be so quiet. The entire Wuli River would be packed with people then, unlike today's stillness. Could the person releasing the river lantern be impatient? Could they have started playing alone before the 14th?

Sure enough, some people were drawn to the riverbank by the river lanterns, while others mocked those who were releasing them, calling them impatient fools. Someone shouted, "Hey, the seventh day of the seventh lunar month isn't over yet! You might as well celebrate Valentine's Day first, and slow down the release of the river lanterns."

I found it amusing and said, "Brother, let's go over and watch them release river lanterns."

Luo Yi said, "Look at it from up there. Up close, it's individual lamps, but from top to bottom, it's a string of lamps. Look over there, it looks like it forms a character."

I looked in the direction he was pointing, and sure enough, the newly released river lanterns were strung together, floating on the river like a cluster of flowers. I said, "I'm too short to see them all. The shadows of the trees over there are blocking my view."

Luo Yi said, "You'll see it when it floats over in a while."

I hummed in agreement and waited obediently. Luo Yi looked at each character and said one word at a time: "I see it now, the first one strung together is a '一' (one). The next one is the character '枕' (pillow), why would they use that character? This time it's a word: '清风' (gentle breeze). And then there's: '听说' (heard)..."

When I heard this, I was stunned. I grabbed Luo Yi and shouted, "Brother, is it true that 'A gentle breeze on a pillow is said to be haunted'?"

Without turning his head, Luo Yi said, "It's not 'ghost,' it's 'you.' A gentle breeze whispers through the night, and I've heard you're here."

A gentle breeze whispers through my pillow, and I hear you're here.

I cried loudly.

Someone is looking for me, someone is thinking of me. During Ghost Month, one shouldn't say "ghost," but rather "good brother" instead, hence the absence of the word "ghost" in the sentences, right? But someone changed a phrase that repeatedly appeared in my dreams, arranging it into river lanterns and placing them on the river. One by one, the lotus lanterns lit up, the Wuli River becoming a long scroll, each word blooming like a flower, shining brightly in the darkness. Someone is using this method to convey a message to me, telling me: A gentle breeze whispers, and I hear you are here.

A gentle breeze whispers of ghosts.

A gentle breeze whispers through my pillow, and I hear you're here.

Without a second thought, I pounced off the roof and ran straight for the lit lantern. Luo Yi called after me, but I pretended not to hear. I'd gone through so much trouble to come back and find my family. The river lantern this person released contained phrases that kept recurring in my dreams, so it must be related to me. These two half-baked, nonsensical phrases weren't idioms or classical allusions, nor were they from Tang or Song dynasty poetry; not everyone would know them. Even the most romantic person releasing river lanterns would only arrange them into a heart shape or spell out 520. To spend so much effort writing so many words to release river lanterns on a day other than the Ghost Festival—only a madman or someone with a hidden agenda would do that.

I rushed to the riverbank, climbed over the iron chain, and the river lanterns, reflected in the dark water and night, stood out even more. From this angle, I couldn't see what characters the lanterns formed; Luo Yi's obstruction was correct. A group of lanterns drifted by, and then a few more were placed in the water, swaying gently until they reached me. I walked along the path where the lanterns had come from, and along the way, small groups of people were drawn to them by the lanterns, watching the spectacle, pointing at them and talking. Listening to their comments, there was more praise than ridicule.

After weaving through several throngs of people, I finally saw the man who had released the river lanterns. His face was illuminated by the flickering candlelight, allowing me to make out who he was. He was a young man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a somber expression and a furrowed brow, wearing a white shirt. He squatted down, using a small lighter to light the last few lotus lanterns at his feet, then lifted them with one hand and gently placed them on the water's surface, softly stirring the water to let the ripples carry the lanterns away. After releasing the last lantern, he stood up, gazing at the river, completely unconcerned about the curious glances and pointing fingers of those around him.

The man stood there in that position for a long time, and the onlookers fell silent, watching the lotus lantern drift further and further away. Who would do such a thing if not for an overwhelming longing for the deceased? What could be more agonizing than the eternal separation of life and death? Respect for the dead and reverence for those with deep affection left everyone speechless.

Doing the same thing as everyone else, no matter how outrageous, is not surprising or embarrassing. But to do it alone, with a crowd watching, requires immense courage. Even if millions stand against the tide, this person's courage is equally admirable. And for a man of this age to do something so romantic and poignant is even more remarkable.

I looked at him, my admiration as vast as the surging river before me, and I wanted nothing more than to grab him and say, "What troubles you? Tell me, and I'll help you."

Because I didn't recognize him. I thought the person who wrote those two sentences was a relative or acquaintance, someone I would recognize at a glance. Didn't I recognize Luo Yi instantly? Didn't I remember all my favorite old movies? If it were someone closely related to me, how could I not recognize him? I leaped down from that rooftop to meet a relative, only to find out he was a stranger.

My disappointment surged like a raging river, almost drowning me. I walked up to him and scrutinized him closely. He was good-looking, though not as handsome as Luo Yi, but still a good seven out of ten. He was very tall, a full head taller than me, plus half a neck. He was very thin and haggard. Especially the pain in his eyes, it broke my heart. My heart ached, and my compassion overwhelmed me; I wanted to tell him: "If you have something wrong, tell me." I put my own sadness aside, wanting only to comfort him.

It's so heartbreaking to see a man so emotional in public. Of course, I also want to ask him: Why did you write those two sentences? What's the source? The difference between "ghost" and "you" is just one word; is it still my sentence? Some things can't be separated by a single word; even Zhang Fei and Yue Fei only differ by one word. Am I being presumptuous, or have I misunderstood? Is there any connection between us? I also need to ask myself, why don't I recognize you? I want to ask him: Do you recognize me?

I reached out, wanting to tug at his sleeve, but hesitated. Now that I could touch things, I didn't want to startle him by clumsily reaching out, especially since he couldn't see me. As I hesitated, a breeze stirred on the river, ruffling my hair and the hem of my skirt, and of course, his sleeve. He suddenly looked up, gazing at the night sky, and whispered, "Xiao Ye, is that you back?"

His voice was barely audible; if I hadn't been standing right behind him, I wouldn't have heard it. He was facing the river, so no one could see his mouth moving. He spoke to himself, and also spoke to his "Xiao Ye." So the person he was summoning was named Xiao Ye. "Xiao Ye"? That name seemed familiar? But I couldn't quite place it. Ah, actually, where I heard it from isn't important; what's important is that this Xiao Ye is a girl, right? Is she his lover? Could it be me?

I'm at a loss again. I don't remember him, I don't know him, and of course, I have no feelings for him. If he were my lover, what should I do?

Luo Yi came up behind me and asked, "Little sister, have you found the person?"

I looked back at him with immense sorrow and said, "No, brother, I don't remember knowing this person. But the words he wrote about releasing river lanterns have appeared in my dreams several times. Brother, what should I do?"

The mother-in-law was concerned about something else entirely. She said, "The child you're carrying..."

I finally broke down, crying out, "I don't remember. I have a child, but I don't remember who I had it with. This person, this person... why do I feel nothing for this person?" I can't imagine that I had a child with him before I was alive; this person is a stranger to me.

Seeing that I was upset, Luo Yi comforted me, saying, "Don't be like this. You've only been here for a day. How can you find your family so quickly? Take your time."

I knew he was right; I would have given the same advice. But it's only when you're in his shoes that you realize how painful it is. Those who can talk the talk are those who don't know the walk. Looking at that man, I thought his eyebrows were too thick, his eyes too small, and his eyebrows too close together, giving him a fierce look; a stern face, pursed lips, biting his cheeks, all looking menacing. I didn't like such a fierce person at all. In summer, his shirt was short-sleeved, exposing his arms, which were covered in hair—I disliked that even more. On such a hot day, he wore strappy black leather shoes; so stiff, I still didn't like that. From head to toe, I didn't find anything good about this person, except for the river lantern he released. But now, I felt that someone like him releasing a river lantern was like Pigsy embroidering flowers—completely mismatched. Was he just being pretentious, pretending to be a Casanova? Overwhelmed with disappointment, I vented my anger on him, almost grabbing his collar and asking: "You used my lines without permission? Did you pay the copyright?"

The person waited for the wind to blow past and then stop, as if he hadn't received the information he wanted. He slowly withdrew his gaze, didn't look at the people around him, and turned to leave.

I turned to Luo Yi and said, "Brother, I'll follow him and see who he really is. You don't need to worry about me, go find Brother Ma yourselves. I'll figure out how to get back before dawn. If I can't get back, don't worry, I can hide in any dark corner."

Luo Yi grabbed me and said, "I'll go with you. In case anything happens, we can look out for each other."

My eyes were fixed on the man's white silhouette, afraid of losing him. I said, "Brother, your business is important too. Let's split up. I'll be fine. Who am I? A once-in-a-lifetime auspicious creature! What demons or monsters would dare touch me? I'm a ghost myself, okay? Alright, I'm not talking to you anymore. I need to stay close. Sister, you go with my brother to learn your skills. See you later." With that, I left them behind.

I followed that Pigsy (Zhu Bajie) up the embankment, across the road, and into an entrance to the Wave Building. My heart skipped a beat. He lived in the Wave Building? What about his window? I looked at him again. What was so good about this Pigsy? He turned into an elevator, and I quickly got in too, afraid of being locked out. The elevator doors closed, and his image was reflected in the mirror-like stainless steel wall. I used the bright light to examine him again, from his hair to the tip of his nose, from his collar to his chest, and then his eyes. Mencius said that if the eyes are upright, the heart is upright. I wanted to see if this Pigsy was a righteous person. And then I noticed that, sure enough, his eyes were crooked. He was looking at the side of his reflection in the mirror, as if he were looking at someone next to him.

Startled, I jumped to my feet and kept my distance from him. Good heavens, could this person also have the ability to see ghosts? Besides Leng Qingqing, could there be another person with special abilities? The probability is too high!

The elevator dinged and stopped on the seventeenth floor. He got out, and I followed. His empty footsteps echoed in the late-night hallway, making my silence all the more apparent. He took out his keys and opened the door. I slipped inside and went straight to the living room window. Looking down, I saw, sure enough, lobsters and crabs from Fisherman's Wharf hanging from the ceiling, missing limbs and claws.

The scene was so familiar, so familiar that it filled me with a mixture of shock, fear, joy, and sorrow. I must have stood at this window many times. I slowly turned around and saw a calligraphy scroll hanging on the living room wall: "A pillow of gentle breeze, I've heard there are ghosts."

There's no mistake. Where else in the world could such a nonsensical sentence appear? How long can I keep deceiving myself? From the moment I saw the lantern in the river, I knew it was looking for me, so why do I still question its certainty? Is my anxiety simply a fear that it isn't, that it will make my journey in vain, that all my joy will vanish? Or is it a fear of missing memories? I am a ghost, and he is still trying to summon my spirit, yet I don't remember him. Is it this truth that frightens me? Am I just making excuses for myself by rejecting him so much and finding fault with him? Am I really a heartless and ungrateful person?

When did I begin to foresee this outcome? I drifted over, and the words engraved on the red seal in the lower right corner were indeed "Summer Night," a name I had seen in my dream. Summer Night, a girl's name, wasn't it? The name he had called out by the river just now; he called her "Little Night." Then, who am I? The answer was obvious, yet I dared not speak. I don't even remember my own name; how can I repay his devotion?

I stared blankly at the calligraphy, and Pigsy came over to look at it too. We stood side by side, one human and one ghost. I didn't know who he was, and he didn't know I was beside him. Humans and ghosts are on different paths, belonging to the realms of Yin and Yang.

Then I heard him say, "Xiao Ye, you've become addicted to being a ghost and you don't want to come back?"

Lao Tzu transformed into the Three Pure Ones.

His words terrified me. I felt like a martial arts master had struck my vital point, rendering me completely immobile and at his mercy. He was talking to me, saying, "You've become addicted to being a ghost and refuse to come back." Did he really see me, or did he sense me? I didn't even dare turn my head to look at him; I was completely frozen in place.

I stood frozen beside him, resigned to his fate. He fell silent, staring intently at the calligraphy. After a long while, he sighed, turned, and walked towards the window. He hadn't seen me; he was simply talking to himself. I finally caught my breath and regained my balance. I looked back at him. He gripped the windowsill, gazing at the Wuli River outside. The river lanterns had vanished without a trace; only their reflections and a narrow crescent moon shone on the water.

I wonder for whom the river moon waits, as the Yangtze River carries its flowing water. Whatever deep affection and unspoken thoughts are entrusted to the flowing water, the result is the same. The flowing water is time, and time is the flowing water. People die, and with death comes oblivion, leaving only sorrow and melancholy for the living. A cup of water for forgetting love is given to one person, a bowl of Meng Po soup to a ghost; such things truly exist, yet when the time comes, no one dares to drink them.

I don't know what happened to me, but I lingered in the Ghost Realm, preferring to plunge into the Blackwater River and suffer the excruciating pain of ten thousand swords rather than drink a single drop of Meng Po's soup. My stubbornness was in no way inferior to his. Facing him, I don't need to feel ashamed; I just need to find out the reason.

I took a few steps forward and reached out to touch him, almost touching him, but then I let go. I really couldn't bring myself to get into a physical altercation with a strange man.

He stood there for a long time, and finally recited a line of poetry: "The wind rustles, the trees sigh, I think of my beloved, and only sorrow remains. Little Ye, have you received my letter?"

His letter was like a river lantern; he wrote his longing on the long river in the most obvious way. If his little night returns, it will surely see it, it will surely come back to him. Such a letter, such a person, would move anyone, any ghost. His words broke my heart. I softly said, "I received it, I saw it, I'm right beside you. Tell me who you are, tell me who I am, and what is our relationship?" But he couldn't hear me. I can hit people, I can touch objects, but I can't talk to people. The distance between humans and ghosts is so vast, how can I communicate with him? Should I find a medium, or learn from Brother Ma? Brother Ma can manifest in front of people, Brother Ma can embrace beautiful women, I can definitely do it too. Then, I should go find Brother Ma, but I can't bear to leave.

While I was torn between staying and leaving, he suddenly took action. He washed his face, grabbed his keys, opened the door, turned off the lights, and left. Where was he going in the middle of the night? I quickly followed behind him. We took the elevator downstairs, and he opened the door of a small car, got in, and started the engine. I sat in the passenger seat, quite disapproving of his car. Such a big man, driving such a small car, while others drive Lotus sports cars. The thought of complaining arose, but I quickly covered my mouth. I'm not one to judge people by their appearance or possessions; I've never been like that before. Why did those words almost slip out? Is it something I often say before?

The car drove out of the parking lot and onto the road. There were no ghosts causing trouble tonight, and the traffic lights were working normally. Looking at the quiet, orderly flow of traffic, a thought struck me: Was this person releasing river lanterns tonight, instead of on the Ghost Festival, because of last night's power outage? Last night's power outage was inexplicable, and many paranormal events occurred. He was desperately hoping his spirits would return; could he have taken the power outage as a signal? Could he have thought that the Ghost Month had arrived, and the spirits had returned, unable to communicate, so they were using things humans couldn't do to tell humans, "We're back"? Was that why he was so eager to release river lanterns on the night after the hauntings, to call back the souls he wanted to summon?

If my reasoning holds true, then our unconscious revelry last night actually paved a convenient bridge for me, allowing me to find the person I was looking for the very next day after my return. Everything has a cause and an effect, and from the effect, we can trace back to the cause. Our return was the trigger, and his releasing the river lantern was the result. I came back to find him, and he answered my call; in the grand scheme of things, there is a divine will at work.

As I pondered this, the car stopped. He got out and locked the door. I clung tightly to him, not daring to stray more than three steps away. Where was this place? Why would he come so late at night? I looked up and immediately understood: this was a hospital. He wouldn't be at the hospital at this hour to see a patient, and his appearance didn't suggest it. There was only one explanation: he was a doctor on night shift.

The doctor joke reminded me of Agatha Christie's first novel, *The Mysterious Affair with Styles*, where the line is, "How many people have you killed?" He looked so serious; he probably wouldn't accept such a joke. I muttered to myself, finding him rather boring, not someone I could really connect with. What did I see in him? The thought quickly faded as I slapped my lips. Who said I was some kind of "Little Night"? Don't be so presumptuous! What if I'm not? Wouldn't that be embarrassing?

The hospital was eerily quiet late at night. He must have come to the inpatient ward, not the emergency room. The hallway lights were dim, and the marble floor was eerily dark. A nurse in a white dress and cap greeted him, saying, "Dr. Wei, good morning." He replied, "Good morning." Good morning my foot! It was clearly the middle of the night! It turned out his surname was Wei. Among surnames pronounced "wei," there are Wei, Wei, and Wei, the latter two being falling tones, only Wei is a rising tone, commonly known as the third tone. The nurse had called him "Dr. Wei," which is indeed a third tone.

"隗," with the character for "ghost" next to the left ear. Heard there are ghosts? I jumped up with a start. So he's the one who said "heard there are ghosts"? Heh heh, who am I trying to fool? How long can I keep fooling myself? That calligraphy was definitely mine; Xia Ye was me. I signed it, I stamped it, I joked about his surname. I remember nothing else, except his name. Even as a ghost, I'll remember him; even as a ghost, he'll still be thinking of me.

Such deep affection. I was deeply moved by both of us.

Dr. Wei entered a duty room, greeted the other two doctors, washed his hands, put on his white doctor's coat, picked up a medical record folder, and began his rounds. He went from room to room, checking each bed. Some patients were already asleep, so he checked their IV drips; others stopped him to talk, and he listened patiently and answered their questions. He was completely different now from the chilly figure he was when he released river lanterns. At this moment, Dr. Wei was as warm and gentle as a spring breeze, making me wish I could be a patient myself, lying in a hospital bed, waiting for him to come and talk to me.

After finishing his rounds, Dr. Wei returned to the duty room, put down the medical record folder, and said to the two doctors, "I'll still be there. Call me if you need anything." The two nodded, and I thought I heard a slight sigh. I glanced at them and saw pity on their faces. Why? I followed behind him, watching where he went.

He went up the stairs to another floor. This floor was even quieter, without a sound. The corridor lights were dimmer, making it feel eerily like a morgue. I became increasingly uneasy. What was he doing here? He said, "I'm still there," meaning that he wasn't in the duty room during his shifts, but went to another place, and he went there every day, and everyone knew he went there.

At the end of the corridor, he opened the door to a hospital room and turned on a small lamp. It was a single room with only one bed. One person was lying on the bed, and several bottles hung on the IV stand beside the bed. A pot of jasmine flowers sat on the bedside table. Small white blossoms were blooming among the emerald green leaves, but I couldn't smell the fragrance of jasmine.

Who is that person lying there? I was too scared to go closer to look.

The small ward had a private bathroom. Dr. Wei went in to wash his hands and face. How many times a day does he wash his hands? Doesn't he get all skin raw? I hid in a corner, hugging myself. The mystery was about to be revealed, and I didn't know if I could accept it. Dr. Wei came out after washing his hands, dried them, warmed them on his face, walked to the bedside, bent down to kiss the face of the person on the bed, and then whispered, "Xiao Ye, I just went to summon your soul. Aren't you coming back?"

I covered my mouth with my fist and sobbed.

"You've become addicted to being a ghost, and you don't want to come back? Is the ghost world so interesting that you'd rather be a ghost than wake up and stay with me?" He took the person on the bed's hand and placed it on his face. "Being a ghost is fun, you'll go eventually, why are you in such a hurry?" He held the person's hand and began to massage. He massaged her arms, shoulders, this one, that one. Then he helped her sit up, letting her lean on his shoulder, and massaged her back and waist. He lowered her upper body and massaged her legs and feet. He turned her over, threatening her, "If you lie down again, you'll get bedsores. Don't complain to me then, I don't want to hear it." After finishing the whole massage, he finally put his "ghost ear" to the person's abdomen, listened, and said, "The baby is developing very well." Then I heard him cry. He said, "You silly girl, you're willing to risk your life for a child."

I sobbed uncontrollably. I touched my belly, which was slightly swollen; there really was a child there. I went to him to comfort him, to put my hand on his trembling shoulder, to tell him that I was back, that I would rather die than die for him and our child, that I had no regrets, that I had no regrets, that I had no regrets about our child.

Then I saw the most incredible thing in the world: a very faint shadow slowly rose from my body on the bed. This shadow was transparent, as transparent as a piece of glass, as transparent as a wisp of water vapor, as transparent as a ghost. Through that shadow, I could see the green leaves and white flowers of the jasmine behind her. The transparent shadow slowly sat up, reached out a pair of transparent hands to caress Dr. Wei, who was pressed against her abdomen, gently bent down, pressed her face against his back, and tenderly kissed the back of his neck and his cheek.