Chapter 52
Li Muxue sat by the window, the afternoon sun shining warmly on her wrist, which had just scabbed over (one of the scars left by Shen Haoyu).
She looked out the window; the sunlight was bright, and the leaves were dazzlingly green. But all the sounds around her seemed to have been abruptly pulled away by an invisible hand, leaving only a high-pitched, piercing tinnitus that seemed to pierce her skull. The scenery before her began to distort slightly, as if seen through a layer of rippling water.
The first hallucination occurred that night.
She huddled in the corner of the bed, hugging her knees. The room was dark, thick and inky. Fear and an indescribable sense of emptiness overwhelmed her; she felt herself falling into a bottomless abyss. Just then, she felt the mattress beside her dip slightly, as if someone had sat down.
Then, a familiar scent, carrying a faint fragrance of laundry soap and the smell of sunshine, drifted over.
This is Xu Chen's flavor.
Li Muxue suddenly looked up. In the darkness, she could clearly see Xu Chen sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the same white T-shirt he wore during their last meeting. His profile was sharp, and she could even make out the small mole on his neck. He wasn't looking at her; he was just looking down, as if he were troubled by something, but his figure was so real, so within reach.
"Xu Chen..." she called out in a trembling voice, afraid of disturbing him.
He turned around at the sound of her voice, a familiar smile on his face, a smile that was both helpless and full of pity. "Yes, I'm here." His voice was somewhat ethereal, as if it came from a great distance, yet it rang clearly in her ears.
“They…they all say you’re dead. I don’t believe it!” Tears streamed down Li Muxue’s face.
Xu Chen reached out and gently wiped away her tears. His fingertips were icy cold, but the touch was so tangible, even carrying a slight, real friction.
"Don't listen to their nonsense." Phantom's voice was gentle yet firm, carrying an undeniable magic. "How could I die? I promised to protect you, to always be with you. Look, I'm back, aren't I?"
He bent down and gently pulled her into his arms. That embrace, devoid of warmth, was like a cool moonlight, yet strangely soothing the tearing pain and panic within her. Li Muxue clutched his shirt tightly, burying her face in it, greedily inhaling his illusory yet undeniably real breath. At that moment, all the accidents, all the brain hemorrhage, became distant and laughable rumors. Only this embrace was the sole reality.
From that day on, Xu Chen "came back".
He was no longer just a visitor at night, but someone who was always by her side. When Li Muxue ate, she would set out a bowl and chopsticks across from her, and then "watch" Xu Chen, as usual, silently put the green peppers that she didn't like into his own bowl—although in her eyes, the bowl across from her was always empty, and the green peppers never moved, she just "knew" that he had done it.
When she had a fever again and took medicine, she would hear Xu Chen's reproachful yet caring nagging: "Drink slowly, the water is a little hot." She would obediently slow down and nod to the air.
On sunny afternoons, she would move two chairs to the balcony, sitting in one and leaving the other empty. She would talk for a long time to that empty chair, saying that the clouds looked like cotton candy, or that the cat downstairs had given birth to a few kittens. And she could always "hear" Xu Chen's gentle response, sometimes a brief comment, sometimes a low laugh.
The phantom was so lifelike that it not only had form, sound, and breath, but it even began to interfere with her perception and distort the reality around her.
Once, Li Muxue's mother, Qiao Kexin, brought in a bowl of soup and tripped, the scalding soup about to spill onto her. In that instant, Qiao Kexin was surprised to see her daughter swiftly move to the side, as if someone had pulled her back forcefully, a protected and reassured expression on her face. The soup spilled on the floor, but Li Muxue looked up at the empty corner of the wall, smiled sweetly, and whispered, "Thank you, Xu Chen."
Watching her daughter talk to the air, seeing the pure trust and happiness in her eyes, Qiao Kexin felt a chill run from her feet to her head. The bowl in her hand fell to the ground with a "crash," shattering into pieces. Li Muxue merely glanced at her mother with a puzzled look, as if wondering why she was making such a fuss.
The boundaries of the real world became increasingly blurred in her perception.
Her best friend Liu Yuling came to visit, and when she saw her talking to thin air, her expression instantly changed. "Sister Xue, don't be like this, Xu Chen..."
“He didn’t leave,” Li Muxue interrupted her, pointing to the sofa. “He’s sitting right there. Look, he’s reading a book.”
Liu Yuling looked in the direction she was pointing, and the sofa was empty. Her eyes reddened: "Sister Xue, wake up, Xu Chen is gone, you can't live in a fantasy."
"It's not a hallucination!" Li Muxue abruptly shook off her hand, her voice trembling with tears. "He watched a movie with me yesterday, and he even cooked porridge for me. He's real!"
Seeing her excited expression, Liu Yuling said softly, "How about I take you to see a psychologist?"
Li Muxue shook her head, "I'm not sick, I don't need to see a doctor!"
Liu Yuling stopped talking, but quietly held her hand and listened to her talk about the world between her and "Xu Chen" that belonged only to them.
She lived in a fortress built from longing and trauma, and Xu Chen's phantom was her only guardian. This phantom was so powerful, so considerate, filling all the cruel gaps in reality. It would wake her when she had nightmares, embrace her when she felt lonely, and when she trembled at the thought of Shen Haoyu, it would say in a cold but firm voice, "Don't be afraid, I'm here, no one can hurt you anymore."
The threads of reality and illusion were completely intertwined, inseparable. Sometimes, in moments of extreme quiet, such as waking up in the dead of night and hearing the distant sound of the wind outside the window, a faint question would flash through the depths of Li Muxue's mind: What exactly did the policewoman say that day at the hospital? And that simple funeral—did she attend it? Xu Chen… is he really gone?
But this question, like ripples on the water, was quickly dispelled by Xu Chen's gentle touch or a clear whisper. "Mu Xue, don't overthink it, I'm always here."
Thus, that doubt completely disappeared.
Whether Xu Chen was dead or not had become irrelevant to her. What mattered was that she could see him, hear him, and feel him. He existed in the air she breathed, in every inch of space within her sight. He was more perfect, more omnipresent than she remembered.
Death might take away her breath and heartbeat, but it couldn't take away the love she refused to let go of. In her world, Xu Chen loved her in a more absolute, more eternal way. She couldn't tell, nor did she need to. What did it matter if it was real? What did it matter if it was fake? As long as it could free her from that excruciating pain, as long as it could continue to be surrounded by love, living in this carefully woven illusion, that was her only reality.
She often sat by the window, sunlight filtering through her and casting a clear shadow on the floor. Beside her was another shadow, visible only to her, smiling and never leaving. They sat side by side like that, watching the sun rise and the moon set, as if time had never passed, as if tragedy had never occurred. For her, that was enough…
Soon, the dead of winter arrived. In the icy snow, one could occasionally see Li Muxue standing in the cold wind, thinly dressed. Neighbors would ask her why she was standing there, and she would reply that she was waiting for Xu Chen to buy her roasted chestnuts. She wore no gloves, no scarf, not even shoes. Ordinary people could never understand what kind of willpower allowed her to persist in waiting for the "person" she loved…
Watching her speak so earnestly to a "non-existent" person, the guests, relatives, and old neighbors who came to the house were all horrified. They quickly offered a few words of comfort and fled the eerily atmospheric room. Gradually, very few people came anymore. Everyone said, "Old Li's daughter has gone mad..."
Six months later, Binhai Foreign Languages College sent out a notice of withdrawal from the program...
(To be continued)
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