Chapter 7

After dinner, the rain finally let up, and Meng Bai decided to head out and return the umbrella.

Lin Li was in the kitchen washing dishes at the time, while Meng Xingzhong lounged in the living room watching TV—that clunky old boxy set that would sputter and lose signal at the slightest provocation.

They had both taken some time to cool off earlier, so the gunpowder between father and daughter had mostly dissipated.

Meng Xingzhong glanced up at her. “What’re you doing heading out so late?”

Meng Bai wiggled the umbrella in her hand. “Returning this. To A Xin. Won’t take long.”

“That urgent?”

“Of course. We agreed I’d bring it back as soon as the rain stopped.”

Meng Xingzhong chimed in with a warning. “Return it and come straight home. Don’t wander around out there—it’s not safe at night.”

Meng Bai said nothing, just hurried out the door.

Returning the umbrella to A Xin was, of course, a white lie. But she wasn’t an idiot; she could hardly say she was going to return it to the Lunatic.

A round trip to Miao Bai’s place would take about ten minutes, and if they ended up chatting, she might not be back anytime soon.

Meng Bai didn’t have time to overthink it. She’d deal with that later—first, out the door.

The path was narrow, her footsteps rustling softly through the grass. The air felt cool, laced with the fresh scent of rain-soaked earth.

She mulled over how to approach Miao Bai.

She’d turned down her request that afternoon, but that was no surprise. Maybe, Meng Bai thought, she just needed to ask a few more times.

Her steps quickened, and before long, she reached the gate of the Old Courtyard.

Night had fallen. Meng Bai stood there and called softly, “Miao Bai.”

A faint rustling came from inside the courtyard. Glancing up, she saw the branches overhead swaying.

Huh?

Miao Bai must have been up there picking walnuts.

Worried she hadn’t been heard, Meng Bai called out again, louder. “Hey! You in there? It’s Meng Bai—I brought your umbrella back.”

Her words were barely out when the iron gate creaked with a gentle sway, as if nudged by a knowing breeze that hit just right. Meng Bai half-wondered if Miao Bai’s talents went beyond Illusion Technique—maybe she had some kind of wind control too.

She took it as an invitation.

“I’m coming in!”

The moment she stepped inside, a sweet rose fragrance wafted over her.

The courtyard was shrouded in shadow, and there stood Miao Bai beneath the tree, her tall figure melting into the dim gray surroundings.

In her hands was a long bamboo pole. She focused intently on the ripe clusters overhead, knocking them down one by one with practiced flicks.

Meng Bai hung back, not daring to interrupt.

Only when the next cluster thudded to the ground did Miao Bai pause. Without turning, she said, “Out after dark, huh?”

“Had to come find you.” Meng Bai smiled. “Here to give this back.” She held out the umbrella. “All dried off.”

Miao Bai didn’t take it. She turned, giving Meng Bai a sidelong glance.

Their eyes met for a couple of seconds before Meng Bai looked away, propping the umbrella against the wall. “It’s so late—why’re you still harvesting walnuts?”

Miao Bai eyed the pole in her hand. “Time drags on too long.”

Meng Bai blinked, not quite following at first. Then it clicked.

Of course. Miao Bai lived alone and rarely ventured out. It had to get lonely.

Meng Bai took a step closer. “Want some help?” She nodded at the tree. “There’s so many—you can’t pick them all by yourself.”

“Nothing left to get. All done.” Miao Bai drew the pole back. “I’ve got a full basket already.”

Meng Bai finally glanced down at the back basket, brimming with green walnut husks and plump nuts inside.

“Wow, a ton of walnuts. What for?”

She figured they were for eating. Definitely not for pelting people with.

“Pelting people,” Miao Bai said airily.

Meng Bai startled, whipping her gaze to Miao Bai—only to see the glint of amusement in her eyes. She let out a breath. Just kidding, then. Good.

“No way. I don’t buy it.” Meng Bai laughed.

Miao Bai’s expression had softened, though she stayed quiet.

“With this many, you’ll eat them all?”

Miao Bai bent down and scooped a handful from the basket.

“Hold out your hand.”

“Huh?” Bemused but obedient, Meng Bai extended her palm. A few walnuts dropped into it; she cradled them gingerly, a little flustered by the gesture. “For me?”

“Too many to finish alone.”

“Thanks!” A handful of ordinary walnuts, and yet they warmed her from the inside. Unable to help herself, Meng Bai snuck another glance at Miao Bai—but the veil and headscarf left only her eyes visible. “Why do you cover up like that?”

Comfort bred curiosity, and questions started spilling out.

Miao Bai met her gaze, her eyes impassive, but she answered anyway. “Can’t stand the light.”

Meng Bai assumed she was poking fun at her looks and rushed to reassure her. “Looks don’t matter.” She hesitated, then added, “I mean, doesn’t it get hot and stuffy under all that?”

“Not about looks.” Miao Bai’s voice was flat. “Just daylight. Can’t stand it.”

How strange—she couldn’t handle daylight? Meng Bai tamped down her bewilderment. “But it’s nighttime now?”

“Habit.”

“I want to see you.” Realizing how that sounded, she tacked on, “Is that okay?”

“No.”

“So why the light thing?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Meng Bai went quiet, kicking herself for overstepping.

Maybe it was that night—they’d shared something that made her feel an instant closeness. A little gesture, like handing over some walnuts, and suddenly Meng Bai wanted to close the whole distance at once.

But truth be told, they barely knew each other.

Figuring out boundaries with people was an art.

Just as Meng Bai debated whether to apologize, Miao Bai spoke up. “You really want to know why?”

“Absolutely!”

“If you’ve got a flashlight, I might explain.”

“A flashlight?”

“Anything that puts out a strong beam.”

Now Meng Bai was hooked.

What on earth was Miao Bai planning? She half-wished she could sprout a beam of light right then and there.

“Wait right here—I’ll run home and grab one!”

In that instant, the only thought in Meng Bai’s head was that she had to figure out exactly what was going on.

She bolted out of the courtyard and sprinted down the road toward home, her heart racing. She couldn’t tell if it was from running so fast or because of Miao Bai.

When she got home, Meng Xingzhong was still glued to the TV. Seeing Meng Bai frantically rummaging for a flashlight, he couldn’t help but ask curiously, “What’re you up to?”

“Grabbing the flashlight.” She rummaged through the cabinet until she found it, then told Meng Xingzhong, “I have to head out again.”

Meng Xingzhong suddenly grew wary. “What for? Why are you going back out?”

Meng Bai paused mid-step, caught her breath, and said gravely, “I was just chatting with A Xin for a minute. I had my test paper and pen with me, remember? Her little brother is such a rascal—he knocked my pen right onto the ground. In this pitch-black night, who knows where it went flying. I couldn’t find it, so I figured I’d grab the flashlight and search again.”

This was the third lie she’d told that day, all to sneak off and see Miao Bai.

“Didn’t you take an umbrella?” Meng Xingzhong blinked. “And your homework too?”

He couldn’t quite recall what she’d taken when she left earlier.

That pen had been Meng Xingzhong’s birthday gift to her the year before.

“Yeah, I did. I’ll just go look again.”

Meng Xingzhong didn’t suspect a thing. In his eyes, Meng Bai was never one to lie. “Alright, go on—but you better be back by eight-thirty.”

“Got it.”

Meng Bai gripped the flashlight and trotted out the door.

She dashed from the main room and flicked it on, sweeping the beam across the dirt path leading into the fields beyond.

So, what did light have to do with Miao Bai? That was the question she was burning to answer.

Right now, she could hardly wait to race back to that courtyard, her mind buzzing with thoughts of what wonders might be waiting for her.

Anticipation turned every step into something extraordinary.

She ran the whole way, cutting her time in half. By the time she reached the courtyard, she was panting hard.

There stood Miao Bai in the yard, seemingly waiting for her.

“Flashlight’s here!” Meng Bai waved it. “So, why? Why can’t you stand the light?”

They stood several meters apart, Miao Bai’s tall, slender silhouette mysterious and captivating in the darkness.

“You need to brace yourself.”

Meng Bai thought, she’d already witnessed that otherworldly scene the other night—she didn’t believe Miao Bai could conjure anything even stranger.

“Mm, I’m ready.”

“Turn it on.”

Meng Bai eased the switch forward, and the beam landed on the iron gate.

Then Miao Bai said, “Shine it on me.”

“Okay.” Obediently, Meng Bai lifted the flashlight and aimed it at her. The fuzzy glow settled onto the dark shadow.

The moment the beam merged with the shadow, Meng Bai’s heart gave a heavy thud.

Sure enough, the sight before her surpassed even her wildest imagination.

Why?

Why was there a hole in Miao Bai’s stomach—a gaping void through which she could see the wall behind her? Terrifying.

Meng Bai’s hand shook, shifting the beam. Everywhere the light touched, Miao Bai was transparent.

Uncertain, she tried the shoulder, the legs, the chest. All the same.

“You—” Meng Bai’s throat worked as her heart hammered. “Why are you transparent?”

“When it meets light, this is what happens to me.”

“But why can’t I even see your clothes?”

A flicker crossed Miao Bai’s eyes, as if even she had no answer, but she replied, “Not everything has a logical explanation.”

Meng Bai frowned slightly. “Does it hurt when the light hits you?”

Miao Bai nodded. “A little. Like a burning sensation. But black cloth dulls it.”

So that was why she wore the black hat and veil?

“Sorry.” Meng Bai snapped off the flashlight at once, feeling like she’d committed some grave sin.

The instant the light died, Miao Bai’s form solidified once more.

Incredible. Utterly incredible.

Meng Bai stood frozen, staring at Miao Bai, too stunned to step closer or utter a word.

“Daytime must be brutal for you, then?”

“It’s manageable without harsh light.”

Meng Bai drew a sharp breath.

This person before her was extraordinary. No—maybe not a person at all.

She stole another glance at Miao Bai. Surely no ghost in the world could be this gentle. She preferred to think of her as something benevolent.

The opposite of a ghost, perhaps. A deity.

“You’re invisible during the day, then?”

Miao Bai shook her head. “Not quite. I just despise light, especially sunlight. Summer’s the worst—the blistering sun pins me in place.”

Meng Bai snapped out of her daze, head ringing as questions tumbled out. “What about cloudy days?”

“Cloudy days are pleasant, especially overcast rain. After dusk, the pain vanishes entirely.”

“Oh. Right.”

Meng Bai hesitated, words catching in her throat as if they refused to emerge.

Someone who suffered pain from sunlight.

What on earth was she?

In that moment, Meng Bai fell utterly silent. For an instant, she even wished for rain every single day—so Miao Bai wouldn’t have to endure it.