Xie Ruhe fell silent.
Faintly, she could hear small rustling sounds from the other end, as if he had sat up in bed. A few seconds later, there came the zip sound of curtains being drawn open.
Then, Shu Nian heard Xie Ruhe murmur along with her words: “Stars…”
Hearing this, Shu Nian suddenly realized she hadn’t even opened her curtains.
Forget about stars—if she hadn’t checked the time, she wouldn’t even know whether the sky outside was light or dark.
After opening the curtains, Xie Ruhe didn’t speak again. This seemed to imply that he had listened to her words, and looked outside with anticipation, only to find the sky covered with dark clouds, not a single star to be seen.
This feeling was like being caught in a lie from afar. Shu Nian’s face grew warm. She looked toward her curtains and, covering the microphone, tiptoed over, afraid he might hear her movements.
Shu Nian grabbed the edge of the curtain carefully, bit by bit, wanting to open it to see if there were any stars outside.
Before she could open even a small gap, Xie Ruhe said softly, “They do look nice.”
“…” Shu Nian immediately let go of the curtain, relieved. She didn’t look outside and asked, “Um… did I wake you up?”
“I wasn’t asleep yet.”
Shu Nian didn’t quite believe him. “Then what were you doing?”
Xie Ruhe said, “Writing a song.”
“Oh.” Shu Nian remembered something and asked him, “Why don’t you sing your songs anymore?”
“I want to focus on creating,” Xie Ruhe’s voice sounded patient, steady with a hint of gentleness. “Besides, some of the songs I write aren’t suitable for me to sing.”
“But that song, ‘Falling Stars,’ I think it suits you perfectly,” Shu Nian sat back down, hugging her knees as she talked to him. “Much better than when I sang it.”
His version was still on her phone. Shu Nian had listened to it hundreds of times.
She still hadn’t grown tired of it.
Xie Ruhe laughed softly, his tone very serious: “You sing well.”
He was talking more than usual today, yet he hadn’t asked why she was calling so late.
Several times, when Shu Nian thought he would remain silent, he surprised her by speaking up, and it seemed as if he didn’t need to think at all, responding quickly without hesitation.
It gave her a feeling that he was there at all times.
As if he had traveled through the phone, transformed into breath, entwining around her with countless threads.
Shu Nian’s fear gradually dissipated.
She hesitated, not wanting to disturb him further, and was about to say goodbye when Xie Ruhe suddenly asked her a question: “Shu Nian, do you think ghosts exist in this world?”
“…” Shu Nian instinctively shrank deeper into her blanket, lowering her voice as if telling a secret, “They exist. Haven’t people done experiments showing that bodies become lighter after death?”
“They exist?” Xie Ruhe’s voice was calm. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
This sudden conclusion made Shu Nian completely confused, but she still wanted to hear his reasoning.
“How is that good?”
“It means those people you want to see but can never see again,” Xie Ruhe paused as if recalling someone, “might always be by your side.”
“…” Shu Nian understood the meaning behind his words and asked softly, “Are you talking about your mother?”
Xie Ruhe didn’t deny it: “Mm.”
Shu Nian’s heart felt a bit sour.
But Xie Ruhe’s emotions didn’t sound too bad, as if he wasn’t recalling something sad. Perhaps because he wasn’t used to doing this sort of thing, his tone was still somewhat stiff: “If you believe these things are real, then keep believing. But don’t think of it as something scary, and you don’t need to be afraid.”
After going in circles, Shu Nian finally realized.
He was, in his way, telling her not to be afraid.
He was comforting her.
“I understand.” Shu Nian rubbed her eyes and said softly, “Thank you. And I’m sorry for calling you in the middle of the night and disturbing you.”
Perhaps it was the influence of the night, but Xie Ruhe’s voice carried a hint of tenderness: “I’m happy that you called me.”
Hearing this, Shu Nian’s breath caught.
She was momentarily at a loss for words, and just as she was about to say something, Xie Ruhe spoke again, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment: “It’s fine, you’re not disturbing me.”
That previous sentence seemed like it had just been Shu Nian’s imagination.
She licked her lips: “Let’s go to sleep then, it’s late.”
Xie Ruhe made a sound of agreement: “Sleep well.”
After saying “good night,” Shu Nian put her phone on the pillow beside her, waiting for him to hang up. After waiting for nearly a minute, there was no sign that he intended to end the call, and the call time continued to increase.
Shu Nian leaned over to listen but couldn’t hear any sound from the other end.
She didn’t know what he was doing.
Perhaps he was also waiting for her to hang up, just like she was.
She stared at the phone for a while, then suddenly reached out and ended the call.
Shu Nian put her phone on the bedside table and went over to close the curtains again, glimpsing the cloud-covered sky through the gap. She paused, then burrowed back under her blanket. She closed her eyes, and the terrifying ghost’s face no longer appeared in her mind, nor did she feel any more fear.