Work Text:
Shen Yuan’s parents never understood why he hated the family’s summer villa so much. To them, it was only a nice escape from the city’s heat.
Shen Yuan supposes the lush vegetation and quiet surroundings might feel soothing to them, but for him, it might as well not exist. All the blooming chrysanthemums and lilies of the world, almost blinding in their white perfection, cannot distract him from what is really hidden behind the bushes, deep inside the house.
When he’d been a child, he’s tried to explain how barely audible whispers would follow him around the villa. How shadows seemed to twist, getting longer and longer as if they were reaching for him. How he couldn’t hear the birds sing even when he could see them through the open window.
He’d gotten meaningless reassurances and, when he’d insisted, worried words about medication and going back to the doctor. That had been all Shen Yuan had needed to hear to never talk about it again.
It didn’t make whatever was causing this go away, though. No matter what he did, he could hear a second set of footsteps behind him, only a second after his. Just enough to be noticed, if one paid close attention. He could even feel, sometimes, the press of a too-big hand on his thin shoulders, or, in one terrifying occasion, resting on his waist, an abnormally cold spot in the ambient warmth.
In all other aspects of his life, Shen Yuan was rational. Science dictated his worldview.
But in this, no matter how he tried, he has not been able to find any rational explanation. Sleep paralysis, gas leaks, pareidolia, infrasound, weird mold, electromagnetic fields. Nothing fitted.
When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
Shen Yuan has now accepted that the summer villa is haunted, and that only he can tell. How ironic, being both a realist and a medium.
So when he’d turned fifteen, he told his parents he was old enough to stay home by himself and refused to go. They’d tried to argue, but Shen Yuan had outlasted them. He hadn’t set a foot there since.
Until now. No matter how much he’d tried to stir her away, his sister has decided she wanted to celebrate her birthday here, and that she wanted Shen Yuan to attend, so here Shen Yuan is, because he’s a weakling who can’t say no to his darling little sister.
He expects to feel something as soon as he crosses the threshold. A blast of cold, a chill down his spine, creepy music only he could hear.
He’s only greeted by the villa’s usual silence.
“What are you standing there for? Come on, move!”
Shen Yuan shakes himself from his state of contemplation and brings his suitcase to his room.
____________
Despite his wariness, the day passes with no incident. He cannot detect any of the signs that made his childhood such a stressful endeavor. Could he have imagined all of it? He’d always had a very active imagination. Maybe he remembered things wrong. Maybe the house had just been prone to drafts and creaking. It would be much more logical.
That doesn’t stop him from being somewhat apprehensive at the idea of going to bed. Shen Yuan has never woken up in a fright to be faced with a shadowy entity staring at him, but in the oppressive silence and dark of the countryside, it almost seems plausible.
This is ridiculous. He’s a grown ass man with a phone! If he sees a weird monster thing lurking in the shadows, he needs to take a picture and start flame wars about its authenticity online, not cower in fear. And it won’t happen anyway! It never did, so why would it now! The thing, if there ever was one, is probably gone. It got bored of waiting for someone who could notice it and left for another villa.
Shen Yuan hopes it’s haunting their asshole neighbors. Those jerks would deserve it. Who the fuck blasts music so loud that Shen Yuan, whose bedroom is hundreds of meters away, could hear it at three a.m.? The Wangs, that’s who.
The idea that whatever it was is currently disturbing them is soothing enough for him to fall asleep.
____________
Shen Yuan does wake up flustered in the morning, but not for reasons he would have expected. He’s never… This type of dream has never been his thing, and his partner had been… not who Shen Yuan would have called his type, and yet…
Shen Yuan is going to take a shower and forget all about the too-real dream. Wash away all the weirdness and never think about it again. Dreams are weird. They don’t mean anything. He’s got other things to do, like helping his sister to prepare for the party.
Except that as he tries to hang a decoration, he almost falls off a ladder, too started by the hot breath hitting his exposed neck to maintain his equilibrium.
“Yuan! Are you okay? What happened?”
His brother rolls his eyes at their mother’s fretting. “He’s just clumsy. Always has been.”
“Hey!”
“No arguing! You promised!”
The following not-argument does not quite manage to dissipate the certainty that there was someone, somehow, standing so close to Shen Yuan that he could feel their breath on his skin.
____________
Now Shen Yuan is freaking out, and there’s no way he can tell anyone about it.
The dream came back. With the same… partner. In details that were way too clear. If he could draw, he’s certain he could produce a picture-perfect replica of his inhumanly flawless face. He can still taste the man on his tongue, can smell his scent lingering in the room. His whole body feels sore in a way he cannot explain.
It might have nothing to do with everything else, but the lack of sound… The man couldn’t talk to him. That’s strange, even for a dream. Shen Yuan can distinctly remember the man’s visible frustration at the way his words couldn’t reach Shen Yuan.
He tries to steady himself. It’s just a dream, after all. It has no impact. No one can tell. Shen Yuan is still fine.
He goes on with his day, trying to push his unusual lack of energy on a bad night and nothing more.
On the other side of the room, a wall fan falls on the ground.
____________
Startled by the sound of his door opening, Shen Yuan jumps out of his bed.
Only to be confronted by his sister.
He sighs. “Don’t scare me like that. What time is it even?” He checks his phone before she can reply. It is 2:49 a.m. “What’s wrong?” Because there has to be something wrong, for her to be awake this late.
“Shizun.”
It’s not even the strangely archaic title that throws him off. It’s the weird blend of veneration and hunger on her face. His sister would never, never look at him like that.
It can’t be her. “Who are you?”
For an instant, the obvious hurt on her, its?, face makes him feel guilty.
It quickly disappears as whatever looks like his sister composes itself. “My name is Luo Binghe. I’m Shizun’s husband.”
The sentence is so out of left field that Shen Yuan almost stumbles back. “You called me Shizun earlier. You think that’s me, right? You said you’re my husband?” What the fuck. “I’m not married. I’ve never been married.” Okay, okay. Ghost? Probably ghost. Confused ghost who lost his husband and thinks Shen Yuan is him.
But also horrible fucking ghost probably possessing his sister. “Let my sister go.”
Luo Binghe looks down. “I would have chosen someone more… appropriate, but everyone here is Shizun’s family. No one useful to get closer to my dearly missed husband. He finally returned, he’s finally here, finally old enough for me to hold him, and yet,” he reaches in the air, fist closing on nothing, “still unreachable. Dreams aren’t enough. Watching over him during the day isn’t enough. After all I sacrificed to find him again, for him to be so close and yet so far… Every day is torture for your Binghe. Shizun, please, let me touch you again.”
The glint in his sister, in Luo Binghe’s eyes, isn’t sane. He has to de-escalate this before something bad happens. “Look, Luo Binghe was it? I’m not your husband. If I’m right, your husband died a long, long time ago. You should probably try to join him instead of whatever you’re doing right now.” Please let Luo Binghe be the kind of ghost that can be reasoned with?
Hey, a guy can dream, even with lives on the line. Possibly.
Alas, it takes him about two seconds to realise he was very, very wrong. Around him, objects start shaking, a book falling flat on the ground. “I know A-Yuan is dead! He died ages ago! How I miss him, I miss him, I miss him I miss him I miss him so much! I miss him every second of every day!”
Then things stop moving, a few crashing loudly.
Shen Yuan doesn’t know if he wants the noise to wake his family so that they can rush to the rescue, or if he wants to spare them from… whatever this is.
Luo Binghe starts talking again. “But here, A-Yuan is alive. A-Yuan is young, with his whole life ahead of him. If A-Yuan listens to me, I can make it so he’ll never die, he’ll never leave me, we’ll be together forever and ever, until the end.” His smile makes Shen Yuan’s hair stand on end. “Won’t Shizun let his Binghe take care of him? It’s all he ever wanted.”
Priorities. “Let my sister go, and I’ll consider it.” How the fuck are you even supposed to argue with ghosts? Can’t barter, can’t threaten, can’t deal.
“Only if Shizun does something for me in return.”
“…What is it?”
Before Shen Yuan can stop him, Luo Binghe pulls out a small knife from his sister’s pocket and cuts her index deep enough that her blood flows. “Shizun must drink some of this.”
He’s horrified. “Absolutely not! You just wounded my sister! Why just I listen to anything you say!”
There’s incomprehension on their face. “She didn’t feel a thing. I can heal her before leaving. She won’t even know anything happened.”
He hopes that’s true. His sister doesn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.
Still, he’s not stupid enough to drink weird possessed ghost blood. “I’m gonna pass on the blood. Anything else?”
Luo Binghe’s expression darkens, distorting his sister’s face. “I must insist. Shizun needs to drink it. Shizun’s family is my family. The last thing I want is to hurt them, but this is very important. If he doesn’t… I might have to do something we’ll both regret.”
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! Don’t do anything!” He grabs his sister’s hand and wipes the blood off with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth as fast as he can. Who knows what the crazy ghost could do?
Hopefully he won’t be the one ending up with regrets.
The ghost instantly quiets. “Shizun, your Binghe is sorry. He would never have caused his family pain. Shizun will understand this soon. He has just accepted my blood. It will act as an anchor, allowing me to find him wherever he goes.” He rests his sister’s hand on his arm.
Shen Yuan struggles not to flinch, especially since a strange warmth is spreading across him. “What, what is happening?”
“It’s just my blood taking effect. Nothing for you to worry about.”
Shen Yuan would very much like to argue with that. “Will you let my sister go now?”
Her eyes turn sad. “I said I would, didn’t I? I would never lie to Shizun.” Her hand, moved by him, presses against his heart. “I’ll take her back to her room. When she wakes up, she’ll notice nothing amiss. I won’t take her again. I have Shizun now. He’ll be able to hear me, no matter the time and place. I can leave; we’ll still be together anyway.” Luo Binghe lets go. “See you later, Shizun.”
The door closes, leaving Shen Yuan scared and more confused than he has ever been, still warmed by an unnatural heat.
He knows trying to go back to sleep would be futile. How can he sleep when he just gave a pass to his ghostly stalker? How the hell did he, Shen Yuan, a very normal, very heterosexual man, manage to seduce a ghost?
He’s pretty sure Luo Binghe is just very confused. It might not even be his fault. Who knows what the afterlife can do to someone, especially someone who loved so deeply and yet found himself alone forever? He and his A-Yuan must have been so happy before. No wonder he’s looking for that again.
Luo Binghe might have been the boogeyman under Shen Yuan’s bed, but he never hurt him.
Before he threatened his family, at least.
He’s still trying to make sense of everything when he feels, more concretely than he ever has, the press of a body against his. “Shizun, I’m back.”
The whispers have never been this clear before, but now, he recognises their cadence.
He can also tell the sound didn’t reverberate around the room. Only Shen Yuan could hear it.
Of course, there’s no body beside his.
His heartbeat speeds up. What can he do?
Nothing. There’s nothing he can do to stop this grieving stranger from playing pretend with him as the replacement. How can he fight something immaterial?
Inexplicably, his heartbeat slows down and his muscles unknot.
“Shizun doesn’t have to be this nervous. He doesn’t have anything to fear from his Binghe.”
Like he didn’t just demonstrate why Shen Yuan should be afraid.
He feels his eyes close against his will. “Rest. Now, I’ll have better control over your dreamscape. We can talk properly. Shizun will understand everything. He just has to sleep.”
The last thing he wants to do is giving this man even more control over him, but, somehow, he finds himself drifting off.
The last thing he can comprehend is the faint sensation of a kiss on his forehead, tender and completely foreign.
“See you soon, my love. We’ll never be separated again.”