Chapter 130: Children’s Laughter (9)
Until the figure outside the window disappeared, Zhang Wubing was still a little shaken, unable to regain his composure.
This made Yan Shixun a little curious: “The ghosts you’ve encountered over the years could fill up an entire building. Why are you only scared now? Isn’t it a bit late to be frightened?”
Zhang Wubing, pale-faced, shook his head. “No, Brother Yan, it’s just… the one that appeared just now was way too coincidental.”
This explanation made Yan Shixun feel something was off. Coincidental? Why would a ghost’s appearance be described as coincidental? Was there something else happening at that time?
Without hesitation, he asked the question on his mind.
“Well, it’s nothing, really. Just me.”
Zhang Wubing said. “When I was looking at these drafts just now, I thought the owner of the room must be someone really impressive. So, without thinking, I imagined in my mind, ‘Someone who could write such sharp articles in the old Binhai a hundred years ago must have received numerous death threats. I hope nothing happened to her.’ Then, I also instinctively imagined what this Lin Ting person must look like.”
Yan Shixun gradually started to sense something was wrong.
“Because there are so many books here, I also remembered that group photo I saw when I woke up in the study. So, I imagined she must have been a woman dressed in a simple striped cheongsam, with a scholarly and open aura.”
Zhang Wubing hesitated for a moment, still a little shaken from the earlier scare. He stuttered as he continued, “But then, as soon as I imagined her appearance in my head, I turned my head and saw her outside the window…”
“You mean, the female ghost you saw just now looked exactly like how you imagined her?”
Yan Shixun quickly grasped the key point. “So, right after you thought of her, the ghost appeared?”
Zhang Wubing nodded.
So that’s what he meant by ‘coincidental’?
Yan Shixun seemed to want to confirm something. He turned to Ye Li beside him and asked, “Before Xiao Bing said there was a ghost, did you notice the female ghost outside?”
Ye Li shook his head. “No.”
He added sincerely, “I was watching you, so I didn’t pay attention to any other women. And there was no ghost.”
Yan Shixun: “…”
Life is so hard. One’s Zhang Youbing (crazy) and another one is Ye Dabing (also crazy. Why couldn’t he be paired with a more normal teammate? Why is it that what’s on their minds is always so different from his?
Yan Shixun took a deep breath and was about to leave the room, but Ye Li accurately grabbed his wrist.
“This place is indeed not right.”
Unlike before, Ye Li’s expression had darkened slightly. “Just as you suspected, I didn’t notice the female ghost’s appearance. I didn’t even notice when she disappeared.”
“But this shouldn’t be happening,” Ye Li pressed his lips together. “I can perceive the Dao and thus connect life and death. Whether it’s the living or the dead, they cannot escape my senses. But just now…”
“It’s as if that female ghost wasn’t meant to exist, and only came into being from someone’s thoughts, right?”
Yan Shixun naturally picked up where he left off and continued, “When Zhang Wubing thought, ‘There’s a female ghost here,’ that’s when she was created. And it was Zhang Wubing’s imagination that gave her the shape she took.”
“Since she wasn’t meant to exist, you naturally couldn’t sense her appearance or disappearance. How could something that never existed be said to be here?”
Yan Shixun murmured to himself, and he already had the answer in his mind.
Zhang Wubing dared not breathe too loudly, nervously standing aside, frightened by the serious atmosphere between Yan Shixun and Ye Li.
“D-Does that mean the ghost appeared because I did something wrong?” Zhang Wubing trembled as he asked.
“No.” Yan Shixun didn’t blame Zhang Wubing. He simply shook his head and then said, “Now, think of a llama in your mind.”
Zhang Wubing: “?”
Weren’t they talking about ghosts just now? Why did the topic suddenly jump to llamas?
But even so, Zhang Wubing’s mind couldn’t help but start recalling anything related to llamas as soon as he heard the word.
The image of a llama chewing and then “tui——!” popped vividly into his mind.
Meanwhile, Yan Shixun seemed to be merely giving Zhang Wubing something to do. After saying that, he turned around and continued searching through Lin Ting’s desk, hoping to find more information about her identity.
As for Zhang Wubing, he was left forgotten in the corner, still lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out the connection between llamas and ghosts.
Yan Shixun pulled out a chair and sat down, thoughtfully looking around the desk and the surroundings.
If he were Lin Ting, where would he hide something more personal and important? Somewhere concealed but still visible…
His gaze swept across the bookshelf, and then he paused, raised his hand, and pulled open a small door on the bookshelf. A small wooden box appeared in front of him.
As expected.
Yan Shixun easily took the small box down.
For Lin Ting, this height should have been just right. It was within easy reach, something that could be seen with a slight glance up, but not too obvious—a perfect place to hide something that would be checked frequently.
The small box had a lock, but this wasn’t a problem for Yan Shixun.
He had instinctively reached for his coat pocket, intending to pull out a paperclip that he usually carried with him, but his hand only met the soft, warm texture of high-quality wool, finding nothing inside.
It was only then that Yan Shixun suddenly remembered that he was currently wearing attire fitting for Jing Bin’s identity, not his own clothes.
…Alright then.
However, he didn’t give up. Instead, out of caution, he raised his hand and felt over the pockets of his attire. Besides a few foreign banknotes and some diplomatic passes and identification, there was nothing that violated the identity of Jing Bin.
But just when Yan Shixun’s long fingers absent-mindedly brushed against the collar of his suit, he suddenly felt a slight coldness.
He froze for a moment, reached up, and removed the object, holding it up to his eyes.
It was a paperclip.
However, when it was pinned to the collar of his suit, due to its beautiful shape and the high-quality gemstones embedded in it, it looked more like a brooch rather than its intended purpose.
Why would a diplomat carry something like a paperclip?
The question flashed through Yan Shixun’s mind, but since he was pressed for time, he temporarily set it aside. His fingers quickly bent the paperclip and inserted it into the small lock of the wooden box.
With a soft *click*, the lock opened.
Yan Shixun glanced inside briefly. The box didn’t contain valuables like gold, silver, or jewels, but rather a thick stack of letters, some of which appeared to be quite old.
The postmarks on the letters were from Binhai, but more of them were from the capital, Beijing.
Yan Shixun casually pulled out a letter from the middle of the stack and opened it to read. After going through the letter, he suddenly realized it was correspondence between Lin Ting and someone else.
Jing Bin.
To verify this assumption, Yan Shixun quickly flipped through the other letters.
Some of the letters, perhaps written in haste or during times of instability, avoided mentioning any names or specific titles to protect individuals in case something happened.
But these letters were an exchange between Lin Ting and someone.
Lin Ting referred to the other person as “my ideal,” and in return, the other person addressed Lin Ting as “my love,” “Qingqing,” and “noble companion.”
Although the other person’s manner of addressing Lin Ting was very intimate, surprisingly, the letters mostly discussed ideas and the current political situation, with very few words on matters of love and affection.
They discussed various philosophies from around the world, news from foreign classmates, and teachers who had died for their ideals, all the way to the situation in their homeland and their own future plans.
It seemed that, rather than physical love, they were more like soulmates connected on the level of thoughts and beliefs.
The first letter’s postmark was dated eleven years ago. At that time, both their handwriting was still immature, full of determination and ideals, and the postmark was from Beijing.
That year, Lin Ting had just been admitted to Beijing University, and the person sending her the letter was still referred to as “senior” by her.
In her letter, she mentioned that a professor in the foreign language department had recommended a pen pal, someone who had studied abroad and had a broad perspective, believing that they would not have much to talk about. So, she took the bold step of reaching out and, at the end of the letter, casually asked, “What do you think of the world? Do you think it will get better?”
The recipient was clearly surprised by Lin Ting’s unconventional behavior compared to most women of the time. His reply showed respect and restraint toward her, but when discussing the world, he became suddenly passionate, writing extensively about his views. He cited numerous references, even including the theories of philosophers from three or four countries, making his arguments sound well-grounded and convincing.
Lin Ting didn’t keep him waiting long, quickly responding with her own analysis of the ideas presented in his letter, also using various examples to support her points.
Even Yan Shixun, who had no romantic experience and wasn’t interested in love, realized the nature of their exchange as he observed their dialogue.
— It was as if your teacher admired you so much that they tried to pair you up with another outstanding young person, handing you their contact information.
But you used it to discuss academic topics, steadfastly sticking to your own theories, while being thousands of kilometers apart, with letters taking a month to arrive and costing a lot, not to pour out your hearts to each other, but to refute the other person’s arguments.
Perhaps it was easier to see from the outside, but as Yan Shixun read the letters, he felt like he was witnessing a long, drawn-out debate.
They talked about everything, except love. Their arguments were sharp, precise, and relentless, yet they were so in sync with each other, as if they were two halves of the same whole—on knowledge, thoughts, perspectives, and ideals… There was so much for them to discuss.
This wasn’t a mundane romance. It was the stirring of their souls.
Yan Shixun felt that he could understand why they called each other “my ideal” and “noble companion.”
But as time passed, the two of them also began to notice this and, testing the waters, slowly began to bring their relationship closer, starting to care about each other’s lives and safety. The pen pal began to call Lin Ting “Qingqing.”
It wasn’t until the penultimate letter that the pen pal mentioned that his studies had been completed, and he had finished a one-year internship at the foreign consulate abroad and was about to board a ship to return home.
He only learned about it when the people sent by his family to pick him up told him. It turned out that he had been engaged since childhood. The other party had been waiting for him for many years—a woman from a traditional family. If he were to break off the engagement now, not only would she have long since passed the conventional marriageable age, but in the current domestic climate, she might not even be able to survive.
In this reply, Lin Ting mentioned the other person’s name for the first time.
She expressed her understanding of her pen pal, respected his choice, and thoroughly analyzed the current societal views on marriage. She pointed out that if a traditional woman was abandoned, her disgraced family would most likely cast her aside. Without any means to support herself, she might not survive for long.
She wrote: “You made the right choice. I am proud to have known a gentleman like you.”
She wrote: “Goodbye, Shiwen. I wish you success in your new position.”
And so, a long-distance conversation that had lasted five years, with letters exchanged every month, came to an end.
It was precisely because of the name “Shiwen” that Yan Shixun believed the one exchanging letters with Lin Ting had been Jing Bin. The repeated mentions in the letters of the pen pal’s experiences abroad and his engagement to a fiancée also confirmed this.
However, if things had truly ended there, Yan Shixun wouldn’t have found Lin Ting’s study in Jing Bin’s home.
There was still one last letter.
There was no reply—it was sent by Jing Bin to Lin Ting. The words were even more urgent, the pen had pierced through the paper multiple times, and the ink bled through to the other side, all evidence of the desperation Jing Bin had felt while writing it.
In the letter, Jing Bin mentioned that the patriarch of the Lin family had been killed in an explosion on a train. The old factions that the Lin family had offended in the past would surely not spare the younger generation, who had yet to establish themselves. As the Lin family’s only daughter, Lin Ting would undoubtedly be their prime target.
He believed that Lin Ting’s life was in imminent danger. Practically pleading, he begged her to leave the capital and come to the coastal city, where he could take care of her and provide her with protection.
After many years, Jing Bin picked up his pen once again to write to Lin Ting, breaking their original agreement to never disturb each other.
His words were sincere and sorrowful, stirring the hearts of those who read them.
‘You are my only one in this world, my noble companion. I do not know who I can share my anger and passion with now that I have lost you. A lone wild goose crosses the river, only to perish mid-flight. Its cries are mournful—what else can it do?
I beg you, put aside your ideals and convictions for now. Let me take care of you. Do not remain in the capital, waiting for an assassin to strike. Your father is gone. If a son must carry on his father’s will, should you allow all that he worked for over the years to turn into nothing but an empty document?’
This was also the only letter he had addressed to Binhai.
After reading all the letters, Yan Shixun calmly folded them back up and placed them neatly into the iron box.
Although there was never another reply, the fact that Lin Ting was here now, still working as a magazine editor, suggested that she had accepted Jing Bin’s plea and left the capital for Binhai.
The fact that she had lived in Jing Bin’s house for a long time also proved that he had indeed fulfilled his promise, providing her with protection and care.
But for those who had been watching alongside Yan Shixun, reading Lin Ting’s letters, everything they had believed until now felt completely overturned.
[What’s going on? Wasn’t Jing Bin supposed to be a shameless scumbag? Is Director Li trying to redeem him? Ugh, so disgusting.]
[You guys are the same ones who called for the history books to erase Jing Bin last year, right? Sure, his personal affairs are complicated, but his contributions are undeniable. He turned the tide multiple times and saved so many people.]
[Objectively speaking, the only stain on Jing Bin’s life was his family situation. He was a progressive figure, but having a traditional wife made people see him as a double-dealer—someone trying to gain favor with both the reformists in power and the old factions through his marriage.]
[I used to hate Jing Bin. I thought he should’ve just died at sea and never come back. But after reading these letters, I don’t know… maybe he wasn’t that bad after all? I mean, he didn’t even know he had a wife when he was with Lin Ting.]
[??? I really want to ask that person above—Jing Bin was an outstanding diplomat. How can you judge someone by their personal life while ignoring everything they accomplished? Isn’t that unfair?]
[Jing Bin didn’t do anything wrong! That era was complicated. By the time he returned to the country, he was already in his twenties, and so was his fiancée. Back then, a girl who wasn’t married by sixteen was already considered old. A woman in her twenties, abandoned by her fiancé—how was she supposed to survive? If Jing Bin had stayed with Lin Ting and canceled the engagement, his fiancée might as well have jumped into a well. The old factions would never have let her live!]
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