“Did you not think of me at all?” he continued, his voice laced with hesitation and reproach. “Not even a little? That’s why you’re here to see me now?”
Holding the shadow’s hand, Yan Chuan clearly sensed its momentary pause.
The feeling was effective.
Yan Chuan persisted, spewing out fabricated words. “I know you definitely don’t want to see me again…” He sobbed lightly, feigning the intention to let go of the shadow’s hand, turning his face away slowly. “I understand now, you don’t need to come find me anymore…”
What kind of words were those?
Not finding him, was he supposed to watch as he sought others?
The shadow seemed agitated and finally moved.
It turned to grasp Yan Chuan’s wrist, gently tracing its soft palm over its own face, uttering the first words in this script. “No…”
As the palm made contact with the contour of the extremely cold cheek, Yan Chuan was taken aback, listening to the shadow’s raspy, low voice.
It seemed the shadow had not spoken for a long while; it might have been dead for ages. The cadence was sluggish, like a rusted wind-up toy, strange yet hoarse.
“Not good…” it repeated its words, forcefully bringing Yan Chuan’s slender wrist to its lips.
In Yan Chuan’s view, the shadow pressed a cold kiss on the prominent wrist bone.
“You are my wife…” it stammered, yet with remarkable determination, “I am your husband…”
That was accurate.
This NPC was indeed his “husband,” while the one sleeping on the sofa outside was just an imposter that seemed to have emerged from nowhere.
For so long, he had been deceived, and the excuse of “needing to move due to debt” had kept him from probing any further into the discrepancies.
Moreover, he had also been tricked into calling him “husband” for so long.
This thought flickered through Yan Chuan’s mind, and the image of the imposter’s dark, handsome face stirred an indescribable emotion within him.
The true husband’s identity was unveiled, and he was a ghost among the NPCs, likely harmed by this “cheating wife.”
The impostor had already ingratiated himself, naturally claiming to be his husband, surely aware that his actual husband had died.
He probably had been harmed alongside Yan Chuan and his lover.
It remained unclear precisely which lover did this.
The faces of Dan Qi and Tang Zhen flashed in Yan Chuan’s mind for a moment, but he quickly shook his head to expel the image.
Both of them had encountered his imposter husband; if they knew the other was a fraud, they would surely have shown some sign.
Yet Dan Qi and Tang Zhen said nothing else, merely harboring jealousy towards his husband. This indicated that at least before their family moved into Apartment 13, the real husband had been killed.
The imposter had also changed jobs and seemed unwilling for him to visit his workplace.
Otherwise, how could no one recognize that the stunning wife had replaced her husband?
As Yan Chuan contemplated this, he withdrew his icy wrist from the shadow’s lips.
The shadow gazed at him in confusion.
“I don’t even know how to see you now…” His exquisite wife frowned, her traditionally beautiful and melancholic face appearing even more troubled.
The shadow’s heart trembled.
“Only by waiting for you to find me can we meet,” Yan Chuan stared at the ground, his eyelashes fluttering. “When I miss you, I don’t know how I can see you…”
He lowered his head, the soft black ends of his hair falling down, revealing a section of his fair neck.
The shadow sensed his sadness and hesitantly touched his hand in a gesture of comfort.
Yet the beautiful wife on the bed appeared even more sorrowful, turning away, only allowing him a glimpse of half her face.
Her slender back faced the shadow, and beneath the thin nightgown, her delicately shaped butterfly bones were faintly visible.
The shadow hesitated even more.
Only Yan Chuan knew he wasn’t truly sad.
What he felt… was embarrassment.
His tone sounded lonely, but only he understood he nearly bit his own tongue when speaking.
Conspiring with the wild man outside to murder his real husband, usurping his identity, and pretending to cry when his real husband’s spirit was restored while ignoring the imposter still lonely on the sofa was a farce.
He was immersed in the role of the “cheating wife” in the script.
There were two men who claimed to be his husband; outside, he even kept two lovers, the kind that might cause chaos, each wanting to take the position of his husband.
The beautiful wife accepted them all without resistance, having just shared a morning kiss with her imposter husband. Once he left, she would embrace the lover waiting by the door, their lips swollen from kissing.
How scandalous.
If it weren’t for the darkness surrounding him, Yan Chuan would see his flushed face.
The shadow lingered in front of him; he still had to complete his task. He cleared his throat and continued his performance.
Yan Chuan grasped the shadow’s hand.
The shadow, likely possessing a physique similar to that of the imposter husband, had a hand larger than his. Yan Chuan’s delicate, fair fingers rested on top, resembling a carefully carved jade piece.
The cold sensation filled his palm as Yan Chuan blinked, casting a hopeful glance at the shadow’s obscured face.
“Husband,” he spoke sincerely, “I know it was my fault. Please don’t be angry.”
Before the shadow could respond, the beautiful wife continued, “Tell me how I can find you, okay?”
Yan Chuan skillfully refrained from making a promise of never again sneaking around with wild men.
Yet his tone evidently moved the shadow.
The shadow paused for a moment, likely observing his wife’s expression, attempting to gauge whether he was genuine or not.
Soon, it spoke softly into Yan Chuan’s ear, hoarsely saying, “Call my name…”
Evidently, the beautiful wife was quite adept at deceiving others.
Yan Chuan blinked, stifling himself from asking, “Husband, what’s your name?”
“Call my name…” the shadow said, “宿……”
Yan Chuan nodded and then asked, “Really, can I call you anytime?”