Jiangjiang the Skeleton Spirit - Chapter 4

Song Yu settled me in the courtyard closest to his own.

He was busy all day, yet always found time to eat with me.

Life in his residence was very comfortable.

Only Qin Zhao was strange.

She often came to visit, but only when Song Yu wasn’t around.

That day, she brought some unusual pastries again.

She glanced around my courtyard, envy in her eyes.

“Have you grown used to life here, Miss Jiangjiang?”

I tasted a pastry, thoroughly content. “Yes, yes. Song Yu treats me very well.”

Qin Zhao’s gaze roamed over me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Smiling, she poured me tea and sighed. “We owe you so much, Miss Jiangjiang. Without you, I might never have seen the general again.

“By the way, did he tell you why he ended up in the mass grave?”

Chewing my pastry, I shook my head.

Qin Zhao seemed relieved, then asked, “He hasn’t told you anything?”

I put down the pastry and looked at her in confusion. “Why don’t you ask Song Yu yourself, Miss Qin?”

Her expression grew awkward. Then she spoke with a self-mocking air. “After years of killing enemies on the battlefield, the general is very guarded. He doesn’t readily tell people the truth.”

I immediately disagreed. “No. If you ask, Song Yu will tell you.”

I wasn’t making that up.

Whenever I asked, he always told me everything he knew.

Even last time, when A-Pei had come to discuss the rebels, he hadn’t kept me away.

Seeing how certain I was, she gave a little scoff. “He tells you everything?”

I nodded earnestly.

“Then why won’t he even tell you his real name?”

There was a trace of contempt in her voice, but she watched eagerly for my reaction.

I sat frozen. The pastry in my hand suddenly lost its sweetness.

“Song Yu isn’t his name?” I asked blankly.

Qin Zhao abruptly looked apologetic. “Jiangjiang, don’t take it to heart. Perhaps the general has his reasons. It certainly isn’t because he doesn’t trust you.”

He trusted me, but wouldn’t reveal his real name.

He trusted me, but deliberately hid who he was.

What kind of bullshit trust was that?

He’d been guarding against me from the very beginning.

Anger surged through me, and I crushed the pastry in my hand.

Qin Zhao glanced at the crushed pastry and rose unhurriedly. “It’s getting late, Miss Jiangjiang. The general should be returning soon. I’ll come visit another day.”

When dinnertime came, the maid outside called several times, but I didn’t go out.

I lay alone on the bed, sulking.

The more I thought, the angrier I grew.

I could understand hiding his name and identity at first. He’d been afraid his enemies might find him.

But during our time together, he’d had so many chances to come clean, and instead, another woman had told me the truth.

I was such a fool!

He’d never trusted you, not for a moment!

Furious, I sprang from the bed and began packing to leave.

The instant I opened the door, someone blocked my way.

“Why aren’t you eating…?”

Song Yu’s smile froze. His eyes moved to the bundle on my shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

I glanced at the food box in his hand and answered impatiently, “Back to the bamboo grove. To Sister Suhe.”

His brow creased almost imperceptibly. “Why do you suddenly want to go back to the bamboo grove?

“If you miss Suhe, I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

He reached for my hand as he spoke.

I stepped aside and slapped his hand away without mercy.

Song Yu had always understood my moods. Seeing that this wasn’t an ordinary fit of temper, his expression grew grave.

After a long moment, his voice dropped. “You know everything?”

I snorted. “May I ask what I ought to call you, sir?”

I deliberately stressed each word.

“I can’t keep staying beside someone who won’t even tell me his real name.”

His grip on the food box tightened. He watched me tensely.

His throat worked. “I’m sorry, Jiangjiang. I…”

“Don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear it now.”

Unwilling to argue, I cut him off.

I passed him with my bundle on my back, and a forceful grip caught my wrist.

“Jiangjiang, don’t go.”

I looked back. There was a hint of pleading in his eyes.

His voice grew quieter still. “Let’s talk. I can explain.”

I’d always responded better to gentleness than force. But looking at the plea in his eyes, I remembered his deception and distrust, and my heart hardened again.

I tried to pull my hand free.

The harder I pulled, the tighter he held on.

All I could say was, “You’re hurting me!”

At that, his grip did loosen, but he still wouldn’t let go.

Seeing that struggling was useless, I could only relent.