My Husband and I Sleep in a Coffin Vol. 1, page 10
After some time had passed, Wen Fengjin pulled back his wrist, caressed his beloved’s cheek, and gazed at him in infatuation, imagining kissing his skin, nose, and forehead as he affectionately, carefully rubbed a thumb against his lips.
The expression on his face was cold and detached, as if his smile were a mask he’d just pulled off. This gave his handsome, delicate face an added level of unyielding ferocity, but those abnormal eyes were far more gentle than usual, his regular false gloom having entirely disappeared. The effect instantly transformed the fallen demon lord into an immortal standing by the Heavenly Lake of Tianshan.
Cold and heartless, yet carrying the warmth of an eternal infatuation with a single person—this was the real Wen Fengjin.
“Shixiong, did you remember something again today?”
Whenever he was with Wang Xiaomie, he always spoke with a higher tone, as if manufacturing a sense of happiness—only for the influence of his personality to make it sound more unnatural than glad. This gave him the affect of a strange clown. It was enough to make one’s scalp tingle. Now that he was alone, Wen Fengjin’s voice was husky, low, and unhurried, a combination which could truly make any listener’s heart race.
After he asked his question, the soundly sleeping Wang Xiaomie instantly opened his eyes, bloodred eyes staring blankly upward as he haltingly replied, “No.”
“Then why were you unhappy today, Shixiong? Are you hiding something from me?”
“I was…worried that…the person…you like…is Mian Deng. I want the person…you like…to be Wang Xiaomie…”
Wen Fengjin shook his head, saying, “You’re wrong—the person I like has always been you. You don’t understand, Shixiong; it isn’t that I now have you after Mian Deng, but that having you here gives me the Mian Deng I so love. The one I love is you. It’s always been you…”
But I’ve told too many lies, done too many things I cannot tell you. That’s why I want to do everything I can to be the kind of person you like, and as quickly as possible, make it so that you can’t leave me…
“Ah, right.” Wen Fengjin placed a hand on his own face, which held a peculiar expression. “Is my smile really so fake?”
“It is.”
“But didn’t you say you love people who smile often, Shixiong… you liar…?” Wen Fengjin’s lips curled slightly upwards as he used the palm of his hand to brush Wang Xiaomie’s red eyes shut. “Sleep, Shixiong, I really am very happy today.”
Wen Fengjin lay down by his side, placed his own hands neatly on his abdomen, and gradually closed his eyes as well.
Chapter 20:
You’re the Only One
PERHAPS BECAUSE OF that cutting of intertwined wedding locks, Wen Fengjin found himself dreaming of the past.
A cold-faced Wen Fengjin stood with his feminine red robes flying in the wind. He was looking at a tiny, younger version of himself, who in turn watched as his father was paraded down the street to his execution. His father, a man who once held the high position of Regent of the Northern Kingdom, treated as a god incarnate by the common people, and who had assisted the emperor in his rise to power, was ultimately carelessly accused of colluding with another country.
“Have mercy, Your Majesty. Send this guilty servant’s son to the Xuanfeng Academy, merely barring his children from employment for the next three generations…”
Because of a groundless accusation that somehow managed to be supported by all sorts of “evidence,” those storytellers who circulated songs throughout restaurants and teahouses now spoke with righteous indignation of the hundreds of people who comprised the regent’s household, and the people who’d once wanted to erect a tablet of merit for his father had immediately turned around and started calling him a brigand. Praise be to His Majesty’s benevolence for even allowing the brigand’s family line to continue.
But was this benevolence or malice? Forcing a four-year-old child to watch his entire family be beheaded one by one? What kind of benevolence would send him to the illustrious Xuanfeng Academy, to obtain great learning and ability, yet be unable to be employed for the next three generations of his line?
The adult Wen Fengjin looked on with indifference as his parents kneeled under the blade, the people around them cheering and flinging garbage at them, his younger self—barely four years old—able only to wail as he watched.
Afterwards, the spit-upon child was sent to the Xuanfeng Academy deep within the mountains. And was the academy as illustrious as they said? This four-year-old’s first day was spent being called a traitor’s seed, getting held down by others as they tried to press his head into a chamber pot, while a bunch of children barely older than he was clapped their hands and laughed.
“Make him drink it! Hahaha, make him drink! See his eyes? How could a human have eyes like that?!”
“That’s how you know he’s a brigand’s kid, hahaha…”
This was how that young child spent half a year—always finding urine or other things splattered on his bed, his meals constantly being knocked to the ground, his teachers always chasing him from the classroom to stand outside as punishment while they taught, so that the skinny, tiny, dirty child could only put his ear against the wall to eavesdrop on their lessons. And when he was caught, he’d be beaten with a bamboo plank…
Wen Fengjin, his hair black as ink, watched these scenes without the slightest change in expression or even so much as a sliver of anger in his eyes. The tiny child stumbled his way to the age of seven, when—sneaking around the back of the mountain to curb his hunger with stolen wild fruits—he caught sight of the academy’s director and their da-shixiong.
The child had only ever caught a glimpse of their shixiong, because he didn’t study or attend lessons in the same place as the younger children. But their shixiong was gentle as jade. Though he’d earned a name as someone unparalleled among gentlemen at a young age, he was always smiling, his pale-green robes and veil just like the clouds and mist which wrapped around the mountainside…
The first time he ever saw him, little Fengjin’s face stayed red for a very long time.
He heard the academy director say, “How has your task gone?”
Da-shixiong replied with a smile on his lips, “It’s been three years—the boy is quite fortunate to still be alive after all this time, but I’ve already given instructions to the children and teachers. Don’t worry, Laoshi, he will not have a good time. Nor will he be able to pick himself up afterward…”
After watching to this point, Wen Fengjin stared tranquilly ahead at the genially smiling Mian Deng, nothing but disgust visible in his eyes, and an incomprehensible sneer on his face.
From that moment on, the tiny Fengjin became hard-hearted and aloof, no longer resigning himself to his suffering. He began to fight back like a feral dog, without a care for the injuries he sustained.
Another year passed before he once again came across that jade-like gentleman of a da-shixiong. He was sitting on a stone seat, smiling as he looked up at the freshly planted gingko tree above. A dumbfounded look crossed his face when he turned his head to see Wen Fengjin behind him.
A gust of wind rose, gently lifting that black hair, light-green robe, and veil; a subtle smile showed itself on that handsome face with its limpid eyes. In this moment, he was no longer like the mist around the mountainside, but a fresh wind after the rain.
As the older Wen Fengjin watched this, the mark on his forehead went a brilliant red. The indifference on his face was erased as—overcome with reminiscence—he gently lifted his hand as if to touch that carefree youth…
Shixiong said, “Little boy, who are you…?”
The child curled his hands into fists, his gaze like that of a wolf cub. “Shouldn’t you know who I am?”
Shixiong was momentarily thrown off by this, an embarrassed look on his face as he replied, “Ah… haha, there are so many children in this academy. Er, isn’t it normal for me not to remember them all? Let’s get to know each other again—I’m Mian Deng, what about you? What’s your name…?”
He got up, then stooped over the wary-eyed child, the smell of pine instantly filling the surrounding air as he gently patted the child’s head, smiling. “I did hear them say there was a child in the outer courtyard whose eyes were really unique.”
Little Fengjin angrily knocked his hand away, abjectly covering his eyes to evade his shixiong’s gaze, only for his hands to get pulled away the next moment as the man before him—who had once given him three years of nightmares—spoke to him like someone completely different. “What unusual eyes… Many remarkable people throughout the course of history have had traits that marked them as different from others. I’m sure you’ll go on to be someone remarkable, too…”
Perhaps the sun was particularly blinding that day, or perhaps the weather was just too nice, or that youth’s smile far too soft…
“Well? Tell me your name again, and this time I’ll make sure not to forget it.”
Little Fengjin stared in a daze for a long time. The red-clothed adult Wen Fengjin behind him smiled.
They spoke in unison: “Shixiong—Mian Deng—remember this: my name is Wen Fengjin…”
From this moment on, an extraordinary person plummeted into a black and bottomless abyss. There, he became the inextinguishable light held within the heart of the child named Wen Fengjin who dwelt at the abyss’s core.
Someone lives in my heart. He likes people who smile, and so I often smile. He likes kind people, and so I’ve become an expert at pretending. He likes stalwart people, and so I wear a suit of armor. He likes righteous people, and so I’ve peeled off my own wolf pelt, exchanging it for the kind honesty of a lamb.
But I was born to feed on flesh and blood, so I have no choice but to tell one lie after another so I may cover his eyes, carefully experiencing the taste of being loved, and absorbing the warmth from his body.
I’ve never thought myself pitiful. I’m quite fortunate, in fact. I love him…and yet, the day will inevitably come when the lies come to light. Which is why I’ve resorted to every means possible to keep him firmly imprisoned within my heart, even if it means tainting my light with filth.
The now awake Wen Fengjin turned on his side to look at the person behind him: skin so fair it seemed it might tear at the slightest touch, the line from his smooth, full forehead down to the tip of his nose giving the viewer an impression of softness and delicacy, those closed eyes lined with dense, curved lashes. His tender lips were tightly shut.
“It’s another day in the mortal realm, Mian Deng.”
In the moment you opened your eyes and said in a panic that you were called Wang Xiaomie, your eyes regained their clarity. When you softly called me Fengjin as I requested, I knew.
You’ve returned…
Wen Fengjin lowered his head to gently capture the man’s lips in his own, his movements as careful as if he were holding a treasure that might melt at any moment. He maintained that position until the molestation caused the sleeping man to awake.
Wang Xiaomie opened his eyes with irritation and much difficulty. “Ugh…what are you doing?! Don’t go interrupting people’s dreams first thing in the morning!”
“Mian Deng.”
“Ah?”
“I suddenly want it.”
Wang Xiaomie stared back with a wooden expression on his face: Want what? To die? As if, you undying old bastard of a boss.
But he never expected Wen Fengjin to suddenly turn affectionate, lowering his eyes and rubbing softly against him in a manner completely unlike his usual odd or gentle behaviors, like a big cat putting aside its pride for the first time to ingratiate itself with its owner. Wen Fengjin rubbed back and forth as he nestled against him, wordlessly tugging at his clothes.
Wang Xiaomie couldn’t even get out a single “meow.”
Besides, no matter how you sliced it—the vibe Wen Fengjin was giving off right now was that of a wolf, not a kitty-cat!
Did a year pass while my eyes were closed? How’d Boss get yet another split personality?! Also, try reading the room, Boss! I still wasn’t on speaking terms with you when I went to bed, you know!
Wang Xiaomie hurriedly grabbed at the clothes which Wen Fengjin had pulled open. “Did I miss an episode or did you just fast-forward? Fuck, stop tugging! I know you’re just into your shixiong Mian Deng, you animal! I’m Wang Xiaomie! We otaku will never be slaves—if you keep this up, I’m gonna start yelling! I’ll never be a substitute!”
Wang Xiao-Zongzi, suddenly being shucked of his leaves, let out what the zongzi world called a final roar of integrity! But it was of no dang use. The undying big zongzi seemed to turn bipolar the moment they had a disagreement, his eyes sparkling despite his expressionless face as he peeled off zongzi leaves with single-minded devotion.
The instant Wen Fengjin bit him, Wang Xiaomie raised a hand and struck Wen Fengjin’s face with a resounding slap. His clothes were a mess, anger was written all over his face, and his fists were clenched as tight as could be!
“You’re a big fat liar! You said you could accept me and start over, but I bet all you actually want is to look at me and think of your damn shixiong! Wen Fengjin, you better get a good idea of who exactly I am!”
Wang Xiaomie didn’t want to quarrel. He’d already decided that if Wen Fengjin could accept this brand-new version of him, then he was willing to start over from the beginning. But if the other man was only looking through him in search of a shade of Mian Deng, then it wasn’t gonna work out. Men had dignity too! He’d rather starve to death than eat someone else’s leftovers!
“Ha, hahaha…” To his surprise, Wen Fengjin—head turned to the side from the slap—started laughing loudly, an excited light sparkling in his eyes as he said, “It’s the same. Your slap is the same as it was back then!”
Oh no, I’ve knocked his marbles out.
Wang Xiaomie gulped as the man above him suddenly became gentle again, his lips curving upward and those abnormal irises filled to the brim with undiluted love. He leaned toward the absolutely terrified Wang Xiaomie, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes, and said, “I don’t like this body at all, but ever since you’ve occupied it, everything has changed. Since it’s affecting you so much that it’s undoing our previous closeness, let me tell you this: there was never any past or present life in the equation, the one I love has always been you…”
This bewitching, willful man suddenly pulled them closer. Wang Xiaomie stared in astonishment at his reflection in the man’s eyes, one finger pressed against his chest.
Lips opening and closing, Wen Fengjin spoke.
“The person I loved one thousand years ago was named Wang Xiaomie. You call me a liar, but you are the worst liar of all!”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Heh.”
Wen Fengjin pulled him up and opened the casket. He reached over to pick up the box by his pillow, and did something to open it with a click. As if in a trance, Wang Xiaomie looked inside to see their hair and a few other small trinkets, as well as two volumes of noticeably ancient, scattered personal letters.
Wen Fengjin extracted the topmost book and quickly closed the box before handing those letters to him. “Look.”
“Wh-what is…” Wang Xiaomie dazedly accepted the book, which felt as if it might break apart at the slightest touch.
He flipped it open to the words on the first page, and immediately gasped in surprise. “Th-this can’t be!”
Chapter 21:
Keep Living With a Smile (sob)
WHEN WANG XIAOMIE reached for the leather-bound notebook by his pillow, it was with shaking hands and a blank mind. This notebook was one he’d dug out of the robbers’ backpacks in that one side hall. Because he’d been isolated from a young age, without any friends or family, and couldn’t stand being lonely, he’d picked up the habit of keeping a diary, which could amuse him for a bit whenever he had nothing to do.
The two books’ composition and design were entirely different, one noticeably ancient, the other clearly modern. But they both had the same words written in large font on the cover!
“Wang Xiaomie’s Diary.”
Wang Xiaomie was struck speechless. This childish mark of ownership, this handwriting so ugly it looks like the footprints of a drunk dung beetle… Yup, that’s my writing, no mistaking it.
Wang Xiaomie woodenly flipped open the two books.
The first page of the left one read:
“Today is my second day playing wife for a guy in a mausoleum. I’m hungry…”
And on the first page of the right one:
“Today is my second day transmigrating into ancient times and playing someone’s shixiong. I’m hungry…eheh~!”
He was left speechless again. The heck is “eheh” supposed to mean! You even added a tilde!! Fuck your tilde, you fucker!
Wang Xiaomie slapped the books shut, shaking like he had Parkinson’s disease. There’s no way. How could I write something like this? How could something clearly written by a guy who’s touched in the head have anything at all to do with someone as talented, elegant, and good-looking as me? I’ve definitely never gone to the past or met Wen Fengjin before, and I definitely don’t have any memories of it…
Calm down—you gotta stay calm, Wang Xiaomie—!
And so he flipped to the second page of his own diary.
In order to prevent other people from sneaking peeks at my diary, I’ve decided to use pinyin! Why not use English, you ask? Because I don’t know it, ahahaha! Aren’t I a genius? Wink~
Stay calm, you’ve absolutely gotta stay calm, stay—what the #%ing #@$%W—“wink,” my ass!
Putting aside whatever secrets this notebook might reveal, just reading the girlishly chuuni narrative voice was enough to make Wang Xiaomie bury his face in a hand, feeling it sting with shame.
Off to the side, Wen Fengjin blinked at him, saying, “This book is full of your casual writings. I don’t recognize the majority of what it contains, but there are some odd symbols in there, as well. Years ago, I gathered all the scholars and subordinates I had who were proficient in foreign languages. Countless people studied this notebook, but not a one of them was able to discern what was written in its pages. Now that I have you here yourself, Shixiong, maybe you can read it to me.”
