"Yes, like the 'sheng' in 'sound,'" Fusheng explained.
"I see." Alvano didn't press for more; he didn't really care, so he just gave a casual reply. He didn't care about Fusheng, nor did he care about the paper doll.
"Lord husband, would you like to go soak up some sun?" Alvano asked, suddenly changing the subject.
"Where? Quickly, I want to go!" Fusheng immediately dropped the paper doll, looked toward the window, and excitedly stood up from the table, peering out. His attention had been diverted instantly. Over the past two days, Alvano had noticed that Fusheng’s mind seemed quite flighty and active, easily distracted—he acted as if he weren't quite right in the head.
"Lord husband, don't be so impatient!" Alvano said, lifting Fusheng down from the table to soothe him.
"I am impatient, hurry up," Fusheng replied, struggling fiercely in Alvano’s arms, his voice anxious.
"Put your shoes on properly, we’re going out the door." Remembering how Fusheng had been staring at the window, Alvano feared he might try to jump out of it, so he added the reminder.
Upon hearing this, Fusheng stopped struggling and began fussing that he had no shoes. Alvano tried to put them on him, but Fusheng insisted on doing it himself, though he was so frantic that he just kept kicking his feet, as if he were trying to sabotage Alvano’s efforts.
Once Alvano finally managed to get the shoes on him, he led Fusheng out. It seemed he had been prepared, as they didn't encounter any other Zerg on the way. Fusheng, however, was filled with wonder, looking left and right. Several times, he tried to bolt outside into the direct sunlight, but each time, Alvano managed to hold him back with a mix of coaxing and deception.
They soon arrived at the sun terrace, which was covered by a massive, transparent glass dome. The moment Fusheng stepped inside and felt the sun, it was as if his soul had ascended. He pressed himself tightly against the glass, letting out a satisfied sigh.
Watching the Zerg plastered against the glass, Alvano mused that Fusheng must have been locked in a dark room by those Space Pirates, which was why he was so desperate for the sun. But Fusheng had only been locked up for three days at most. Males were truly fragile and sensitive creatures, Alvano thought, curling his lip in disdain.
In truth, Alvano wasn't entirely wrong; Fusheng had indeed been locked in a dark room, just not in the way Alvano imagined. As a ghost, Fusheng could only come out at night, forced to hide in dark, damp corners during the day. His entire existence had been shrouded in darkness—or rather, this world itself had been his prison for two hundred years.
Alvano didn't adjust the terrace's light-shielding settings. Seeing the look of bliss on Fusheng’s face, he knew the temperature was just right. Fusheng lay sprawled against the glass, not even needing to turn over, as the two suns in the sky, one on either side, bathed him from front to back, warming him through and through. It was incredibly comfortable.
Alvano sat down in a corner out of Fusheng’s sight to wait. Not knowing when the male would finally be satisfied, he quietly pulled out his optical computer to pass the time. Two star-hours later, Fusheng was still sprawled against the glass without moving a muscle. Alvano put his computer away and walked over to check. It was truly bizarre; wouldn't his body get stiff?
He stepped closer and realized it was even more bizarre: Fusheng had fallen asleep while plastered to the ninety-degree glass wall. Alvano was skeptical—after all, what kind of Zerg slept standing up? But Fusheng’s breathing was steady, his eyes closed tight; he was clearly asleep. Alvano thought this with a hint of uncertainty. He stood there, getting a headache over whether or not to wake him.
In the end, Alvano didn't wake him. Instead, he fetched soft cushions and spread them around Fusheng, just in case he fell.
Two more star-hours passed before Fusheng woke up. He moved his stiff arms, feeling the pins and needles—a sharp, tingling sensation. His legs were numb, too. Seeing the cushions on the floor, he let his stiff body collapse onto them. He tried moving again, feeling that prickly numbness; his limbs had never felt so real, so much a part of him. He was so excited he wanted to roll around right there.
The terrace was large, over ten meters long, so Fusheng rolled from one end to the other, back and forth. Alvano followed him, confused, but since Fusheng was laughing as he rolled and it seemed like some strange game, Alvano didn't stop him and let him be.
Wherever Fusheng got tired of rolling, he simply stopped to bask in the sun. No matter how much Alvano tried to coax him to leave, even offering candy, it was no use.
"We'll go back when it gets dark," Fusheng said, lying on the floor. He was waiting for nightfall. He had been remembering that he needed to go to Cohen's place to steal candy; the dark of night was perfect for mischief.
"Lord husband, this is Luka Star, remember?" A shadow flickered in Alvano’s eyes. He was certain Fusheng was messing with him; there was no night on Luka Star. Fusheng just wanted to keep sunbathing, and there was nothing Alvano could do about it.
"Doesn't that mean I can sunbathe forever?" Fusheng searched his memories for Luka Star—a planet with two suns in the day and one at night; there was no such thing as 'nightfall.' Fusheng happily rolled on the floor again. He loved this place.
Alvano knew it: Fusheng just wanted to keep sunning himself. He couldn't understand why Fusheng was so obsessed with the light. Usually, male Zerg went out with umbrellas, terrified of damaging their delicate skin, and a simple outing required a dozen female Zerg to hover around them—it was laughable. He didn't know if he would ever become one of them, but he frowned deeply; he didn't like the thought. He wasn't sure if Fusheng had used an umbrella in the past, but he had never heard of him being this obsessed with sunlight.
Finally, Alvano secretly adjusted the outdoor temperature and the glass opacity. Within moments, the floor turned icy cold, and the sunlight became weak and listless.
Fusheng felt the change. He crawled up from the cold floor, puzzled, and peered at the two suns in the sky. He felt something was wrong, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The two burning suns were still as bright as ever—why weren't they warm anymore? Even the glass had turned cold and hard. Fusheng immediately moved away from the glass, muttered a curse under his breath, and pounded on the surface in frustration, his mouth opening as if he were about to scream.
"Lord husband, the sun is weaker now. Let's come back tomorrow," Alvano said, looking at Fusheng’s restless, anxious state.
Ghosts from the Qing Dynasty were easy to hoodwink. Clearly, Fusheng had been fooled. Although he had seen modern technology, Zerg technology was far more advanced, and he had never used these devices; his old-fashioned little brain couldn't possibly fathom the power of technology.
Fusheng foolishly believed his subordinate and reluctantly followed Alvano away from the sun terrace. Watching Fusheng’s naive expression, Alvano curled his lips slightly, feeling quite pleased with himself. He had tricked a male; they were truly easy to deceive.
He really was a lazy male, barely able to move his own limbs, didn't even know that the temperature could be adjusted, and spent every day just eating, drinking, and playing, relying on the female Zerg for everything—a useless little bug.
It seemed he could make good use of this in the future. After all, Fusheng was still young and, with his current state of mind, he would believe anything he was told.
The messy room had been tidied up, and the sheets and pillows had been replaced with new ones. Alvano had instructed the other female Zerg not to throw away the paper scraps and rags, fearing Fusheng might still need them; if they were thrown away, who knew if Fusheng would make him dig through the trash to find them? Even the three-legged chair was still there.
Back in the room, Fusheng’s longing for the sun soon vanished. He picked up the paper doll, happily chatting away to it. Fusheng channeled the resentment from within his body into the paper doll, Fusheng, for if the resentment ever accumulated past a certain threshold, it would spiral out of control.
Once, his resentment had surged, and the ghosts within a hundred-mile radius had been torn apart; it had taken two months for them to piece themselves back together. He had been so sad about that—he hadn't been able to find any ghosts to play games with for two whole months.