A few more days passed like this, and that eerie atmosphere showed no signs of fading. In fact, last night, Yun Chun had dreamed of that woman again.
In the dream, the woman did the same things to her: kissing her, holding her, teasing her until her desire burned hot—only to deliberately torment her by stopping just short of the final step.
The woman said nothing beyond a few gasps and moans, her voice never clear enough to make out actual words.
Yun Chun had simply assumed she was mute and eventually gave up trying to get her to speak.
Before leaving, just like before, she would graze Yun Chun’s earlobe or collarbone with her teeth, leaving her mark on Yun Chun’s body…
Every step was identical to the previous dreams, so rote and mechanical that Yun Chun felt like the woman was just going through the motions of some unavoidable ritual.
When the taste of that pomegranate sweetness finally faded from her lips, Yun Chun’s eyelashes fluttered open, and the dream ended.
Yun Chun lay limp on the bed, panting softly as she caught her breath for a couple of minutes. Once her racing heartbeat steadied, she got up and, for what felt like the umpteenth time, grabbed her soaked panties and headed to the bathroom.
She bent over the sink and splashed cold water on her face.
The cool ripples gradually quenched the fire that had been stoked inside her.
The flush on her heated cheeks eased. Yun Chun turned off the faucet and looked up into the mirror. Her tall frame hunched over the small basin looked rather pitiful, but what truly made her pity herself was the dark circles under her eyes—even heavier than last time.
As if all her vital energy had been drained away.
Strangely, though, only the shadows under her eyes stood out. She felt no other discomfort; in fact, her mind was sharp and alert, without a trace of drowsiness.
This unnerved Yun Chun.
She got off work at three in the morning and usually made it home around four. Like now, waking from the dream at six meant she’d only slept two hours—and those weren’t even deep; the dream had been so vivid it felt real. Yet here she was, wide awake and full of energy…
What the hell?
…Hell? As in, a ghost?
Yun Chun paused at the thought, then quickly shook her head.
No way.
She wasn’t one for believing in ghosts or gods.
It had to be exhaustion from her recent schedule making her jumpy. Plus, as a lifelong single, her hormones—or whatever—were just acting up, leading to these dreams.
She grabbed a towel and wiped the water from her face before stepping out of the bedroom. The morning light filtered through the loosely drawn curtains, and the vibrant sunrise gave her pause as she moved to climb back into bed.
Waking this early… why not head downstairs for breakfast and sleep more later?
Yun Chun rarely ate breakfast. She got home at four, in bed by four-twenty. By then, the breakfast spots were just opening, but on non-dream days, she slept straight through till afternoon. Only on her days off, if she woke early and couldn’t be bothered to cook, would she grab something—a couple of fried dough sticks, soy milk, and a tea egg for under five bucks.
Experts said skipping breakfast was bad for you, but Yun Chun had a question: Did “breakfast” mean the first meal of the day or the first after waking?
She ordered two fried dough sticks and a cup of soy milk, then casually put the question to the shop owner.
He chuckled, finding it an odd one, but kept working as he replied, “Depends on how you see it.”
Yun Chun fell silent. That was why she’d asked.
Maybe sensing her question was silly, she didn’t press and just munched on her dough sticks.
Yun Chun didn’t like checking her phone while eating, so she held her dough stick and gazed out the shop window to pass the time.
The breakfast spot was tucked in an alley, mostly frequented by local neighbors. Few cars from the wide road outside ever turned in.
The cement path at the door was old, cracked with gaps where chunks had peeled up. Across the way, the little supermarket had crates of beer and mineral water stacked out front, but it was too early; the doors weren’t open yet.
As Yun Chun pondered if her toilet paper at home would last—maybe wait for the shop to open and grab a pack—she spotted a tabby cat padding lightly past the storefront.
The shop was empty save for her, so it felt quiet until the cat let out a meow, bringing a bit of life to the place.
But the next moment, the silence shattered.
The thin gauze curtain at the door parted, and in walked… someone Yun Chun couldn’t quite put into words.
It was summer, yet the woman wore baggy long sleeves—like the white satin tangzhuang tops old folks wore for morning exercises in groups. Glancing up at her face confirmed it: a middle-aged woman, well-weathered. That explained the layers; mornings could still be chilly.
But the thick gold chain around her neck gleamed garishly, clashing hard with the elegant tangzhuang. Her frame was so slight, the necklace looked like it could crush her.
Her long hair was braided into a thick plait down her back. She carried a large porcelain mug, its paint chipped and rusted in spots. Tea must have been steeping inside; as she passed Yun Chun, she lifted the lid for a sip and spat a stray leaf onto the floor.
From entering to reaching inside took all of three seconds.
Yun Chun’s gaze lingered on her for three seconds before drifting back outside.
Just another customer at the same breakfast joint—Yun Chun wouldn’t stare.
The owner was busy in the back; no one at the counter.
The woman glanced around without calling out. Instead, her eyes landed on Yun Chun. She approached the empty seat across from her and asked, “Mind if I sit here?”
Yun Chun’s attention snapped back with the woman’s voice. She took a bite of dough stick, scanned the other empty spots, and replied, “Whatever, it’s free.”
The woman sat and asked, “You new around here? Don’t recognize you.”
Yun Chun eyed her. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t one to share details with strangers, so she kept it curt.
The woman smiled, then asked curiously, “Why the sunglasses first thing in the morning?”
The dark circles were too brutal; she didn’t want to freak anyone out.
Yun Chun said, “Sun’s too bright.”
The woman replied, “It’s plenty dim in here now. You can take them off.”
Yun Chun didn’t budge. She finished her last bite, sipped her soy milk, and stared outside—now with someone plopped across from her, chattier than an old friend and full of questions. Should she stick around for the supermarket?
If she were in a better mood, Yun Chun might’ve bantered idly, but today she wasn’t chatty. Her mind was on the dream woman.
Who was she, really? What did she look like? Why so soft, so fragrant?
What did she want, invading her dreams?
Just to kiss and hold her?
Did she exist in the real world? If so, where could Yun Chun find her?
Yun Chun startled herself. She wanted to find her?!
Why?
To turn the dream into reality?
Her cheeks warmed. No, no—it was just that after all these years, this was the first time her heart had stirred like this. Curiosity was natural.
Yeah, just curiosity, so she wanted to see her.
That settled it, and her fluttering heart calmed.
Too bad the woman was mute—no answers no matter what she asked.
Even if Yun Chun wanted to track her down, where would she start?
Stuck meeting only in dreams? But what if the dreams stopped?
A faint regret settled in, mingled with helplessness.
Why make her dream something so tantalizing, so hard to let go?
Of someone she could never meet…
The woman across from her took a sip of tea and looked at Yun Chun. “I forgot my wallet. Could you spot me a meal?”
Yun Chun’s focus sharpened on her now.
Money matters always got her attention.
She stared for two seconds before saying slowly, “Buying means paying back. If I buy, will you?”
The woman nodded. “Of course.”
Yun Chun: “I don’t know you. Why should I trust you’ll pay?”
The woman: “So, are you buying or not?”
Yun Chun: “…”
Did she look like some rich sucker?
She wasn’t rich or dumb, but she was kind.
Especially since… the woman’s age lined up with her late mother’s. Yun Chun couldn’t bring herself to say no.
If Mom were alive… would they be sharing breakfast right now?
They locked eyes for a few seconds, and something soft in Yun Chun’s chest gave way. “What do you want?”
The woman: “Two baskets of pork buns.”
Sixteen bucks.
Thinking of her own five-buck meal, Yun Chun’s compassion won out. She shot back firmly, “No way. Dough sticks only.”
The woman looked exasperated. “I want pork buns.”
Yun Chun: “I didn’t even get those!”
The woman: “Why not?”
Because she was broke!
She scrimped on under-five-buck dough sticks—not just ’cause they filled her up fine, but she sure as hell wasn’t splashing out sixteen on a stranger!
Yun Chun slapped five yuan on the table from her pocket. “Five bucks, take it or leave it. I don’t know you, so eat what I say. No picky.”
Their banter drew the owner from the back. He blinked at the woman, then grinned. “Sister Xu, what brings you here?”
Xu Lanmeng glanced at him. “Grabbing breakfast.”
“What’ll it be? On me.”
Yun Chun heard this and pocketed the five yuan she’d slapped onto the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the supermarket door swinging open. She grabbed her soy milk and stood to leave.
But Xu Lanmeng pointed right at her and called to the boss, “Two steamers of meat buns. She pays.”
Yun Chun: “?”
The boss didn’t even bother asking Yun Chun. He simply acknowledged the woman with a nod and turned toward the back kitchen to fetch the buns.
Yun Chun: “?”
Was she seriously getting hustled over breakfast?
Sixteen bucks, and this was worth the scam?
Yun Chun opened her mouth to protest, but before a word could escape, Xu Lanmeng lifted her porcelain teacup for another leisurely sip. Calm and composed, she drawled, “You’ve got a ghost on you.”
Yun Chun: “?”
What the hell did that mean?
The boss emerged from the back just in time to overhear. Seeing Yun Chun still standing there dumbfounded, he set the two steamers of buns on the table and said to her, “Sister Xu’s famous around here for spotting this stuff. Go on, ask her what’s going on.”
That explained why he hadn’t questioned it when Xu Lanmeng announced Yun Chun was treating her—he’d assumed she was buying breakfast in exchange for a fortune-telling.
Yun Chun sat back down. “Tell me everything.”
She didn’t believe in this nonsense, but the dark circles under her eyes and those bizarre dreams had her curious enough to listen. What harm could it do?
It turned out to be nothing like she’d imagined.
With elegant poise, the woman pinched up a small steamed bun. Her voice rose alongside the steam. “Five hundred.”
“??!”
It cost money just to hear her out?
Yun Chun blurted, “Why not just rob me outright!”
Xu Lanmeng replied, “That’s a discount for the buns you’re buying me. Anyone else pays at least eight hundred.”
Yun Chun let out a scoffing laugh. “Yeah, go rob someone else.”
She now strongly suspected that thick gold chain around the woman’s neck had come from exactly this kind of con.
With that, Yun Chun rose to her feet and placed the five yuan in front of Xu Lanmeng. “I never agreed to cover your buns. This five is all I promised. Since you know the boss, just put the rest on my tab.”
As Yun Chun headed for the door, Xu Lanmeng called after her, “You sure you don’t want me to take a look?”
Yun Chun glanced back. “I can fix this for twenty bucks.”
Though Yun Chun didn’t believe in ghosts or gods, the morning’s events had planted a seed of doubt. And the creepy vibe at home was wearing her down. Rather than rush back after breakfast, she stopped at the nearby vegetable stall and bought a string of garlic.
She’d seen it somewhere online: ghosts hated garlic.
Once home, Yun Chun twisted the garlic into a loop and hung it around her neck like a necklace.
She lay on the bed and waited for a while.
Hmm… That eerie sensation of being watched was gone.
Was there really a ghost, and it feared garlic? Or was it all in her head?
Yun Chun had no idea. She was exhausted and too lazy to puzzle it out.
She drifted off to sleep in moments, not stirring until her alarm rang.
When she woke, Yun Chun didn’t get up right away. Instead, she lifted the garlic dangling at her mouth and blinked, testing the air. The chilling feeling of eyes on her was truly absent.
Real ghost or psychological trick, it didn’t matter—this method worked!
That evening after work, as Yun Chun got ready for bed, she picked up her garlic necklace, slipped it on, scrolled through her phone for a bit, and turned in.
It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.
A breeze slipped in through the open window, sending the curtains drifting like gentle waves on water. Cool moonlight crept stealthily into the room.
Held up by some errand, Lu Qingxue arrived late. She stood at the bedside, gazing down at the sleeping figure.
Her eyes trailed from Yun Chun’s sweetly innocent sleeping face to the circle of garlic strung around her neck.
Lu Qingxue: “…”
The corners of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.
Was this supposed to ward her off?
What an idiot.
Lu Qingxue bent at the waist. She couldn’t smell it from here yet, but with so much garlic bunched together, the stench had to be overpowering… She frowned. Wasn’t she afraid of pickling herself garlic-flavored?
And if the smell was that intense, how had Little One managed to fall asleep?
Lu Qingxue perched on the edge of the bed. Her fingers gently brushed the stray hairs from Yun Chun’s forehead, her gaze as soft as the moonlight.
She’d actually gone out and bought something like this to wear.
Had these past few days scared her that badly?
Lu Qingxue reflected on it.
Her fingertip glided down to the tip of Yun Chun’s pert nose. Lu Qingxue’s cool fingers were like a fine summer-night mist, chasing away the midnight heat. In her sleep, Yun Chun instinctively leaned toward that refreshing chill.
Now Lu Qingxue’s fingertip rested at the corner of Yun Chun’s lips, tracing along them softly.
Sensing Yun Chun drawing nearer, Lu Qingxue pulled her hand back.
She shifted her body a few centimeters away.
Wasn’t this all to keep her at bay?
So why scoot so close?
But when Yun Chun inched toward her once more, Lu Qingxue sighed softly.
Her heart softening, she lifted the garlic bunched beneath Yun Chun’s neck and pressed her palm to the damp, sweaty skin there, cooling it down.
Her eyes remained fixed on Yun Chun, brimming with tender affection.
