Chapter 5

Yun Chun slept until two in the afternoon.

She had slept soundly. The stifling heat of summer night seemed to have retreated far from her. Even without the air conditioning on, she hadn’t felt hot at all, as if a cooling doll lay beside her, keeping her refreshed through the night.

Yun Chun opened her eyes contentedly, stretched her arms straight out, and yawned lazily.

The garlic necklace around her neck had somehow come off. She sat up and looked around, only to find it on the floor.

But as she leaned over the edge of the bed to pick it up, she felt something odd. The distance of the garlic from the bed didn’t look like it had simply fallen off—it seemed more like it had been thrown down.

Yun Chun figured she must have felt uncomfortable while sleeping and unconsciously taken it off and tossed it aside.

The puzzlement passed in an instant. She picked up the garlic necklace and neatly placed it on the bedside table.

She would leave it here for now and treat it properly.

After all, it had let her sleep so peacefully.

She made herself a simple meal, ate it, cleaned up, and headed to work.

The KTV where she worked was called Shangding, an offshoot of a hotel with the same name—a hotel-style KTV. Compared to other hotel KTVs, though, Shangding’s facilities were much like those of an independent one, with everything fully equipped. Aside from a few VIP private rooms, the rest weren’t much pricier than those outside.

Of course, they were still more expensive because the renovations and equipment were superior.

That was why Shangding drew crowds of guests to sing karaoke, filling up every room every day.

With business booming, she got to work preparing as soon as she arrived.

At that moment, Yun Chun was in the changing room, slipping into her uniform.

A woman walked in and greeted her upon seeing her. “Sister Yun.”

Yun Chun hummed in acknowledgment.

Glancing at the woman, Yun Chun suddenly remembered something. She asked, “Wenwen, don’t you live in the Old City District too?”

Wenwen nodded. “Yeah. Did you forget, Sister Yun? Last time I got drunk, you were the one who took me home.”

“I remember it happened, but the details are fuzzy, so I asked.” Yun Chun explained briefly before continuing, “Do you know someone surnamed Xu around there? She’s pretty famous for that kind of thing.”

“Xu?”

Wenwen thought for a moment, her eyes lighting up. “You mean Master Xu?”

Yun Chun didn’t know if the woman she’d met that morning qualified as a master, but the title fit with that sort of thing—and her surname was Xu, after all.

She nodded. “Probably.”

Wenwen’s expression grew exaggerated at the word “probably.” “Sister Yun, you seriously don’t know Master Xu?”

Yun Chun took a step closer to Wenwen. “Is she that famous?”

“Yeah!” Wenwen replied.

“Not just in our district,” Wenwen went on. “She’s known even in the city and surrounding areas. Besides that stuff, she does feng shui and fortune-telling too.”

“Is she that accurate?” Yun Chun asked.

Wenwen nodded vigorously. “Of course! Otherwise, why would people come all the way from out of town just to find Master Xu in Radiance City?” She added, “Though a few years ago, she announced she wouldn’t take on too many jobs anymore. Unless you pay top dollar, you generally can’t get her to make a house call.”

Yun Chun inwardly scoffed: Isn’t this the classic pattern? Hype yourself up as incredibly powerful early on, then play mysterious and half-retired later to rake in the cash?

If she wasn’t taking many jobs, then why had she offered to help?

For five hundred bucks? Or…

Yun Chun paused. Could it be that Master Xu really believed a ghost was haunting her?

But wasn’t top dollar required to hire her?

Five hundred might be big money to Yun Chun, but to others… pocket change.

She asked, “How high is this ‘top dollar’ you’re talking about?”

Wenwen shook her head. “I’m not sure—I never asked. But my grandma said some people have shelled out hundreds of thousands to see Master Xu.”

Yun Chun was speechless…

That was definitely top dollar.

Compared to that, five hundred was like plucking a single hair from a cow.

So why would someone who wasn’t short on cash—and whom others begged for help—offer to assist her unprompted?

There was only one explanation for Xu Lanmeng’s behavior: As a master, she couldn’t stand idly by, so she stepped in.

Which meant there really was a ghost haunting her?

And that ghost… was it the one from her dreams?

Had she… died?

Was she not a living person?

But why would it haunt her?

Did she know her? Or who was it?

And why did it keep invading her dreams, doing those things to her?

Were those extra “eyes” at home hers too?

The eerie feeling absent last night… had the garlic necklace warded her off?

Yun Chun’s hands at her sides clenched slightly.

There were too many questions, too much she wanted to know. It all overshadowed the fear of realizing a ghost was by her side.

Seeing Yun Chun fall silent, Wenwen stepped closer and whispered, “Sister Yun, why are you asking? Do you need Master Xu for something?”

Yun Chun snapped back to the present and smiled at her. “Nah, I just heard about her today and got curious.”

“Okay.” Wenwen blinked. “Anything else you want to know, Sister Yun?”

Yun Chun’s lips curved up. “Nope, thanks for filling me in, Little Wen.”

Wenwen stared at Yun Chun’s smile, momentarily dazed.

Yun Chun was beautiful, especially when she smiled.

It felt like early spring, with flower buds swelling on peach branches, the entire limb infused with the scent of the season.

It made you want to keep glancing over, to be the first to see the peach blossoms burst open, the first to catch their fragrance, the first to brush against those delicate pink petals trembling in the spring breeze.

Yun Chun—even her name was lovely.

It wasn’t just Wenwen’s imagination; everyone said the same. The regular customers who frequented the place mostly came for Yun Chun.

And it was true. Those regulars always specifically requested her to come in and help them order drinks. Over time, Yun Chun’s sales had consistently ranked first. The commission from drinks alone earned her a hefty sum in a single night.

Jealousy was inevitable, but it stopped at envy.

No one spoke ill of her.

For one thing, it was her skill.

Everyone sold drinks based on their own abilities.

They relied on smooth talk, but Yun Chun knew how to converse, was slick with people, and could blend right in with customers. Plenty of rich ladies called her “sister” or “little sis.”

For another, Yun Chun was good to them.

There had been times when drunken guests grabbed them to drink together. The place had professional drinking companions for that, while they were just servers—handling drinks, fruit platters, and cleanup. But it happened often, so they’d usually go along and sip a little. Some guests, though, got handsy, taking advantage.

Some were too timid to fight back; others clashed with the customers. In the end, Yun Chun always stepped in to sort it out.

Having been around the block, she was quick on her feet, tailoring her words to the person—mastering the art of speaking to humans or ghosts alike. Unless the customer was utterly unreasonable, a few sentences from her resolved things smoothly, without complaints that could cost them their jobs. She even got the guests to apologize and compensate.

But occasionally, they ran into real troublemakers. Once, a customer kept pushing drinks on Yun Chun until she was on the verge of passing out before letting up. Another time, a drinking companion girl was being toyed with by some sleazy men. Yun Chun heard, stormed into the private room, pulled the girl from the crowd, and shielded her—only to get smashed in the back of the head with a bottle by one of them.

Yun Chun said nothing. Once security pinned the men down, she smashed three bottles over that guy’s head in return. In other circumstances, even if they’d hit her, she might have swallowed her pride for the sake of her livelihood, laughed it off, and let them carry on drinking and singing. But not this time. That girl couldn’t even afford tuition at home and had started working at eighteen. Seeing someone so young bullied like that? Yun Chun couldn’t stand it. She controlled her strength—just enough to hurt worse than she’d been hurt, without killing him.

They all thought Yun Chun would get fired over it—even she figured she was done for. Those guys had status in Radiance City, especially the one she’d smashed, who was loaded and a Shangding VIP. As Yun Chun got bandaged at the hospital, wondering about her next job, and everyone prepared to plead with the boss on her behalf, the Big Boss spoke up: Blacklist those guys nationwide—no Shangding would serve them again. The place was legitimate; next time, call security right away.

The Big Boss even gave Yun Chun a bonus and let her take time off to recover.

Before that, they’d assumed she looked out for them because she was in charge, and their messes always ended up on her plate, so she hustled hard.

But after this, they realized it wasn’t just for herself. She genuinely cared.

From then on, their respect for her grew.

Someone who dared to fight like that—whatever the reason—deserved respect.

Wenwen lingered briefly in the glow of Yun Chun’s smile before coming to her senses. “Sister Yun, I’ll head out after changing.”

Unlike Yun Chun, she had to serve drinks and couldn’t stay in the changing room forever.

Yun Chun smiled at her again. “Sure, go ahead.”

Once Wenwen left, Yun Chun sat on the sofa and pulled out her phone.

Baidu:

What to do if you’re haunted by a ghost?

How to tell if a ghost is haunting you?

Why would a ghost haunt you?

Does being haunted cause dark circles?

Does being haunted make you have erotic dreams?

What’s up with having the same erotic dream over and over?

How can you see ghosts?

After searching the final query, Yun Chun froze.

She wanted to see the other woman?

Why?

Was it just curiosity?

Probably.

But shouldn’t ordinary people feel terrified upon learning they were haunted by a ghost?

Why did she feel a curious urge to meet her instead?

Was it because she herself was dirt poor, kindred spirits in misfortune? Or because she’d never done anything wicked and thus feared no retribution? Or perhaps because of that pomegranate scent during their kiss? Or maybe, over time, like osmanthus petals scattered across the lake’s surface, stirring endless ripples that beckoned her irresistibly to the shore to gaze upon that fragrant tree?

Or was it because the ghost had never harmed her, leaving her with no real sense of what fear even felt like?

Yet the one who had huddled under the covers, spooked by the eerie atmosphere, was still her…

Yun Chun’s fingers rubbed together unconsciously. The one craving the dream’s tender intimacy was her; the one dreading reality’s uncanny strangeness was her; and the one yearning to meet the ghost… was also her.

How conflicted.

Her turmoil was so profound that when Yun Chun got off work and returned home, she stared at the Garlic Necklace arranged neatly on her bedside table, unsure whether to wear it to bed again.

While brushing her teeth in the bathroom, beneath the flickering fluorescent lights, she eyed the panda-like dark circles under her eyes in the mirror and steeled her resolve: No more.

Yun Chun had looked up countless entries on ghosts, but deep down, she still harbored a sliver of doubt.

What if Master Xu was just a con artist fleecing her for cash, spouting nonsense that happened to align with her recent sleepless nights, making her imagine ghosts where none existed?

Decades had passed since the founding of the nation—even demons weren’t permitted to take on spiritual forms, let alone ghosts!

Yun Chun simply wanted to test it out. Without the necklace tonight, would that strange sensation return?

It absolutely wasn’t because she hoped to slip back into that kind of dream.

She was merely experimenting.

If something felt off, then a ghost was real. If not, she’d just been frightening herself.

What Yun Chun didn’t know was that even as she made her decision before the mirror, a certain ethereal presence had already settled on the edge of her bed.

Lu Qingxue had reflected on Yun Chun’s fear and deliberately suppressed her aura, dispersing it like faint starlight through the air—subtle and undetectable.

She watched as Yun Chun finished her nighttime routine and carried the Garlic Necklace from the bedside cabinet straight to the kitchen.

At that sight, Lu Qingxue’s eyes curved into delighted crescents.

Garlic was useless against her anyway, but Yun Chun relegating it to the kitchen—didn’t that mean she wasn’t afraid anymore?

Lu Qingxue had no idea what prompted the sudden change of heart, but the gesture pleased her nonetheless.

Buoyed by her good mood, she slipped into Yun Chun’s dream.

Or rather, she crafted a liminal space caught between dream and reality. Here, Lu Qingxue could truly feel Yun Chun’s warmth, and Yun Chun could experience her touch, her body heat—sensations impossible in the waking world.

To Yun Chun, though, everything that unfolded after she drifted off was simply a dream.

The moment she realized she was dreaming of the woman again, Yun Chun’s first thought was: Damn, there really is a ghost.

~~~

It was the same as before.

Her eyes were still blindfolded, and to prevent her from removing the cloth, her arms were bound wide to either bedpost.

Yun Chun found herself begrudging the iron-barred headboard of her cheap rental bed only in moments like these.

She didn’t struggle, though. Perhaps after so many encounters, a strange rapport had formed with the woman; she was too indolent to fight it. Against her, Yun Chun felt utterly helpless and could only yield to whatever she desired.

Yun Chun lay splayed in a somewhat sloppy starfish on the bed, perfectly still. Lu Qingxue knelt at her side, her gaze lingering on the other woman’s lowered eyelids.

But Yun Chun had no inkling where Lu Qingxue was or that she was being watched.

In a world of darkness, everything remained unknown.

She could be reclining in some celestial paradise—or trapped in a lightless dungeon.

Fortunately, she was still clothed. The fabric against her skin offered a fragile thread of security, despite the blindfold and restraints.

Yet that scant comfort eroded away in the prolonged silence, devoured gradually by the heavy, humid air of the midnight hush.

Like the helpless sinking into quicksand.

When the last vestige of reassurance vanished, Yun Chun’s tongue darted out anxiously, moistening her parched lips.

In the dim glow, the trail of her tongue left them glistening.

Unaware of how provocatively alluring the gesture made her, Yun Chun parted her lips slightly. Her throat rasped with thirst: “Are… are you there?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she bit her tongue in silent reproach. Of course the woman was there—if not, Yun Chun wouldn’t be trussed up like this.

The next instant brought a soft laugh, as if her question were the height of endearing folly.

The voice was crystalline and ethereal, like moonlight crushed into shimmering fragments.

Yun Chun pursed her lips, straining to pinpoint its source: to the left of her body.

With the location confirmed, she ventured another question: “Are you… a ghost?”

Expecting more laughter, she was met instead by the faintest murmur: “Mm.”

Just as she’d suspected.

For reasons she couldn’t quite name, that confirmation steadied something deep within her chest.

Far from fear, a strange calm settled over her.

She turned the fact over in her mind—that this woman was truly a ghost—then pressed on: “Why me? Is there something wrong with this apartment?”

“Or did I unknowingly offend you somehow?”

“What’s your name?”

“Why have you been… kissing me all this time?”

“Why won’t you talk? Are you really mute? Ghosts can’t be mute, can they?”

Yun Chun was convinced the woman could speak. Yet barrage after barrage of questions yielded nothing.

She fell silent for a beat, then proposed: “Alright, let me rephrase. If the first choice is correct, hum once. If it’s the second, touch me once.”

Even a mute could play along. As long as the woman cooperated without deceit, Yun Chun could glean some truths.

She opted to begin with the simplest query—no reason to lie about this one.

“Are you the older sister type… or the younger sister type?”

She lingered softly over “sister,” the words carrying an unintended lilt of flirtation.

It wasn’t deliberate; at her job, she tossed out such endearments constantly, and habit had laced her question with workplace charm.

Lu Qingxue’s eyebrows arched.

Yun Chun waited several seconds after asking. No hum came. No touch.

She frowned faintly. “Too tricky to answer?”

It was Yun Chun’s habit never to badger someone who evaded a question—it came off as rude and left a poor impression.

As she pondered her follow-up, a voice arose beside her ear, thrilling like the heart’s first leap at winter’s inaugural snowfall.

“What do you hope I am?”

The tone was soft and remote, akin to the night sky’s most isolated star.

Yet no sooner had Lu Qingxue spoken than her gaze fixed intently on Yun Chun, probing for any hint of bewilderment at the sound.

Yun Chun went rigid for two heartbeats before realizing the voice was real. She exhaled sharply.

You can talk but choose not to. Toying with me?

She let out a cool, derisive huff. “What you are doesn’t matter anymore. I know one thing—you’re no mute.”

Drawing a steadying breath to mask her agitation in the woman’s eyes, she exhaled slowly and asked: “Then why stay silent before?”

Lu Qingxue’s stare held steady. Aside from initial shock at her voice, Yun Chun betrayed no other reaction—a flicker of quiet disappointment stirred in her, soon dismissed. Unburdened now, she propped herself on the bed and leaned slightly toward Yun Chun’s prone form. Her finger prodded the woman’s plush cheek: “No time.”

Yun Chun: “…”

What kind of answer was that?

How could there be no time to speak?

Reflecting on their encounters, enlightenment dawned. All those speechless moments had been devoted to kissing her.

True enough—with her mouth occupied, talking was impossible.

Yun Chun parted her lips. “So you’re a lustful ghost.”