Lu Qingxue’s pale, almost greenish hand stood out starkly amid Yun Chun’s glossy black hair. As she ran her fingers through it, they were gradually swallowed up by the smooth strands.
It felt like sinking into paradise, her fingertips brushing against a softness that was fluffy and yielding, tickling at her heart.
Unfortunately, Lu Qingxue could only sense the faintest trace of it. Even that slight sensation was enough to make her eyes shimmer. She didn’t dare imagine what it would feel like if she were still alive, touching Yun Chun with fingertips warmed by body heat.
Her downward gaze naturally fell on the crown of Yun Chun’s head. Realizing their current position, Lu Qingxue hastily withdrew her hand.
She had just remembered her golden retriever from her living days. Whenever she wanted to reward it with a head pat, she would strike this exact pose. She had only meant to stop Yun Chun at first; the ruffling had been pure instinct. Though she intended nothing else by it, Lu Qingxue still murmured softly, “Sorry.”
The sudden apology jolted Yun Chun back to her senses. In an instant, she felt the pressure on her head vanish.
But Lu Qingxue’s hand didn’t pull away all at once. Instead, it lingered reluctantly, withdrawing slowly like threads of silk reluctantly parting.
Her fingertips slipped from Yun Chun’s hair little by little, like stars faintly glimmering as night deepened.
For some reason, Yun Chun’s face flushed red.
She was certain it had nothing to do with Lu Qingxue ruffling her hair. No, it was that “Silly” comment—or perhaps the implication in Lu Qingxue’s follow-up, that she was overthinking things too simply. Either way, it left her feeling deeply embarrassed.
It was an awkward flush.
Not bashfulness.
After reassuring herself of that once more, she inwardly shot back, I’m not silly.
Feeling Lu Qingxue’s hand finally leave her head completely, Yun Chun calmly clutched the scraps of paper she’d picked up and rose to her feet.
She wasn’t in a hurry to toss the paper away. No, she just wanted to stand and look at Lu Qingxue.
She needed to confirm whether this was truly the Lu Qingxue she remembered.
But the moment she lifted her eyelids, before Yun Chun could make out the ghost’s features clearly, she snapped her eyes shut again.
“You…” Yun Chun hesitated.
“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
A laugh answered her. “What clothes do ghosts wear?”
“So you’re all just running around naked?”
Yun Chun smacked her lips. “When I die, I won’t end up naked too, will I?”
The question seemed to charm her, drawing another light laugh.
Not wanting to tease Yun Chun any further, Lu Qingxue replied, “No, just me.”
“My clothes are held together by my will,” Lu Qingxue explained. “I forgot to maintain them for a second back there—you made me laugh.”
Yun Chun: “…”
Was she really that amusing?
Then Lu Qingxue spoke again. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”
Yun Chun didn’t dare do so rashly.
“What do you mean, your clothes are maintained by will?” she asked. “What about other ghosts?”
“The stuff others burn for me is all trash—I hate it. Too lazy to go shopping for new clothes, so I just imagine what I want.”
“Think… and you get it?”
“If you’ve got the power, yeah.”
Yun Chun was only half convinced.
Still, she kept her eyes shut.
Her mind was filled with the image of that alluring figure from moments ago.
But then she reasoned it out. The other woman had already seen her naked ages ago. One quick glance in return hardly mattered.
Back when she modeled, crowded dressing rooms during hectic shows meant stripping and changing right there on the spot. Everyone was too focused on work to notice anyone else.
To Yun Chun, it was just a body.
Nothing worth gawking at.
Besides, Lu Qingxue had said it was fine to look. No reason to lie.
Cautiously, Yun Chun cracked her eyes open just a slit. She saw Lu Qingxue draped in a stylish white spaghetti-strap maxi dress that fully covered her. Relieved, Yun Chun let her guard down.
Her gaze flicked over the dress only briefly before settling on Lu Qingxue’s face.
She zeroed in on the outer corner of the left eye. In her memory, Lu Qingxue had a tiny beauty mark right there.
And this ghost had one in exactly the same spot.
Like a veil of mist after rain, hazy and indistinct, it stirred a long-buried fragment from Yun Chun’s memory.
Their villages bordered each other. Yun Chun knew Lu Qingxue because her mother had taken her to visit Lu Qingxue’s house a few times. They’d crossed paths a handful of occasions but exchanged few words.
It was a small town—schools only in villages or the township, topping out at junior high. High school meant heading to the city. By chance, both she and Lu Qingxue had attended the township school, but Lu Qingxue was five grades ahead. The year Yun Chun started fifth grade, Lu Qingxue had already finished junior high and left for high school in the city.
The one day that felt like real connection, Yun Chun remembered vividly.
It was a morning when the junior high graduates returned to campus for their class photos.
Beneath the old locust tree on school grounds, dappled shade swaying, cicadas droning in waves.
The sky was an endless blue, the breeze gentle. Then she entered Yun Chun’s line of sight—a strikingly beautiful girl.
Yun Chun had forgotten the details of what happened. She only recalled Lu Qingxue handing her a lollipop and gently ruffling her hair with a warm smile.
Yun Chun never ate that lollipop. She kept it tucked in a box, but later…
It vanished somewhere. She never tasted it.
To this day, she had no idea what flavor it was.
After Lu Qingxue started high school, they bumped into each other a few times during winter and summer breaks, exchanging brief words. But then Lu Qingxue’s family moved away, and they hadn’t seen each other since.
Eight or nine years, by her count.
And now this was how they reunited.
She couldn’t quite name the feeling.
Usually quick with words, Yun Chun’s tongue tripped over itself. “How… how did you die?”
Lu Qingxue’s lips curved. “How am I supposed to answer that?”
Yun Chun realized what a foolish question it was and smacked her lips. “Sorry. I just… couldn’t wrap my head around it.”
Lu Qingxue’s curiosity piqued at the second half. “Couldn’t accept that I’m gone? Or that we’ve been bound in a ghost marriage?”
Had she learned of Lu Qingxue’s death before Aunt Ping’s call, she definitely wouldn’t have accepted it. Lu Qingxue was only six years older, right? Two years ago, according to Aunt Ping—that meant she’d died at twenty-six…
In the prime of life.
Even knowing about the ghost marriage, the shock of her death hit harder.
Yun Chun wanted to ask how it happened, but the words died on her tongue.
What would be the point? It would only sate her curiosity—nothing more. It couldn’t bring Lu Qingxue back, and it might just dredge up painful memories.
She swallowed the question, paused, then replied softly, “Both, I suppose.”
Lu Qingxue let out an “Oh.”
She hovered in the air, towering over Yun Chun. Bending slightly at the waist, she brought her face close. “Long time no see. Happy to see me?”
Yun Chun’s heart skipped a beat.
It wasn’t just the question—it was Lu Qingxue’s face.
She could dismiss the naked body as mere flesh and blood, but she couldn’t do the same with that face. It wasn’t just features; it was her.
This face had stunned her as a child. It did so still.
But what was with that question? Why “happy”—a word laced with delight?
For old acquaintances reuniting, “long time no see” would have sufficed.
Yun Chun took half a step back, eyes downcast as she murmured, “Too scared for any happiness.”
The reply was icy, colder even than Lu Qingxue’s touchless chill.
She drifted after Yun Chun toward the sofa.
When Yun Chun sat, Lu Qingxue settled beside her.
“Scared? You don’t seem frightened of me at all.”
Yun Chun lifted her cup for a sip of water, then flashed Lu Qingxue a smile. “You’re not going to hurt me.”
That smile silenced Lu Qingxue’s questions.
She crossed her legs and gazed steadily at Yun Chun.
Unaware, Yun Chun mulled over Lu Qingxue’s earlier words after her response.
The part that came after “Silly.”
From the sound of it, Lu Qingxue rejected this ghost marriage too.
Setting her cup down, Yun Chun turned to her side. “So how do we undo this bond between us?”
Lu Qingxue propped her elbow on the sofa backrest, hand cradling her temple. Her body tilted fluidly, like water, her waist dipping bonelessly.
Lazily, she drawled, “You might want to ask that Master Xu you mentioned.”
Right!
Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Enlightened, Yun Chun whipped out her phone and fired off a message to Xu Lanmeng. As she typed, she asked, “You really don’t know?”
Watching Yun Chun scramble for a solution hit Lu Qingxue like that first moment when she’d spoken and Yun Chun hadn’t recognized her voice—her eyes darkened faintly. But she knew she had no say in it.
If their positions were reversed, bound inexplicably to some dead stranger, she’d reject it too.
Even with someone she knew, it’d feel awkward. Unsettling.
That Yun Chun hadn’t fainted—that she sat here holding a calm conversation—spoke to impressive mental resilience.
With a faint sigh, Lu Qingxue answered honestly. “Like I said: if I knew a way, I’d have told you.”
Yun Chun murmured an “Oh.”
She’d already sent the message to Xu Lanmeng.
It was nearly five in the morning, though—no guarantee of a quick reply. She set the phone on the coffee table and turned to Lu Qingxue. “I’m heading back to my hometown tomorrow.”
She added, “I’m going to your house. Do you… have any message for your parents?”
Lu Qingxue paused, then shook her head. “No.”
“No?” Yun Chun pondered for a moment, then suddenly realized. “Oh, can you appear in front of them? Just like right now.”
Her body was ice-cold, her face and skin utterly devoid of color… yet she could sit, stand, and speak.
She was indistinguishable from a living person.
The moment Yun Chun finished speaking, Lu Qingxue kept her hand propped against her forehead unchanged. Her other hand slowly rose from behind her back, elbow resting against her hip bone. Her slender fingers curled gradually, beckoning Yun Chun to draw closer.
Before she knew it, Yun Chun found herself right in front of Lu Qingxue.
Lu Qingxue reached out and pinched Yun Chun’s nose. “Of course not.”
She released her grip, her fingertip drifting to Yun Chun’s forehead. She tapped it lightly twice and said, “You can see me right now because there’s a connection between us. Ordinary people can hardly see me at all.”
Lu Qingxue’s fingers were very cold, like snow itself. The touch on her forehead felt like snow melting away, cool and refreshing.
Under that cool sensation, Yun Chun’s wits sharpened by a few seconds. She grasped Lu Qingxue’s finger, her tone probing and slightly serious as she asked, “So if I dissolve our ghost marriage, I won’t be able to see you anymore?”
Lu Qingxue glanced at the captured hand, replying offhandedly, “You could put it that way.”
With those words, the hand Yun Chun held grew restless. The topmost finger joint bent and flexed, hooking into Yun Chun’s palm.
Her eyelids lifted slowly, her gaze rising to Yun Chun’s face. She smiled.
“Will you bear to let me go this time?”
