Chapter 1

“Yuan Yuan, let me tell you something.”

“…You’re not serious, are you?”

“Yeah… it’s been two weeks.”

“Song Qian!!!” A young girl in the milk tea shop suddenly shouted.

The shop was bustling that afternoon with plenty of customers, mostly couples lost in their sweet nothings. Her outburst drew every eye in the place.

Song Qian flushed under the stares and tugged the girl closer, whispering fiercely, “Why did you have to yell that?!”

“My dear little ancestor, you never learn, do you?” Yuan Yuan shot her a look of utter exasperation, finally jabbing a finger at her forehead in frustration.

“Didn’t Ji Shixing fool you enough last time? And now, not even that long after, you’re in love again?”

Song Qian backed away from her hand, her gaze flickering guiltily as she mumbled without much conviction, “This time’s different. She’s sweet and adorable.”

“She really likes me. She wouldn’t trick me.”

Yuan Yuan: “…” That’s exactly what you said last time.

If anyone hadn’t witnessed true love-struck idiocy, Yuan Yuan would drag Song Qian out to show them firsthand what pure, unadulterated love brain looked like.

She couldn’t fathom why Song Qian was so obsessed with dating. Call her a player? She threw herself into every relationship with total sincerity. Say she was loyal to love? She’d already cycled through three or four girlfriends.

Wasn’t being single great? Wasn’t going solo awesome?

Yuan Yuan glanced at the couple at the next table. The boy gazed at his girl with pure adoration as she threw a little tantrum, patiently coaxing her along.

“…” Okay, fine. It stung a bit sometimes.

But! That didn’t shake Yuan Yuan’s resolve to stay a lone wolf!

“Don’t come crying to me when you break up.”

~~~

That evening, Song Qian took her new girlfriend out to dinner. Afterward, they strolled hand in hand along the street.

Song Qian gazed at her girlfriend’s serene, sweet profile and thought, This time, I won’t pick wrong again.

She and her little girlfriend had met in the club, trading messages back and forth for a pleasant month.

“Qianqian, can we buy some flowers?” The girl pointed pleadingly at a roadside flower stall.

“Sure, let’s get some.” A girl who loved flowers had to have a pure, beautiful heart.

Seeing her girlfriend’s satisfied smile as she clutched the bouquet lifted Song Qian’s spirits too.

Ding-dong. A notification pinged on her phone. Song Qian unlocked the screen to see her girlfriend’s social media post: The flowers from my favorite person—the ones I love most. Followed by three shiny red hearts.

Song Qian’s heart swelled with contentment, her lovely peach-blossom eyes crinkling almost shut.

She’d only skimmed it quickly and didn’t think anything was off about the post that only she had liked. They were in the same club with plenty of mutual friends, after all.

While Song Qian basked in that joyful glow, the girl beside her had already forwarded photos of the flowers to her group chats twice: Aren’t they pretty? Too bad I had to buy them myself to “gift” them to myself.

The hint couldn’t have been more obvious.

After walking her girlfriend back to the South River University Dormitory, Song Qian returned to her 404 Rental Apartment. She was a South River University student too, just living off-campus for personal reasons.

After bidding her goodnight, Song Qian fell asleep fast, as always.

In a hazy daze, she seemed to drift into the living room, slumped on the sofa and staring blankly at the pitch-black TV screen.

In her dream, Song Qian frowned. She realized she was dreaming again.

Her dream-self’s eyes sharpened as she took in the surroundings—white mist everywhere, her heart pounding. It felt like the Underworld; she could only see a few meters ahead before the fog swallowed everything.

A slender, pale hand reached from the side, draping around Song Qian’s neck. In her peripheral vision, she caught a flash of red.

Song Qian’s back went rigid. A woman’s soft breath ghosted past her ear.

This wasn’t her first time with this dream. Come to think of it, it always happened when she started dating.

A woman in a flowing red gown hung off Song Qian, who was clad in pajamas. The woman’s lips were blood-red, but her face was deathly pale—like she’d been dead three days and still hadn’t turned as white.

Song Qian’s lips quivered. “Sis… long time no see.”

The woman ignored her, trailing icy fingers along Song Qian’s warm neck.

Such a fragile neck—snap it, and it’d break.

The woman wasn’t the only one thinking that. Song Qian’s legs were already shaking uncontrollably.

The next instant, cold lips pressed to hers. Song Qian squeezed her eyes shut in resignation.

Even a wet dream should feature someone normal—soft and sweet like other girls. Why was hers always an ice-cold… female ghost?

Her one moment of intimacy, and it was in a dream with this ferocious specter.

The female ghost pulled away after one kiss, eyeing Song Qian with faint disdain.

Song Qian: “…”

She’d definitely brushed her teeth before bed.

The female ghost slid off her, elegantly smoothing her disheveled gown. Then, as if it were the most natural thing, she snatched the remote from the coffee table and flicked on the TV.

“…”

Song Qian stared at the melodramatic soap opera, her expression complicated. This ghost’s tastes were… unique. Even her mom didn’t watch these cheesy tearjerkers anymore.

Sensing Song Qian’s gaze, the female ghost turned slowly, her voice chilling the air: “You’re going to be late.”

“???”

Before Song Qian could process it, she jolted awake in bed and glanced at the alarm clock.

“Nine o’clock!!! Shit! First period starts now!”

She scrambled through washing up and grabbing her stuff, dashing to campus. Luckily, no roll call. She hunched over and slipped in through the back door.

She’d run all the way from her apartment without stopping. Sitting down, she panted hard—for a homebody college kid, that sprint was murder.

May sunshine streamed perfectly through the window, bathing Song Qian’s profile. Her long lashes cast shadows under her eyes.

The boy next to her noticed the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead and kindly offered a tissue.

Song Qian glanced at him, startled for a second, then thanked him and took it.

No wonder she was surprised. It was getting hot in May, but this guy was bundled up tight, even wearing a hat.

After catching her breath, Song Qian’s thoughts cleared.

Recalling last night’s dream paled her face again. The icy grip on her neck returned vividly. How did that ghost know she had first period today?

She shook it off quickly. It was her dream; the ghost was her imagination. The warning was probably just her subconscious freaking out about the early class.

Ghosts didn’t exist.

Song Qian was a staunch atheist, scoffing at supernatural nonsense.

She checked her phone. The first message was from her cute, obedient girlfriend: Lunch together?

Her lips curved up uncontrollably. Song Qian typed back fast: “Sure.”

College classes weren’t too strict. Song Qian majored in philosophy—not her passion, downright boring, really. She’d been waitlisted into South River City’s top school but still scraped by at the bottom.

She had some fame at South River University, though not for smarts. It was her face.

Average grades, killer looks—that was the first impression.

She usually napped or zoned out in class, but today she was on task for these two periods, even taking proper notes. If you ignored the fact that the notebook didn’t match the lecture.

The boy beside her peeked over casually.

“…”

Mixing up textbooks was one thing, but Song Qian was jotting philosophy notes in a steamy romance novel. He clearly saw her scribble next to “I love you”: “True love transcends life,” quoting the prof verbatim.

He didn’t get it.

After the boy’s repeated shock at her notes, the class finally ended. Song Qian slung her bag and bolted out the back.

The boy quietly packed up. He slipped a green leaf between the yellowed book pages by his hand.

Song Qian arrived early at their lunch spot, as she liked to be the punctual one.

Her soft features put people at ease, sparking goodwill. Sure enough, two shy guys approached for her number after a bit.

She politely turned them down. But in her peripheral vision, something chilled her to the core.

Her sweet girlfriend was cozied up, arm linked affectionately with a guy.

A bad feeling surged. Song Qian’s smile faded. The rejected boys nearby fidgeted, clueless why the pretty girl looked pissed.

Embarrassment flooded the male student’s mind. Pinching his fingers together, he flushed bright red and bolted away.

Song Qian blinked in stunned silence for a moment before shifting her attention back to the pair chatting and laughing nearby.

What if he was her brother?

The thought hadn’t even settled when her girlfriend rose on tiptoe and planted a kiss on “brother’s” lips.

“…”

Song Qian gritted her teeth.

The two parted ways at the corner. As her girlfriend glanced back, she spotted Song Qian—her face stiffened for the briefest instant before smoothing over.

She assumed Song Qian hadn’t seen a thing. Why else would she be smiling like that?

Sauntering over, she bent down to wrap Song Qian in a hug and cooed sweetly, “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Song Qian replied, playing it as if nothing had happened.

Her girlfriend exhaled in relief and headed for the bathroom.

She hadn’t noticed her phone sitting unlocked on the table. Song Qian even suspected it had been left that way on purpose—the glaring contact name read: Pretty ATM.

Expressionless, Song Qian powered off the phone. This kind of ridiculous betrayal wasn’t the first she’d faced.

Nearly every relationship had ended the same way: her getting cheated on. As Yuan Yuan put it, she’d turned into a professional cuckold.

Dreaming of that woman the night before had given Song Qian a bad feeling—like another green hat was coming her way. But she hadn’t expected it quite so soon.

It was downright eerie. Every time she started dating someone, she’d soon dream of cozying up with the female ghost… and then get cheated on without fail.

As an atheist, though, Song Qian refused to buy into that nonsense. Once she’d noticed the pattern, she’d gone back through every past romance. They all matched perfectly.

This time was no different.

When her girlfriend returned, Song Qian suggested they break up. No arguments, no drama—they parted on calm terms.

A shiver crawled up Song Qian’s spine. There was no heartbreak from the breakup, just an inexplicable chill.

People streamed by on the bustling street, but Song Qian had no clue where to go. Even with the sun shining brightly overhead, she didn’t dare head back to that little apartment.

“There are no ghosts in this world. It’s all just people scaring themselves.”

South River City, Lingchan Temple—

“Master, I’ve been dealing with something strange lately.”