Chapter 2

The lights blazed brightly throughout Apartment 404—the kitchen, living room, bedroom, and even the bathroom all illuminated. Song Qian didn’t care about the electricity bill. In the face of the immense terror gripping her heart, what did a bit of frugality matter?

She huddled under the covers, a chill creeping up her back as she clutched the cross she’d begged for that afternoon.

When she’d received it, something had felt off instinctively, but it came from the “master,” and she didn’t know the intricacies. Better to have it than not, right?

It was just past eight o’clock. Which young person didn’t stay up late these days? Burrowed in bed, Song Qian couldn’t sleep. For one thing, it was too early; for another, she was too afraid that drifting off would bring another dream.

The stuffy air under the covers made breathing difficult. She lifted the blanket from her head to catch her breath. The room quieted, filled only with the ticking of the clock and the sound of her own respiration.

The harsh glare of the lights gave her a measure of security. She slipped the cross around her neck, climbed out of bed, and poured herself a glass of water.

The cool liquid slid down her throat, bringing a wave of satisfying relief that finally quelled the fear that had haunted her all day.

Calm now, Song Qian let out a self-deprecating laugh. She was just borrowing trouble. Ghosts in modern society? Please.

A cool breeze wafted in through the window, lightening her mood. She considered turning off the exterior lights but hesitated and silently climbed back into bed instead.

She could spare the electricity bill.

The rest of the night passed as usual: she played some games, scrolled through the news, and stayed up until one or two in the morning.

Her eyelids grew heavy. She set her phone aside, rolled over, and fell asleep—without bothering to turn off the lights.

The clock ticked steadily onward, each sound striking her heart. That rhythmic noise was the most soporific thing for her. Just as the ticking began to fade from her awareness, a woman’s soft chuckle sounded right by her ear.

Someone!

Goosebumps erupted across her skin. Song Qian instinctively gripped the blanket tight.

Had she dreamed again?

Her fingers dug into her palm through the thin fabric, delivering a sharp, real sting of pain.

But…

As Song Qian agonized over whether she was asleep or awake, someone suddenly lifted the cross from around her neck. The red string trailed across her cheek, bringing a faint itch.

“This is… a cross?”

“!!!!”

Song Qian shuddered violently. She was certain now! She wasn’t asleep!

That woman was in her home—right beside her!

For a woman living alone, nothing could be more terrifying than a stranger appearing in her own house, especially if that stranger might not even be human.

Song Qian lost control of her body. Her teeth chattered, producing a faint clacking sound.

An icy hand cupped her face, and she slowly—almost “willingly”—opened her eyes. The piercing overhead light nearly blinded her.

God, she didn’t want to look. She really didn’t want to look!

When her vision refocused, she made out the woman lying next to her… No, the female ghost, clad in that familiar red dress with her ghastly pale face.

“Sis—good evening.” Song Qian forced out a bitter smile. She was on the verge of tears.

This time, the woman frowned, her red lips parting. “Ji Wuxin.”

Song Qian stared blankly. The female ghost repeated, “My name is Ji Wuxin.”

In the next instant, Ji Wuxin broke into a radiant smile and leaned over her, gazing down with warm affection. “Baby, did you miss me?”

Song Qian: “…”

The abrupt shift caught her off guard. In her previous dreams, the ghost had only given her cold, indifferent kisses. Why was she so… enthusiastic now?

Seeing Song Qian frozen in shock, Ji Wuxin removed the cross from her neck and examined it from both sides before grinning. “Baby, this thing wards off vampires. It’s Western gear.”

“It doesn’t work on me. I’m an Eastern product.”

Song Qian: “…”

No wonder the cross was useless against a homegrown ghost. She should’ve grabbed some garlic! Black Dog Blood! A Peachwood Sword!

When Song Qian still didn’t respond, Ji Wuxin planted a big smooch on her lips, complete with an audible smack.

Song Qian was utterly bewildered. What breed of ghost was this? No vendettas, no draining Yang Qi—just endless kisses.

As Song Qian’s body grew even stiffer, a flicker of frustration flashed in Ji Wuxin’s eyes, vanishing too quickly to notice.

She climbed off Song Qian and straightened her red skirt as usual. After these experiments, she’d confirmed one thing: it wasn’t that she couldn’t seduce people; Song Qian was simply sexually frigid.

Ji Wuxin shot a disdainful glance at the dazed woman on the bed, tsked in annoyance, and headed to the living room. She still had dramas to catch up on.

The anguished wails of a woman on the living room TV drifted out, lamenting her choice in a husband. Song Qian’s mind wandered far afield.

No wonder her electricity bill was sky-high even though she spent most of her time at school and rarely stayed home. She’d checked the meter over and over with no issues, suspecting the landlord of scamming her. She never imagined a ghost was binge-watching shows in her apartment at night!

In that heated moment, Song Qian forgot she was dealing with a ghost. She charged out and bellowed, “Do you have any idea how expensive electricity is these days!?”

…The room fell utterly silent, save for the whisper of the wind.

Ji Wuxin turned to look at her.

Song Qian: “…”

She wished she could fling herself out the window. How had she dared yell at a ghost like that?

The air hung heavy with silence for three full minutes before Ji Wuxin turned back to the television, completely ignoring her.

Song Qian’s palms grew slick with sweat. Amid the fear earlier, she’d pinched herself—and it had hurt.

Her atheist worldview had crumbled in an instant. Her mind went blank, her legs felt weighted with lead, and cold sweat drenched her temples.

After half an hour of mental wrestling, Song Qian finally mustered the courage to approach the sofa. She perched in a far corner, a full meter from the female ghost.

“Um, are you… human or…” She clung to a sliver of hope.

“Not human.” Ji Wuxin didn’t spare her a glance.

Song Qian choked back a response, twisting her fingers before pressing on. “Then what are you doing in my home? Do you need something?”

Ji Wuxin blinked, and her pitch-black eye sockets transformed into normal human eyes, complete with pupils and whites. That deathly pale face even took on an attractive hue as she frowned possessively. “This is my home.”

Song Qian: “…???”

I’d just paid the rent, and now you claim it’s yours!? I’m the one footing the bill for your binge sessions!

Of course, she didn’t voice any of that, settling for silent inward grumbling.

Noticing Song Qian’s rigid expression, Ji Wuxin added, “I woke up here. That makes it my home.”

Oh, what an unreasonable ghost, Song Qian thought woodenly.

After agonizing deliberation, she finally voiced her most pressing question. “Why do you always show up in my dreams and… kiss me whenever I’m dating someone?”

The query struck a nerve with Ji Wuxin. She was a seductive ghost, but she lacked the signature arts of her kind—seduction and enchantment.

She had a circle of little ghost friends who adored her, but nothing like the obsessive passion from the dramas she watched. She’d seen Jiao Niang bewitch men, driving them to mindless devotion, even willing to surrender their lives.

Ji Wuxin was powerful and stunning, renowned in the local Ghost Circle. Yet no one had ever witnessed her performing a seductive ghost’s duties. One day, another ghost had challenged her: “Are you really a seductive ghost?”

What a joke. She was Ji Wuxin, the most beautiful seductive ghost around! So she’d set out to prove it.

Song Qian had been her unlucky target. But Ji Wuxin hadn’t anticipated the frigid response. What rotten luck!

Ji Wuxin ignored the question and turned back to the television.

And so they sat in utter silence for the rest of the night, with Song Qian watching three episodes alongside her.

Dawn crept in, and exhaustion weighed down Song Qian’s eyelids. She propped her head on one elbow against the sofa arm.

How could a ghost stay up so late? She even sat through the full opening and ending themes.

As the credits rolled on the final episode, Song Qian watched the female ghost switch off the TV and stretch languidly.

“Daybreak. Time for bed.”

Song Qian: “…”

Turning, Ji Wuxin caught sight of Song Qian’s complicated expression. Had this woman really stuck around all night?

“Why haven’t you left yet?”

She’d been petrified at the sight of her last night, cross at the ready. Now she was glued to her side.

A thought sparked in Ji Wuxin’s mind. Glued to her side? Had she fallen for her?!

Ji Wuxin grew smug. She knew it—no one could resist her charms.

With a confident curl at the corner of her lips, Ji Wuxin strode up to Song Qian and extended her hand. Nestled in her palm was a tiny jade pendant threaded onto a red string.

“I know you can’t bear to part with me. Here, put this on—I’ll always be right by your side.”

Song Qian looked up at her in bewilderment. “???” What on earth was this?

Ji Wuxin saw no response, just Song Qian staring at her, and smugly assumed she had completely enchanted her. With feigned thoughtfulness, she looped the jade pendant around Song Qian’s neck. “Don’t take it off, alright?”

So what if she was sexually aloof? Ji Wuxin didn’t mind too much. As long as Song Qian had fallen for her, that proved she was a qualified seductive ghost.

She gave Song Qian’s head a pat, then dissolved into a wisp of green smoke that slowly seeped into the jade pendant.

The jaw-dropping sight jolted Song Qian fully awake. She had just watched a living person—no, a living ghost—vanish into thin air before her very eyes!

Reaching up, she touched the pendant dangling against her chest. It felt cool and smooth, just like that ghost.

But why did this jade pendant seem so familiar?

She pondered for ages but couldn’t place it. After changing into fresh clothes in the bedroom, Song Qian’s phone rang—it was Yuan Yuan.

Their club was recruiting new members and needed someone to serve as the public face.

On the campus of South River University—

“What a pretty face. Just tough it out for a bit—lunch is on me.” Yuan Yuan pinched Song Qian’s cheek. She was stuffed into a full-body mascot costume.

With that, Yuan Yuan yanked the bear head over Song Qian’s, leaving not a trace of her visible.

Song Qian: “…” Some “public face” this was.

Yuan Yuan hawked flyers and called out to passersby while Song Qian waved her sign limply back and forth. Onlookers glanced her way, deciding the bear looked wilted and utterly spiritless.

Her arms grew heavy from the waving, drooping lower and lower. Song Qian was on the verge of nodding off right there on her feet.

In her drowsy haze, she vaguely heard—

“Hey, classmate, want to join our club?”

“Nah. Is this bear part of your group too?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Then, can I give it a hug?”

The words hadn’t even finished when a sharp pain stabbed Song Qian’s waist, snapping her wide awake.

Someone had grabbed the soft flesh there and given it a vicious twist.

A chill gust whispered in her ear, brimming with menace: “No hugging!”

Ji Wuxin’s voice made Song Qian jerk fully alert. The pinch on her waist had her grimacing in agony. Thank goodness for the bear head—otherwise, her embarrassing grimace would have been on full display.

What she didn’t realize was that to everyone else, the mascot bear was twisting and jerking like it was in the throes of a stroke.

Yuan Yuan: “…”

Well played. The “public face” was in ruins.

~~~