More and more onlookers gathered around. Yuan Yuan shielded her face with a flyer and tugged the stumbling bear mascot over, whispering, “What on earth are you doing? Even if you want to dance, you can’t do it like that!”
“If you’re so set on dancing, go home and do it. Break a leg for all I care.”
The mascot bear: “…”
She hadn’t wanted to, but that waist twist had hurt like hell. The ghost hadn’t shown her any mercy.
Rubbing her sore waist, Song Qian peered out from inside the mascot head and spotted a clean-cut, handsome young man staring right at her.
Who was this guy?
The young man finally noticed her gaze and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Lin Qing.”
His hand was impeccably pristine, blue veins faintly visible beneath the skin, nails neatly rounded and flawless without a single blemish. It was perfection itself.
Clearly, its owner took exquisite care of it. Song Qian had never seen such a pristine hand before.
“Song Qian.”
They shook hands briefly. He stared at her as if inspecting something foul, his gaze laced with hostility. Cutting straight to the chase, he asked, “Song, have you run into anything unscientific lately?”
Song Qian’s heart jolted. How had he figured it out?
She had something utterly unscientific clinging to her right now. Could this guy see it? A chill crept across her neck.
“…”
“Un-unscientific stuff? No way. I’m a firm believer in socialist science.” Song Qian raised her hand like she was taking an oath.
Lin Qing: “…”
“That’s not what I—”
Song Qian cut him off. “Hang on a sec.”
She yanked off the mascot head, gazing at him with wide-eyed hope. Could he see it? Could he spot the ghost on her neck?
Lin Qing froze for an instant upon seeing her face, then his eyes snapped to her chest.
Something was off…
“Hey! What the hell are you staring at?” Yuan Yuan bellowed, jumping in front of Song Qian. She glared at Lin Qing with pure disgust and fury.
He looked so squeaky clean, but he was a total pervert—trying to hug her Qianqian just moments ago. Creep!
She snatched the mascot head from Song Qian’s grip and chucked it at him. Lin Qing stepped back, caught it neatly, his cheeks tinting red as he stammered, “Misunderstanding! Total misunderstanding. I didn’t… That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” Yuan Yuan wasn’t buying a word from this guy. She shielded Song Qian like a fortress. “Your eyes were glued on! And you call it a misunderstanding?”
Song Qian knew full well Lin Qing hadn’t meant anything lecherous. He’d been eyeing the jade pendant at her chest.
But Yuan Yuan in full rage mode was terrifying. Song Qian tugged gingerly at her sleeve. “Yuan Yuan.”
Yuan Yuan clamped down on her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let these sleazy guys lay a finger on you.”
“Classmate! Hey, classmate?” Lin Qing fished a business-card-like slip from his pocket.
“Check this out. It really was just a mix-up.”
Yuan Yuan snatched it and glanced over: Special Paranormal Investigation Squad—Lin Qing.
Paranormal? So that’s what he’d meant by “unscientific”?
Her delicate brows knitted together. She flung the card back at him, fuming even more. “Pulling ghost stories? It’s the twenty-first century. Pack away your lame tricks. We’re upright kids with worldviews of steel.”
Lin Qing: “…”
Song Qian: “…”
What was Song Qian supposed to say? She really did have some unscientific issues, and for a moment, she’d hoped this guy was some legendary master who could banish the female ghost. But Yuan Yuan had slammed the door shut on that possibility.
Lin Qing’s eyes skirted past Yuan Yuan to land on Song Qian behind her. “No. 203 Qingshui Road. I can help you.”
No. 203 Qingshui Road…
Song Qian mouthed the address to herself. By the time she looked up, Lin Qing was already striding away. Yuan Yuan was still ranting at her side, calling him every name in the book.
“Paranormal Squad? Acting all chuunibyou at his age. Even my little brother’s too old for that crap. Listen, you can’t trust him. What if he lures you to some remote village and sells you off as a bride? You’d never see me again.”
Song Qian: “…” Did she really seem that easy to fool?
~~~
After two more grueling hours sweating in the bear suit, Song Qian finally broke free. She dragged Yuan Yuan to a restaurant for a well-deserved feast.
There, they bumped into Lin Qing again. He clutched a string of prayer beads, while the shop owner thanked him effusively and loaded him up with freebies.
“Real or scam? Guy looks like a total fraud. Street hustler for sure.” Yuan Yuan was a die-hard atheist with zero tolerance for paranormal nonsense.
Song Qian fingered the red string around her neck, her resolve inexplicably faltering. “What if he’s legit?”
Yuan Yuan shot her a stunned look. After years of friendship, she knew Song Qian didn’t buy into that stuff. What had changed?
Her eyes snagged on the red string at Song Qian’s neck. “Since when do you wear accessories? What’s that?”
Song Qian eased out the jade pendant. The instant she did, Lin Qing—who’d been trading compliments with the owner—whipped his head around.
“Master?” The shop owner noticed Lin Qing’s sudden silence and followed his stare. A pretty, delicate young woman sat over there.
“Is that the Master’s girlfriend?” the owner mused. Free meals next time they came.
Lin Qing narrowed his eyes. “No.”
The shop owner nodded. No comps, then.
“Isn’t this the one Uncle Ji gave you? What made you dig it out now?” Yuan Yuan mumbled through a mouthful of rice.
Her words jogged Song Qian’s memory. The jade pendant was a birthday gift from Uncle Ji a few years back. She remembered stashing it in the study afterward.
“Gotta say, it looks great on you. Perfect match.” Yuan Yuan gave her props.
Song Qian’s world spun. No, it didn’t match. She didn’t deserve it.
Her face drained of color, the jade burning in her hand like a lump of lava she itched to chuck across the river.
“Yuan Yuan, come crash at my place tonight.” Song Qian slipped the jade back inside her collar.
She’d Googled it: ghosts steer clear of crowds; the more people, the more they cower. Human life force overwhelms them.
Alone, she might not cut it, but with Yuan Yuan? No contest. That girl could verbally demolish a dozen ghosts.
Yuan Yuan’s eyes sparkled at the invite, her excitement bubbling over. “Hell yeah! We’ll grab snacks and have a blast tonight.”
Song Qian balled her fist for courage. No fear. Two against one—that ghost wouldn’t dare show its face.
That evening—
Song Qian and Yuan Yuan swung by the supermarket for groceries and munchies.
In the fruit aisle, Song Qian reached for a couple of shiny red apples.
“Get oranges.”
“You don’t like or—” The words died in Song Qian’s throat. She’d assumed it was Yuan Yuan and responded on reflex, but Yuan Yuan was still over in produce.
It was the ghost.
“Buy oranges.”
Her arm moved stiffly to the oranges, bagging a bunch and dumping them in the cart.
Yuan Yuan wandered over with two potatoes, eyeing the oranges in confusion. “Hey, why oranges? Nobody eats those.”
She hated oranges, and Song Qian never touched them.
“I’ll eat ’em.” Song Qian plastered on a fake grin.
Yuan Yuan clocked her weird vibe and muttered under her breath: Yeah, right.
By the end of the shop, Song Qian’s cart brimmed with stuff neither of them ever ate.
Yuan Yuan grabbed her arm. “You got a girlfriend crashing? You two living together now?”
Only logical explanation for all this food they’d never touch.
But Song Qian had just split from her ex! She’d jumped into something new?!
Yuan Yuan itched to rip into her, but Song Qian’s ghostly pallor gave her pause. “Your face is ashen. You sick?”
“Nah, just chilly maybe.” Song Qian wailed silently inside. Half her haul wasn’t even for her—she had to feed herself and a freeloading ghost now!
May evenings weren’t exactly freezing, though a breeze did kick up. Yuan Yuan let it slide, figuring she was under the weather.
Laden with bags big and small, they got home. Song Qian fetched Yuan Yuan’s dedicated slippers—she kept doubles for her frequent sleepovers.
Once unpacked, Yuan Yuan kicked back and flicked on the TV like it was her own place.
Decades-old tunes filled the rental apartment, sending shivers down Song Qian’s spine.
When a sappy family melodrama popped up, Yuan Yuan gawked for a beat before whipping around to Song Qian, jabbing a finger at the screen. “You good? Even my mom’s over this garbage.”
Song Qian scanned the room—no ghost in sight—and killed the TV fast. “Just killing time, y’know.”
“You’re off today. Super weird.” Yuan Yuan eyed the kitchen, then the bedroom. “You hiding somebody?”
“Nope.” Song Qian’s voice quavered with guilt.
Yuan Yuan hauled herself up for a full sweep, poking into every room—even the closets. Nothing. No sign of anyone else crashing there.
Everything Song Qian had done today was screaming one thing to Yuan Yuan: Song Qian was hiding someone in her home.
Back in the living room, Yuan Yuan eyed Song Qian’s back and steeled herself to march over and grill her properly about whatever the hell was going on today.
Halfway there, Yuan Yuan abruptly stopped. Song Qian was perched on the sofa, talking to thin air—or so it seemed—her tone rushed, like she was desperately trying to explain something.
Yuan Yuan instinctively assumed she was on the phone; a strand of hair dangled just right over Song Qian’s ear, perfectly concealing her Bluetooth earpiece.
As Yuan Yuan reached the sofa, she caught the tail end of an anxious, frustrated outburst: “What the hell do you want from me?”
“Who was that?” Yuan Yuan demanded.
Song Qian snapped out of it with a quick smile, clearly aiming to brush it off. “Nobody. No one at all.”
“I’ll go start dinner,” she added hastily, as if terrified Yuan Yuan might press further.
Yuan Yuan nodded, but her eyes stayed locked on Song Qian, scrutinizing every inch. A woman’s intuition was a sharp tool, and it was blaring a single message: Song Qian was definitely keeping something from her.
Whenever Yuan Yuan crashed at Song Qian’s place, it was always Song Qian who handled the cooking—her kitchen skills were seriously next-level, no contest.
Song Qian bustled around the kitchen while Yuan Yuan ambled in with an orange in hand. She roughly tore off the peel and held a small segment up to Song Qian’s mouth. “Here, eat.”
Song Qian shot her a glance, then her eyes drifted hazily past her—to the empty space right behind Yuan Yuan, as if someone were standing there.
Yuan Yuan whipped around to check. Nothing. No one.
That creepy sensation had been dogging Yuan Yuan ever since she walked through the door. Song Qian’s gaze kept skipping right over her, landing on spots that were utterly empty—not a soul, not even a shadow in sight.
Song Qian popped the orange segment into her mouth, her brows twitching in the faintest frown. A little too sour.
She hated sour things—not even the faint tang of an orange sat well with her.
“Good?” Yuan Yuan asked, watching her closely.
Song Qian nodded with a bright smile. “Delicious.”
Yuan Yuan set the rest of the orange aside and turned to leave. “Finish it up.”
Song Qian silently glanced at the spot next to where Yuan Yuan had just been standing. Hovering there was a female ghost.
The female ghost shot her a dissatisfied glare, then flicked her eyes toward the leftover half of the orange.
“You owe me three segments.”
“Oh, no—one. That one you ate isn’t whole anymore.”
Song Qian: “…”
