During dinner, Song Qian kept glancing at the empty seat beside her. Yuan Yuan stared at the floor until she thought she’d bore a hole in it, but she still couldn’t spot anything unusual.
Yuan Yuan crooked her finger and rapped on the table. The sudden sound snapped Song Qian out of her daze.
“What’s up?”
Yuan Yuan frowned at her. “What’s gotten into you today? You’ve been staring at all these random spots. What, is there a ghost in the house or something?”
Song Qian’s face drained of color at her words. Her gaze drifted back to the empty spot across from her.
She and Yuan Yuan were sitting side by side, with no one opposite them—but the chair was pulled out.
Yuan Yuan watched her expression and felt a chill crawl up her scalp. She had no idea what Song Qian was seeing.
The tension thickened. Then Song Qian suddenly burst into laughter, winking and grimacing at Yuan Yuan. “Scared ya?”
Yuan Yuan: “…”
Ji Wuxin, seated across from them: “…”
What the hell was this girl playing at?
Song Qian had originally planned to tell Yuan Yuan everything, but with this female ghost hovering right beside her—and Yuan Yuan unable to see her anyway—spilling the beans would only freak her roommate out more.
Maybe it was because she’d grown used to the ghost’s face after seeing it so much, but Song Qian wasn’t as terrified anymore. After all, this spirit hadn’t done anything harmful. She wasn’t some snarling monster from the ghost stories.
It was just past nine when they finished eating and washing up. Song Qian stepped out of the kitchen to find Yuan Yuan rummaging through the drawer under the TV for DVDs.
The house ghost was squatting right next to her, staring intently.
“!!!!”
It felt like she’d been stripped naked and dumped in the middle of the street. Song Qian went beet red, heat flooding her face in an instant.
“Qianqian, where’d you put that movie we were watching last time? Let’s finish it tonight.”
Song Qian hemmed and hawed for ages without managing a single word. She didn’t even dare glance at the pair—one human, one ghost.
“Found it!” Yuan Yuan stood up cheerfully, only to see Song Qian standing there alone, blushing for no apparent reason.
“You hot? Want me to turn on the AC?”
Song Qian looked over. The ghost seemed not to have made out what was on the disc case and was leaning in close to peer at Yuan Yuan’s hand.
“It’s not hot at all. Feels extra chilly tonight,” Yuan Yuan muttered in confusion.
Song Qian had that pure, delicate look about her—the kind that made people think she was this innocent, wholesome girl upon first glance. But only Yuan Yuan knew how naughty that “wholesome” girl really was behind closed doors!
They were two peas in a pod. Song Qian had a whole stash of uncategorizable DVDs at home, most of them courtesy of Yuan Yuan.
Yuan Yuan set out some snacks in front of the sofa, then flopped down and patted the empty spot beside her when she saw Song Qian still standing there in a daze. “Come on over.”
Song Qian’s expression was complicated, her hesitation plain. “How about we skip it tonight?”
“Why?”
“Why?”
The human and the ghost spoke at the same time. Yuan Yuan asking made sense, but why was this ghost so invested? Didn’t she prefer sappy family dramas?
Song Qian’s eyes fell on Ji Wuxin’s curvaceous figure, hugged tight by her red dress, and realization dawned. This ghost was just like those seductive spirits from TV tales—the ones that lured people in.
Remembering that dream from before, Song Qian mentally slotted her into the category.
So watching something steamy in front of a seductive ghost shouldn’t be a big deal. She probably liked that sort of thing anyway.
With that self-reassurance, Song Qian sat down between the human and the ghost, though she still felt awkward and kept her eyes down.
The movie picked up where they’d left off last time. The leads were two stunning foreign women with killer bodies.
The TV volume wasn’t too loud. Song Qian tried to tune out the sounds, focusing instead on the snacks on the table.
How much longer until this ends…
“Is the sound too low?” Yuan Yuan kindly cranked it up and tore open a bag of spiced melon seeds.
Song Qian: “…”
She’d never imagined a day when three people would be watching something like this together.
A cool breeze whispered in her left ear, followed by the female ghost’s incredulous voice. “I never would have guessed you were into stuff like this.”
Song Qian sneaked a peek sideways. The ghost was staring right at her, their four eyes locking.
“You don’t like it?”
Ji Wuxin: “…” Was she supposed to?
Yuan Yuan, unable to see Ji Wuxin and assuming Song Qian was talking to her, replied offhandedly, “It’s okay. This one’s pretty good. Realistic.”
Song Qian: “…”
One casual comment gave away how much they’d watched together.
Ji Wuxin’s gaze shifted from disbelief to puzzlement. “Even you frigid types like this?”
She’d pegged Song Qian as sexually aloof, the sort who’d be indifferent to bedroom matters.
Song Qian frowned at the words, unable to hold back. “Who said I’m frigid?”
Yuan Yuan: “Huh???”
Who said she was frigid?
Ji Wuxin stared at her, her face darkening.
Oh. So she wasn’t frigid in general—just frigid toward her.
Ji Wuxin vanished in a huff, yanking the jade pendant from Song Qian’s neck as she went.
Song Qian searched the room for ages without a glimpse of the ghost. Perplexed, she wondered what had set her off.
With the ghost gone, Song Qian’s taut body finally relaxed. The movie’s assorted sounds filtered back into her ears.
Ji Wuxin drifted through the residential complex, Song Qian’s words echoing in her mind.
She’d thought she’d successfully seduced the girl. Turns out, it had all been wishful thinking on her part.
She must be the first seductive ghost to delude herself into thinking someone had fallen for her.
“Sister Wuxin?”
Ji Wuxin turned. Somehow, she’d ended up at the pond in the complex. A little water ghost was there.
“Sister Wuxin unhappy?” The little water ghost draped itself over the pond’s edge, gazing up at her.
Ji Wuxin took a deep breath and sat down cross-legged. “Why is she so cold toward me?”
The little water ghost tilted its head, picturing a gentle-looking, clean-cut girl in its mind.
It had haunted this complex for years and knew all the residents’ faces.
“She likes girls. Female ghosts… should be fine too.” Both girls—no issue there.
“She doesn’t like me. I’ve kissed her so many times and gotten zero reaction. But when Jiao Niang kisses someone, they nearly lose their souls and still lunge forward.” Ji Wuxin felt defeated. Song Qian was her first test subject, and it looked like she was about to fail.
“Jiao Niang’s a centuries-old seductive ghost. Of course she’s got experience.”
Ji Wuxin scowled. “Are you saying I’m not pretty enough?” Jiao Niang had said a seductive ghost’s best weapon was her face.
The little water ghost: “…” What kind of logic was that?
“Want to try someone else? Maybe she’s not right for you, Sister Wuxin.”
Ji Wuxin considered it and shook her head. “She’s the prettiest one around here.”
“Whatever. Worst case, I kiss her once a day. A ghost as gorgeous as me? No way she’ll stay cold forever.”
She stood, dusted off her rear, and left with renewed determination.
The little water ghost opened its mouth, at a loss for words, then sank into the water and blew two bubbles. Better to sleep.
Ji Wuxin floated back to 404, intending to plant one on Song Qian. The living room was pitch black when she arrived.
They must have gone to bed.
She drifted into the bedroom. Her eyes sparked with fury at the sight of the two lying together on the bed.
She’s sleeping with someone else!!!
Song Qian wasn’t asleep yet. She lay there with her eyes closed, lost in thought. Gradually, she sensed something off—the room was freezing, and she didn’t remember cranking the AC that low.
She reached for the remote, but her hand brushed something icy and soft, like a cloud with texture.
Blearily opening her eyes, Song Qian made out a hazy figure. Her hand was on the figure’s leg.
“!!!”
Song Qian bolted upright, mouth agape to scream—but the sound stuck in her throat.
In the faint moonlight, she recognized the ghost who’d stormed off in a huff.
“…”
Glancing at Yuan Yuan sleeping beside her, Song Qian pointed to the door and mouthed, “Whatever it is, let’s talk outside.”
Ji Wuxin’s eyes blazed hotter. Worried she’d wake that woman up?
Human and ghost moved to the living room. Song Qian eyed the ghost, radiating resentment. “Something wrong?”
That deathly pale face didn’t scream “resentful,” but the ghost was venting black miasma. Song Qian’s instincts screamed she was pissed.
Ji Wuxin fixed her with a stare. “What’s your deal with her?”
Her?
Song Qian glanced toward the bedroom. Was she talking about Yuan Yuan?
Was the ghost mad because she’d brought a stranger home? But that was ages ago—why ask now?
“Friends.”
Ji Wuxin advanced step by step. “What kind of friends sleep together?”
Song Qian: “…”
This question felt a bit off.
Although Song Qian was no longer quite so afraid of this ghost, the way it was now wreathed in black mist with a fierce glare in its eyes made her unwilling to bet that it wouldn’t hurt her.
With her back pressed against the tea table, Song Qian swallowed hard.
Ji Wuxin placed a hand on her shoulder and could clearly feel Song Qian shudder.
“Don’t sleep with her.”
“Then… where am I supposed to sleep?” She only had one bedroom—she couldn’t very well crash on the sofa, could she?
“Sleep with me.”
Song Qian: “…”
Better the sofa, then.
Ji Wuxin frowned in dissatisfaction at her darting gaze. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”
Song Qian hesitated, unsure how to respond. As she lifted her head, she suddenly noticed the balcony window standing wide open.
Something pitch-black was crouched out there. Song Qian couldn’t make out what it was, but she was certain it was alive—and that it was staring right at her!
“What are you looking at?”
Ji Wuxin could sense the terror mirrored in Song Qian’s eyes.
Song Qian pointed a trembling finger behind her. In the moonlight, the shape resolved into focus.
It was a woman, her face hidden behind a thick curtain of matted hair, from which filthy black water dripped in rivulets. Peering through the strands, Song Qian glimpsed a face smeared with gore—and even the ghastly white bones beneath.
The woman dragged her long tresses behind her as she shuffled step by step into the living room. Song Qian’s heart leaped into her throat.
So… so this was what a real ghost looked like.
When Ji Wuxin turned and spotted the female ghost, a rare savagery flared in her eyes.
“Stay away from this room.”
The female ghost raised her head, her neck twisting with a series of grisly cracks. Her voice rasped like gravel in her throat as she murmured weakly, “Just… asking for directions.”
“Ask someone else.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The female ghost slithered slowly back down the balcony, even taking the time to close the window behind her. The floor, which had been slick with moisture moments before, was now perfectly dry.
Song Qian: “…”
So… that was how ghosts talked to each other. Blunt as a hammer.
Cowed by Ji Wuxin’s fierce display earlier, Song Qian ultimately decided to squeeze onto the sofa with her for the night.
Ji Wuxin practically draped herself over Song Qian, eyeing her bare neck before slipping the jade pendant back into place.
The pale porcelain of Song Qian’s skin made the soft green stone look stunning. Ji Wuxin smiled, her eyes curving in satisfaction.
After a night spent cradled in a ghost’s arms, Song Qian felt like she’d been shut inside a freezer.
It came as no surprise that she’d caught a cold.
Ji Wuxin, meanwhile, slumbered blissfully content. Even her complexion had lost some of its deathly pallor—the entire ghost seemed to glow with a spark of vitality.
Song Qian clutched her hot water bottle and shot her a baleful look. “Did you suck out my Yang Qi?”
