Chapter 40

Song Qian covered her eyes, but she could still faintly sense Ji Wuxin getting off the bed and slowly approaching her.

“You! Stay away from me!”

The moment Ji Wuxin had turned around earlier, Song Qian’s mind had gone completely blank. She really wasn’t wearing anything—just that thin layer of gauze draped over her body.

Song Qian’s head was filled with the image of Ji Wuxin wrapped in red gauze, the vibrant crimson making her porcelain skin look even more delicate and tender. Her chest, in particular…

“Song Sensen, why aren’t you looking at me?”

Ji Wuxin padded barefoot over to stand in front of Song Qian. It was the first time she’d worn something so sheer, and she tugged at it uncomfortably. With that pull, the gauze slipped from her shoulder down to her elbow.

Song Qian parted her fingers just a crack, catching sight of Ji Wuxin’s profile as she reached to adjust the red gauze on her arm. The sight hit her like a jolt, leaving her frozen in place, her breathing growing erratic without her realizing it.

Ji Wuxin straightened the gauze and turned back, only to find someone peeking through her fingers with a dazed stare. She reached out, gently pulling Song Qian’s hands away, then cupped her face and tilted it up to meet her gaze.

“Do you like it?”

Song Qian nodded slightly, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Ji Wuxin, afraid to miss even a fraction of her beauty.

Ji Wuxin’s gaze lowered, a trace of sadness lurking in the depths of her eyes—something even she herself didn’t notice.

“If I don’t wear this, you won’t like me anymore, right?”

Song Qian gradually came back to her senses and looked at her puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”

Ji Wuxin gripped Song Qian’s hand a little tighter, struggling to suppress the turmoil churning inside her. Before she’d put on this outfit, Song Qian had never looked at her like this—never stared at her alone, without distraction.

“Do you think I could wear this in front of Lin Qing?” Ji Wuxin wasn’t sure why she asked that. Jun Lang’s words suddenly flashed through her mind: She won’t let you wear this in front of a third person.

The words had barely left her mouth when Song Qian’s mind heated up, and she blurted out without thinking, “No way!”

How could she wear this in front of Lin Qing? What right did he have? That dog of a man!

Ji Wuxin lowered her eyes to gaze at her, emotions swirling uniquely in her gaze. She asked again, “Then who can I wear it for?”

Only for you alone, right?

Song Qian fell silent. She thought she understood why Ji Wuxin was asking this.

What she really wanted to know was: “Do you like me?”

How should she answer? She did like Ji Wuxin a little. But what about Ji Wuxin? She remembered that Ji Wuxin had come to her side precisely to make her fall for her—though she didn’t know why. If she admitted she liked her, what would Ji Wuxin do?

Like her back… or leave?

The mere possibility of Ji Wuxin leaving made Song Qian’s hands clench the fabric at her sides. Would Ji Wuxin really leave her?

Song Qian didn’t speak again. Instead of answering directly, Ji Wuxin grew urgent and lifted Song Qian’s chin, leaning in to nip at her lips until Song Qian yelped in pain and pushed her away.

“Are you a dog or something?” Song Qian wiped her mouth; sure enough, there was blood.

When she looked up again, her hand froze mid-wipe. Tears were streaming down Ji Wuxin’s face, her eyes red and puffy.

Song Qian sighed helplessly, took her hand, and led her to the bedside. She draped the thin blanket over her shoulders and knelt in front of her.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

If there was something to say, why not just say it outright instead of sneaking into her dream like this?

Ji Wuxin looked down at her and guided her hand to her left chest. “It hurts here.”

The sensation against her palm made Song Qian want to pull away, but Ji Wuxin held on tight.

Ji Wuxin had no heartbeat, and Song Qian couldn’t sense what she was feeling.

“Why does it hurt?”

Ren Qing had said spirits needed someone to teach them. Song Qian couldn’t help wondering if no one had ever taught Ji Wuxin what it felt like to like someone—and maybe she liked her too.

Ji Wuxin bowed her head, and her tears fell, splashing onto the back of Song Qian’s hand.

“Are you going to seal me away? You’ve been learning to draw talismans so well—are you doing it just to seal me?”

Song Qian: “?”

“You won’t let me touch your hand, or hit that guy, or even talk to me…” Ji Wuxin sounded utterly aggrieved, her sobs growing louder until she felt embarrassed by it. She covered her eyes with her hand, hiding from Song Qian’s gaze.

Song Qian almost laughed in exasperation after hearing that. Hadn’t Ji Wuxin been the one with the cold face, saying her talismans were just average? Now she was turning it around on her.

“I never thought about sealing you.” Song Qian stood and pulled her into a hug.

Ji Wuxin wrapped her arms around Song Qian’s waist, finally letting the sobs burst out, her voice thick with tears.

“You’re ignoring me.”

Song Qian muttered, “Who told you to say they were average?”

She’d been so excited to show her the talisman, only for Ji Wuxin to dismiss it coldly. How could she not get a little sulky?

Ji Wuxin lifted her head from the embrace, her eyes flickering with guilt as she remembered her own attitude. “I thought you were learning talismans to seal me.”

Song Qian: “…” Why was she so fixated on that idea?

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Song Qian thought she’d misheard.

Ji Wuxin tilted her head back and repeated, “Kiss me.”

Song Qian’s gaze dropped to those slightly parted lips, where a quiet little tongue peeked out. Her fingertips curled involuntarily. She had to admit, Ji Wuxin was incredibly tempting.

If she hadn’t known Ji Wuxin was a jade spirit, Song Qian would have been utterly convinced she was a seductive ghost.

Ji Wuxin waited for a long moment with no response, then frowned and leaned in, rising slightly on her knees to kiss her.

Song Qian’s hands steadied her waist as she tentatively extended the tip of her tongue.

Their previous kisses had only been a brush of lips—nothing like a real kiss. Now Song Qian’s heart pounded as she sought out the matching softness in Ji Wuxin’s mouth.

Ji Wuxin’s half-closed eyes snapped open. She blinked rapidly. What… what was this?

A slight numbness at the base of her tongue… it felt kind of… nice.

When Song Qian woke from the dream, she found herself lying in bed at Grandma’s house.

The sunlight filtering through the curtains looked especially bright. She shifted her shoulders, and a stab of pain shot through her brain, making her hiss softly.

“You’re awake?”

Song Qian turned toward the voice. Ji Wuxin was kneeling on the bed beside her, eyes sparkling brightly, the curve of her smiling lips utterly captivating.

She was clearly delighted.

Remembering what had happened in the dream made Song Qian’s ears heat up again. But it also confirmed one thing for her: Ji Wuxin had feelings for her. If she didn’t know how to like someone, then Song Qian would teach her.

With that thought, Song Qian couldn’t help but smile. Ji Wuxin, sitting at the edge of the bed, saw her laughing without looking at her and pushed her arm in dissatisfaction. “Who are you thinking about now?”

Song Qian snapped back to reality and looked at her honestly. “You, of course.”

Now it was Ji Wuxin’s turn to freeze. After a long moment, she tossed her head back with a hum. “I knew it.”

“Where’s Master and the others?”

“Downstairs. They didn’t catch that shaman last night. She’s on the phone with someone from that group.”

Song Qian nodded, wanting to change clothes, but the moment she moved, the searing pain in her shoulder reminded her she couldn’t manage it alone.

Ji Wuxin saw her freeze. “What’s wrong?”

Blushing, Song Qian looked at her and hesitated before saying, “Can you help me change?”

The process took a full hour. It was only her upper body that needed help, but Ji Wuxin insisted on changing everything—and insisted on holding her the whole time.

Luckily, it was just superficial wounds, nothing broken. She’d heal soon enough.

Song Qian comforted herself inwardly as she headed downstairs, enduring Ji Wuxin’s beaming smile.

She seemed so innocent about some things, yet so savvy about others.

Downstairs, Song Qian glanced at her phone: 10:43 a.m.

“Ah, Sensen’s awake!” Grandma Song spotted her first, wiping her hands on her apron before hurrying over.

“Does it still hurt?”

Song Qian took Grandma Song’s hand and shook her head gently. “Just a little surface scratch, Grandma. I’m fine.”

Grandma Song helped her to the living room. Seeing for herself that Song Qian was truly okay, she relaxed and returned to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

Liu Changsheng was drawing something on the coffee table. She glanced up at Song Qian.

“Feeling better, little disciple?”

Song Qian nodded and peered at the finished talisman in her hand. Liu Changsheng noticed and handed over the stack she’d completed beside her.

“Here, all yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes,” Senior Liu drew these especially for you. Talismans like these can be useful against people sometimes too. Keep them to protect yourself.”

Lin Qing had already explained the shaman situation to the Special Investigation Group, and they’d promised to look into it thoroughly.

“Wang Dachuan just stopped by. He said he saw Aunt Mei again last night.” Lin Qing frowned in confusion. “Didn’t we give her a proper burial? Why is she still around?”

Liu Changsheng set down her pen and said indifferently, “Her great vengeance remains unavenged. How could she leave so easily?”

“But the person who killed her was handed over to the Investigation Group last night. How is she supposed to get her revenge now?”

“Then we’ll have to ask her what exactly she plans to do.”

~~~

Night had fallen at Wang Dachuan’s house.

“Master, will she really come?” Wang Dachuan clutched his wife, trembling like a leaf.

Liu Changsheng calmly twirled her prayer beads. Lin Qing glanced at her and replied to Wang Dachuan, “She will.”

Song Qian had wanted to come along at first, but Liu Changsheng insisted it was just a chat with the female ghost—nothing serious—and told her to rest at home.

Ji Wuxin stayed by Song Qian’s side, keeping her company as they watched TV.

After a little while, Song Qian began yawning nonstop, her eyes growing visibly heavy.

“Ready for bed?” Ji Wuxin switched off the television.

Song Qian nodded. She nestled into a comfortable position under the covers and closed her eyes.

Ji Wuxin turned off the lights, leaving only a small bedside lamp glowing softly.

She didn’t feel tired in the least that night. Propping her head on one hand, she lay beside the bed and gazed at Song Qian—taking in her eyebrows, her eyes, her nose, her lips…

“How is she so beautiful?”

Ji Wuxin’s finger brushed ever so lightly against the tip of the sleeping woman’s nose. She tilted her head for a better angle.

“Wuxin—”

Ji Wuxin looked up toward the window. A breeze slipped inside, stirring the curtains.

“Wuxin—”

Ji Wuxin glanced back at Song Qian on the bed, then slowly made her way to the window. Who was calling her name?

She drew back the curtain. Outside lay an inky blackness, a handful of stars scattered across the sky, their faint light offering no real illumination.

Meanwhile, at Wang Dachuan’s house, Liu Changsheng regarded the disheveled female ghost standing before her. “Why are you lingering here?” she asked softly.

The female ghost raised a hand and pointed at Wang Dachuan. Blood dripped from her long nails.

Xiuhe’s eyes bulged. “What did my Dachuan ever do to you!?”

Liu Changsheng shot her a look, and Xiuhe promptly fell silent.

Lin Qing stood at Liu Changsheng’s side, peachwood sword and talisman paper at the ready—as if poised to reduce the female ghost to scattered ashes and smoke if she so much as lunged.

“Where’s Sensen?” the female ghost suddenly asked, scanning the group.

Liu Changsheng studied her, eyes narrowing in appraisal. This ghost seemed unusually fixated on the little disciple.

Satisfied that Song Qian wasn’t there, the female ghost vanished in a flicker.

“S-she… she’s gone?” Wang Dachuan stammered. He hadn’t dared so much as breathe until now.

“She’s gone.” Liu Changsheng’s right hand moved ceaselessly in calculation, her fingertip halting abruptly at the middle joint of her finger.

“Jade Spirit!”