Chapter 5

Yuan Yuan rubbed her messy hair and shuffled over, still half-asleep. “Why are you up so early today? No classes, right?”

She glanced up at the clock hanging in the living room. The hour hand had just ticked past ten.

Song Qian took a small sip of hot water and forced out the words, “Early to bed and early to rise makes a body healthy and wise.”

Yuan Yuan rolled her eyes at her, figuring she’d gone off the rails again.

“The club is picking new members today. I’ll head over in a bit.”

Song Qian nodded.

Once Yuan Yuan had gotten ready and left, Song Qian—still in her pajamas and slippers—headed out to toss the trash. That ghost was still trailing along beside her.

Half her body felt pressed against a block of ice. Guess that means no need for the AC this summer, Song Qian thought to herself.

The moment she opened the door, she spotted the apartment across the hall standing open. Bags and boxes were piled high inside, and a man wrapped head to toe was stationed right at the threshold.

The place had been empty before. New neighbors, apparently.

He glanced her way, so Song Qian gave a polite wave. “Hello.”

The man froze for a second when he saw her, then his gaze drifted slowly to the space beside her.

Song Qian’s face went rigid. Can this guy see…?

He quickly looked away, nodded once by way of reply, and said nothing.

Song Qian wasn’t exactly a social butterfly—a courteous hello was about her limit. Still, something about him felt familiar.

The weather was gorgeous as ever, the sunlight so intense it bordered on scorching.

Ghosts were supposed to hate light, they said. Direct sun would scatter their souls to the winds.

Song Qian eyed the female ghost next to her, who had her eyes squinted shut and her head thrown back, basking in the rays. The whole ghost was glowing.

“…”

What a load of nonsense! This ghost loved the sun more than any living person!

After dumping the trash, Song Qian bumped into her new neighbor again. He was in a rush, striding along at a brisk pace, but when he drew level with her, he twisted sideways—as if dodging out of the ghost’s way.

Holy crap!

Song Qian swore under her breath. The guy could really see her.

“What’s with the shock? Plenty of people can see us,” Ji Wuxin said, sounding downright cheerful. Sunbathing felt amazing.

“Yin-Yang Eyes?”

“Not always. Some folks just have the kind of constitution that draws us in. No special eyes required.”

The ghost seemed to be in high spirits, so Song Qian mustered her courage. “So what’s my deal, then?”

Ji Wuxin cracked open one eye for a glance, then curved her lips into a grin. “After all those kisses, you didn’t think there’d be some side effects?”

Song Qian: “…”

Thanks ever so much.

She’d rather not see a thing. Her staunch atheist worldview had already come crashing down around her ears.

If ghosts were real in this world, did that mean there were ghost hunters too? Daoists, maybe?

Song Qian remembered Lin Qing from yesterday. Qingshui Road 203…

She couldn’t just stick around with a ghost forever. Sure, this one didn’t seem malicious, but humans and ghosts were from different worlds.

Song Qian had planned to sneak off to find Lin Qing that afternoon while the ghost was sleeping. But then the library put out a call for someone to tidy the Book Depository, and she drew the short straw.

It was past five by the time she got to the library. Stepping into the Book Depository made her want to turn tail and run. Books lay scattered every which way, stacked in unruly piles over a meter high.

What a fool she’d been to agree to this for a handful of credits.

She scanned the room and spotted her fellow victim.

The boy in the corner, quietly sorting books, explained why her new neighbor had looked so familiar. They’d shared a class a few days back.

“Hello,” Song Qian said, approaching him. Classmate and neighbor—ignoring him would be rude.

He seemed startled to find anyone else there. His eyes went wide when he saw her.

“Why are you here?”

His voice was clear and high, lacking the low rumble you’d expect from a boy his age. It sounded more like a girl fighting off a cold.

Song Qian blinked in confusion. “The teacher sent me to organize the Book Depository.”

Jiang Yi’s brows knit tight. “No way.”

Why drag an ordinary person into this? He’d been told to come alone.

“What was that?” Song Qian hadn’t caught it. The old Book Depository’s lights were dim, casting a forlorn pallor over the boy.

Jiang Yi shook his head. “Nothing.”

“I’m Song Qian. And you?”

She was trying to make small talk. Just the two of them here—total silence would be awkward.

“Jiang Yi.”

He kept his head down, his oversized hat shadowing his face completely. Only his chin peeked out from under the mask.

Song Qian wore a tank top and shorts. Jiang Yi was bundled in a hoodie, long pants, and a hat. They didn’t look dressed for the same season.

“You hot?”

He shook his head and edged farther away, as if she were some kind of vicious beast.

Song Qian sighed inwardly and glanced up at the ceiling fan.

“Mind if I turn on the fan for a bit?”

“Go ahead.”

She got up and switched it on. The air in the depository was stifling, like an invisible hand squeezing her throat.

Even a single old fan provided some relief if you stood in its breeze.

But it was ancient, groaning and squeaking with every turn. The noise carried out into the hallway, echoing relentlessly.

Song Qian had no idea the school still had facilities this rundown. She’d never set foot in the old Book Depository before.

Grouping the books by category, stacking them neatly, and binding with zip ties wasn’t tough work.

Early summer days stretched long; it shouldn’t get dark until past seven. But when Song Qian peered outside at the pitch-black sky, she frowned.

Had she really been here that long? She’d only just arrived, and she’d only finished four stacks. That should’ve taken half an hour, tops.

Puzzled, she checked her phone.

Six fifteen.

The weather had been fine all day. Even in winter, it wouldn’t be this dark at six fifteen. This felt more like the dead of night.

A chill crept over her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jiang Yi still diligently tying up books.

Summoning her nerve, she crept to the door and peered down. The campus sprawled empty below—no souls in sight, no classroom lights glowing, not even the streetlamps as bright as usual. Everything lay shrouded in gloom, as if veiled by some unnatural force.

The whole scene screamed wrongness.

Song Qian pulled a face and inched over to Jiang Yi, her voice shaky. “Jiang Yi… classmate, it’s dark outside.”

Let’s head home. Safety in numbers.

Her legs had turned to jelly. She’d walked home alone at night before without a second thought. But now that she knew ghosts were real, no amount of courage would make her try it in these conditions!

Jiang Yi didn’t even look up. “Mm.”

The fan kept up its creaky whine, and to Song Qian’s ears, it started sounding uncannily like a woman’s laughter.

The thought sent a shiver across her scalp. Damn it!

The more she dreaded something, the more it forced its way into her mind.

The creaking swelled in her ears, the laughter growing ever clearer.

Huddled in the corner, Song Qian’s fingers found the jade pendant at her throat. Suddenly, she missed that ghost back home.

She probably wasn’t awake yet.

Click. Clack. Click…

The sharp rhythm of high heels striking the floor suddenly echoed from the corridor outside. Steady and methodical, one after another—perfectly synced with the fan’s groans. Creak… click. Creak… click. No chance to catch her breath.

Song Qian was wound tight as a spring. She wished she could just pass out. This relentless horror was torture.

At last, Jiang Yi finished binding the books. Song Qian let out a tiny breath of relief.

Finally, time to go.

She even mustered the guts to stand, ready to sprint home. But when she glanced back, Jiang Yi was staring intently at his phone. The screen’s greenish glow lit his face like some malevolent spirit from an old cathode-ray tube TV.

“You… what are you doing?”

He looked up and tilted the screen toward her. “Planting trees.”

A simple little farming game filled the display: a lush fruit tree heavy with produce.

Song Qian: “…”

He showed no sign of leaving, so she shrank back into her corner. Then something cold and clammy pressed against her back. Her breath caught; the fine hairs on her arms stood straight up, as if straining to see who—or what—was behind her.

Ghosts always felt cold. Song Qian swallowed hard. She couldn’t be sure this was Ji Wuxin.

“Little girl, you’re so pretty.”

The voice was raspy and ancient, so hoarse she could barely make out the words.

“!!!”

If Song Qian’s hair had been any shorter, she really felt like it would have stood straight on end.

She struggled to keep her face impassive, determined to pretend she hadn’t heard a thing.

Song Qian glanced at Jiang Yi, who was busy planting the tree. He showed even less reaction than she did, utterly absorbed in his task. His fingers tapped the soil here and there with focused care, and a kindly smile curved his lips—like an old father watching over his son.

“…”

Wasn’t he supposed to be able to see ghosts!? Couldn’t he show some reaction!? Don’t leave her to deal with this ghost all by herself!

“Little girl, do you have a boyfriend?” the old ghost spoke up again.

“…”

“If you don’t, what do you think of that young fellow over there? He might seem a bit wooden and dull at times, but he’s got such clear, handsome features—pretty as a picture…”

“…”

Song Qian had no idea how to describe her feelings in that moment. Beneath the fear was something… utterly indescribable.

The fatherly Jiang Yi finally pocketed his phone. A flicker of displeasure appeared in his one visible eye. “Old Wu, what nonsense are you talking?”

Song Qian was even more shocked. He knew this ghost!?

“Hey, you brat—this girl’s a real beauty. I’m trying to play matchmaker for you, and you’re not happy about it?” Old Wu grumbled as he shuffled out from behind.

Jiang Yi glanced at Song Qian. “She won’t do. She’s already formed a spirit contract.”

“???”

Song Qian was utterly baffled. A spirit contract? What did that mean??

Old Wu opened his mouth, then suddenly leaned in close to Song Qian’s face. His cloudy eyes peered at her intently. After a long moment, he shook his head with regret.

“It’s my old eyes failing me. I didn’t even notice this girl already belongs to someone else.”

“What does that mean??”

As Song Qian spoke, her gaze fell on Old Wu, and she realized he was wearing the uniform from their school’s library—though it looked quite worn and faded.

Before she could get an answer, someone suddenly appeared at the door.

Jiang Yi spotted the newcomer and hurried over to greet them.

“You’ve finally arrived.”