Song Qian’s fever had lingered stubbornly, forcing her to take a full week’s sick leave. By the time she got back from that, it was the weekend, and she took two more days to rest. Her spirits had picked up a bit.
It was June now, and Song Qian headed out to the supermarket to grab some fruit. She planned to whip up a fruit salad or some fruit tea at home.
She opened her door and spotted a man in a hat standing right across the hall at the opposite door. Song Qian’s grip tightened on the doorknob. These days, anyone looking secretive put her on edge.
The man heard the door and turned, revealing his face beneath the hat.
“Lin Qing?”
He looked just as surprised. “You live here?”
Thank goodness it was someone she knew. Song Qian relaxed her guard and nodded.
“Your color’s off. Is it…” Lin Qing trailed off. He knew about the thing around Song Qian that no one should mess with.
She waved it off. “Just shaken up from last time.”
Lin Qing nodded. Fair enough. Any normal person would be terrified after glimpsing those sorts of things. Hiding out for ten days or half a month wasn’t unreasonable.
Mid-conversation, the door behind Lin Qing swung open. Jiang Yi leaned against the frame, hair a total mess, eyes barely cracked open.
“You got some kind of problem? What’re you doing here this early?”
He was clearly talking to Lin Qing. Song Qian didn’t want to linger, so she nodded toward the elevator.
She had errands downstairs.
Lin Qing got the hint and gave her a small smile with a nod.
Song Qian had taken just a couple steps when Lin Qing called after her.
“Yeah?”
He hesitated, brow furrowing, then pushed ahead. “If anything comes up in the future… I’ll help you out!”
He had no clue if that powerful woman meant Song Qian harm, but entities like her didn’t hang around regular folks for no reason.
Song Qian blinked, said nothing, and stepped into the elevator.
It wasn’t that she was ignoring him—she’d just felt that ghost wake up.
Maybe it was all the time spent with Ji Wuxin, but now Song Qian could vaguely sense if the ghost was asleep or awake, happy or not. It felt… weird.
She never saw any shift in the ghost’s expression. Hell, sometimes she couldn’t even spot her. But somehow, she just knew when the ghost was pissed.
Song Qian had wondered more than once if Ji Wuxin had slipped some curse or spell into her body.
“What’re you buying today?” Ji Wuxin lay draped over Song Qian’s shoulder, eyes shut.
“Fruit.”
“Get some oranges, then.”
Song Qian drew a deep breath. “…Okay.”
Why on earth did a ghost love oranges so much?
~~~
“How exactly are you gonna help her? You can’t even handle that ghost,” Jiang Yi said, tossing Lin Qing a water bottle.
“Ghost? If only it were that simple.” Lin Qing’s brow creased deeply. “It’s a spirit. I’ve never run into one before. Gotta report this.”
“A spirit!?” Jiang Yi nearly choked on his water. “Cough cough cough—you’re saying that woman’s a spirit!?”
“Don’t pull my leg. You’ve never seen one, but I have. No spirit looks that fierce and malevolent—like some evil deity straight out of hell. That face? Pure Ghost Face, not a drop of color. Spirits are heaven and earth’s most vital creations. In human form, they’d brim with life.”
Lin Qing paused at Jiang Yi’s words. Had he gotten it wrong?
“No way we slack on this. Spirits take a century to form. I’ll loop in Master first.”
“Yeah, yeah. Your master’s not guaranteed to spot it either.” Jiang Yi rolled his eyes. He’d never warmed to Lin Qing’s master—not after the guy almost torched him alive back in the day.
Lin Qing dialed up, and it connected fast. He gave the quick rundown on the spirit encounter.
“A spirit? One that slipped past the Special Investigation Group?” The voice on the line sounded baffled.
Since their whole network linked up, spiritual beings across the regions had been under protection. South River City brimmed with experts. A spirit hiding right under their noses?
“Master, no clue what kind it is. Doesn’t match anything I’ve studied, and it’s way stronger than me—I didn’t dare make a move. Should I—”
A shrill cat yowl cut him off, followed by a woman’s voice.
“Quit running! I’ll bathe you. No bath means you stink!”
“Ma… Master?” Lin Qing stared at his phone. His master had a woman at home?
The line rushed on: “Keep eyes on it for now. We’ll talk later.”
Beep.
Lin Qing gaped at the disconnected call.
“Well? What’d he say?” Jiang Yi crowded in, all curiosity.
“Observe for now.”
Lin Qing stepped out of Jiang Yi’s place and bumped straight into Song Qian on her way back. Only this time, she wasn’t alone.
Lin Qing kept his mouth shut, shot a quick glance, and started to bolt.
“Hold up.”
Ji Wuxin’s voice stopped him cold.
Song Qian: !
Lin Qing: !!
Who was she talking to?
Song Qian glanced at the ghost beside her. She was tilting her head at the hasty Lin Qing.
“Talisman Painter. Over here.”
Lin Qing froze, eyeing the elevator so close yet so far.
No shot at winning a fight, and escape was off the table.
He feigned calm and doubled back, eyes fixed on Song Qian. “What do you need?”
Ji Wuxin didn’t care he wasn’t looking her way. She jabbed a finger at Song Qian. “She’s weak right now, draws ghosts like flies. Give her something for defense.”
Lin Qing: “Huh?”
Song Qian: Um?
“Huh what? Can’t you draw talismans?” Ji Wuxin eyed his skills skeptically. She’d seen her share of ghost hunters—they all did.
“I can! I can!” Lin Qing bobbed his head. Talismans were useless on spirits, but this one was sharp.
He fished spares from his backpack and passed them to Song Qian. “Drew these fresh. Use ’em up; I’ll drop more tomorrow.”
Song Qian took them in a daze. Why was Ji Wuxin getting Lin Qing to hand over talisman paper? Wasn’t she a ghost herself?
Back home, she put the question to Ji Wuxin. The ghost plopped grandly on the sofa, plucked a talisman from Song Qian’s stash, and slapped it right on her forehead without a second thought.
Song Qian’s eyes bugged out. What… the…?
Ji Wuxin’s misty, foggy form turned transparent bit by bit, then poof—gone. The talisman fluttered to the cushion.
Had she just… exorcised herself?
Song Qian’s hand shook as she reached for the empty spot. No chill. She was really gone.
“Hey!?”
“Ji… Ji Wuxin?”
“Ji Wuxin!!”
Song Qian yelled through the rooms. Nothing. The ghost was truly banished.
She stood there, quiet. No more spooky squatters. Life back to normal.
She ought to be thrilled. Normal routine restored, no spiking electric bills, no forced buys of unwanted fruits and snacks.
Yet a pang of emptiness hit her. Song Qian had to face it: she’d grown used to the ghost’s company.
She shoved the feeling down, mustered a smile. It lasted under two minutes before the “dead” ghost rematerialized on the sofa, eyeing her with narrowed, pissed-off eyes.
“That happy to see me gone?”
Song Qian’s grin vanished; her gaze skittered away. “Nope.”
“Hmph!”
That night, Song Qian cooked her dinner and set a plate of the ghost’s favorite fruits on the coffee table. Ji Wuxin was glued to the TV.
Day’s craziness still on her mind, Song Qian figured it was time for a talk. One woman couldn’t bunk with a ghost forever. Worst case, she’d move.
“Ji Wuxin, why do you stick around here?” Her fingers twisted nervously. Ghost or not, fear lingered.
Ji Wuxin didn’t blink at the screen. “This is my house.”
“Then I’ll hunt for a new place tomorrow.”
Ji Wuxin’s eyes finally flicked to Song Qian’s face, raking her over head to toe. Song Qian felt the chill crawl across her skin.
“Fine by me.”
Song Qian froze. She’d braced for a meltdown, but this was easy!?
“Seriously…”
“You go wherever. I follow.”
Song Qian: “…”
She had to ask. “Why?”
Why did she have to cling to her like this? Song Qian saw herself as a law-abiding citizen through and through—over twenty years of being a model, upstanding one at that. She’d never laid eyes on this ghost before, let alone done anything to harm her. There was no grudge between them whatsoever, so why wouldn’t she just leave her alone?
Ji Wuxin tilted her head thoughtfully, then rose to her feet and drew closer to Song Qian. With one hand, she lifted the woman’s chin, her deathly pale lips parting as she murmured, “Have you fallen in love with me?”
Song Qian’s eyes bulged wide. Staring at Ji Wuxin’s bloodless face, all she felt was raw terror—where the hell was any so-called love?
What was this ghost even talking about?! How could she possibly fall for a ghost? And even if she weren’t one, they’d only spent a few days together. Love? She could barely claim to like her.
Song Qian’s mind raced at full speed when the ghost spoke again. “If you haven’t fallen for me, I’ll stick around by your side forever.”
Song Qian’s thoughts were a jumbled mess. Without thinking, she played along. “And if I have fallen for you?”
Ji Wuxin seemed to mull it over quite seriously. After a moment, she replied, “I haven’t thought about that yet. We’ll talk later.”
Song Qian: “…”
“As long as you fall for me, I might not come back,” Ji Wuxin said helpfully, offering her some advice.
Song Qian flashed her a perfectly practiced smile. “I love you so much. I love you tons.”
Ji Wuxin circled her once, inspecting her from every angle before shaking her head. “Nah, that doesn’t look like love.”
“Look like?” Song Qian echoed, puzzled. Why describe love with a word like that?
Ji Wuxin nodded. “I’ve seen what it looks like when someone falls for another person. The moment they catch sight of them, they’re utterly entranced, unable to tear themselves away—not even their own life matters anymore.”
Song Qian thought to herself, That’s not love; that’s having your brain scooped out.
She pulled out every trick in the book, striking all sorts of lovesick poses while gazing at Ji Wuxin. One by one, they were shot down.
“That’s hideous.”
Song Qian nearly exploded. You, with that Ghost Face of yours, have the nerve to call me hideous!?
