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Shang Qinghua has never been very lucky. A child of divorce forgotten by both parents. Works three jobs just to put herself through school. Lives in a run-down, deteriorating apartment complex that catfished her through an online listing. Barely has any free time to breathe let alone for her writing or nonexistent social life. Honestly, she can go on. She doesn’t need a fortune-teller to tell her how fucked her life is.
But, coming home from another grueling shift at the restaurant she waitressed for on weekends, there the old woman was. Sitting on the sidewalk in front of a box that read FOR ¥6 KNOW YOUR FUTURE in bold, hand-drawn letters. Wrapped up in a shawl with only her pale hands and piercing gaze visible.
Shang Qinghua tries to walk past and the old woman calls after her: “I can read your fortune for free, miss.” Against her better judgement, she stops.
“Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline,” Shang Qinghua replies politely, customer-service smile in full force. “The future is unknown for a reason.”
“I insist.” The old woman stands.
She’s surprisingly fast as she comes over, grabbing Shang Qinghua’s hands, and flipping them palm-side up. “I promise I’ll do it quickly. I sensed something very interesting from you.”
Ah, fuck, another crazy, Shang Qinghua thinks uncharitably. Her social battery is already dangerously low but she doesn’t want to start a scene. Who knows what this woman will do. Better to let her get it over with. Famous last words, Qinghua. Because that’s when the old woman’s eyes widen and she drops Shang Qinghua’s hands with a pained gasp. She stares at Shang Qinghua, face white, chapped and thin mouth struggling to form words.
Despite herself, Shang Qinghua’s heartbeat picks up. The old woman finally says, voice low and terrible, like a woman possessed, “You will be visited by a dark force soon. Do not let it get attached, or it will follow you for the rest of your life.”
SQH laughs nervously. “Okaaayy.” She stretches out the word, dubious. “Thanks for the fortune—I’m going to head home now.”
“Listen to me! You are in grave danger.” The old woman reaches for her again and Shang Qinghua takes a step back. “At this very moment I can feel its presence on you.”
The old woman’s horrified gaze bores into Shang Qinghua as she haltingly backs away, stumbling at times, but unwilling to let the woman out of her line of sight. She does this until the old woman is just a dot in the distant dark. Until she can no longer even see the dot. Then, she turns around and runs the rest of the way home.
She doesn’t stop running until the stained, depressingly beige exterior of her building comes into view. For once, it’s a welcome vision. She slows down to catch her breath. She can hear her heart pounding in her ear drums, feel its pulse in the thin skin of her throat. What the hell was that? That lady’s gotta be messing with her. Probably gets off on scaring unsuspecting college girls like her. On auto-pilot, Shang Qinghua’s feet take her around to the front of the building. She can see the dimly lit lobby through the dirt-streaked glass doors up ahead. That’s when she notices a familiar figure, pacing in circles out front. Looking lost and unsure. “Shen Yuan?” she asks in disbelief.
Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both seniors at the same college. Their circles sometimes overlap. Shang Qinghua’s part of a writing group, Shen Yuan occasionally attends literature club meetings. But they’ve never really talked one-on-one. More of a friend-of-an-acquaintance type of situation.
Her classmate blinks at her, face tinted a light blush pink. She looks a little muzzy. Like she's been drinking.
“Sorry, there was this guy—and your place was the closest address I knew—”
Shang Qinghua quickly walks over, concerned. “No, no, it’s fine. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I think I lost—”
Suddenly, an underclassmen Shang Qinghua vaguely recognizes appears out of thin air. “Shen Yuan!” His volume is that of the truly wasted. “So, this is where you went off to. I thought I said that I’d take you home.”
Shen Yuan subtly shrinks away, expression pinched, and draws closer to Shang Qinghua’s side.
Oh, Shang Qinghua thinks. Shen Yuan smells sweet, like vanilla bean and candied sugar. Then the guy places a clumsy hand on the crook of Shen Yuan’s elbow. Oh. On an annoyed impulse, Shang Qinghua wraps her arm around Shen Yuan’s waist and pulls her close, jostling the guy’s hand off. “Shen Yuan is already home. I’ll take her upstairs. I live here, too.”
Without another word to him, Shang Qinghua punches in the keycode and escorts Shen Yuan inside. She doesn’t realize she’s still holding onto Shen Yuan until they’re standing in the elevator on the way to Shang Qinghua’s floor.
She jumps away, apologetic. “Sorry about earlier! I’ve heard stories about that guy—he never takes a hint. I thought it better to just take you inside. Are you OK with staying over? I didn’t even ask before. Sorry again. It’s just that it’s late. And there are creeps, well, you already know that, um, you can tell me to shut up if I’m talking too much. Anytime now really.”
Shen Yuan giggles. Holy shit, Shang Qinghua barely avoids saying. That smile is lethal! Such a light, airy giggle? Completely at odds with the ice queen bitch thing Shen Yuan’s usually got going on. Not to say Shang Qinghua isn’t not into that. She very much is. But this! This gap-moe is on a whole new level. Thank God, Shang Qinghua shooed away that creep. Who knows what could’ve happened to a Shen Yuan this defenselessly cute.
Shang Qinghua leads them to her apartment. Ignores how SY is practically pressed up against her, peering curiously at how Shang Qinghua inserts her key, then jiggles it a little when it inevitably sticks.
“I’ve always had a door with a keypad,” Shen Yuan says as she wanders inside.
“Oh, really?” Shang Qinghua asks, trying to distract her as she desperately clears a table of trash.
Shen Yuan takes that moment to run right into a pile of clothes on the ground. Shang Qinghua panickedly guides her to the lone chair in the room with a light hand on the small of her back. No, this insignificant touch is not making Shang Qinghua crazy in any way.
Shang Qinghua pulls out the guest futon, thankful her parents had dumped useful trash onto her for once, and lays it down as Shen Yuan watches her. The dark waterfall of her hair falls across the fist she rests her cheek on. Pretty, pink-lipped, perfectly groomed, Shen Yuan is here. In her apartment. What the fuck.
“You can sleep in the big bed over there. I’ll sleep here,” Shang Qinghua says, pointing inanely at the sad lump of blankets. Shen Yuan pouts.
“We’re not going to share?” Shen Yuan asks. “Isn’t that what girls do at sleepovers?”
Shang Qinghua tries really hard not to have a breakdown.
“We can have a real sleepover another night,” Shang Qinghua says placatingly. “Tonight I just want you comfortable. Come, let me show you the bed.”
Shen Yuan smiles, perfect white teeth flashing. “I’ve always wanted to go to a sleepover,” she says as Shang Qinghua takes her to the bedroom. “I never got to go to any as a kid. My family wouldn’t let me.”
Shen Yuan lets herself be tucked into bed without complaint. Shang Qinghua then fetches a glass of water and sets it on the bedside table. She can’t gauge how drunk Shen Yuan is. Could be anything from tipsy to wasted. It’s not like she really knew that much about Shen Yuan. They waved when they passed each other on campus or at a club event but that’s about it. She’s honestly surprised that Shen Yuan remembered where she lived. She’s glad she did though. Unbidden, her hand brushes a lock of Shen Yuan’s hair behind her ear.
“Thank you, Shang Qinghua,” Shen Yuan mumbles with her eyes closed. “For everything.”
Shang Qinghua hums in response, then leaves the room.
She settles into the futon. She’s practically flush to the floor, no support whatsoever. She holds in her sigh. The things she does for a pretty girl. Despite how uncomfortable she is, Shang Qinghua falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. For now.
Shang Qinghua doesn’t awaken so much as she becomes aware. Of what, she’s not certain. One moment she’s floating in nothingness the next she’s cross-legged in her apartment. There’s the busted fold-up table, the holey couch, and a tall, intimidating woman standing in the corner.
“Hello,” the woman says pleasantly.
She leisurely saunters over, panther-like in her movements, all animal grace and barely leashed violence.
Somehow, Shang Qinghua recognizes her. But she can’t place from where. Shang Qinghua thinks she’d remember a girl as beautiful as this one better than this. Gentle waves of black hair frame her sharp, finely sculpted features. Her eyes are two impossibly deep voids. Her lips blood-red like the mark on her forehead. She’s broad-chested and broad-shouldered in a way that makes Shang Qinghua feel so very small.
“Hi,” Shang Qinghua replies, wary. “I’m sorry. I seem to have forgotten your name. Could you tell me it?”
The woman laughs without any real mirth. “Why don’t you guess?” she teases.
“That’ll take forever!” Shang Qinghua can’t help but whine. If this is her dream—and it must be, why else is there a pretty girl being mean to her in it—then why is it making things so difficult? Her life should only be hard in a sexy way in dreams. The woman’s face twitches, as if trying not to react. Wait, did Shang Qinghua say that out loud? She couldn’t have. Maybe she could try something first— Shang Qinghua focuses intently and thinks really, really hard: boobs .
The woman’s tapered eyebrows shoot up.
“Oh my God, so you are hearing my thoughts!” Shang Qinghua slaps her hands to her cheeks in horror. Fuck, stop thinking about boobs. Mayday, mayday. Immediately, her eyes are drawn to the woman’s, to put it lightly, generous chest. Stop looking! But they’re so—they’re—gravity-defying, back-breaking, absolute units—stop, stop! They’re… a lot to try to not think about. A handful. A mouthful, no, probably way more than that, they could smother her honestly, Goddamn it. Shang Qinghua is thinking about boobs again. Shang Qinghua is face-planting. She’s doing a face-plant of shame on her ratty carpet. Maybe the woman can step on her and put her out of her misery. Wait, no, why did she go down that path—
“Am I really that pleasing to the eye?” The woman interrupts and crouches down beside her. Shang Qinghua shamefully lifts her head, looking up at her with a pout.
“You know what you look like, don’t you?”
The woman chuckles, genuine amusement coloring her voice this time. “You know, I’ve been watching you for a while.”
“Your little life is quite interesting to observe,” the woman continues. “At first, it seemed beyond my understanding. Made up of inventions and marvels I could never dream of. But I’ve found that all humans, in their heart of hearts, are always the same. Even you, small one.”
Shang Qinghua stares up at her, slightly open-mouthed, not retaining much besides hot lady staring down at her disdainfully. She furrows her brow. “Does that mean everyone thinks about boobs as much as I do? Actually, could you first confirm whether I’m the only one who can’t help but look at everyone’s butt, even if I’m not interested in them?”
The woman’s eye twitches. Before she can say anything else sexily threatening there’s a rustle from the bedroom. The woman looks surprised, annoyed, and curious, before settling on thoughtful. “Who’s in there, Shang Qinghua?”
The woman stands up and lopes away before Shang Qinghua can answer. Wow, she’s tall, she sighs longingly. Then urgency hits her like a brick. Shen Yuan! Shang Qinghua scrambles to follow. She slides through the doorway, barely catching herself on the door frame. Only to see. The woman. She’s.
Watching Shen Yuan sleep? The woman seems stunned in place. She takes in Shen Yuan almost greedily, heavy-lidded gaze sweeping up and down like a dark caress. She stalks toward the bed. With a hungry expression, she slowly raises a hand to Shen Yuan’s face. Sweet and vulnerable in slumber.
Shang Qinghua catches her hand. The woman startles and that heavy, imperious stare is now directed at her. Her eyes glimmer red, jewel-like, before reverting back to a lustrous black.
“You deny me.” The woman phrases the question like a statement. Like a death sentence.
Shang Qinghua keeps her eyes down to where their hands are joined. The woman’s big hand is trapped between two of Shang Qinghua’s. Her nails are sharpened to wicked red points. They’re a stark contrast to Shang Qinghua’s stubby, nail-bitten fingers. “Yes,” she says. “My friend—is a nice girl. She deserves a kind touch.”
“And you don’t think I can be kind?”
“No.”
The woman studies her, lips slowly curling up, up, up. “This is a great oversight on my part. Maybe I should show you how kind I can be.”
Without warning, the woman threads her free hand in Shang Qinghua’s hair, fingers spread at the nape of her neck, and tugs. Shang Qinghua gasps. Her head is tilted back, neck bared to the woman. “Qinghua,” she calls softly. “Qinghua, Qinghua, Qinghua. After I have you, let me have your friend.”
The woman presses her lips to Shang Qinghua’s neck. Light, chaste. Then punishing, sucking bruising marks onto her throat, making Shang Qinghua cry out. She writhes in her hold, overwhelmed. “Will you give her to me?”
“No,” Shang Qinghua answers, shuddering.
“I could make it worth your while,” the woman promises. She lightly bites the shell of Shang Qinghua’s ear. A press of sharp fangs, there, then gone.
Shang Qinghua stubbornly shakes her head.
The woman changes track. “Don’t you want your friend to feel good like you? Doesn’t Shen Yuan deserve it?” Shang Qinghua’s eyes—when had they closed?—snap open. How did she know that? “I know everything in your cute little head. It’s where I live, after all.”
“Where… you live?” Shang Qinghua manages to ask as the woman pulls on her hair again. Her eyes might be rolling to the back of her head. The feel of the woman’s hand is so hot, burning her scalp, setting fire to her nerves, overheating her body as it spins wildly out of her control.
“Yes,” the woman purrs. “I’ve been biding my time. Watching, waiting. Growing stronger.” Shang Qinghua only comes up to the women’s chest. She presses against Shang Qinghua, hard. “All for the chance to break free, to escape the stifling confines of your mind. Soon, oh, so very soon, there’ll be nothing you can do to keep me away.”
Shang Qinghua, face in between the women’s clothed, heaving breasts, manages to scrape together half a thought. “If you’re still stuck in my mind, that means I can stop you.”
The woman grabs her by the back of her sleep shirt like a misbehaving kitten being picked up by the scruff and glares down at her angrily. I’m right, aren’t I ? Shang Qinghua thinks smugly at the woman. She doesn’t respond. Instead, she rips open Shang Qinghua’s neckline and bites deeply into her shoulder. Her knees immediately buckle. The woman hoists her up, hands cupping her ass, kneading roughly, and Shang Qinghua’s legs wrap around the woman’s waist automatically.
“How will you stop me?” The woman bares her bloody teeth in a sneer.
Ugh, why is even that sexy? Shang Qinghua needs professional help. With a firm, proprietary hand the woman grabs her by the chin and pulls her into a searing kiss. Copper bursts on Shang Qinghua’s tongue. She feels like she’s being boiled alive. Like she’s being melted down and molded anew, molded for this. Only this. Only for the woman. To touch, to caress, to kiss, to fuck. To do anything and everything to.
Rustling comes from the left of Shang Qinghua. Shen Yuan has shifted in bed. Shang Qinghua freezes. Oh my God, they’re two seconds away from dry humping right next to Shen Yuan. Who knows how long they’ve been making out. Shang Qinghua tries to pull away but the woman holds her close. Her breasts, soft and plush, are flush against Shang Qinghua. She can feel the hard peaks of her nipples and tries very hard not to combust from this piece of information.
“Do you not want your friend to hear?” Her voice is poisonously sweet. “Let her. If she hears, she’ll wake up. If she wakes up, she’ll be curious. If she’s curious… maybe she’ll join in.” She whispers this directly into Shang Qinghua’s ear and she has to bite back a moan. The woman’s hands snake under Shang Qinghua’s shirt, the breadth of them so big, so wide, they almost wrap entirely around Shang Qinghua’s waist. The woman pinches its curve meanly. Shang Qinghua yelps.
She darts a panicked glance at Shen Yuan. The girl’s thin eyebrows are scrunched together, as if she’s close to waking up. The thought sends a jolt straight to Shang Qinghua’s pussy. The woman chuckles, sensing this. Shang Qinghu turns to the woman and drapes her arms over her shoulders. The woman beams, thinking herself victorious, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. Shang Qinghua rubs the woman’s shoulders, inching up and up, until she’s wrapping her hands around her neck and squeezing.
The woman’s lips part in shock.
“You’re not going to touch Shen Yuan,” Shang Qinghua says, her thumbs flush against the woman’s throat.
“I do what I please,” the woman hisses. Her face contorts into a terrifying mask of fury.
“You’re in my head. That means you do what I say. And I say Shen Yuan is off-limits!”
Shang Qinghua squeezes harder. She also pushes mentally, pushes past her physical limits, aware in real life her noodle arms couldn’t hope to overpower this tank of a woman. She can feel a strange strength gathering in her limbs. The dream is bending to her will. The woman begins to choke. She glares hatefully at Shang Qinghua, refusing to break eye contact, a black miasma of killing intent forming around her. Yet she does not throw Shang Qinghua off. She does not even claw at her hands. Wow, this is actually working. I am in control. Shang Qinghua revels for a moment before she realizes. Is the woman just going to let Shang Qinghua kill her?
Shang Qinghua shakes the woman by the neck. “Do you yield?” she demands.
Now the woman is putting up a fight. She weakly struggles, small muffled gasps and sighs escaping. Shang Qinghua’s legs turn vice-like around her waist to avoid getting bucked off.
“Yield, dammit!” Shang Qinghua shouts, using her leverage to loom over the woman, strangling her from up above.
“I yield,” the woman finally rasps. Tears are beading at the corner of her eyes. Shang Qinghua quickly lets go and puts her feet on the floor. She watches the woman cough, glinting tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks. Shang Qinghua thinks another fucked up kink is developing.
The woman has fallen to one knee. Her black and red robes, only slightly mussed before during their kissing, are a disheveled mess now. They’re the elaborate kind that Shang Qinghua’s seen xianxia cosplayers wear online. They’re spread wide over her knees, gaping open to reveal the space between her defined legs. Only, it’s too dark to see inside the sliver. Either the lighting of the bedroom or the shadow of her body is obscuring it. Shang Qinghua would have to push the woman down and open her legs up directly under the light to see anything. What a waste! Shang Qinghua seethes internally. What a tease!
Around them, the dream shimmers. Its edges are blurring like an overexposed polaroid.
“This isn’t over,” the woman says, holding a hand to her throat. “Shang Qinghua—you’re more than you seem. Shen Yuan isn’t the only one I’ll be coming for next time.”
Shang Qinghua wakes up gasping. And wet. She flops back down with an exhausted hand over her heated face.
She tries to forget the dream. She acts as if it’s any other Monday. She makes a hungover Shen Yuan instant coffee, which the girl adorably turns her nose up at. They drop by a street cart for a quick breakfast that they eat on their walk to school. They head to their first class, a lecture SQH didn’t know they shared, and even sit next to each other.
The rest of the day unfolds almost normally. Except for Shen Yuan’s presence in the form of sarcastic or biting texts as she, too, goes through her day. But Shang Qinghua can’t shake the terrible feeling that something bad is going to happen. The vague, stomach-churning dread of a bad dream. When Shen Yuan texts her about getting lunch together her excitement flares bright, then burns out just as quick.
Her suspicions are proven true at the canteen table. Shen Yuan is frowning down at her phone. “Is everything alright?” Shang Qinghua asks.
“The roommate of that underclassman last night is asking around about him. Apparently, he didn’t make it home last night.” Shen Yuan bites her lip.
“Oh no, don’t you feel guilty,” Shang Qinghua says. “If he wasn’t a harassing creep then someone could’ve sent him home. But nooo he had to stalk you instead.”
“Yeah, but even the biggest asshole I wouldn’t want to go missing.”
“Who says he’s missing? Maybe he’s sleeping off his hangover in a ditch somewhere.”
Shen Yuan snorts. Shang Qinghua is learning this is the closest to uproarious laughter sober Shen Yuan gets. She’s tentatively excited to get to know more. A shadow falls across their table. Shang Qinghua looks up and feels the blood drain from her face.
It's the woman. She seems younger in the light of day. Not the sexy older sister Shang Qinghua had been thinking. Maybe it’s the modern clothes ageing her down. Red flannel tied around her waist. Ripped jeans and a black, devastatingly tight shirt. The girl smirks knowingly when Shang Qinghua's eyes dart back up towards her face. That gorgeous yet so, so evil face. This is definitely the same person from her dream.
“Hello,” the girl says. “I’m new to the college. You two seemed like nice, trustworthy upperclassmen to approach for help.”
Shen Yuan straightens up, eager to help. “Hi. My name’s Shen Yuan and this is Shang Qinghua. We’re seniors so you can come to us for anything you need.”
“Anything you say?” There’s a dark, gleeful undercurrent to her voice that Shen Yuan is oblivious to. “Well, Shen-shijie and Shang-shijie, I’ll be in your care. My name’s Luo Binghe.”
Shang Qinghua's eyes finally, finally widen in recognition. Oh, they are so fucked.