She Makes Me Believe in Science - Chapter 1

“Yuanyuan, I need to tell you something.”

“No way, you didn’t, did you?”

“Well, it’s been two weeks.”

“Song Qian!!!” a young woman suddenly shrieked inside the milk tea shop.

It was afternoon, and the shop was crowded, mostly with couples huddled together in their own worlds. Her sudden outburst caused everyone to turn and stare.

Song Qian, her face flushing crimson under the collective gaze, pulled the girl closer and hissed, “Why are you shouting so loud?!”

“My dear girl, do you literally never learn your lesson?” Yuan Yuan looked at her with an expression of pure exasperation, finally giving in to her frustration by poking Song Qian hard on the forehead.

“Wasn’t Ji Shixing’s betrayal enough for you? How long has it even been since then, and you’re already in another relationship?”

Song Qian leaned back to dodge the finger, her eyes shifting guiltily. “This time is different,” she murmured, her voice weak and lacking conviction. “She’s very sweet, very cute.”

“And she really likes me. She wouldn’t lie to me.”

Yuan Yuan was speechless. You said that last time, too.

If anyone ever claimed they had never seen a “love brain” in the wild, Yuan Yuan would be the first to drag Song Qian out to show them what a pure, additive-free specimen looked like.

She couldn’t understand why Song Qian was so obsessed with being in a relationship. If you called her a “player,” it wouldn’t be right because she was incredibly serious every single time. But if you called her loyal, she had already cycled through three or four girlfriends.

Is being single so bad? Is the “lone wolf” life not enough?

As she thought this, Yuan Yuan glanced at the young couple at the next table. the boy was looking at his girlfriend with nothing but adoration, patiently coaxing her out of a tiny tantrum.

 Okay, maybe it was a little bittersweet sometimes.

However, that did not shake Yuan Yuan’s resolve to remain a lone wolf!

“Don’t come crying to me when you break up.”

That evening, Song Qian had a dinner date with her new girlfriend. Afterward, they walked hand-in-hand along the street.

Watching the girl’s quiet, sweet profile, Song Qian thought to herself that she surely hadn’t misjudged her this time.

She had met her new girlfriend through a university club. After a month of pleasant back-and-forth, they had officially started dating.

“Qianqian, can we buy a bouquet of flowers?” The girl pointed at a small roadside flower stall, her voice pleading.

“Sure, let’s get some.” Song Qian smiled. Girls who loved flowers had to have pure and beautiful hearts.

Seeing the girl’s satisfied smile as she held the bouquet, Song Qian felt her own mood lift significantly.

Ding-dong. A notification popped up. Song Qian unlocked her screen to see a post the girl had just shared on social media. The caption read: My favorite flowers from my favorite person, followed by three sparkling red hearts.

Song Qian felt a surge of warmth. Her beautiful “peach blossom” eyes crinkled until they were nearly closed.

At a quick glance, she didn’t notice anything wrong with the post, even though only she had liked it. It was strange, considering they were in the same club and shared many mutual friends.

While Song Qian was basking in her happiness, the girl beside her had already forwarded the photo of the flowers to several group chats twice with the message: Aren’t they pretty? Too bad I had to buy them for myself.

The hint was loud and clear.

After dropping the girl off at the Nanjiang University dormitories, Song Qian headed back to her rented apartment. She was also a student at the university, but for specific reasons, she didn’t live on campus.

After wishing the girl goodnight, Song Qian fell asleep. She had always been a quick sleeper.

In a daze, Song Qian felt as if she had walked into her living room. She sat on the sofa, mindlessly staring at the dark TV screen.

In her sleep, Song Qian frowned. She realized she was dreaming again.

Her consciousness began to clear within the dream. Seeing the white mist swirling around her made her heart race with a touch of dread. It felt as if she had arrived in the Underworld. She could only see things within a two or three-meter radius, anything further was swallowed by the fog.

A slender, pale hand reached out from the side, draping itself over Song Qian’s neck. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red.

Song Qian’s back went rigid. She could hear a woman’s soft, cold breath brushing against her ear.

This wasn’t the first time she’d had this dream. Come to think of it, every time she started a relationship, she would dream of this woman.

Song Qian, still in her pajamas, was currently being used as a human climbing frame by a woman in a long red dress. The woman’s lips were as red as blood, yet her complexion was unnervingly pallid. To put it bluntly, a person dead for three days wouldn’t be as pale as her.

Song Qian’s lips trembled slightly. “He-hello, long time no see.”

The woman acted as if she hadn’t heard her. Her icy fingers slowly traced the warmth of Song Qian’s neck.

Such a fragile neck would snap with just one squeeze.

Song Qian wasn’t the only one thinking that; her legs were already shaking uncontrollably.

A second later, something icy pressed against her lips. Song Qian closed her eyes in resignation.

Even if she had to have a “wet dream,” why couldn’t it be normal? Other people dreamed of soft, fragrant girls, so why was hers always a cold, female ghost?

She never expected that her only experience with intimacy would be in a dream with a menacing spirit.

The ghost gave her a brief kiss before pulling away, her gaze lingering on Song Qian with a hint of… was that disgust?

Song Qian: “…”

She distinctly remembered brushing her teeth before bed.

The female ghost climbed off her, elegantly smoothing out her long dress before naturally picking up the remote and turning on the TV.

Song Qian’s expression grew complicated as she watched a melodramatic soap opera flicker to life. This ghost’s taste seemed, well, unique. Even her own mother had stopped watching these kinds of cheesy dramas.

Sensing Song Qian’s gaze, the ghost slowly turned her head. Her voice carried a chilling frost: “You’re going to be late.”

“???”

Before Song Qian could process the words, she jerked awake in her bed. She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand.

“Nine o’clock!!!”

Damn it! She had a first-period class!

After a frantic rush to wash up and get ready, she dashed to campus. Luckily, the professor hadn’t called roll yet. Song Qian crouched low and snuck in through the back door.

She had run all the way from her apartment without stopping. The moment she sat down, she began gasping for air. For a homebody college student, that short sprint was practically a death sentence.

The May sun was bright, shining through the window and illuminating the side of Song Qian’s face, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

The boy sitting next to her noticed the fine beads of sweat on her forehead and kindly handed her a tissue.

Song Qian glanced at him, startled for a moment, before thanking him and taking the paper.

Her surprise was justified. It was already quite warm in May, yet this boy was bundled up tightly, even wearing a hat.

It took a while for Song Qian’s heart rate to stabilize and for her thoughts to clear.

Recalling the dream from the night before, her face turned pale again. The ghost’s icy touch seemed to linger on her neck. How did that ghost know she had a first-period class today?

She quickly dismissed the thought. It was just a dream, and the ghost was a figment of her imagination. The “reminder” about being late was probably just her subconscious anxiety about her 8:00 AM classes.

How could ghosts possibly exist in this world?

Song Qian was a firm atheist; she didn’t believe in the supernatural.

She pulled out her phone to check her messages. The first one was from her “sweet and cute” girlfriend: Want to grab lunch together?

The corners of her mouth twitched upward uncontrollably. Song Qian quickly replied: Sure.

University lectures didn’t have many strict rules. Song Qian was a Philosophy major, though she found the subject boring and exhausting. She had been assigned to the major automatically; she was lucky enough to get into the best university in Nanjiang City, but she was still at the bottom of her class.

Song Qian actually had a bit of a reputation at Nanjiang University, not because she was brilliant, but because of her face.

“Average grades, but a stunning face” that was the general consensus on her.

Usually, Song Qian just slept or messed around during class, but today she seemed more focused. She was actually taking notes, if one ignored the fact that the book she was writing in didn’t match the course.

The boy next to her caught a glimpse.

Bringing the wrong textbook was one thing, but Song Qian was actually writing philosophy notes inside a trashy entertainment novel.

He even watched her write the professor’s latest quote—”True love should transcend life”—right next to the printed words “I love you.”

He really didn’t get it.

After the boy spent the entire period being shocked by where Song Qian was choosing to record her notes, the class finally ended. Song Qian immediately threw on her backpack and bolted out the back door.

The boy silently packed his things, tucking a green leaf into the pages of his book.

Song Qian arrived at the designated meeting spot to wait for her girlfriend. She had always preferred being early.

Song Qian’s looks were of the gentle, approachable variety, the kind that easily attracted people. After sitting there for only a few minutes, two shy boys approached her to ask for her contact information.

She politely declined, but out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something that chilled her to the bone.

Her “sweet and innocent” girlfriend was intimately linking arms with a man.

A terrible premonition hit her. The smile on Song Qian’s face slowly died. The boy who had just been rejected felt even more awkward, wondering what he had done to make the pretty girl so angry.

The boy’s brain filled with embarrassment, and he ran off with a bright red face.

Song Qian stood frozen for a moment before refocusing on the laughing couple across the way.

Maybe it’s her brother?

Before the thought could even take root, her girlfriend stood on her tiptoes and gave the “brother” a kiss.

“…”

Song Qian gritted her teeth.

The two parted at a corner. The girlfriend turned around and spotted Song Qian. Her face stiffened for a fraction of a second, but it passed instantly.

She assumed Song Qian hadn’t seen anything, otherwise, why would she be sitting there smiling at her?

She walked over and gave Song Qian a hug, chirping sweetly, “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Song Qian replied, acting as if she had seen absolutely nothing.

The girlfriend breathed a sigh of relief and then headed to the restroom.

She didn’t notice that she’d left her phone on the table without locking the screen. Song Qian almost suspected the girl wanted her to see the glaring nickname saved for her: “Pretty ATM.”

Song Qian expressionlessly turned the phone off. This ridiculous situation wasn’t a first for her.

Almost every relationship she’d ever had ended with her being cheated on. In Yuan Yuan’s words, she was a professional “Green Hat” wearer.

When she dreamed of that woman last night, Song Qian had a feeling she was about to be betrayed again, but she didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.

It was an eerie pattern: shortly after starting a relationship, she’d dream of getting close to the female ghost, and then she’d get dumped or cheated on.

But as an atheist, Song Qian refused to believe in jinxes. Once she realized the pattern, she began to reflect on her past relationships, and the results were always the same.

This time was no exception.

When the girlfriend returned, Song Qian brought up the breakup. There was no shouting, just a very calm separation.

Song Qian felt a creeping sensation in her heart. She didn’t feel the sadness of a breakup, only a strange, cold dread.

People passed her by on the street, but Song Qian didn’t know where to go. Even though the sun was shining brightly, she didn’t quite dare to go back to her little apartment.

“There are no ghosts in this world, it’s all just self-inflicted fear.”

At the Lingchan Temple in Nanjiang City.

“Master, I think I might be in some trouble lately.”