Project GU

Chapter Three

When Yue woke, the shrine looked exactly as it had the night before.

Her clothes sat undisturbed on her body—arranged with almost unsettling precision.

Fragments of last night surfaced in her mind.

Luo.

A dream so vivid it barely felt like one.

The dull ache low in her spine hadn't faded. Neither had the heaviness clinging to her limbs.

Then she noticed something resting in her palm.

She opened her hand.

A small silver bell lay there, quiet and cold.

Her heart slammed once, hard.

No.

Not a dream.

"Sister, you're awake?"

A boy's voice, close behind her.

Yue's shoulders jerked.

She turned—slowly.

Luo stood with morning light at his back.

Deep indigo Miao robes. Silver ornaments at his chest and waist catching the sun like scattered coins.

He looked wrapped in his own private glow.

Yue swallowed without meaning to.

Last night, she'd been the one to lure him in—sweet words, careful lies—and lead him straight into her bed.

The Love Gu's effects should only last a few hours.

By now, it should have worn off completely.

So what did he think of her now, with a clear head?

Would he blame her?

Rage at her?

Braced, uneasy, Yue prepared for the accusation to come.

Luo walked toward her, smiling gently.

Even so, Yue took two steps back on instinct.

Last night had been too dark to see him clearly. Now, with distance closing, his features came into sharp focus.

He had the clean, cool freshness of a mountain wind through a valley at dawn.

That was her first real impression of him.

Young. Untouched. Almost painfully pure—untainted by the world in a way that felt impossible.

Beneath elegant brows, his eyes were wide and clear as a fawn's.

Guileless. Utterly without suspicion.

He was only sixteen, yet already stood half a head taller than her.

And those eyes held only her.

Yue lowered her gaze, avoiding his.

Only then did she notice the tray balanced in his hands.

Roast chicken. Water.

...Wait.

Where had the chicken come from?

As if reading the question on her face, Luo smiled.

"Sister, you must be hungry. Eat before it goes cold."

His voice was warm with an unmistakable, uncomplicated tenderness.

Paired with that gentle smile, he looked almost unbearably harmless.

Yue said nothing. Just watched him.

But suspicion coiled tighter in her chest.

The Love Gu only clouded the heart—temporarily.

Once it wore off, any ordinary person would be furious.

His innocence had been taken with no warning, no consent.

Unless the Love Gu did something she didn't know about.

Something that could make a person fall in one night, and keep them there.

Or—

was it still working?

She'd braced herself to be condemned for what happened.

His reaction was the last thing she'd expected.

Maybe he noticed the shadow crossing her face, because the light in his eyes dimmed.

He pressed his lips together, voice small.

"Why are you avoiding me, Sister? After what we did last night... won't you take responsibility?"

—Take responsibility?

Yue had read once, in some old book, that people could fall for whoever gave them a particular first experience.

Was Luo simply one of those people?

Still, she kept her face neutral and studied him with open doubt.

Luo, oblivious, tore off a chicken leg and held it out to her.

She didn't take it.

Deliberately cold, she watched for his reaction.

He smiled, a little helpless, took a bite himself, then offered it again.

"No poison. I promise. Eat."

The words came out utterly sincere.

So sincere that Yue felt almost guilty for doubting him.

She even felt a flicker of pity for him.

Unable to keep suspecting him, she took the chicken and ate.

"You weren't lying, Sister."

He said it casually, watching her eat.

"Last night really was wonderful."

The bite in her mouth lodged in her throat.

"—Cough, cough—!"

She coughed hard, eyes watering.

Luo showed no trace of embarrassment. He handed her water, voice full of concern.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head, gulped the water, and finally caught her breath.

Undeterred, he went on.

"I like you, Sister."

The water she'd just swallowed nearly came back up.

...Does he actually mean it?

It wasn't that she refused to answer.

She simply couldn't.

Every word out of his mouth landed so directly that she found herself wishing, briefly, that she'd been born mute.

Quietly, she set the chicken back on the plate.

At this rate, she'd choke on food or water before she ever managed to eat in peace.

"...Didn't you like it?"

Finally—a question she could answer.

"I'm full," she said at once.

"You finish it."

Luo tilted his head, a strange knowing curve to his smile.

"But last night, Sister ate a lot more than this."

Her expression twitched.

I didn't notice yesterday, but this kid has zero sense of personal space.

Outside, the sun had climbed high. Almost noon.

The villagers would arrive soon.

She had to get him out before then.

"The village will send people soon," she said quietly. "You should go first."

"But... I don't want you to die, Sister."

Remembering what she'd said the day before, Luo looked straight at her.

"Don't send me away. I can help you escape."

Yue sighed softly.

I need to pull him back to reality.

Deliberately, she made her voice cold.

"It was one night. You don't need to make it mean anything."

At that flat statement, his eyes reddened instantly.

Wet. On the verge of spilling over.

Still, she didn't let her expression change.

"If you want a reason—I simply don't have the fortune to return your feelings. That's all there is."

I can't return them.

That was all she'd meant to say.

But Luo heard something else entirely.

Dissatisfaction with last night.

Rejection.

Proof that he hadn't been enough.

In an instant, the warmth drained from his eyes.

The smile on his lips followed, vanishing without a trace.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside.

Yue grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the window.

"Someone's coming. Run. If you can't, hide."

This time, Luo said nothing at all.

The silence felt colder than any words could have.

Her face went pale.

If anyone found a man with her in this shrine, there would be no questions asked.

They'd beat her to death on the spot.

"Ashi—please."

The coldness from before vanished. She begged him, desperate.

His eyes flickered.

"Then promise me something."

His voice had gone quiet.

"When this is all over, come find me."

"I will—I promise!"

She nodded without hesitation.

"And if you break that promise?"

"Then I'll—"

Before she could finish, Luo pressed a finger gently to her lips.

Then leaned close to her ear and whispered,

"Then I'll find you myself."

Low. Sweet.

"Sister Yue... you're going to pay back every bit of what you owe me."

His tone was gentle.

But the words themselves left no room to run.

By the time the villagers reached the shrine, Luo was gone.

The men unlocked her chains with an iron key.

A moment later, new shackles closed around her wrists instead.

She hadn't been freed.

Only moved from one set of chains to another.

Watched like a prisoner, Yue noticed the bowl one man carried.

Thick, dark red liquid inside.

Blood.

"...What is that?"

An old, unwelcome memory stirred.

The man snorted.

"Black dog's blood." His mouth twisted into something like a smirk. "To wash the bad luck off you."

Yue studied his face.

Something about it was familiar.

Then she saw it—an old scar cutting across his chin.

—Ah. Him.

A boy from her childhood. One with a grudge that had never quite ended.

After Yunna died, Yue had lived alone in the house she'd left behind.

But every trip up the mountain, a pack of bored children would find her and start in.

Disaster girl.

Her reputation had spread through the whole village long before she understood why.

At first they only pointed and laughed as she passed.

Then the laughing turned into a song.

"Yue's a curse, she ate her mother, she'll eat her own—"

They sang that ugly little rhyme, over and over.

Because Yue endured it in silence, the cruelty only escalated.

They let snakes loose to bite her.

Eventually, they tried to kill her outright.

Ever since a snake had bitten her in a cave with Yunna, snakes were the one thing Yue truly couldn't stand.

Not fear, exactly.

But the sight of one still sent a shiver crawling up her spine.

So she decided to get even.

First, she disappeared for several days—long enough for them to grow careless.

Then she waited along the path home and, one by one, planted gu on each child in secret.

It was revenge.

It was also her first real test of the gu arts she'd just begun to learn.

The results exceeded her expectations.

Soon, strange rumors spread through the village.

Children screaming every night, thrashing as if possessed by something unseen.

No adult could hold them still.

But by morning, they'd wake as if nothing had happened.

By the time she saw them again, days of screaming had ruined their voices. Some could barely speak above a whisper.

A few carried permanent scars from the chaos.

Yue remembered every detail of it, even now.