Chapter 14: Pen Fairy Game

Was this the opening scene from some horror flick?

A bunch of girls huddled together playing Pen Fairy?

Hua Qi’an snarked inwardly with cold indifference, but on the surface, she feigned surprise.

Zhao Yingying jumped in.

“Forgot to loop you in—think of it as a dorm bonding activity.”

“You’re here now anyway; join us for a round?”

Her tone was all casual nonchalance.

He Yi beamed from the side, looking thrilled.

“Come on, come on—it’s got that whole youthful campus girl vibe!”

She seemed the type to binge movies and shows.

Even this late, she buzzed with energy.

Probably hyped for what came next.

Seeing Hua Qi’an stay silent, Zhao Yingying opened her mouth to press.

But the latter suddenly let out a soft chuckle.

“I didn’t say no.”

“Just lost in thought for a sec.”

It felt like these three were pushing their luck a bit.

Annoying, sure—but still within Hua Qi’an’s tolerance.

If it was just this level, humoring them wasn’t a big deal.

Back in middle school, she’d been a day student, but she remembered the boarders whispering about sneaking a “spirit-summoning” game past the dorm monitors one night.

Nothing happened, of course.

From then on, Hua Qi’an had regarded the game with a peculiar mix of skepticism and mild curiosity.

If she’d dared take on a haunted house vlog gig, playing Pen Fairy was child’s play by comparison.

She’d just showered, her loose sleepwear clinging faintly with lingering steam.

That offhand smile carried an effortless allure.

He Yi couldn’t help stealing a few glances, but said nothing more.

With Hua Qi’an on board, Zhao Yingying shrugged.

“Ah, midnight—let’s kick it off?”

Then, as if struck by a thought, she turned to Hua Qi’an.

“Oh, right—this table’s borrowed; mind hauling it back when we’re done?”

“Same floor, no biggie, yeah?”

Hua Qi’an didn’t reply, and Zhao Yingying took it as a yes.

Maybe unable to stomach it, He Yi piped up to smooth things.

“It’s pretty heavy, though—I’ll help out later.”

“Xiaozhen, run through the steps one more time?”

With that, she steered the talk to Li Xiaozhen.

Li Xiaozhen nudged her glasses up her nose and pulled out her phone, scrolling to the saved procedure post.

“We all grip the pen, then softly chant the invocation three times: ‘Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy, you’re my past life, I’m your present; if you wish to reconnect with me, draw a circle on the paper.’”

“If the pen circles, it means the Pen Fairy’s arrived—we can start asking questions.”

Hua Qi’an listened with zero enthusiasm; she’d heard the rules before, just never tried it herself.

Good thing she’d napped plenty today—enough pep left to deal with these three.

Zhao Yingying dug a lighter from the bag Hua Qi’an had seen her with at dusk.

The once-bulging sack now looked half-empty.

So this was what she’d gone out for—Pen Fairy supplies.

She set the two white candles at the table’s ends, then lit them with the lighter.

Once done, Li Xiaozhen—standing by the light switch—flipped it off.

Hangyang University kept power on overnight, so even at this hour, lights were fair game.

The room plunged into gloom.

Only the candles’ ghostly glow lit the four of them.

Flickering shadows twisted everything in sight into something uncanny.

“Then, let’s begin.”

Li Xiaozhen pocketed her phone and gripped the pen first.

The square table let each claim a side.

Zhao Yingying and He Yi followed suit.

The pen’s shaft was slim; their hands inevitably overlapped.

Finally, Hua Qi’an awkwardly layered hers atop He Yi’s.

“Xiao Qian, your hands are freezing.”

He Yi teased.

“Scared already, before we even start?”

It sounded like concern, but Zhao Yingying was just mocking her timidity.

Hua Qi’an didn’t bother defending herself, mustering her go-to placating smile.

Zhao Yingying huffed inwardly.

Hua Qi’an shifted her grip for a more comfortable angle.

The adjustment naturally brushed He Yi’s hand.

He Yi’s earlier cheeriness had faded; her face now looked oddly tense.

“Then, eyes closed—we all chant silently.”

As the game’s de facto host, Li Xiaozhen spoke, and the others complied.

Hua Qi’an shut her eyes too.

Darkness enveloped her.

The faint crackle of candle flames hummed in her ears, the air laced with her fresh shampoo scent.

Sight gone, the little flames’ warmth felt sharper now.

“Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy, you’re my past life, I’m your present; if you wish to reconnect with me, draw a circle on the paper.”

Her roommates’ soft chants echoed.

The pen in her hand felt still as stone.

Per the rules, three rounds.

Before Hua Qi’an could react, they’d moved to the second.

Only on the third did she join in murmuring the invocation.

If it flopped and they blamed her for skipping, that’d be a hassle.

Better fake it.

“Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy, you’re my past life, I’m your present; if you wish to reconnect with me…”

Hua Qi’an whispered the memorized lines low.

Before she finished, it started.

The pen in her hand began to vibrate.

Hua Qi’an’s eyes snapped open in instinctive shock.

Her three roommates had theirs open too; the four exchanged baffled looks.

“Xiaozhen, you moving it?”

Li Xiaozhen sat innermost, closest to the pen—easiest spot to nudge it.

But she shook her head blankly.

“If I faked it on purpose, what’s the point of playing?”

She had a point; for a spirit game, deliberate cheating ruined it.

Li Xiaozhen adjusted her glasses with her free hand, forcing calm.

“Scientifically, suspended arms tire out—muscles twitch, moving the pen.”

“No need to freak.”

But as if to slap her down, the pen—held by all four—escalated beyond vibes.

Now, it traced a circle right on the paper.

“Th-this… we summoned it?”

Zhao Yingying stared at the whirling pencil, eyes alight with thrill.

“Questions next?”

Li Xiaozhen recovered first.

“Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy—is that you?”

An unseen force nudged the pen toward “yes,” circling it.

Zhao Yingying’s eyes sparkled.

“Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy—are you a boy or girl?”

Hua Qi’an blinked at the gliding pen.

It actually moved?

What was the trick?

The others’ faces said no prank…

As if propelled, the pencil—under Hua Qi’an’s hold—circled “female.”

Makes sense.

Girls’ dorm and all; a female spirit fit.

Like finishing obligatory foreplay, Zhao Yingying dove into her prepped questions.

“Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy—does my crush like girls?”

Her orientation wasn’t some dorm secret.

But at the ask, Li Xiaozhen couldn’t resist ribbing.

“Your crush is Finance’s flower, Chen Zhiyan, right?”

“Swarm of suitors, still single—probably not into dating at all… Big dreams there.”

Zhao Yingying shrugged it off.

“What if she does like girls? Destiny’s nudge, yeah?”

She figured Chen Zhiyan’s single status meant no soulmate yet.

Like her.

Hua Qi’an vaguely recalled the name.

From some volunteer gig for credits, maybe.

Pretty, from what she remembered?

She’d forgotten.

“Scritch-scratch—”

The pen circled “yes,” like answering some longing.

Zhao Yingying lit up visibly.

Maybe the romance talk stirred her; He Yi looked eager too.

She flicked a glance at the quiet Hua Qi’an.

Candlelight danced, softening her with warm shadows.

“Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy… will the person I like, like me back?”

He Yi asked, a shy lilt in her voice.

The candle flame guttered ominously.