Needed By Him

Chapter 3

Qin Ruo's body shivered slightly as the new presence inside it squealed in delight. The fake Qin Ruo’s fingers danced across her arms, her face, her legs, exploring every inch of her form with childlike glee.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, her voice high with excitement. “This body feels incredible! So smooth, like I’m squeezing water when I press it!” Her hands trailed over her skin, pinching softly, marveling at how easily it gave under pressure. The sensation was like touching the surface of a still pond, soft and yielding. She squeezed her arms again, giggling. “It's perfect! So light, so agile... and this skin... it's flawless!”

Her fingers moved to her face, tracing the smooth, porcelain-like skin. "So white..." she whispered, staring into the reflection of a blurred bronze mirror on the bedside table. The reflection wasn’t clear, but it didn’t matter. Even in the ancient, slightly tarnished surface, her beauty shone through. Her face wasn’t the unhealthy pale of someone sick—it was pure, radiant, as though carved from the finest jade. She marveled at her high cheekbones, the soft, delicate curve of her lips. "I'm... beautiful," she said, almost breathless. "So beautiful, I can’t believe it! This face..." she gazed at her reflection in wonder, a broad smile spreading across her lips. "I could get used to this."

The real Qin Ruo could only watch, floating nearby, her soul bound in a dull numbness. She should have felt something more—outrage, maybe, or a deep disgust as her own body was being touched by this stranger—but all that came was a sense of helplessness. She felt molested, but it didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t in control. She couldn’t even feel the familiar warmth of her own skin.

She floated there, watching silently as her own body was twisted and turned with excitement. Was this all she was now? A spectator? That thought alone should have stung, but the pain had dulled. There was only a heavy sadness weighing down on her, thick and suffocating, as the fake Qin Ruo reveled in her stolen form.

Finally, after what felt like hours of self-inspection, the fake Qin Ruo collapsed back onto the bed, breathing hard, still grinning. “I love it!” she said, her voice alight with enthusiasm. "It's perfect!" She stretched out on the silk sheets, her limbs splayed in satisfaction, as though the body had been custom-made for her. And in a way, it seemed like it had. The way her soul seemed to glow from within made her new body appear almost radiant, as if it had been waiting for someone brighter, more alive to inhabit it.

Qin Ruo’s soul felt dim in comparison, like a shadow in the presence of a light too bright for her to withstand. Was this how it was meant to be? Had her body always been destined for someone else? The thought gnawed at her as she drifted farther, the distance between her and her own flesh widening.

As the fake Qin Ruo lay there, she glanced around the room. The elegant calligraphy that adorned the walls, the intricate carvings on the furniture, and the ancient design of the space seemed to catch her eye for the first time. Her brow furrowed slightly. "This room is pretty, I guess... but it’s not really me." She sat up again, scanning her surroundings with a critical eye. "I mean, all this old stuff—it’s nice, but who needs it?"

Real Qin Ruo’s mind tried to grasp the disconnect. This room had been a part of her world, a place that was carefully curated by her family, reflecting centuries of history and tradition. Yet, in the hands of this cheerful imposter, it was nothing more than outdated decor.

The fake Qin Ruo shrugged and smirked, her thoughts bubbling up eagerly. "When I wake up, I’m totally throwing all this away!" She clapped her hands together, practically bouncing with excitement at the thought.

Real Qin Ruo's confusion deepened. Where was the worry? This girl seemed so at ease, so excited about her new surroundings and the body she now occupied. What kind of person could just step into someone else's life and make it their own without a second thought? Wasn’t she concerned about the life she had left behind? Her family? Her old world? Or did people from her time discard everything that easily?

The real Qin Ruo’s heart twisted in the numb space she now floated in. This fake Qin Ruo wasn’t evil—no, she was bright, even endearing in her enthusiasm. But it was this very brightness, this effortless embrace of everything new and strange, that cut into the real Qin Ruo like a knife. She had fought so hard to protect her life, her identity, and yet this girl... she took it all without hesitation. And worse, she seemed to fit into Qin Ruo’s life better than Qin Ruo ever had.

The fake Qin Ruo glowed with vitality, her soul practically shining in the body that had once been Qin Ruo's. And the more real Qin Ruo watched, the more she felt like an outsider. A bystander in her own life.

What did that make her now? What was the point of her existence if no one, not even her own family, could tell the difference between her and this imposter? If the body that had once housed her was now glowing, alive, as though it had been waiting for someone else all along?

The night had been a whirlwind of emotions for the fake Qin Ruo. After hours of excitement, she finally lay on the real Qin Ruo’s bed, her energy spent but her spirits soaring. The bed was soft and luxurious, just as one would expect from such a grand, ancient room. She let out a contented sigh, sinking deeper into the silken sheets, her lips curving into a smile.

“So this is my new life,” she murmured to herself, her eyes closing briefly as her thoughts raced ahead. “Maybe I’ll be like the heroine of one of those novels... sought after by everyone—a prince, a general, maybe even a great scholar.” She giggled lightly, letting her imagination carry her away. “They’ll all adore me. How exciting!” Her laughter filled the quiet room, a sound of pure delight, as though the world was now hers to conquer.

Nearby, the real Qin Ruo, still floating in her spectral form, could only watch. Her hands, though intangible, clenched with restrained tension as the fake Qin Ruo’s words echoed in her ears. Does she have no shame? A surge of indignation rippled through her, but she kept herself composed, even in her ghostly state.

This is my body—my life! she thought, a quiet but firm outrage settling within her. Even in anger, she remained dignified, her frustration expressed through subtle glances and sharp, contained thoughts. She cannot simply... talk like this. What if she does something improper? What if she ruins my reputation?

In ancient times, a lady’s reputation was the very essence of her honor, the foundation upon which her family’s respectability was built. One misstep, one careless action, and everything could unravel. For Qin Ruo, it wasn’t just about her own image—it was about her duty to her family, her ancestors. She could not allow this stranger, no matter how innocently she spoke, to tarnish what generations had upheld.

Recklessness has no place here, she reminded herself. A lady does not indulge in such fanciful thoughts.

Yet, despite her carefully composed exterior, a deeper fear crept in. What if she... allows herself to be charmed by someone? What if she brings dishonor to my name without even realizing it?

She tried to steady herself, reminding herself of the dream she had. The dream had been strange, like a premonition, and in it, the new Qin Ruo had not tarnished her reputation. In it, she had seen a glimpse of what was to come, a vague but powerful reassurance that the fake Qin Ruo would not commit such indiscretions. The dream had shown her that this new occupant of her body, while carefree and impulsive, would not cause the damage she feared. Her honor, her family’s name, would remain untarnished.

Perhaps my worry is unfounded, she acknowledged quietly, though the discomfort did not fully leave her. She is reckless, yes, but not malicious. My body will remain safe... even if it is not in my control.

The thought was little comfort, though. The real Qin Ruo, despite her calm and measured nature, felt a deep ache of helplessness that no amount of composure could completely hide. It’s not just about reputation. It’s about... losing myself. My body is no longer mine, yet I must watch as someone else uses it, treats it as their own.

The fake Qin Ruo’s laughter broke the silence again, lighter this time, as sleep began to pull her under. She murmured something about being the star of her own story, about finding love and adventure. There was no malice in her words, only the naive excitement of someone who believed life was a game to be played and won.

The real Qin Ruo sighed inwardly, her thoughts swirling like the wind outside the window. She’s not a bad person, she admitted reluctantly. But I cannot like her. I cannot... trust her with my life.

As the fake Qin Ruo’s breathing evened out, signaling her descent into sleep, the real Qin Ruo drifted closer, observing the peaceful expression on the face that had once been her own. There was a glow about the girl, a brightness that seemed to fill the room, as though her soul was perfectly at home in the body that now housed it.

It’s as if this body was meant for her, Qin Ruo thought, a bitter realization creeping in. It suits her more than it ever did me.

And yet, that thought cut deeper than any worry about reputation. To see her own body, her own life, fitting someone else so perfectly—so effortlessly—was a wound to her very soul. It was a quiet, restrained pain, but it was real nonetheless.

I’ve been cast aside, she thought, her dignity keeping her from weeping, but the sadness lay heavy within her chest. I’ve been replaced, and no one even knows. No one even cares.

Yet, as she drifted around the room, her thoughts settled on a fragile hope. Maybe... maybe tomorrow, someone would notice that something was wrong, that she wasn’t herself. Her father, though distant and often preoccupied with work, surely would see the difference. Or her brothers—cold and indifferent as they were—might sense it. They were her family, after all, and surely they cared enough to recognize their own sister. Right?

Yet deep down, Qin Ruo knew the truth. Her father was always away, buried under the weight of responsibilities, and her brothers had never been close to her. They moved through life as if she were invisible, a fact that now cut deeper than ever. But still, she clung to the hope that someone, anyone, might notice.

Desperation gnawed at her, driving her to try something she hadn’t before.

A cold chill settled in her, deeper than the night air. Will they even miss me? Or will they be content with this new, brighter version of me—the one that laughs so freely, that fits so perfectly into my life?

She couldn’t bear the thought, but it lingered. What if I’ve been so easily replaced that no one ever questions it?

he floated closer to her body, hesitating at first, but then steeling herself. What if I can get back? What if I can just slip back in, unnoticed? She reached out, trying to merge with her physical form. But the moment her soul brushed against it, a sharp tug pulled at her, and she felt herself being drawn in too fast, as though the body were trying to absorb her.

Panic surged. The new Qin Ruo’s presence within the body grew brighter, like a blinding light, while the real Qin Ruo’s soul began to pale, fading as if she were being drained away. No! I’m disappearing!

She struggled, fought against the pull, her heart hammering with terror. With all her strength, she forced herself free, yanking her soul back from the brink. She gasped for breath, though her soul form needed none, shaken by the near-disaster.

Panting with fear, she realized the truth: I can’t get too close. If I do, I’ll be swallowed whole. Her hands trembled as she backed away from her own body, a terrible understanding sinking in. If she wasn’t careful, she might fade entirely, lost to the bright, foreign soul that seemed to fit so perfectly into what should have been her own body.