The first night after signing the pact was unbearable. Lin Qinglan tossed on her narrow bed, her body heavy as if wrapped in chains. Then, suddenly, her mind tore open.
She was no longer in her room. Instead, she stood in a dim alley. A bottle shattered on the ground. Two men argued violently. One of them pulled out a knife, and the other screamed—
Qinglan gasped awake, drenched in sweat. But the sound of glass breaking hadn't faded. Moments later, outside her window, she heard the exact same noise. Looking down, she saw two neighbors quarreling in the courtyard, one of them holding a bottle.
Her heart stopped. She had just seen this.
The following day, she confronted Shen Moxian. He wasn't surprised. "That is the pact's gift," he explained. "Fragments of the future. But don't mistake it for control. Every vision comes at a price."
"What price?" she demanded.
"Your spirit," he answered flatly. "Each glimpse consumes a part of your energy. Push too far, and you'll lose your sanity… or worse."
Qinglan wanted to scream at him, to accuse him of dragging her into a nightmare. Yet something inside her knew the contract had chosen her long before Shen appeared.
That night, she dreamt again. This time she saw herself standing on a courtroom bench, watching Shen argue a case. His words rang with precision, his figure standing tall beneath the moonlight filtering through the high windows. But the vision fractured, ending in blood staining his sleeve.
She woke with trembling hands.
The pact was real. And it was dangerous.
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