Business trickled as usual, like a cold drizzle over empty stools. After shutting early, Weiyang’s mood cooled like stale tea, and she stopped wanting to grind away at this work. A year in, the road ahead lay fogged like a winter alley; she should think about changing trades. No rush—she let that thought settle like silt in a glass.

Two girls sat in the bar, like sparrows on a quiet rail—one familiar, the other newly met. Today, those two were the only ripples on her still pond of a shop.

“So good—never had food this heavenly,” Sham sang, eyes bright like crescent moons.

“Can’t you show some restraint…” Yun Shi’s cheeks burned like a paper lantern; she wanted to hide her face.

“What’s it matter? Sister Weiyang’s treating us,” Sham grinned, carefree as wind through bamboo.

“That’s why you should show some restraint, okay…” Yun Shi’s breath blew thin as a reed.

The world of foodies was a mountain mist she couldn’t climb.

Weiyang only smiled, warm as an old hearth, no blame in her eyes.

“If she’s Yun Shi’s friend, I ought to host her well, right?” Her voice was willow-soft.

“You indulge her too much, Miss Weiyang,” Yun Shi muttered, a faint chill like autumn frost.

“What’s wrong with that? Yun Shi rarely brings friends here. I’m honestly thrilled.” Joy fluttered in her like a small bird.

“Don’t make that ‘my child finally grew up’ face,” Yun Shi sighed, eyelids heavy as dusk.

“If I had a sister like you, I’d be delighted,” Weiyang teased, sunshine through lace curtains.

Nope—different worlds, like parallel rivers that never meet.

Yun Shi knew Weiyang was reliable like a stone bridge, yet sometimes left you helpless, like rain you couldn’t stop.

She exhaled, the sound thin as steam, and sipped her drink in quiet. Sham kept her head down, devouring food like a harvest locust, oblivious to their murmurs.

“You’re going back to the Underworld, aren’t you?” Weiyang asked, the question dropping like a pebble into still water.

It startled Yun Shi; her hand trembled like a leaf, drink wobbling.

“Yeah… it’s not all bad,” she said, voice clouded like a gray sky. “The Witch bounty system brings money, which could ease the strain of living.”

She wouldn’t hide; a tide comes when it comes, sooner or later. Guilt pricked her like a thorn: when she first fled the Underworld with nothing, Weiyang took her in and gave her a shelter. Now that she’d found her footing, she would return to that night-soaked place.

The world she’d fled was dark, ugly, and blood-slick, like a moonless swamp—no one loved it. Even Weiyang had left because she loathed it, like a bird shedding a tangle of thorns.

Maybe it wasn’t just Yun Shi and Weiyang. Many had slipped out of the Underworld, and perhaps they lived quietly in the Outer World, like stones in a clear stream, never stirring again. After all, there was much about this world they still didn’t know, like stars hidden by dawn.

“Have you really decided? You hate the Underworld, don’t you?” Weiyang’s eyes were steady, lantern-bright.

Yun Shi did hate it; it stole her freedom and took an important friend, leaving her with nothing, like winter stripping a tree bare. Yet she had to admit—she grew up in the Underworld, roots sunk in shadowed soil.

“I hate it. That place is built from sorrow; that’s the truth,” she said, voice low, like wind slipping under a door. “But I can’t forget the place that broke my heart, no matter what. I don’t even know why.”

Her friend had died there, falling to reach the world of light, like a moth consumed by flame.

“I think it’s because I haven’t finished what I should do,” she said, gaze firm as iron. “The answer I seek still hides like a fish under ice. So I won’t run anymore. I want to go back.”

“Yun Shi, going back to the Underworld means you might meet family again—like the Quadra Eye Family,” Weiyang warned, words heavy as rain.

“I’ll find a way to solve that,” Yun Shi replied, jaw set like a blade edge. “Right now, what I need is—”

“Enough,” Weiyang cut in, but gently, like a soft bell. “No matter what I say, you won’t change your mind, right?”

She knew Yun Shi—once decided, she rarely turned, like a compass pointing north.

“I just want to say: think everything through, leave no blind corners,” Weiyang said, earnest as a temple prayer. “Only when you weigh every piece can you give yourself the best chance to stay whole.”

She spoke with gravity, passing on her hard-won firewood of wisdom.

“Even as a Witch, there aren’t many true companions there,” she added, voice cool as night. “People in that dark world are brutally realistic; they act on their own hunches.”

“I know,” Yun Shi nodded, like a reed bending but not breaking.

“Sometimes, though, a few real friends will be worth keeping,” Weiyang said, a candle in fog. “You’ll have to judge with your own eyes.”

“I’ll remember,” Yun Shi answered, resolve like a tied knot.

“Last thing,” Weiyang said, tone tender as dusk light. “Your home isn’t the Underworld. The Outer World is yours too.”

“Mm.” Her reply was small, like a pebble set down.

“In that case, go to school,” Weiyang said, as if dropping a firecracker into the conversation.

“…” Yun Shi stared, mind buzzing like a beehive.

Did the director hand her the wrong script? The scene had jumped like a sparrow startled into flight.

“Um, Miss Weiyang, why say that?” she coughed, throat dry like chalk.

School… she hadn’t done that for thirteen years. Since being born into this world, the word had been fog on a distant hill.

“You’ve never gone, right?” Weiyang smiled, eyes clear as a brook. “Why not take this chance and experience it?”

In truth, she had gone to school—in a past life. That memory glimmered like an old photograph.

“Things in the Underworld will be messy,” Weiyang went on, calm as snow. “But don’t ignore school. You’re still in your teens; you should enjoy campus time.”

“I don’t want to go to school!” Yun Shi’s protest flared like a spark.

“No. This isn’t up for debate!” Weiyang’s answer rang like a gavel.

“But I hate school!” Yun Shi’s words clattered like hail.

“How can a girl your age not attend school?” Weiyang’s brow tightened, a straight line like a drawn bow. “That’s not what good kids do.”

“I don’t want to be a girl!” Yun Shi shot back, temper whipping like a squall.

“Nice try,” Weiyang snorted, a quick thunderclap. “Even if I changed the gender on your ID, it wouldn’t change reality. Don’t try to escape.”

Truth stood like a cliff; no matter how Yun Shi refused or threw a fit, Weiyang didn’t step back an inch.

Yun Shi going to school was set in stone, like nails in a board—no way to pry them out.

“Yun Shi, just go,” Sham chimed in, grin bright as candy. “School’s not a prison. No need to be scared.”

“See? Even your agent says so,” Weiyang added, smile light as silk. “Shouldn’t you give us a little something in return?”

Watching Sham meddle with a flick like a fox tail, Yun Shi simmered, stew-bubble hot. She just didn’t want to go—why was that so hard?

“Sham Einafel!” She snapped the name like a snapped twig.

“Just call me Sham,” the girl laughed, easy as summer rain. “We’re bound by contract, right? Calling me that stiffly feels wrong.”

“That’s not the problem!” Yun Shi’s forehead throbbed like a drum.

“I’ve decided to stay in Japan,” Sham said, steady as a milestone. “And I’m going to Rakuyoku High School. You not going to school now feels off, don’t you think?”

Yun Shi fell silent, words sinking like stones. On this topic, she couldn’t find a solid reason to refuse. Besides “I don’t want to,” her cupboard was bare.

“…At least give me time to brace myself,” she muttered, shoulders drooping like wet cloth.

Helpless, the girl compromised, a small sail lowering in wind.

Sham and Weiyang traded a look, then high-fived, palms cracking like firecrackers in a festival.

“I’ve already lined things up,” Weiyang said, patting her chest, confidence bright as a sunrise. “Next, you’ll take the entrance exam at Mingya Middle School. Don’t worry—ask us if you hit a wall.”

She pulled out a registration form, paper crisp like new snow.

“Mingya Middle School? Me?” Yun Shi blinked, surprise twitching her eyelids like moth wings.

“Of course,” Weiyang nodded, logic neat as stacked books. “You’re thirteen, so third year of junior high fits. You haven’t gone before, so adapting will be rough. I get it…”

“I don’t want junior high,” Yun Shi cut in, voice firm as a blade. “I want high school.”

“Huh?” Weiyang’s surprise popped like a bubble.

She’d thought Yun Shi, never schooled, would balk at ninth grade. She hadn’t expected her to ask straight for high school, like leaping from shore to midstream.

“Yun Shi, you’re not joking, right?” Sham frowned, concern folding like a fan. “You haven’t even done elementary. Jumping to high school is too much.”

Yeah—asking a non-actor to lead a film felt just as off, like pushing a sapling to bear fruit overnight.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Yun Shi said, chin lifted, eyes clear as ice. “High school courses are manageable. It’s not eight-legged essays or imperial exams. This little hill won’t stump me.”

She’d been a university student before, in another life; tackling high school now felt like walking a familiar lane. Compared with China’s grinding education, Japan’s path was gentler, like moss underfoot.

Haven’t you heard? China took first place in the International Math Olympiad for ten straight years, only broken in the tenth by the Americans; otherwise, they would’ve ruled a decade. That shows how fearsome that system can be, a steel mill for minds.

Yun Shi wasn’t that extreme, but she was a child forged under pressure, tempered in many battlefields. After all those hellscapes, would she fear an exam? Her courage stood like a mountain.

“Even if you say that,” Weiyang replied, voice level as a lake, “here’s the deal. If you don’t pass, you’ll obediently go back to Mingya Middle School. Fair?”

“OK. You don’t even need to ask,” Yun Shi said, confidence kindled like a lantern. She trusted she could get into Rakuyoku High School; she wasn’t about to be blocked by a single gate.

Her new starting line unfurled here, like dawn breaking on a quiet street.