Next morning.

Xiaoxiao Ji drifted up from darkness like a leaf rising through still water; last night, Nana Toki had scared her clean out.

Her brown ceiling doubled and blurred like heat haze. She snapped upright with a whoosh; cold sweat slid down her back like melted frost.

The fog in her head blew away like a wind over reeds.

Last night… was that a dream, or something else?

Fear first, then breath. She hugged her quilt like a shield and scanned her bright room; only birds called from the big tree outside, little bells in green leaves. The monsters her mind painted were nowhere to be seen.

No strange things hung from the ceiling; calm objects sat like stones in a river, all hinting that this morning was ordinary as rice and tea.

See? Ghosts are just people scaring themselves, smoke and shadows. How could the real world hold one?

Besides, this fairy is a double agent—materialist and atheist. Even if there were yaoguai, they wouldn’t come knocking on me!

Buddha’s up there watching. Namo Amitabha…

She fed herself those odd little mantras while her hand fished for her phone like a cat’s paw under a screen.

Mm… I forgot to charge it last night… why’s there almost no juice today?

The battery icon glowed amber like a withered leaf. Wrapped in her tiny quilt, she sighed, a soft wind through bamboo—there goes half my between-class fun.

She dawdled up, washed, and checked the time; the clock face was a pale moon with plenty of night left. She decided to hit the breakfast shop outside school and catch some steam and soy milk.

“Ah… I forgot my uniform…”

At the entryway, shoes in hand, she looked down—everyday clothes, not school blue. Irritated as a sparrow pecking, she scampered back to her room to pull the uniform from the wardrobe.

Abruptly, as her hand reached the wardrobe, a chill seeped out like winter mist rolling from a cave. The shiver clapped her spine; her fingers tucked back, small, like a mouse dodging a cat.

…Did the haunting start again?

The thought flashed like lightning, then she laughed it off like rain on a paper umbrella.

Broad daylight doesn’t breed ghosts; I’m not exactly on a specter’s hit list—it’s just my nerves.

What kind of ghost wastes daylight in a closet? Even Sadako climbs out at night; wardrobes are a no-go, totally impossible~

In those few seconds of silly thoughts, she popped the wardrobe door open, neat as a bird’s peck.

Nothing weird. Uniforms and street clothes lay folded like layered clouds. Just a normal wardrobe, ordinary as bread.

So it was all in my head…

Relief spilled from her chest like a weight lifted; she hummed a little tune, pulled out her uniform, and readied to change.

Suddenly, from the pile of clothes, a female ghost’s head wearing a white triangular kerchief lifted like a moon behind sails. Her eyes were half-lidded, dreamy, and she gave a lazy wave.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“…”

Mom, I’m seeing ghosts in broad daylight!

On instinct, Xiaoxiao flung the uniform right at Nana Toki’s face like a towel thrown at a shower prank. Then, realizing you can’t enter school without it, she bolted out, only to dash back, snatch the uniform off Nana’s face, and slam the wardrobe door like a clapper.

“…” Nana Toki’s expression went flat, a calm pond. This woman’s antics have that Nesting Phoenix flavor.

Do you really not know ghosts walk through walls?

Nana softened into mist and slid out of the wardrobe, then drifted through the nearby wall like smoke through lattice. She reached the entryway first and blocked Xiaoxiao, who was set to flee like a startled rabbit.

“Why are you running like the wind? I’m not a man-eating ghost.”

“…”

You’re floating and phasing through walls—if you’re not a ghost, what are you?

“Look at you.” Nana rolled her eyes like a marble. “Nerves made of glass. If you see me at night again, will you faint twice?”

“…” So last night wasn’t a dream. My house is actually haunted? And did a female ghost just… look down on me?

“Change and get to school,” Nana pointed at the living-room clock, its hands like arrows. “Your gate isn’t exactly forgiving, right?”

“Eh?”

The nudge hit like a tap on a drum. Thinking she had a point, Xiaoxiao rushed into the bathroom, changed at lightning speed, then trotted out right in front of the ghost, bright as a duckling.

She got nearly a hundred meters from home before her mind caught up, like brakes finally biting.

Wait. I just saw a ghost in broad daylight. And chatted.

That’s not right.

Her heart pounded like hooves; her steps quickened like rain on tiles.

She really did see a ghost.

…

She jogged into school and slid into her seat, breath a thin thread. A girl leaned over, curiosity like a cat’s whiskers. “Xiaoxiao, why so late today? Oversleep?”

“No, Yueyue. I just… saw a ghost at home.”

Panic first, words after. She told her best friend the whole thing in one rush, like beads poured from a string. “What do I do, Yueyue?”

“Hah…” Zhao Yue eyed Xiaoxiao’s about-to-cry face, more storm than joke. Even Zhao Yue felt a pinch of strangeness.

A female ghost at dawn, white triangle headscarf? It sounded like a campfire tale in morning mist…

“Xiaoxiao, sure you didn’t mis-see?”

Zhao Yue reached to check Xiaoxiao’s forehead like a mother bird’s wing. The next second, half a step out, a bone-chilling yin rushed up from the floor like cold river water, spearing her crown.

Her knees almost turned to reeds.

“What’s wrong, Yueyue?”

Alarm first, movement next. Xiaoxiao rose to steady her friend.

Then, as she lifted her head, a woman’s face appeared, sudden as a mirror hung in air.

“Don’t touch her.”

Hanging upside down like a bat, the woman stared straight into Xiaoxiao’s eyes. Her voice was winter snow on skin, a quiet that froze.

Her gaze was deep and hollow, a calm that scared like the bottom of a well.

“You…”

“You’re mine.”

Xiaoxiao’s pupils snapped small like startled bees. The words gripped her breath and sped it, a drum rapid in her chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the class bell struck like metal on stone.

Riiiing—!

Riiiing—!

She blinked, and the air was empty. No face, only light. Her friend had already turned back at the sound, confusion fluttering like a moth.

“All right, everyone, back to your seats. We have a transfer student today. Three minutes to say hello.”

From her desk, Xiaoxiao could see the hallway. Their homeroom teacher led in a boy with clean lines, handsome as a sketch in ink.

She didn’t know him; she only thought he looked pretty good.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Lu Ming, a Spirit Exorcist from the deep mountains. I just came down a few days ago. If you run into anything uncanny, you can talk to me. Within my ability—no promises—I’ll at least try.”

The young man’s odd self-introduction landed like a pebble in a lake; laughter rippled through the room.

Even the teacher beside him smiled, a breeze over tea.

“A Spirit Exorcist? What century is this? Who still thinks ghosts exist!”

“Yeah, we modern folks believe in science. That made-up stuff can’t be real.”

“If you wanted attention, this is pretty kindergarten.”

“Came down the mountain? Think you’re an immortal? Hahaha!”

Mockery rose in waves, one crest chasing the next. The teacher finally clapped the noise shut like a fan.

“Enough. Lu Ming, third row, the empty seat. Your books are inside; take them out, write your name, and you’re set.”

Lu Ming didn’t argue. He nodded, a simple dip like a leaf, accepted it, and walked off the platform toward his seat.