Fortunately, Jiang Jixue didn’t dwell on it. She turned reverently toward the ritual array.

So—was the next step the crucial spirit-summoning phase?

Chang’an, standing silently nearby, felt his own tension rise.

The ritual array wasn’t just pigments and chalk—it held unknown combustibles too. Chang’an watched as Jiang Jixue, like a magician, pinched a pinch of powder, scattered it. The particles drifted down like snow.

The outer ring ignited slowly, spiraling inward.

Only in darkness could you witness that breathtaking sight.

The dim array began to glow—like flowers blooming in snow, winter’s first dawn, ice rivers shattering, or sunset behind towering peaks.

And Jiang Jixue before it? An enchanting shrine maiden… or a cluster of purple pagoda blossoms.

Shadows and souls swayed as one.

“Since I was little,” she murmured, parting lips stained crimson from biting, “I’ve seen what others cannot.”

“At Grandma’s funeral, in the smoke of burning coin-shaped paper money… I saw her shadow. I chased her happily, wanting to stay with her forever… But she left. Without looking back.”

“That night, fever struck me hard. In our countryside home—half a day from the nearest hospital—adults just told me to sleep. So I did… and dreamed it again. This time, I caught up.”

“But the shadow—so like Grandma—stopped me. Still kind-eyed. Still gentle.”

“She held my hand reluctantly… then let go firmly. Vanished like mist. Only a trace of icy cold remained in my palm…”

“By morning, the fever was gone.”

“I learned then: loved ones won’t harm you after death. But other spirits… not always.”

“Later, I knew—I was a spiritual medium. Strange sights multiplied. My personality grew odd.”

“Others called me ‘neither human nor ghost’… gloomy. Unlikable.”

“Bullies targeted me. No friends. No place at school. I became a shut-in.”

“My sister was my light—kinder than my parents. They favored my brother. Gave up on me.”

“Every dawn: breakfast for three. Dad. Mom. Brother. I washed the dishes.”

“Until I earned my own keep. Moved in with Sister. Those were my happiest days.”

“She urged me to study. For her hope… for our promise to enter Chang’an Middle School together… I studied fiercely, alone.”

“Third year of junior high. Effort finally paid off. Classmates warmed to me.”

“Anticipating exams… reuniting with Sister… the promised Chang’an Summer Festival…”

—“But what came was news of her suicide.”

The combustible flared—suddenly, fiercely brighter.

Her uniform sleeves fluttered. With the blaze came choked sobs Jiang Jixue could no longer hide.

“Sister… what happened? Why not a single word to me?”

“Why did you do it? Why won’t you show yourself… leaving me alone in this lonely world…”

“I miss you so much, Sister…”

Skirt caught flame. Then sleeves.

The brooch on her chest glimmered in firelight—beautiful, heartbreakingly sorrowful.

“I miss you… Sister… Please… don’t go…”

Tears soaked her cheeks, traced her jaw, fell drop by drop.

What shattered was the fragile heart hidden beneath her cold mask.

Her precious memories with Sister…

And the future ahead—empty, solitary, forever unable to make new ones.

Tie. Socks. Pleated skirt. All consumed by flame.

Until only acrid smoke filled the classroom where the girl collapsed, sobbing brokenly.

Chang’an’s eyes had reddened too, unnoticed.

Jiang Jixue whispered at last, voice weaker, sadder than ever:

—“My sister is gone… truly gone.”

Amid the ashes, only the brooch remained—still gleaming.

Chang’an stepped forward, meaning to lift that last keepsake, wipe it clean, return it to her.

The instant his fingers touched it—he froze.

As if struck by lightning.

Before his eyes, the world transformed completely.