chapter 2 : realm of jadefire

To how she got this realm.

It had been two years ago. She was fifteen. Bleeding, cold, nearly dying.

A curse had latched onto her soul — a remnant of an exorcism gone wrong. She had collapsed in an alley after expelling a particularly nasty ghost, heart barely beating, mind unraveling under the weight of spirit poison.

And then—

The world twisted.

She woke up… here.

Floating in a field of stars. Her body repaired. Her wounds soothed. And this realm, pulsing with a heartbeat that matched her own, whispered to her:

“Welcome home.”

It wasn’t just a space. It was bonded to her. Hidden within her soul. Ancient, sentient, and waiting for someone with the right spirit flame to awaken it.

Little Spirit had been there too — a glowing newborn, curled in a lotus bud.

“You looked so serious when you first arrived,” it murmured now, perched on her head. “I thought you were going to scold the trees.”

“I almost did,” Ruqing said dryly. “They looked too smug.”

---

A soft chime came from the cauldron.

She leaned forward — the soul-repairing pill was complete, perfectly round and pearlescent.

“Not bad,” she murmured. “Better than last time.”

Then her senses flickered — awareness of the outside world slipping in. Someone had opened a window near her real body. A whisper of laughter, a gust of wind, the scrape of shoes.

Though only her consciousness was inside, she could still feel everything around her real self. It was like standing in two rooms at once.

She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.

“Let’s go, Little Spirit. School bell’s about to ring.”

The spirit pouted. “Back to pretending to be normal?”

“Exactly,” she said. “And if anyone asks, I’m just a sleepy teen with trust issues and god-tier pill refining skills.”

They vanished.

And at her desk in the classroom, Feng Ruqing blinked once… and smirked.

The ding-ding-ding of the school bell rang with all the enthusiasm of a half-hearted alarm clock. Loud, shrill, and impossible to ignore.

Feng Ruqing cracked open one eye from her desk nap.

“Why must every day start with noise?”

Around her, classmates scrambled into their seats like survivors of a mild stampede. Someone knocked over a chair. Someone else tried to throw a bun into a friend’s mouth and missed. The boy in front of her was still asleep face-down, drooling on his math book like it owed him money.

Just another Monday.

A moment later, the classroom door slid open with an ominous creak, revealing—

“GOOD MORNING, MY CHILDREN!” boomed Mr. Wang, a man with the enthusiasm of a motivational speaker and the haircut of a sad mop.

Feng Ruqing flinched.

So did the windows.

“Let us begin roll call!” he cried, dramatically flipping open the attendance sheet like it was a sacred scroll.

---

“Li Xinyi?”

“Here!”

“Bao Jing?”

“Here!”

“Qin Chen?”

“Present and very handsome,” came a cheerful voice from behind Ruqing.

She sighed. “Don’t flatter yourself this early in the day.”

Qin Chen leaned forward and whispered, “Too late, I already practiced my wink in the mirror this morning. It’s lethal.”

Feng Ruqing didn’t dignify that with a reply.

Qin Chen was the only one who didn’t get on her nerves. He was sharp, witty, and just the right amount of idiot. Also, he had no idea she spent her weekends exorcising ghosts and brewing soul-restoring pills in a celestial realm.

He thought her “strange herb smell” was from cheap shampoo.

---

“Feng Ruqing?” the teacher called.

She raised a hand without lifting her head. “Alive and tolerating existence.”

“Wonderful,” Mr. Wang said brightly. “Your existential dread is improving.”

From across the room, a sharp tsk echoed.

Here we go again.

Zhao Minya. Sitting three seats diagonally, arms folded, expression like she’d just swallowed sour lemons for fun.

She glared at Feng Ruqing with the intensity of someone who’d made hatred a hobby.

Why did she hate her?

No idea.

Ruqing had once held a door open for her. That’s when it started.

Qin Chen once suggested she had been an ancient mosquito in a past life, and Ruqing had accidentally swatted her.

It was the only theory that made sense.

---

As Mr. Wang rambled on about the importance of punctuality, spiritual wellness, and not setting off fireworks in the biology lab (long story), Qin Chen passed Ruqing a note.

She unfolded it under the desk.

If you could be any vegetable, what would you be?

She blinked.

Then wrote back:

Garlic. Keeps demons and annoying people away.

Qin Chen snorted loud enough to draw a glare from Zhao Minya. He gave her a thumbs-up. She looked like she was considering murder by pencil stab.

Feng Ruqing smiled faintly.

Just a normal day.

No demons. No ghosts. No exorcisms.

Just sarcastic banter, mysterious glares, and questionable vegetables.

It was third period.

The sun glared in through the windows like it had a personal grudge against students. The blackboard was filled with equations no one was emotionally prepared to solve. Mr. Wang had switched from screaming to droning, which somehow made things worse.

Feng Ruqing sat at her desk, spinning her pen like she was trying to unlock a cheat code to life.

Qin Chen had already balanced three erasers on his head and was attempting a fourth.

Zhao Minya, naturally, had nothing better to do than seethe in their general direction.

And then it began.

“Some people,” Minya said loudly, not even pretending to be subtle, “just coast through school without ever trying. Must be nice being born with a smug face and zero ambition.”

Her voice was sweet. Like poison-flavored bubble tea.

Feng Ruqing didn’t even blink. “If you want a picture, just ask. You’ve been staring since roll call.”

A few students nearby snorted. Qin Chen coughed violently, trying to hide his laugh behind a book titled Advanced Spirit Theory (which he was definitely not reading).

Minya’s eye twitched. “I wasn’t—! Ugh, I don’t know why they let you in the advanced class anyway.”

Ruqing tapped her pen thoughtfully. “Probably because I don’t spend all my time being bitter and mediocre.”

There was a pause.

A very loud one.

Even Mr. Wang blinked from the front of the room and said, “Language, Miss Feng.”

Feng Ruqing raised a hand innocently. “What? Mediocre is a scientific term. I saw it on your last quiz paper.”

Oof.

Qin Chen let out a low whistle. “That one’s going in the history books.”

Zhao Minya’s face turned the exact color of expired strawberries. She huffed, flipped her hair dramatically, and turned away with the energy of a villain who just got out-snarked in episode two.

Ruqing went back to her pen spinning.

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