Chapter 23: Newborn

Night, Qingtan City.

“Got it, Grandma, I took leave. Back to work the day after tomorrow… Alright, talk later.”

In a rented apartment, Li Feng sat alone at his computer desk, shirtless.

One hand pressed the phone’s hang-up button, the other scrolled the mouse.

He looked less like a rookie cop and more like a programmer racing a deadline.

A minute ago, he’d finished a call with family.

His grandma, checking in after months of him being too busy to visit.

Li Feng wasn’t born into wealth.

Quite the opposite—his parents divorced early, and, awarded to his mother, he grew up with his grandma until high school graduation.

His workplace wasn’t too far from home, but not close enough for a daily commute.

Beyond family, his social circle was thin.

Yet, within a week, he’d repeatedly encountered strange people.

Two days ago, on his way home, a boy who looked like an elementary schooler approached him.

Or rather, Li Feng approached the seemingly lost boy, asking if he needed help.

Instead of crying, “Can you take me home?” the boy grinned, as if waiting for Li Feng alone.

Afterward…

He had almost no memory of what followed.

Something buried deep inside him stirred.

When he came to, the boy—barely a meter tall—was gone.

Then, his already hazy dreams grew vivid.

An assignment took him to an old house in the old district.

Inside, a white-haired girl sat on the stairs to the second floor, alone, helpless, her ice-blue eyes empty.

The dream became whole, but Li Feng grew increasingly distracted.

The next day, he checked the surveillance footage.

As expected, the spot where he met the boy was a blind spot.

Checking further, the station had no record of incidents.

It was as if it was all just a dream.

But the bizarre dream kept him sleepless for days—ten days now, counting the prior week.

Maybe his mind was fraying, or maybe he really wanted to visit the place from his dream.

This afternoon, his leave was approved.

“Hope I’m just scaring myself,” Li Feng muttered.

Just then, a message popped up in his QQ chat.

The sender wasn’t on his friend list—a temporary message.

[Go to the window. Open the curtains.]

*

It was Xueqiu’s fifth day at the school, two days from the entrance exam.

Perhaps unable to bear her being toyed with like a naive rabbit, Xia Yin shared some exam details.

As a sophomore who’d been at the Spiritual Academy for six years, he knew a bit about the questions.

“Long story short, Subject Two’s what you prep for. Subject Three’s for activating your Contract—we’ve got less than 120 known types. You’ll learn more once enrolled.”

“Subject One’s too easy. If you wanna prep, focus on Subject Two.”

Despite his words, Xueqiu was deeply grateful for a senior like him.

But these days, she wasn’t the only one under his wing.

“So hard, I don’t get it. Maybe I should just drop out…” Chang Mu’s voice came from behind.

Like Xueqiu, he was an early-admission freshman, arriving even earlier.

Now, he hogged Xia Yin’s desk, whining listlessly over a pile of study materials.

“Go back, and you’ll get brainwashed,” Xueqiu said after some thought.

She wasn’t close to Chang Mu, though they’d met a few times.

Strictly speaking, he was always here for Xia Yin, not her.

Usually, it was for gaming, sometimes to rant about smurfs or hackers, or some player with a terrible score spamming “EZ” or “recruiting disciples.”

Xueqiu, clueless about their topics, could only watch from a distance.

“Brainwashing’s no big deal, but going back now means facing the college entrance exam in June. With your lousy grades, you’d be better off repeating a year,” Xia Yin said, appearing like a ghost.

It was his dorm, but it was morning, and he had a full class schedule.

“Boss? Forget something? Why’re you back now?” Chang Mu’s eyes darted, then he added, “Don’t worry, Boss, I won’t make a move on your girl!”

Xia Yin rubbed his forehead, as if annoyed Chang Mu was stealing his spotlight, then sighed.

“Your new classmate—the last early-admission freshman—should arrive today. I’m curious what kind of girl kept Carlos, that robot-faced guy, in Japan for five extra days.”

“So, you skipped class,” Xueqiu said softly.

“Japan? Don’t they have their own Spiritual Academy?” Chang Mu asked, puzzled.

“No need to guess. Could be some yakuza heiress here to gild her resume…” Xia Yin said.

“And Chang Mu, you’re supposed to be studying. Why’d you eat all my shrimp chips?”

Xueqiu sat quietly, watching them banter.

Sometimes, she thought they’d make better roommates than she and Xia Yin.

If her life were a book, Xia Yin would be the protagonist, Chang Mu the sidekick—or vice versa.

No author would write a role as introverted as hers.

“Do they enter through the mirror too?” Xueqiu asked after a moment’s thought.

“Mirror, mirror…”

Xia Yin paused, then lit up. “Oh, you mean the one we came through? It’s not really a mirror—more like a spatial Contract, like what isolates the school from Youdu itself.”

Another Contract.

“The person using that must be incredible,” Xueqiu said quietly.

She still didn’t know if she’d have such a power, and if she did, it’d probably be painfully ordinary.

“Of course. It’s the principal of the Spiritual Academy, an old fossil like Dumbledore or Anjou. Having that kind of power isn’t too surprising,” Xia Yin said softly.

His Contract, “Yinglong,” was spatial, like Wuyue Liuli’s from the profile, and his S-rank meant it wasn’t weak.

Xueqiu wanted to ask more, but the half-open dorm door creaked wider.

Through the gap, a girl with twin tails and orange hair peeked in, speaking in slightly accented Mandarin.

“Um… is this… Room 618?”