The supply shop was a tiny hole-in-the-wall on Pell Street, its windows covered in newspaper to keep out prying eyes. Ye pushed open the door, and a bell jingled—smaller than the one at the antique shop, more urgent. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of cinnabar (sharp, like iron), sandalwood (warm, like incense), and something sweet—lotus seeds, Rui realized, from a bowl on the counter.
An old woman with silver hair sat behind the register, stringing beads onto a red cord. She looked up as they entered, her eyes narrowing at Ye. "Shaoyang? You haven't been here since Dao Feng left. What do you want?" Her voice was sharp, but there was warmth in her eyes—affection, not anger.
"Ama Li," Ye said, leaning against the counter. "Need cinnabar, glutinous rice, three Soul-Inviting Talismans, and a bronze mirror. Emergency." He nodded at Rui. "FBI. She's with me."
Ama Li looked Rui up and down, her gaze lingering on her blazer and holster. "FBI? What do they know about ghosts?" She turned back to Ye, her voice softening. "It's Feng Xinyu, isn't it? She's back."
Ye nodded. "She's collecting debts. Going after the Japanese officer's grandson tonight. I need to stop her."
Ama Li sighed, standing up. She walked to a shelf in the back, pulling down a clay jar of cinnabar, a burlap sack of rice, and a small bronze mirror with a Tai Chi symbol carved into the back. She then took a stack of yellow talismans from a drawer, each marked with red ink. "These talismans—draw blood on the edge. Yours, not hers. It'll bind her to the spot long enough to talk." She handed them to Ye, then turned to Rui. "That pendant you're wearing—Guan Yin. Rub it when you feel Yin energy. It'll glow blue. Warn you."
Rui touched the pendant, surprised Ama Li had noticed it. "Thank you."
Ama Li waved a hand. "Just don't let Shaoyang get himself killed. Dao Feng would never forgive me." She paused, her eyes sad. "You find him yet?"
Ye's jaw tightened. "Not yet. But I will." He paid for the supplies, slipping the talismans into his bag, and nodded at Rui. "Let's go."
They walked back to the antique shop, the supplies heavy in Ye's canvas bag. The sun had set now, and Chinatown was alive with lanterns—red, gold, orange—their light reflecting off the wet sidewalks. Elders sat outside their shops, burning joss paper in iron basins, their voices soft as they prayed.
"Dao Feng was here, once," Ye said, nodding at a dim sum shop. "We came here after training. He'd order har gow, and I'd steal his siu mai. He'd get mad, but he'd always give me one." He smiled, a small, sad thing. "He was like a brother. Still is."
Rui looked at him. "You really think he's alive?"
Ye stopped, turning to her. "I know it. Dao Feng's too stubborn to die. And if he was… the whisk would've lost its energy." He pulled a small silver fragment from his pocket—the same one from the photo. "He had this when he left. It's part of the Xuanqing Whisk—our mountain's treasure. It still glows, faint but steady. That means he's alive."
Rui took the fragment, her fingers brushing his. It was warm, like it held a tiny flame. "We'll find him," she said, handing it back. "Together."
Ye's smile widened, brighter this time. "Together."
They reached the antique shop, and Ye unlocked the door. Inside, he spread the supplies on the counter: cinnabar in a bowl, rice in a sack, talismans in a stack, mirror next to them. He picked up a brush, dipping it in cinnabar, and began to draw a symbol on a piece of rice paper—curved lines, sharp angles, a circle in the center.
"What's that?" Rui asked, leaning over his shoulder.
"Soul-Inviting Array," he said, not looking up. "We'll set it up at the sushi restaurant. The cinnabar traps Yin energy, the incense lures her in. The mirror will show us her true face—why she's so angry, what she really wants." He finished the symbol, blowing on it to dry the ink. "You'll need to stand by the mirror. Your medium powers—you can hear her whispers. Maybe you can get through to her."
Rui nodded, pulling out her notebook. She flipped to the page with the blood cross, sketching the Soul-Inviting Array next to it. "Mike's bringing two agents to stake out the perimeter. They'll handle the crowd, keep the grandson safe until we're ready." She looked up, meeting Ye's eyes. "What if she doesn't come? What if she goes after someone else?"
Ye picked up the bronze mirror, holding it up to the light. "She'll come. She's been waiting seventy years for this. The debt ends tonight."
They left the shop at 8:30 p.m., the supplies packed in Ye's bag. The sushi restaurant—called "Golden Carp"—was on Elizabeth Street, its windows lit with blue neon. Mike was already there, leaning against his car, two other SPU agents with him.
"Rui," he said, walking over. He nodded at Ye, his eyes wary. "This is the 'expert'?"
"Ye Shaoyang," Ye said, holding out his hand. "Taoist, exorcist, part-time antique seller. And yes, I'm the expert."
Mike shook his hand, still skeptical. "We got the grandson—Mr. Tanaka—in the back room with an agent. His wife's with him. They're scared." He nodded at the restaurant. "Cameras set up. If your 'ghost' shows up, we'll see her."
Ye smiled. "You won't see her. But you'll feel her. Cold. Like walking into a freezer." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Let's set up the array. We have an hour before the festival peaks."
They went inside the restaurant, the smell of soy sauce and raw fish filling the air. Mr. Tanaka was in the back room, a middle-aged man with graying hair, sitting at a table with his wife. He stood when they entered, his hands shaking. "You're here to protect us? From the woman in white?"
"We're here to talk to her," Ye said, setting his bag on the table. "She's not just after you. She's after the debt your grandfather owed."
Mr. Tanaka paled. "I know. My father told me. He was a soldier… he killed her family. I've tried to make amends—donated to the Chinatown museum, helped the elders. But it's never enough."
Ye nodded. "We'll try to reason with her. But if that doesn't work… we'll stop her." He turned to Rui. "Help me set up the array. By the front door—she'll come through there."
They moved to the front of the restaurant, clearing a space on the floor. Ye poured cinnabar in a circle, drawing the Soul-Inviting Array in the center. He placed the bronze mirror at the array's north point, the talismans at the other three. Then he lit three sticks of incense, placing them in a small bowl of rice at the center. The smoke curled upward, thick and sweet.
"Now we wait," he said, standing up. He handed Rui a talisman. "If she gets close, hold this up. It'll repel her—for a minute, at least."
Rui took the talisman, her fingers brushing the red ink. It felt warm, like it hummed with energy. "What do I say to her? If I can hear her?"
"Ask her what she wants," Ye said. "Not the debt. What she really wants. Revenge? Apology? Closure?" He paused, his voice soft. "Most vengeful spirits aren't just angry. They're sad."
The clock struck 9:00 p.m.—the peak of the Hungry Ghost Festival. Outside, the lanterns flickered, and the sound of burning joss paper grew louder. Rui felt a cold tingle on her chest, and she looked down—her jade pendant was glowing blue, faint but bright.
"She's here," she said, gripping the talisman.
The temperature dropped suddenly, so fast that Rui's breath fogged. The incense smoke twisted, curling toward the door. The bell above the entrance jingled, even though no one had touched it.
Then she appeared—Feng Xinyu, in her tattered white shroud, her hair hanging in matted curtains. She glided into the restaurant, her feet hovering above the floor, and her eyes locked on Mr. Tanaka, who was standing in the back room, frozen.
"Debt," she whispered, her voice like wind through a grave. "You owe me."
Ye stepped forward, his peachwood sword raised. "Feng Xinyu. Stop. Killing him won't bring your family back."
She turned, her hair shifting to reveal a pale face—hollow eyes, blue lips, a strangle mark around her neck. "You don't understand. He's the last of them. The last debt."
Rui closed her eyes, focusing on the whispers. They were loud now, overlapping, desperate. My parents… my brother… the fire… She opened her eyes, stepping forward. "I hear them. Your family. They're not angry anymore, Feng Xinyu. They're sad. They want you to rest."
Feng Xinyu screamed, a sound like breaking glass. The windows rattled, and the lanterns outside flickered out. She lunged at Mr. Tanaka, but Ye swung his sword, the blade cutting through the air with a whoosh. The tip grazed her shoulder, and she hissed, stepping back.
"Use the talisman!" Ye yelled.
Rui held up the talisman, and it glowed red. Feng Xinyu stumbled, her body flickering like a bad lightbulb. The bronze mirror on the floor lit up, reflecting her true form—not the vengeful spirit, but a young woman, 18 years old, smiling with her family in a garden.
Feng Xinyu froze, staring at the mirror. "Ma… Ba… Xiao Ming…" she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Mr. Tanaka stepped forward, his hands raised. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "For what my grandfather did. I'm so sorry." He knelt, bowing his head. "I'll keep making amends. For you, for your family. I promise."
Feng Xinyu looked at him, then at the mirror. The vengeful glow in her eyes faded, replaced by sorrow. She reached out, her hand passing through Mr. Tanaka's shoulder, and then she turned to Rui and Ye. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "I can hear them now. They're calling me."
She began to fade, her body turning to light. The cold lifted, and the lanterns outside flickered back on. The last thing they saw was her smile—soft, peaceful—before she vanished.
The restaurant was quiet, the only sound the distant crackle of joss paper. Mr. Tanaka stood, wiping his tears, and thanked them. Mike and the agents came in, looking around.
"Is it over?" Mike asked.
Ye nodded, sheathing his sword. "She's at rest. The debt's paid." He looked at Rui, his eyes warm. "Thanks to you."
Rui smiled, touching her jade pendant—it was no longer glowing. "Teamwork."
They walked outside, the night air warm now. The elders were still burning joss paper, their prayers soft. Ama Li was standing on the corner, watching them, and she waved when she saw Ye.
"Told you you'd be okay," she called.
Ye waved back, then turned to Rui. "Want to get something to eat? I know a dumpling shop around the corner. Best xiaolongbao in Chinatown."
Rui nodded, her stomach growling. "Lead the way, partner."
As they walked down Elizabeth Street, Rui thought about Dao Feng—about the whisk fragment, about the cross, about the army hospital. Feng Xinyu was at rest, but Dao Feng was still missing. The debt was paid, but their work wasn't done.
She looked at Ye, who was pointing to a neon sign—"Lucky Dumpling"—and smiled. They'd find him. Together.
And when they did, they'd make sure his debt was paid too.