The NYU dorm room smelled like cold pizza and lingering fear. Xiao Ma had left hours earlier, but his unease clung to the walls—faint, like the ghost of his trembling hands. Rui stood by the now-blank canvas of Cliff in the Wilderness, her fingers brushing the cool oil paint. The Yin energy here was thinner than in Chinatown's alley, but it still hummed—soft, persistent, a reminder that Feng Qin hadn't truly left.
Ye knelt on the floor, piecing together shards of the bronze mirror. The Tai Chi symbol carved into its back glinted faintly, even in the dim dorm light. "Bronze mirrors are Taoist tools," he said, not looking up. "They reflect more than just faces—they show the true form of spirits. Feng Qin's hiding in the canvas, but the mirror can force him out." He held up a shard, turning it to catch the light. "Problem is, this one's broken. We need to fix it, or it won't work."
Rui pulled up a chair, setting her leather notebook on the desk. She flipped to a page filled with sketches of runes, her finger pausing on Algiz—the symbol for ancestor protection. "My grandma said mirrors can be used to communicate with spirits, too. Irish folklore calls them 'veils' between worlds." She looked at Ye, who was now mixing a paste of cinnabar and rice water. "Think we can combine them? Your mirror, my runes?"
Ye's lips curved into a half-smile. "Worth a try. Runes are about energy—same as talismans. If we carve Algiz into the mirror's frame, it might amplify the mirror's power. Keep Feng Qin from breaking it again." He nodded at her notebook. "Can you draw it? On this piece of wood—I'll attach it to the mirror."
Rui took the small scrap of peachwood he handed her, her fingers brushing his. His skin was warm, calloused from swordwork, a stark contrast to the smooth wood. She traced the Algiz rune carefully, her pencil moving in sharp, sure lines. "My grandma used to say this rune 'calls the ancestors to stand with you,'" she said, her voice soft. "I never believed it—until now."
Ye took the wood, gluing it to the mirror's cracked frame with cinnabar paste. "Taoists say the same about peachwood. It holds yang energy—repels yin. Together, this mirror'll be stronger than either of us alone." He stood, holding the repaired mirror up to the canvas. "Ready?"
Rui nodded, her hand resting on the jade pendant around her neck. It hadn't glowed yet, but she could feel its warmth—a quiet reassurance. She closed her eyes, focusing on the whispers she'd heard earlier: three faint voices, scared, begging for help. I'm here, she thought. Just hold on.
When she opened her eyes, Ye was already pressing the mirror to the blank canvas. At first, nothing happened. Then the mirror's surface rippled—slow, like water disturbed by a stone. A face began to form: high cheekbones, pale skin, long black hair that fell over hollow eyes. Feng Qin. His lips pulled back into a cold sneer, the kind that didn't reach his eyes.
"Foolish mortals," he said, his voice staticy, like a radio tuned to a dead station. "You think a broken mirror and a pretty rune can stop me? Miss Feng will be angry when she hears you're interfering."
"Miss Feng—Feng Xinyu?" Rui stepped forward, her notebook clutched tight. "She's at rest. We sent her to the Underworld."
Feng Qin laughed, a sound like glass scraping metal. "Rest? She's biding her time. The Yin Nest is waking. Dao Feng's still there, trapped in its core. And when she gets the whisk—both halves—she'll tear the veil between worlds. Your little runes won't save you then."
Ye's grip on the mirror tightened. "Where is the Yin Nest? Tell us, and we'll let you go."
"Let me go?" Feng Qin's sneer widened. "I've been trapped in this canvas for 300 years. Miss Feng freed me. I owe her a debt—and debts must be paid." He lunged forward, his hand bursting through the canvas. Rui screamed, but Ye pulled her back, swinging his peachwood sword. The blade sliced through Feng Qin's wrist, and black smoke poured from the wound.
The mirror flickered, then exploded. Shards flew across the room, one grazing Rui's cheek. Ye pulled her behind him, his sword raised. "Feng Qin, stop! You're not just hurting us—you're hurting the Wandering Spirit trapped in the painting. The students who jumped. They didn't deserve this."
For a second, Feng Qin's expression softened. His hollow eyes flickered to the corner of the room, where three faint glows had appeared— the Wandering Spirit Rui had sensed earlier. A boy, a girl, a young man, their faces twisted in fear. "They're not my prisoners," he muttered. "Miss Feng bound them to me. To feed my power."
Rui stepped out from behind Ye, her hands glowing blue with medium energy. "Let them go. I'll help you. I can send you to the Underworld—find peace. You don't have to serve Feng Xinyu anymore."
Feng Qin hesitated. The canvas behind him rippled, as if something was pulling him back. "She'll kill me," he whispered. "If I betray her, she'll trap me forever."
"The Yin Nest will kill you anyway," Ye said. "Feng Xinyu doesn't care about debts—she cares about power. When she gets what she wants, she'll destroy you." He lowered his sword, his voice gentler. "We can protect you. But you have to choose."
The Wandering Spirit's whispers grew louder, overlapping: Help us… please… Feng Qin closed his eyes, then opened them—resolute. "The Yin Nest is under the old army hospital on Canal Street. The basement—there's a hidden chamber behind the blood pool. Dao Feng's tied to a stone altar there. The whisk's other half is in Feng Xinyu's pocket." He turned to the Wandering Spirit,his voice soft. "I'm sorry."
With a wave of his hand, the three glowing figures floated toward Rui. She wrapped them in blue light, her heart aching at their fear. "It's okay," she said. "I'm taking you home." The Wandering Spirit vanished, their whispers fading into silence.
Feng Qin looked at her, then at Ye. "Go. Before she finds out." He began to fade, the canvas behind him returning to its blank state. "And if you see her—run."
The room went quiet. Ye let out a breath, sheathing his sword. He turned to Rui, his eyes scanning her face. "You're hurt." He reached up, his thumb brushing the small cut on her cheek. His touch was warm, gentle.
Rui's cheeks heated. "It's just a scratch." She pulled away, flipping open her notebook to jot down Feng Qin's words. "Yin Nest under the army hospital. Dao Feng's on a stone altar. Whisk fragment with Feng Xinyu." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "We need to go tonight. Before she moves him."
Ye nodded, picking up the broken mirror shards. "First, we fix this. And we get backup—Mike's team. Feng Xinyu's stronger than we thought. We can't do this alone." He paused, his gaze softening. "Thank you. For talking to him. For seeing he wasn't just a monster."
Rui smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Most monsters are just scared. My grandma taught me that." She closed her notebook, standing. "Let's go. Dao Feng's waiting."
As they walked out of the dorm, the sun was setting—painting the NYU campus in oranges and pinks. Students laughed as they passed, oblivious to the spirits and shadows that lingered just out of sight. Ye's bike was parked by the curb, the peachwood sword still strapped to the side.
He held out a helmet to Rui. "You ready?"
She took it, securing it on her head. "More than ready. Partner."
Ye's grin returned—bright, warm, like the sunset. "Partner."
They climbed onto the bike, Rui wrapping her arms around Ye's waist. The engine roared to life, and they pulled away from the dorm, heading toward Chinatown. The wind blew in Rui's hair, and she felt the jade pendant glow faintly—blue, soft, a reminder that they weren't alone.
Feng Xinyu was waiting. The Yin Nest was waiting. But this time, they had a plan. They had each other.
And they weren't going to lose.