A month passed in a blur of cases—haunted dolls in Brooklyn, a ghostly bartender in Manhattan, a poltergeist in a Queens elementary school. Rui handled each one with steady hands, her runes and medium energy never failing her, but there was a hollow spot in her days: the empty seat at the diner, the unopened jar of wild honey on her counter, the way her phone no longer buzzed with Ye's late-night texts.
She was sitting at her SPU desk, sketching a Sowilo rune in her notebook, when her phone rang. The caller ID read "Ye," and her heart skipped a beat.
"Rui?" His voice was warm, laced with a smile. "Guess who's back in New York? And I brought a guest—Master Qingyunzi. He wants to meet the FBI agent who 'stole his favorite disciple's heart.'"
Rui's fingers froze. "Your master? The one who taught you everything?"
"He's been asking about you for weeks," Ye laughed. "We're at JFK. Can you pick us up? Dao Feng's with us too—he's been complaining about missing Lao Guo's soup."
She grabbed her bag, practically running out of the office. The drive to the airport felt endless, but when she rounded the corner of Terminal 4, she saw them: Ye, in a gray hoodie, grinning; Dao Feng, carrying a large canvas bag; and an older man with a long white beard, wearing a crisp gray Hanfu, his eyes sharp but kind. That was Qingyunzi.
"Rui," Ye said, walking over. He pulled her into a hug, and she breathed in the familiar scent of cinnabar and pine. "Master, this is Rui Lengyu. Rui, Master Qingyunzi."
Qingyunzi bowed slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. "It is an honor to meet you, Rui. Shaoyang has told me countless stories—how you used your runes to repel the Corpse Fiends, how you freed Dao Feng from the Yin Nest, how you never once laughed at my terrible rice wine jokes."
Rui bowed back, her cheeks warm. "The honor is mine, Master. Thank you for letting me be part of your family."
"Family?" Qingyunzi laughed, a deep, rich sound. "You became part of this family the day you chose to stand beside Shaoyang. Now—let us go to Lao Guo's. I am told his chicken and ginseng soup is worth the flight from Sichuan."
Lao Guo's funeral parlor was alive with warmth when they arrived. The air smelled like soup and incense, and Lao Guo himself stood in the doorway, apron on, a ladle in his hand. "Shaoyang! Dao Feng! Master Qingyunzi! Come in, come in—the soup's still hot."
They sat around the counter, bowls of soup in front of them. Qingyunzi sipped his slowly, his eyes closing in appreciation. "Lao Guo, this is better than my own cooking. You must teach me the recipe."
Lao Guo grinned. "Only if you teach me how to draw a talisman that keeps mice out of the storage room."
The laughter faded when Qingyunzi set down his bowl, his expression turning serious. He pulled a scroll from his sleeve, unrolling it on the counter—it was a map of western Sichuan, marked with a black circle. "There is trouble. The vampire remnants who stole the whisk didn't act alone. They're working with a group of ex-Taoists—disciples who were exiled from Xuanqing for trying to steal the zombie king's seal. They've gathered the last of the zombie king's energy, hidden it in Black Tiger Tomb. If they use it to create a new king… the destruction will be catastrophic."
Ye's jaw tightened. "We need to go. Stop them before they can complete the ritual."
Qingyunzi nodded. "I was hoping you would say that. But this time, we go together. Your runes, Shaoyang's sword, Dao Feng's whisk, Rui's medium energy—combined, we are stronger than any dark force."
They spent the next two days preparing. Ye set up a workbench in Lao Guo's back room, sharpening his peachwood sword until the blade glinted, and drawing talismans—Binding, Soul-Inviting, Spirit-Repelling—dipping his brush in cinnabar mixed with his own blood. Dao Feng polished the Xuanqing Whisk, his fingers gentle as he ran them over the silver bristles, while Lao Guo packed supplies: glutinous rice, holy water, extra rune chips.
Rui practiced her medium energy in the alley behind the parlor, closing her eyes and focusing on the faint whispers of passing spirits. She visualized blue light—bright, warm, unyielding—and sent it toward a stack of crates. The wood glowed faintly, and a small, lost ghost—a child who'd wandered from a nearby cemetery—appeared, smiling, before vanishing into the light.
"You're getting stronger," Ye said, leaning against the wall. He'd been watching her, his arms crossed, a soft smile on his face.
Rui opened her eyes, grinning. "Learned from the best."
That night, after dinner, Ye took her for a walk through Chinatown. The red lanterns were lit, casting warm glows over the sidewalks, and the sound of joss paper burning drifted from a nearby altar. They walked hand in hand, their steps slow, the world quiet around them.
"I'm nervous," Rui admitted, kicking a pebble. "What if we can't stop them? What if the new zombie king is too strong?"
Ye stopped, turning to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes steady. "We won't fail. Because we're not alone. We have Master, Dao Feng, Lao Guo… each other. And together, we're unstoppable." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Rui. More than anything."
Her heart raced. "I love you too, Ye."
He pulled a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a silver necklace—a peachwood pendant carved with a Tai Chi symbol, the wood smooth from wear. "It's from Xuanqing," he said, fastening it around her neck. "Made from the same peach tree as my sword. It'll protect you. Always."
Rui touched the pendant, the wood warm against her skin. "I'll never take it off."
They walked back to her apartment, stopping at the door. Ye kissed her, his lips soft, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Goodnight," he said. "We leave at dawn."
As she closed the door, Rui leaned against it, touching the pendant. She thought about the days ahead—the tomb, the vampire remnants, the new zombie king—but for the first time in weeks, she wasn't scared. She had Ye. She had family. And they were going to fight—together.