Su Yao let her head fall back onto the pillow. The mortal concerns she’d just escaped rushed back, amplified by her newly awakened pride. This body was broken, and this place was pathetically devoid of spiritual energy.
She could feel it now. Several of her organs were no longer her own, replaced by synthesized laboratory grown substitutes that lacked harmony. The ones beyond repair had cost a fortune to replace. Even the Chinese Empire’s vaunted healthcare could only stretch so far.
A deep, frustrated sigh, carrying the weight of millennia, escaped her lips. “Useless,” she muttered to the ceiling. “To be laid low by accounts receivable.”
Her aunt arrived shortly after, her face pale and etched with days of worry. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched Xiao Ling’s hand. “Oh, my Ling Ling! Don’t you ever scare me like that again! The doctors said it was a miracle! They said you shouldn’t have survived those injuries.”
Su Yao endured the emotional display. She held the patience of an ancient being tolerating a mildly interesting insect. “Auntie, the bills,” she interrupted, her voice still rough but firm. “How are we paying for this?”
Her aunt sniffled, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “That’s the other miracle, sweetheart. The trucking company’s insurance settled immediately. They offered full compensation. It’s already been processed.”
She hesitated, then added, “Their lawyers are also filing suit against Alan Mask. They say the Tezca Semi is supposed to be the safest truck ever and this never should have happened.”
A huge wave of relief washed over her face. “And the family of the little boy…”
The older woman leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper, as if sharing a state secret. “They said he’s the grandson of Old Man Li! The Li family! They own half the commercial real estate in the city.”
She patted Su Yao’s hand, a genuine smile breaking through her tears. “The Li family are so grateful, Ling Ling. They said you saved little Xiaofang’s life and made a very substantial donation to cover all your additional care. We won’t have to worry for a long time.”
Then she added softly, almost as an aside, “To a family like theirs, this is nothing. When their heiress was young and left alone, she once cut up a stack of 100 yuan banknotes worth 50,000 yuan just to clip out Emperor Hongxian’s portrait and no one even scolded her.”
Su Yao stared at her aunt, then at the generic hospital room wall. The gears of her ancient, newly-rebooted mind turned, slowly connecting the dots.
The trucking company and the Li family’s compensation all pointed to the same conclusion.
A slow, understanding smile spread across her face. It was the smile of a being who had just witnessed the universe’s most ironic punchline.
She started to laugh. It was a dry, raspy sound that made her ribs ache, but she couldn’t stop.
Of course. Kindness deserves kindness. Undeserved kindness is the greatest bringer of fortuity.
The mortal realm operated on its own pathetic, simplistic system of cause and effect: a balance sheet. She had performed an act of ‘kindness.’ The universe, in its clumsy, bureaucratic way, had balanced the ledger. It had paid her back.
She looked at her weeping, relieved aunt, at the money that had magically appeared, at her own broken but healing body.
“‘All truly strong people are kind,’” she whispered, quoting the cinematic lie that had started this whole mess.
Then she snorted, a very undignified sound. The Nine-Tailed Heavenly Fox would never have made that noise, but Xiao Ling did.
“Tch. It seems kindness,” she mused, her eyes glinting with ancient amusement, “pays surprisingly well.”
Su Yao’s amusement vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp urgency. She threw the thin hospital blanket aside. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”
“Three days, sweetheart,” her aunt stammered, startled by the sudden intensity. “But don’t you worry about that! You need to rest! The school understands.”
“Rest is for the weak and the dead,” Su Yao stated. The words rolled off her tongue with the ease of an ancient axiom. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Education is the foundation of a proper path. I will not fall behind because of a minor collision.”
Her aunt gaped. “A minor collision? You were hit by a truck!”
“A technicality.” Su Yao stood, her body protesting vehemently. She ignored it. Pain was a temporary state. Ignorance was a permanent curse. “My textbooks. Where are they?”
A flustered nurse entered, hearing the commotion. “Miss! You can’t just— your condition—”
“Is stable,” Su Yao finished for her, fixing the nurse with a gaze that brooked no argument. She had once used that same look to silence an arguing group of drunken celestial dragons. “My vitals are stable. My bones, while complaining, are intact. I am discharging myself. The paperwork is a formality. See to it.”
Both her aunt and the nurse were too stunned to protest further. Su Yao, moving with a grimace of pain but undeniable purpose, began gathering her meager belongings.
As she walked, stiffly, down the bright hallway toward the discharge office, her sharp, newly-reawakened ears caught a snippet of conversation from an open doctor’s lounge.
“...truly remarkable recovery rate with the new CX-9 compound. The cellular regeneration is unlike anything we’ve seen. It’s like something out of a fantasy novel…”
Su Yao paused mid-step. Her interest piqued. Cellular regeneration? She leaned slightly closer, eavesdropping without a shred of shame.
“…still highly experimental, of course. The side effects are unpredictable. But if we can harness it, it could change everything. Modern medicine has never seen anything like it.”
A slow, thoughtful smile spread across Su Yao’s face. Modern medicine. These mortals, with their buzzing machines and sterile smells, had apparently stumbled upon something intriguing in her absence. They were playing with forces they barely understood, calling it “experimental drugs.”
It was crude and reckless. But it was promising.
“Interesting,” she murmured to herself, filing the name ‘CX-9’ away in her mind as she continued her stiff march toward the exit. This mortal world might have its own kind of rare treasures after all.
Perhaps attending school wouldn’t be a complete waste of time. After all, one needed to understand the local alchemy to properly exploit it.
Fresh from the antiseptic halls of the hospital and still faintly aching beneath borrowed flesh, she followed the route memory insisted was familiar until the gates of Duwang High School loomed before her.
Su Yao, wearing the slightly-too-big uniform of Xiao Ling, walked through them with a steady pace and a defiance that belied the fact that three days prior, her organs had been rearranged by several tons of speeding metal.
She pushed open the door to her homeroom.
The morning chatter died instantly.
Every head swiveled to face her. A dozen pairs of eyes widened in unison, locked on the girl who was supposed to be in a morgue drawer. The room plunged into a silence so complete you could hear the air itself growing still.
Su Yao ignored the frozen tableau. She walked to her seat. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum floor sounded like a thunderclap in the dead quiet.
A girl in the front row, her face pale as a sheet, slowly raised a trembling hand. She pointed a shaking finger. “X-Xiao Ling…?”
Su Yao glanced at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Who else would I be?”
A boy across the room fumbled for his phone. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped it. He pulled up a grainy, chaotic clip filmed from a nearby shop window. It showed a body in a familiar school uniform being launched through the air by the impact of a truck. The video ended with a still frame of the crumpled, motionless form on the asphalt.
He held it up like a ward against evil. “This… this is you! You died! Everyone saw it! It’s been shared everywhere!”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the class. “The news said critical condition… no one survives that!” “I saw the video! There was so much blood!” “She’s a ghost! She has to be!”
Su Yao sighed internally. These mortals were so dramatic. She had hosted banquets where guests drank wine that dissolved their bones and regrew them anew for fun. This was nothing.
She turned in her seat, fixing the boy with his phone with a flat, unimpressed stare. “Obviously, I didn’t die. The video cut off before the paramedics arrived. My injuries were severe, but not fatal. Modern medicine is surprisingly adequate.”
Her classmate Mei, who had been staring with her mouth agape, finally found her voice. “B-but Ling Ling… you look… fine.” It was true. Aside from a slight pallor and a few fading yellow bruises on her temple, she showed no signs of the catastrophic trauma.
Su Yao offered a thin, dismissive smile. “I am a fast healer. It’s a genetic trait. Now, if you are all quite finished with your hysterics, I believe the teacher is about to begin the lesson. I have missed three days of instruction and can’t afford to fall further behind.”
Just then, the bell rang. The teacher walked in, did a comical double-take at seeing Xiao Ling, but quickly composed himself and began calling roll.
The entire class remained on edge, casting furtive, terrified glances her way throughout the period. They weren’t convinced. Fast healer? Genetic trait? That wasn’t enough to explain the girl who had come back from the dead.
As the lesson droned on, Su Yao could feel their fear like a tangible thing. It was so unlike the respectful terror she was used to. This was the superstitious fear of something unknown and unnatural.
Pathetic, she thought, opening her textbook. But, a sly, familiar part of her ancient consciousness whispered, perhaps being known as the girl who cheated death has its uses. Fear can be a tool, even in a place like this.
Lunch break arrived like a reprieve from the tense, silent scrutiny. Su Yao found her usual spot under a large oak tree in the schoolyard. She unpacked the simple meal the National Nutrition Agency had prepared. Su Yao ignored the whispers following her, more interested in the questionable nutritional value of the egg sandwich before her.
She’d taken one bite when a shadow fell over her.
A group of her classmates stood there, led by a girl named Wong Lei, who was known for being overly superstitious and dramatic. Wong Lei held something behind her back, her expression a mix of fear and fervent determination.
“Xiao Ling,” Wong Lei said, her voice trembling. “We know what you are.”
Su Yao chewed slowly, swallowing before she replied. “A student eating lunch. You are blocking my sun.”
“We saw the video! No one survives that!” another boy chimed in, though he looked less sure than Wong Lei.
“You came back too fast! You’re not her!” Wong Lei’s voice rose in pitch. “You’re a hungry ghost, clinging to her body!”
With a dramatic flourish, Wong Lei revealed what she was hiding: a small printed talisman she’d probably bought for cheap from a tourist trap temple and a bottle of what smelled like plain tap water.
“By the power of the Heavenly Emperor,” Wong Lei shrieked, slapping the talisman onto Su Yao’s forehead and splashing her with the water, “I exorcise you, evil spirit! Begone!”
The talisman, made of flimsy paper, immediately went soggy from the water. It slid down Su Yao’s face, leaving a streak of cheap ink on her nose.
For a moment, Su Yao went perfectly still. The entire schoolyard watching held its breath.
Then, she clutched her chest, letting out a low, pained gasp. “Aah! The sacred power! It burns!” She writhed dramatically for a second, her body convulsing.
Wong Lei’s eyes lit up with triumphant hope. “It’s working! Everyone, it’s—”
Her victory cry was cut short.
Su Yao stopped writhing. She slowly reached up to peel the offending talisman off her face and looked at it with an expression of pure unadulterated mockery.
Then, she started to laugh.
It was a rich, rolling, full-bodied sound that echoed with the ancient amusement of a nine-tailed fox who had just been ‘exorcised’ with a piece of paper and some tap water.
She laughed until tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, wiping them away with the back of her hand. The entire schoolyard stared, utterly bewildered.
“Oh, little mortal,” Su Yao finally said, her voice laced with condescending mirth. “That was adorable. Truly. The dedication. The theatrics.” She flicked the soggy talisman away. “If I were some lowly evil spirit possessing this body, that might have actually given me a slight rash. A minor inconvenience.”
She stood up, looking down at the horrified Wong Lei. Her eyes glinted.
“But you see, there’s no possession here.” She leaned in closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper that carried to everyone. “I am Xiao Ling. And Xiao Ling is me. We are one and the same. Your little party trick failed because your diagnosis was wrong.”
She patted the terrified girl on the cheek, a gesture that was both patronizing and faintly threatening.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, your holy water ruined my sandwich.”
Just as the tension under the oak tree reached its peak, a new voice cut through the silence, smooth and confident.
“Alright, break it up. Show’s over.”
Zhang Wei, the school’s star basketball player and Xiao Ling’s boyfriend, stepped into the circle. He flashed a charming, disarming smile at the crowd before turning to Wong Lei, his expression cooling slightly.
“Wong Lei, weren’t you the one who said you never wanted to see my face again after we broke up? Now you’re harassing my current girlfriend with cheap party tricks? Looks like you just can’t let go.”
Wong Lei flushed a deep, furious red, her humiliation complete.
Zhang Wei then turned to Su Yao. His smile returned, though it barely reach his eyes. It was the look of someone protecting their property. “Come on, Ling Ling. Ignore them. They’re just jealous you got your fifteen minutes of fame from that video.” He reached out to take her arm. “You’re clearly you. Who else would you be?”
Su Yao looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face, her head tilted. A faint, curious smile played on her lips.
“Oh? And how can you be so sure, Zhang Wei?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. “How can you be certain that the Xiao Ling who woke up in that hospital is the same girl you knew? What if something else came back instead?”
Zhang Wei laughed. It was a loud, booming sound meant to dismiss her odd question and reassure the onlookers. “Don’t be stupid, Ling Ling. You took a hit to the head, that’s all. You’re talking nonsense.” He gave her arm a slight, patronizing squeeze. “Now come on, let’s go.”
Her smile remained, deepening into something utterly out of place on a teenage girl’s face.
“Am I?” she murmured. Her voice dropped so only he could hear its chilling weight. “Then let me be clear, so even you can understand.”
She leaned forward. Her eyes locked with his. For a fleeting second, Zhang Wei saw something terrifying in that vast gaze that promised eternal revelry and absolute oblivion.
“My name,” she whispered, the words for him alone, “is Su Yao.”
The air around them seemed to grow cold. Zhang Wei’s confident grin finally faltered. He stared at her, the name echoing in his mind. Then, he shook his head, forcing another laugh, though it sounded strained this time.
“Su Yao? Stop messing around. That’s just a character from a movie.” He tried to pull her away again, his grip tightening. “You’re Xiao Ling, you’re just confused.”
Su Yao let him guide her a few steps before she spoke again. Her voice was back to a normal volume, laced with a sweet, poisonous sarcasm.
“Of course you’re right. It’s not real,” she agreed, her tone implying the exact opposite. She glanced back at the utterly bewildered Wong Lei.
She looked straight at Zhang Wei. Her smile was sharp enough to draw blood. “It’s all just a big coincidence, right? Nothing to see here. Just your ordinary, confused girlfriend.”
Zhang Wei stopped walking. He looked down at her. A flicker of genuine uncertainty finally broke through his arrogant facade. Gone was the unshakable confidence he’d had moments ago, replaced by a dawning, uncomfortable doubt.
The girl walking beside him talked like Xiao Ling, but her eyes were those of a complete stranger.
His confusion quickly morphed into defensiveness. This was territory he understood. “Is that what this is about?” he asked, his voice taking on a familiar, exasperated tone. “The texts? Look, I’m sorry, alright? You know how I am. I either reply right away or it just slips my mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Su Yao leaned in close to him. Her movement was swift and unnaturally graceful. She inhaled deeply near the collar of his jacket, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
“Your forgetfulness is the least of your concerns,” she stated flatly, pulling back. “You reek of expensive perfume. Whose is it?”
Zhang Wei’s face went pale, then flushed. “What? No! That’s just from the crowd! You’re being paranoid!”
“Am I?” Su Yao’s laugh was a short, sharp sound. “I expected nothing less. You are popular. It’s your nature to seek new conquests. I simply never understood why you bothered with the quiet, forgettable Xiao Ling in the first place.”
“Because we’ve been close since we were kids!” Zhang Wei insisted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “You’re not just some girl to me, Ling Ling! You’re special!”
“Special?” Su Yao echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “A quaint notion. But the ‘Xiao Ling’ you knew from childhood is gone. You have eyes but can’t see Mount Tai.”
“What are you talking about? Of course you’re her!”
“Are you truly so ignorant?” she asked, her tone shifting to one of clinical, almost academic disdain. “Every cell in the human body is replaced over a cycle of approximately seven years. Nary a particle of the little girl you knew remains in this body. She is gone, replaced molecule by molecule. I am not who I was last week, let alone a decade ago.”
She met his stunned gaze, her own utterly calm.
“The person you claim is ‘special’ no longer exists. You are clinging to a memory, Zhang Wei. A ghost. You deserve better than a ghost. And I,” she said, turning to walk away, leaving him utterly bewildered on the path, “have no interest in being anyone’s memory.”