Lin Weiwei couldn’t help but notice the talisman paper and cinnabar scattered across Ye Shaohua’s desk.
As a modern young woman raised under socialist values, Lin Weiwei was now convinced—Ye Shaohua had truly lost her mind.
“Oh, Shaohua,” Lin Weiwei said, forcing a smile, “I just asked my supervisor, and he agreed to let you work part-time at the café. You know I work at Dio Coffee, right? If you’re interested, you can help out there. The pay isn’t bad—enough to cover your tuition.”
She waited expectantly for Ye Shaohua’s gratitude.
But to her surprise, Ye Shaohua refused without hesitation. “No need. I’m not looking for a part-time job right now.”
Lin Weiwei sighed. “Fine. You’ve been through a lot—get some rest.” With a final glance, she left the room without lingering.
When Ye Shaohua didn’t even try to stop her, Lin Weiwei stepped outside, her brows furrowed in frustration.
…
That night, Ye Shaohua went to the bathroom.
The dim yellow light flickered weakly.
As she washed her hands, something felt off. She looked down—the water from the faucet had turned blood-red.
Her gaze lifted to the mirror.
Her reflection stared back… but something was wrong.
She blinked.
The face in the mirror remained completely still, its dark, hollow eyes fixed on her.
Ye Shaohua took a step back.
That wasn’t her face.
Her hand slipped into her pocket, gripping a talisman she had drawn earlier.
According to the books, drawing effective talismans was incredibly difficult—even seasoned mystics only succeeded a handful of times out of hundreds of attempts.
Yet Ye Shaohua had a strange talent for it. She could replicate the symbols flawlessly in a single stroke, eyes closed.
Whether they actually worked, though, remained untested.
She’d faced danger before, but never from something inhuman.
The face in the mirror twisted, morphing into a featureless, ghostly white mask. It seemed to press against the glass, as if trying to crawl out.
When Ye Shaohua didn’t scream or faint, the faceless entity paused, as if confused.
She stood half a meter away, watching as the thing hovered near the sink, seemingly unsure what to do next.
Then—
She slapped the talisman onto its forehead.
The paper burned to ash instantly.
A piercing shriek tore through the air as the faceless creature writhed, shrinking back into the mirror.
Ye Shaohua calmly finished washing her hands.
Before leaving, she glanced at the mirror one last time.
“You’re genuinely ugly.”
Witnessing the entire scene from the system space, 008: “…”
It could’ve sworn the mirror trembled in response.
…
The next morning, Ye Shaohua packed two talismans, grabbed her textbooks, and headed to class.
S University wasn’t far from her place—just a short bus ride away.
For some reason, her body was unusually sensitive to cold. Even in the sweltering June heat, she wore a long-sleeved shirt and pants. Most girls her age opted for short sleeves or summer dresses, making her stand out even more.
Passersby couldn’t help but find her… unsettling.
First period was Calculus. Lin Weiwei was in the same program.
Lin Weiwei rushed in just before class started, out of breath.
As one of the more diligent students, the professor only gave her a mild scolding before letting her take her seat.
“Shaohua,” Lin Weiwei pouted after class, “why didn’t you wait for me? I looked for you forever! And guess who I saw this morning—”
She expected at least some sympathy, but Ye Shaohua simply muttered something about finishing homework and left for her next class.
Lin Weiwei stared after her in disbelief before hurrying to catch up.
“Shaohua, I got scolded because of you! Don’t you have anything to say?”
Ye Shaohua pulled out a Linear Algebra textbook and began reading.
Lin Weiwei clenched her jaw and fell silent.
She didn’t understand why Ye Shaohua had changed so much, but it didn’t matter—Ye Shaohua had no other friends. Sooner or later, she’d come crawling back.
“Hey, Weiwei,” a classmate chimed in, “people on the forum are saying you got a ride from Young Master Ning this morning. A Lamborghini! Ugh, I’d die just to touch his car.”
Lin Weiwei smiled modestly. “Senior Ning was just being kind. He saw I was running late and offered a ride since we’re from the same school.”
She glanced at Ye Shaohua, hoping for envy or admiration.
But Ye Shaohua’s expression didn’t change at all.
Lin Weiwei’s smile stiffened.
…
During the break, the male class monitor approached Ye Shaohua coldly.
“The advisor wants to see you.”
Advisor?
Ye Shaohua nodded. The break was twenty minutes—enough time to get to the next building.
Her advisor’s office was on the third floor.
As she arrived, she spotted three girls leaving the office—her roommates.
The female advisor studied Ye Shaohua with a scrutinizing gaze.
Most students in the department had already joined clubs, student councils, or at least tried to make a good impression.
But Ye Shaohua had kept to herself.
“Ye Shaohua,” the advisor began sternly, “I’ve heard some concerning things about you.”
“Your roommates just came by. They requested a room change, saying your presence is ‘harming their mental and physical health.’”
She leaned forward.
“I’ve checked—no one in the department is willing to room with you. Starting today, you’ll move off-campus.”
The advisor’s tone was final. She knew the backgrounds of the influential students in the department—Ye Shaohua’s file was unremarkable.
“When one or two people have issues with you, it might be personal. But when everyone does—Ye Shaohua, you need to reflect on yourself.”
