Lin Qingxia did not want revenge; she simply wanted to use the teacher’s mediation to continue getting along with her classmates instead of being trapped in a cycle of hostility like enemies.
But she had already done everything she could.
‘If you don’t fit in, do you deserve to die?’
A thought slid into her mind, as cold and light as the moonlight outside the window: What if… what if the “problem” itself disappeared?
If she no longer appeared in the classroom every day, no longer forced her classmates to see this “poker face,” and no longer required anyone to rack their brains thinking about how to treat her…
Would everyone be a little more relaxed? Including herself.
This thought brought her a strange sense of peace, as if she had finally found the one and only final answer to an unsolvable algebra problem.
It was like a geometry problem she could never prove; perhaps giving up the struggle and admitting it was “unsolvable” was a form of relief.
She didn’t want to die; she just felt vaguely that she really shouldn’t have been here in the first place, just as they said.
For something thrown into a trash can, wasn’t the best destination to simply return to that trash can quietly?
To disappear quietly, without bothering anyone.
That way, the director wouldn’t worry about her anymore, the teachers wouldn’t find her a nuisance, and the classmates’ world would return to “normal” because the “problem” had vanished.
The world would be clean, and “trouble” would no longer be created by her existence.
She walked to the window, gazing at the empty lot below the orphanage shrouded in night.
During the day, it was a place where children played, but now it was deserted, like a silent, waiting mouth.
“Zhi-gu-gu… Zhi-gu-gu-gu-gu!” A sharp, weird laugh that completely defied the vocal structure of any earthly creature tore through the silence around her without warning.
Accompanied by the laughter was an inexplicable cold wind that stirred the stray hairs on her forehead.
A strange rabbit with red and black fur materialized in front of her in a form that was difficult for a human to describe.
“Hey, hey, hey, do you want to be a hero, little girl?” the rabbit asked.
Lin Qingxia didn’t care why a rabbit had suddenly appeared in front of her and started talking, because she felt that in this absurd reality, nothing was surprising anymore.
Instead, her attention was caught by something else — a hero? Someone like her, a “piece of trash,” a “poker face,” a “mute,” a “fake,” a “scheming girl,” an “orphan”?
If word of this got out, her classmates would surely mock her.
The Chiwu Rabbit’s button eyes seemed to roll slightly as it took in Lin Qingxia’s silence and lack of reaction. This response seemed to amuse it.
“Zhi-gu-gu,” it laughed again, short and sharp. “It seems you don’t quite believe it? Or… do you think you’re not worthy?”
It tilted its head with a mechanical yet lifelike movement; the contradiction was extremely unsettling.
“But the ‘Skeletal Core’ doesn’t care if you’re worthy or not. It only cares about ‘compatibility.’ And you, little girl — that empty, cold, nearly frozen place in your heart is the perfect spot for it to live. Zhi-gu-gu-gu!”
“What do you say? Rather than jumping from here and becoming a real ‘nuisance’ that no one would spare a second glance at, why not change your way of living?”
“Sign a contract with me and become a magical girl… er, to use a more professional term from where I’m from, an ‘Eshu’.”
It gestured with a short paw in a mock-sophisticated manner.
“Go and beat up those things that cause ‘trouble’ for others — literally! While there’s a high probability you won’t get paid, at least…”
Its button eyes flashed, its tone filled with malicious temptation.
“At least it will give you a legitimate reason to ‘not fit in.’ It might even… ensure those who think you’re ‘trouble’ can never bother you again. Zhi-gu-gu-gu-gu!”
Jump? Become trouble? Change her way of living?
These words collided in her hollow thoughts, yet she struggled to piece together a clear meaning.
She just felt… tired.
So tired that even the option of “death” seemed like too much effort.
She opened her mouth but couldn’t make a sound, so she habitually reached for a pen and paper.
“No need for all that trouble!”
The Chiwu Rabbit seemed able to read her mind. It leaped up suddenly, and a crystal-clear bead with internal filaments of light — a Skeletal Core — appeared out of thin air between its furry paws.
“Come, open wide, ah — swallow this candy, and everything will be different. Zhi-gu-gu-gu!” Its tone sounded exactly like someone coaxing a 3-year-old child.
Lin Qingxia looked at the bead emitting a strange glow, then at the cold night outside the window.
Staying where she was meant known pain and despair.
Swallowing this bead was the unknown… perhaps another form of pain and despair, but at least it was “different.”
She closed her eyes and slightly opened her mouth.
A sense of desperate resolution replaced her previous numbness.
The Chiwu Rabbit gave a strange cackle and accurately flicked the Skeletal Core into her mouth.
The moment the bead entered, there was no sensation of choking as she had imagined. Instead, it transformed into a surge of energy, a mixture of icy lines and fiery currents, which instantly flooded through her entire body before firmly anchoring itself in the depths of her consciousness.
Simultaneously, a massive flow of information, accompanied by the Chiwu Rabbit’s “pseudoword” chanting, forced its way into her mind. It contained knowledge about two universes, about anomalies, about the duties of an Eshu, about how to construct a wand, and about the traits she was about to obtain…
The intense impact of information and the sensation of her body being remodeled made her tremble slightly, but she bit her lower lip hard, refusing to make a sound. Her face remained as expressionless as ever.
As the light from the transformation faded, her clothes were replaced by a black-and-white training suit embroidered with bamboo patterns and a sleeveless long coat.
A wand in the form of a large calligraphy brush named “Critique,” which was nearly as tall as she was, hovered before her. Its tip was sharp, exuding a faint aura of spatial tearing.
In her blue phoenix eyes, the patterns of the Luoshu Nine Palaces rotated slowly, cold and wise.
The Chiwu Rabbit hopped around her with satisfaction. “Zhi-gu-gu! Perfect! Now, newborn Eshu, tell me your codename! Make it something cool!”
Lin Qingxia hesitated; she had never thought about giving herself a name or a codename.
At the orphanage, everyone either called her by her full name or used those ugly nicknames.
Her gaze subconsciously drifted to the worn-out copy of *Old Tales Retold* at the corner of her bed. It was a gift from a kind nanny who had mentioned that the author, Lu Xun, used many pen names.
One of those pen names, she remembered, was pronounced…
She raised her hand, still awkwardly controlling her new power.
The massive “Critique” flew automatically into her hand. Using the void as paper and the elements as ink, she wrote three words crudely but firmly — Sui Luowen.