The NYU old campus loomed in the October dark, its red-brick buildings silent except for the rustle of autumn leaves. Once a WWII army hospital, it had been converted into dorms for art students in the 1980s—but locals still whispered about "cold spots" and "ghostly nurses."
Rui parked her unmarked SUV by the 404 building, Ye beside her. He'd changed out of his Hanfu into a black hoodie and jeans, but he still carried his peachwood sword in a canvas sheath slung over his shoulder.
"Xiao Ma's inside," Ye said, checking his phone. "My roommate—he's a folklore major. Texted five minutes ago: the painting's called Cliff in the Wilderness. The figure in it walks. Like, actually moves."
Rui nodded, grabbing her notebook. "SPU ran a background check on the dorm. Three students have jumped from the roof in the past five years. All from 404."
They found Xiao Ma, a chubby kid in a NYU hoodie, pacing outside the dorm room. His face was pale, his hands trembling. "Thank god you're here! I swear, last night I dreamed I was that figure—standing on the cliff edge. I almost fell. Woke up screaming."
Ye pushed open the dorm door. The room smelled like pizza boxes and fear. A large oil painting hung on the wall above a desk: a desolate gray cliff, a tiny human figure standing at its edge, the sky dark with storm clouds.
"That's it," Xiao Ma whispered, pointing. "Look—see the figure's arm? It's raised. Yesterday, it was at its side."
Rui stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. She could feel it—the Yin energy, tangled in the paint like spiderwebs. It hummed, cold and angry, against her skin. Ye knelt, pulling the bronze mirror from his bag and holding it up to the canvas.
The mirror's surface rippled, and a face appeared: pale, with high cheekbones and long black hair, smiling coldly. It was a man—no, a spirit—trapped in the glass.
"Feng Qin," Ye muttered, his voice tight. "A painting spirit. Trapped in the canvas for centuries. Feeds on the fear of anyone who looks at it."
The figure in the mirror spoke, its voice like static. "Miss Feng wants you to visit the Yin Nest… soon. She's waiting."
The mirror shattered, shards flying across the floor. Ye stood, sword raised, but Feng Qin was gone. The painting went dark, the cliff and figure vanishing into blankness.
Rui touched the canvas—her fingers tingled, as if the paint was still alive. "I heard him. 'Miss Feng'—Feng Xinyu, the spirit from Chinatown?"
Ye nodded, kneeling to pick up a mirror shard. "She freed him. Now he owes her a debt. That's how these things work—spirits trade favors, and the price is always blood."
Xiao Ma backed away, tripping over a backpack. "I'm out. I'm staying with my cousin tonight. This room's cursed."
Ye didn't argue. "Smart move. Lock your cousin's door. If you see a white shroud or a cross, call me immediately."
As Xiao Ma left, Rui turned to Ye. "We need to find this Yin Nest. Feng Xinyu's getting stronger. The more people she hurts, the more power she gains."
Ye pulled a map from his bag—an old one of Chinatown, marked with red X's. "Lao Guo gave me this. Dao Feng marked the army hospital's location before he disappeared. It's on Canal Street, now a parking lot. But the basement—where the soldiers were treated—still exists. That's the Yin Nest."
Rui leaned over his shoulder to look at the map. Their shoulders brushed, and she felt a jolt of warmth. She pulled away, clearing her throat. "We should check it out tomorrow. It's midnight—too late to get a search warrant."
Ye smiled, folding the map. "Since when do we need warrants for ghosts?"
Rui rolled her eyes, but she didn't disagree. As they walked to the car, her phone buzzed. It was her father, Sean, a retired medium who now ran a bookstore in Queens.
"Lengyu, be careful," his voice was grave. "I felt it—Feng Xinyu's waking up. The Yin Nest is opening in three days. Dao Feng didn't survive it ten years ago. Don't make the same mistake."
Rui's chest tightened. "How do you know about Dao Feng?"
"Your grandmother told me. He came to her for help once—wanted to learn Irish runes to fight Feng Xinyu. Nice kid. Too brave for his own good."
She hung up, staring at her phone. Ye noticed her frown. "Your dad?"
"Yeah. He knew Dao Feng. Said he was too brave."
Ye's smile faded. "Dao Feng's my shixiong—my senior brother. Taught me how to hold a sword, how to draw talismans. He's not dead. I know it."
Rui nodded, placing a hand on his arm. "We'll find him. Together."
Their eyes met, and for a second, the world felt quiet—no ghosts, no cases, just the two of them standing in a NYU parking lot. Ye's hand brushed hers, and Rui's heart skipped a beat.
Before she could speak, her phone rang again. It was Mike. "Rui, upper state—abandoned bunker. Hikers found mummified bodies. Nails are black, and there's a cross carved into each forehead. Same as Chinatown."
Ye grabbed his bag. "That's the blood pool. Feng Xinyu's feeding the Corpse Fiends there."
Rui nodded, opening the car door. "Let's go. But first—explain what a Corpse Fiend is."
Ye laughed, sliding into the passenger seat. "WWII soldiers, turned by Yin energy. They're strong, fast, and they hate living things. Oh, and they bleed black. Fun, right?"
Rui rolled her eyes, but she smiled. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was fighting alone.