The old scholar's shop had no signboard. If you didn't already know it was there, you'd walk past it three times before you noticed the faint smell of ink and disappointment.
It sat just off the eastern bridge, between a tofu stall and a cobbler's hut. A paper lantern hung from the awning, unlit even during festivals.
The wooden door creaked when I pushed it open.
Inside, the shelves were packed with scrolls and books, most of them older than the emperor. A dust cloud rose with every step.
Behind the counter, Old Scholar Lin was brewing tea like it was a ritual meant to summon the dead.
He didn't look up. "If you're selling ginseng pills, leave. I already took too many and can't sleep."
"I'm not selling anything."
He paused. Slowly, he turned his head and squinted.
"You look like someone I failed to educate."
"That's correct."
He grunted. "Which one are you?"
"Bai Ningwei."
Another pause. Then, "You died."
"Not quite."
"You should have."
"Many agree."
He didn't ask for explanations. He just poured another cup of tea and pushed it across the counter. It was cold.
"Shen Qingyan told you to come here?"
I nodded.
"Then sit."
The stool creaked under me. The table wobbled slightly. The tea tasted like regret and burnt leaves.
"You were a smart girl," he said. "Annoying. Proud. But smart."
"Then why didn't I make it?"
"You made it," he said. "You just didn't stay."
I didn't answer.
He sipped his tea and squinted at me again. "You look worse. But you speak better."
"Everyone sounds wiser when they've eaten enough porridge to stop caring."
He actually smiled.
"Your grandmother sent a letter last week," he said. "Tried to ask me to tutor your younger cousin instead."
"Did you accept?"
"I told her I would rather teach a brick."
That made me smile, just a little.
He leaned back, folding his hands over his belly. "What do you want now?"
"I need somewhere to think."
He gestured to the shop. "Plenty of dusty corners. I don't clean much."
"I also need ink, paper, a map of the city, and the name of someone who listens more than they talk."
"That costs money."
I set down the last of my silver pieces.
He looked at them like they were mice. "You're not going to survive long with that attitude."
"Then I won't survive long."
After a moment, he sighed. "There's an old room upstairs. The roof leaks and the floor groans like a dying man. It suits you."
"Thank you."
He waved his hand. "Don't thank me. I expect you to make tea when I ask, dust the scrolls you touch, and answer the door if a tax officer comes."
I paused. "Why the door?"
"So I can hide."
"…Understood."
The upstairs room was as described. There was one window. One bed. One table. The wood was warped, and a rat ran across the beam while I unpacked.
But it was quiet.
And no one called me worthless.
The System finally spoke again.
[Main Task Updated: Begin investigation. Collect one Soul Token.]
[Reminder: You are being punished. Escape is impossible.]
I sat at the desk. The ink stone was dry. I ground it slowly, letting the scent fill the air. In this life, the past Bai Ningwei was poisoned - not by Shen Qingyan, but someone who wanted her gone.
The clues were there. Her medicine had always been delivered late. Her cousin's handwriting appeared on her prescriptions.
This world's injustice was not a thunderclap. It was a slow drip. A forgotten girl, with no one left to care if she lived.
Now I had a second chance. But I was not here to make peace.
I was here to balance the scale.
Outside the window, the street below hummed with life. Two children argued over a kite string. A merchant shouted about cheap duck eggs. The tofu stall lit its fire for the evening crowd.
I dipped my brush into the ink.
And I began to write down names.