The café was warm and humming with life, but Yòu'nà still felt like a stranger dropped into someone else's dream.
Neon menus flickered on the wall behind the counter, showing drinks she didn't recognize—mochas, lattes, matcha.
People typed on glowing glass devices, swiping with quick fingers, their eyes half-locked on whatever worlds those small screens held.
Her own reflection in the café's side window looked out of place: swollen lip, dark bruise under her eye, hair tangled like she had run through a storm. A few customers gave her sidelong glances, pity mixing with suspicion.
She lowered her gaze, letting her mana flowed faintly in her meridians—steadying herself, anchoring her mind in the familiar rhythm of cultivation.
Tsk.
So little? Yòu'nà felt irked by the sluggish trickle of mana.
She looked inward, only to see her body clogged with impurities.
"Ew… what did I eat when I wasn't in control?" she muttered, wrinkling her nose. She needed to expel the dirt, then retrain this vessel properly.
Then it hit her—dense mana was here. She just wasn't tapping it right.
She'd need to comb through this body's memories when she had time to learn more about her new life and world in detail.
The bitter warmth of her free coffee wasn't doing much for her busted lip, but the steam softened the ache in her chest.
Yòu'nà exhaled, letting the sensation ground her, and slowly realized she could still claim the room as her own.
Still, she didn't hunch or hide. She lounged back in her chair like she owned the place, one boot hooked on the table's edge. Her hair was wild, her uniform wrinkled, her lip split—but she met every stare head-on.
"What? Never seen a battle-struck beauty?" she drawled, flashing a grin sharp enough to sting.
The poor waiter nearly dropped the tray when she winked.
"Relax, I don't feast on cowards. Well Not unless I'm bored." she teased flashing a wicked smile.
One that did not look good with her beaten face she nearly gave the waiter an heart attack.
Someone snickered a teen boy with his friends sat at another table across the way from her.
Youna turned, eyes glinting mischievously. "You think I'm funny? Come over lets have a chat." she stood playfully like she was about head their way causing them to bolt for the door in fear.
Everyone and Youna: "...." You ran so fast if anyone didn't know better they would think you're running from ghost.
Half the café stiffened; the other half couldn't stop watching the excitement.
Youna sat back down looking in different as she leaned back, feeling the quiet hum of attention, she reminded herself: in this world or the last, I have always made my presence known.
⸻
The bell above the door jingled. Her heart skipped a beat.
An older man stepped inside, tall and upright despite the weight of years. His silver-gray hair was brushed back, his eyebrows thick and sharp, his eyes carrying a depth that could silence a room.
This was her grandfather—Huo Jianren, one of the few in her family who had never raised his voice at her. His presence carried authority, but to Yòu'nà, it felt like the first safe harbor she'd seen all day.
Behind him waited a younger man in a black driver's uniform, posture rigid but respectful. He lingered by the door while Jianren crossed the room.
"Na'na." His voice carried across the café in a steady tone layered with warmth.
Every patron went quiet. He walked straight to her, ignoring their stares. His gaze swept over her bruised eye, split lip, and tangled hair. His jaw tightened, but his hand came down gently on her head.
"You've had a rough first day," he said quietly. "How are you feeling?"
Yòu'nà's lips twisted into a smirk. "You realize I can sense your cautiousness—as if you're testing whether I'm still the same."
He sat across from her, straight-backed, voice dry with sarcasm. "To not explain… that I understand. You just need to rest, breathe, and walk forward. Your grandmother will explain the rest."
She let out a shaky laugh. "You make it sound simple. You didn't have to."
"It is simple. Not easy."
His eyes narrowed faintly at her bruises. "Now… who dared to touch my people?"
The air around him pulsed, a faint aura slipping free.
"Don't worry. I never suffer alone without making the other person suffer a hundredfold more than me." She chuckled darkly, knocking on the table in promise.
The memory of the alley clawed back at her, thugs jeering, fists swinging. A stain on her honor. Her fingers itched.
Fate is a fickle son of a bitch. And we always meet again… when karma calls.
Her grandfather studied her, faintly amused. She's very much like Silvia, he thought. Even more lively, if I dare say.
Instead of pressing, he stood and offered his hand. "Come. Your grandmother is waiting. We'll talk at home."
Yòu'nà rose, brushing down her wrinkled clothes, and sauntered toward him. "Finally. You almost left me to die of boredom in this place."
"You're already making trouble," he said, guiding her toward the door.
"Trouble makes me feel at home." She grinned, tipping her head toward the counter. "Grandpa… do you think I'll be able to get a drink around here?"
His brow lifted. "A drink?"
"Something worth the bruises. Coffee's too soft."
He gave a low grunt, half stern, half amused. "You're going to be a handful."
"Always have been," she said sweetly, slipping her arm through his.
⸻
The café's chatter, the faint smell of coffee, the glow of neon—it all faded behind them as they stepped outside.
The night air hit harder than expected, carrying the scents of asphalt and ozone. City lights painted everything in restless color, reflecting off puddles and glass towers alike.
"Where's the carriage at?" Yòu'nà asked, looking around.
"No carriages. Just a car," he replied.
Yòu'nà's eyes brightened as she took in the sleek black Mercedes-Benz S580 waiting by the curb. Its polished surface gleamed like obsidian in the neon, and her reflection shimmered across the doors.
"So that's your carriage, you call cars?" she said, leaning forward to inspect her mirrored image.
"Mm, a little inconvenient, but not bad. Thought you'd pulled up in some relic."
"I keep up with the times. You'll have to, too," he said.
She circled the car, bold eyes sweeping over the polished surface. "We'll see about that."
The driver opened the rear door. Her grandfather gestured for her to step in first.
For the first time since crossing into this strange world, Yòu'nà felt something stir in her chest. Not safety, not yet. But the beginning of it.
The car doors closed with a quiet click, the engine purred to life, and the city stretched endlessly around her. She leaned back, wild hair and bruised face catching a streak of neon, daring the night to challenge her.
"You are my granddaughter. This world will fit around you, one way or another,"
Jianren said softly, his hand resting briefly on hers before pulling away.
The driver's hands moved with precise confidence.
Hmm convent enough but what if the driver dies wont she be stranded or stuck their?
The city lights flowed past as the Mercedes glided forward.
For Yòu'nà, it was the first taste of a world both alien and promising—a world she would bend to her will, just as she always had.