The car hummed softly as the city slipped by in streaks of light.
Ambient lines glowed along the doors, washing the leather in a faint halo.
Yòu'nà watched her reflection flicker in the dark window—black eye, split lip, hair refusing to behave—and let the rhythm of the engine steady her pulse.
Grandpa Huo Jianren sat angled toward her, one arm relaxed on the center rest, presence calm and immovable.
"We've already handled the immediate family matters," he said evenly. "Your aunts and uncles will not be touching your accounts again. Their access has been revoked. The legal team is performing a full audit. Any funds misappropriated will be returned—with interest."
Yòu'nà's mouth quirked. "Good. I like the interest part."
His gaze held hers. "If anyone approaches you about 'family obligations'—record it, then send it to me. Directly."
"Mm." She drummed a knuckle once on her knee. "You're late to the party, though."
A beat. "Explain."
She tipped her head back against the seat. "They weren't just skimming. They were using me. Pushing me around at school, paying local thugs to box me in, and—" a dry laugh escaped—"making me sing behind a curtain while my oh-so-beloved cousin lip-synced my voice on stage."
I won't be satisfied until they suffer a hundredfold, she thought.
The temperature in the car seemed to drop a degree. Jianren didn't raise his voice; he didn't have to. "Name."
"Huo Xiulan," she said, lazy and precise. "She stole my songbook, too. You know—the one I wrote since I was a kid. The one that sounds like money if you package it right."
He didn't look away. "You have drafts? Proof?"
"I have a memory that doesn't forget," she said, tapping her temple. "And a few recordings. Not enough for the full blade, but enough for a very sharp tip."
The driver glanced up at the rearview, careful not to stare. Jianren's response was clipped. "We will handle the rest. Quietly first. Then publicly, if they prefer pain."
A slow smile pulled at Yòu'nà's mouth. "Grandpa, you are speaking my language."
He studied her black eye. "And the thugs?"
"Local rats," she said. "I left them breathing. For now."
"Don't get arrested," he said, almost dry.
"Then tell them to stop volunteering," she murmured.
Silence, clean and companionable, settled for a few breaths.
City lamps strobed across her face, bruises in and out of shadow. She let her awareness drift inward—and hit that same resistance: grit in the meridians, sluggish flow, a world that pulsed with mana but refused to hand it over easily.
Her eyes narrowed. "This place… it has mana. Thin on the surface, dense under the skin."
Jianren didn't flinch at the words. "You're not wrong."
She turned to him fully. "So you do know."
"We don't advertise," he said. "Technology sits on top; the old arts run beneath. Most people never notice either. That's by design."
"By yours?"
"By ours," he corrected. "Your grandmother's wards keep the estate quiet. Jingguo and Yuanjun handle… negotiations when lines blur. We invest in what the world can see and maintain what it cannot."
Her lashes lowered, a satisfied hum in her throat. "So this world is a twin-bladed knife—silicon on one edge, mana on the other."
"Use both," he said simply. "Or you'll always be cutting yourself."
She leaned back, considering. "Then I'll need resources: a quiet room, an array platform for cultivation experiments, clean herbs… metal for anchors. And money."
"The first three are at home," he said. "The fourth is being returned as we speak."
She tipped him a look. "You really should have found me sooner."
His mouth tugged—almost a smile. "You should have spoken sooner."
"Mm. I was busy being exploited." She rolled her wrist, careless and sharp. "Don't worry. I'm done playing dead."
"Good," he said. "Stay alive. Then win."
A small click sounded as a compartment opened.
The driver passed back a compact kit without turning. Jianren set it on the armrest. "Ice pack. Disinfectant. Bandages."
Yòu'nà waved it off, then reconsidered and plucked out the cold pack, pressing it lightly to her lip. I'll keep the scars on the inside.
"Keep the evidence," he countered.
She laughed—low, genuine. "Deal."
They rode a moment longer, the city's glow smoothing into a steady blur. She watched a trio of kids on electric scooters zip past like sparks.
"So," she said, tipping her chin at the dash, "glass tablets, talking boxes, carriages without beasts. Show me the rest later. And get me a proper phone. The one I have keeps screaming 'Grandpa' at me like a baby chick."
"That was Yuanjun," Jianren said. "He'll brief you on the household changes. Jingguo is—" a faint, amused exhale "—trying not to out-cook himself in the kitchen. Your grandmother is waiting."
Her smile softened despite herself. "I'll try not to bleed on the carpet."
"Bleed in the training hall," he said. "That's what it's for."
She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "So there is a hall."
"There is a hall."
"Good." Her voice dropped, edged and eager. "I've got impurities to burn."
He held her gaze, then nodded once. "We'll start with foundation—purge, temper, re-align. You'll need to learn our seals, too. They're not the ones you used… before."
Her pulse kicked, a quiet thrill. "Teach me the house script. I'll teach you why mine scares things that don't have names."
The S-Class glided off the main road, past a line of old trees that turned the street into a tunnel of shadow and light.
Up ahead, a set of gates came into view—simple, elegant, alive with an undercurrent she could feel on her skin. Wards, layered and old. They whispered when the car drew near.
She angled her head, listening. "Your grandmother's?"
"Mostly," Jianren said. "Yuanjun added the modern lattice. Jingguo tuned the resonance."
"Family orchestra," she murmured, pleased. "I like the sound."
The gates opened soundlessly.
"Last thing," he said, as the car rolled through. "About this… popstar business. You'll give me names, dates, everything. We'll move in your tempo, but we'll move clean. No loose ends."
Yòu'nà's smile was all teeth. "I'll give you a list. I'm checking it twice."
"And the thugs?"
She let the ice pack drop into the kit. "Them, I'll handle."
A beat.
"Legally," he said.
She considered. As legally as they deserve.
He almost smiled again, a faint twitch at the corner of his eye. "I'll settle for discreet."
"Grandpa," she drawled, turning her bruised face to the window as the estate lights came up like stars, "discreet is my middle name."
He made a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. "No. Trouble is."
She grinned, unbothered, and tapped the glass with one knuckle as the Mercedes-Benz S580 eased to a stop before the front steps. Mana stirred beneath the stone like a sleeping beast.
The car glided up to the grand gates of the villa, a pair of sleek, ornate doors that slid open silently as if they had been waiting just for them. Yòu'nà's eyes widened, taking in the sprawling grounds, the soft glow of lanterns along the paths, and the clean lines of the main residence.
She stepped out carefully, the night air brushing her bruised face, and her gaze inadvertently landed on the driver. The young man—sharp-featured, a little nervous—held out his hand.
Yòu'nà, mischief sparkling in her eyes, smiled directly at him, holding his gaze.
"And your name is?" she asked mischievously.
She had an attractive dazzle to her that he hadnt noticed before.
"Su Donghai?" he stammered, jumping slightly at the sudden attention. His hands hovered awkwardly.
"Revive the East Sea, huh?" You'na know mused giving him a once over.
"Young miss?" His tone was hesitant, uncertain what had just happened. Miss Huo always kept herself distant, speaking little and rarely looking anyone in the eye.
"It's nothing," Yòu'nà said quickly, releasing his hand as she hopped down. "I just wanted to thank the driver for his help."
She didn't glance back, already making her way toward the entrance of the villa, boots clicking softly on the stone path.
Her grandfather, Huo Jianren, had already stepped out after her, eyes watching with that familiar mix of pride and amusement.
He bowed and nodded slightly in acknowledgment of the staff gathered nearby.
"Ha! That's my granddaughter," Jianren bellowed, his laugh echoing across the courtyard as he clapped Su Donghai on the shoulder. The driver's cheeks flamed red, caught between embarrassment and admiration, as the older man's deep, infectious laugh filled the space.