Scene 3: The Cleansing
The moment Han Yue returned to her room, she bolted for the bathroom.
She didn't stop to breathe.
Throwing the door open, she shed her clothes in a panic and turned the water on full blast. Hot steam filled the air as she stepped under the spray and grabbed the nearest body wash.
The black, crusted residue clung stubbornly to her skin. The foul, sour stench hadn't faded one bit.
She scrubbed.
Again.
And again.
It took nearly an hour of relentless washing—scraping every inch of her skin raw with bath salts and fragrant soap—before the smell finally lessened enough for her to feel human again.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, dripping and wrapped only in a thick towel, the mirror across the room caught her eye.
She froze.
What...?
She stepped closer.
Her reflection stared back—unfamiliar, almost unreal.
Her skin was no longer sallow or uneven. It was porcelain—white as jade, without a blemish or freckle in sight. It glowed faintly under the soft lights like fresh snow beneath the moon.
Her hair, once dry and brittle from years of neglect in the orphanage, now hung in sleek, dark waves down her back, thick and glossy like the silk worn by noble daughters.
She reached up and touched her cheek.
Smooth. Soft. Delicate.
In the orphanage, they didn't starve.
But they didn't thrive either.
There were too many children, too little care. They ate what they were given, bathed only when scheduled. There was no time for skincare, no money for expensive shampoos or silk pillowcases. Her face had always been pretty, yes—especially with those wide eyes and delicate bone structure. But compared to the rich daughters in silk dresses and glowing complexions?
She'd been "average-looking."
"So this is… real."
"The space… the water…"
She remembered the pain. The black sludge. That awful, burning sensation as her body purged itself from the inside out.
Now, in the mirror, she saw the result.
It had to be marrow cleansing.
She'd read about it in those old apocalypse web novels—during the lonely, final days of her previous life. She'd hoarded downloaded stories in her e-reader out of boredom.
Gold fingers.
Spatial farms.
Marrow-cleansing spiritual springs.
Most were just fantasy.
But… maybe not all.
"That water—it must be spiritual-grade. The real kind.
It wasn't just water… it was a cleansing agent. It purified my body."
Her eyes shimmered with awe.
"It was painful… but worth it."
Just then—she gasped.
Something stirred within her lower abdomen.
She clutched her stomach and focused, her breathing quieting as she turned her senses inward.
"This is—!"
A tingling sensation surged through her arm. Reflexively, she raised her hand.
A shard of ice floated above her palm, spinning gently in the air like a sliver of winter.
Her heart thundered in her chest.
"My powers… they're back?! Already?"
She stared at the ice shard, stunned.
In her previous life, her power had only awakened after the apocalypse descended. And even then, it had taken months of exposure to danger and chaos.
"Did the water… accelerate my awakening?"
She clenched her fist, and the shard shattered into snowflakes that melted into the air.
Then she closed her eyes again, diving deeper into her dantian.
Another presence greeted her there—separate from her ice ability.
It pulsed faintly, a ball of white essence, floating quietly like mist.
Curious, she reached for it.
Nothing happened.
No flames. No wind. No ice.
But then—
She heard something.
A whisper. A voice.
She snapped her eyes open and turned toward the wall.
Jiaojiao's room?
She could hear them. Clearly.
No—not just hear.
Her vision flickered—and she saw them too.
Sitting on a pink settee, Jiaojiao and Han Feifei whispered over steaming cups of rose tea.
"Three days," Jiaojiao said, twirling her hair. "At the banquet, just follow my lead. We'll make her look like a country bumpkin."
"Ooh, should I 'accidentally' spill juice on her dress?" Feifei grinned. "Or trip her in front of everyone?"
Han Yue's expression turned cold.
So that was their plan.
"So I have spiritual perception now," she whispered.
"...Not bad."
Her lips curled into a smile—not soft or sweet, but sharp.
She stood, dropped her towel, and walked to her closet with a new gleam in her eye.
"Let's see who gets embarrassed… in three days."