“Math: 58.”

  “English: 36.”

  “Geography: 60.”

  “Politics: 53.”

  “You traitor to the family name!”

  Li Chengxian threw the report card in Li Li’s face, his finger trembling with rage.

  “How did our family produce someone like you?!”

  The paper fluttered to the floor.

  Li Li clasped her hands in front of her, lowered her head, and mumbled, “But I got 120 in Chinese…”

  “Talking back?!”

  His hand rose—but seeing her cower, he didn’t bring it down.

  “With scores like these, you won’t even get into a bachelor’s program! How will you face our ancestors?!”

  Li Li stayed silent.

  How could she explain? Her school was built on an old cemetery. Ghosts popped up during class all the time—some hungry and begging for offerings, others wanting a proper ritual to move on. How was she supposed to focus on studying?

  She’d already been busted multiple times for “unauthorized burning” on campus. A few more strikes and she’d face real disciplinary action.

  “Alright, alright,” her mother Zhang Xinlan cut in, playing peacemaker. “Honey, she’s clearly not cut out for the domestic system. We’ve saved up—let’s send her abroad. I hear universities overseas are… easier to get into.”

  Even local temples required a bachelor’s degree for hiring these days. With Li Li’s current scores, she wouldn’t even pass the resume filter.

  Li Chengxian fell quiet, mentally calculating their savings. That money was meant for her future apartment—after she graduated and took over the family temple. Now it looked like she’d need it just to get a degree.

  As the 63rd-generation heir, he could’ve pulled strings… but the temple now publicly posted job openings. Imagine Li Li’s vocational-school diploma next to other candidates’ bachelor’s degrees. The embarrassment would be unbearable.

  Li Li, thinking the storm had passed, shifted her feet and rubbed her nose—only to earn a sharp smack on the shoulder.

  “Stand properly!”

  She snapped to attention, then secretly grimaced and rubbed the sore spot when he turned away.

  He’s hitting harder these days.

  Her mother reached over to soothe her.

  Li Li had always been a sickly child—what her father called “uniquely gifted for the Taoist arts,” but her mother saw only a kid who suffered too much. Zhang Xinlan had always been soft on her, which Li Chengxian said was spoiling her rotten.

  Mom, it hurts, Li Li mouthed, making a pained face.

  She’d grown used to the scoldings and the smacks—but she could still turn on the waterworks for her mom if needed.

  Zhang Xinlan’s eyes reddened. “Li Chengxian, say something! Are we sending her abroad or not?”

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  One thing about their family: when Mom got upset, Dad followed.

  “Yes! What choice do we have? Let her embarrass us here? I won’t have people saying I dragged my own daughter into the temple through connections!”

  He shot Li Li a sharp look. She quickly dropped her head again.

  “You’ve scared her senseless!” Zhang Xinlan fired back.

  Seeing another argument brewing, Li Li tugged her mom’s sleeve. “It’s my fault. Please don’t fight because of me. I’ll study hard, I promise.”

  Li Chengxian snorted. Zhang Xinlan hugged her daughter, heart aching.

  And so, it was decided: Li Li would go abroad.

  The next day, she went to school to explain things to her homeroom teacher and request leave for a cram school to prep for overseas applications.

  Her teacher sipped tea from a glass thermos, steam fogging his glasses. “Studying abroad is a path, yes. But it’s expensive—much more than local university. Your grades aren’t strong, but you could still get into a college here. With some effort, even a bachelor’s program isn’t impossible. Are you sure about this?”

  Li Li nodded.

  “Why, though?” He set down his cup. “It’s not exactly safe overseas, especially for a young girl.”

  Li Li kept her eyes down. “Because even Buddha requires a bachelor’s degree these days. And the Heavenly Masters won’t sponsor your visa either.”

  The teacher choked on his tea. This kid had always been… eccentric, but this was next level. He sighed. “Fine. Fill out the leave form.”

  After thanking him, Li Li headed to the classroom.

  It was break time—some students napped, others buried themselves in practice tests. Quietly, she pulled a stack of spirit money and a few incense sticks from her desk, then slipped out to the hills behind the sports field.

  Under a tree, she lit the incense and began burning the paper offerings.

  “I’m leaving for cram school. This is the last meal for a while.”

  To any passerby, it was bizarre: a girl talking to herself in broad daylight, burning paper by a tree.

  A pale, translucent ghost in Qing-dynasty robes stood in the shade, inhaling the smoke hungrily. “Didn’t you spend a fortune on tutoring last semester? More now?”

  Li Li’s hand paused. “It’s for overseas exams. What would a Qing-era ghost know about that?”

  “I know plenty,” the ghost retorted, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been here since this school was built. I’ve seen decades of honor-roll lists outside the gate. Students like you aren’t rare. And I’ve fought foreigners before, you know.”

  Li Li sighed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re an expert.”

  She tossed another handful of paper into the flames.

  “You should burn more for me. Come exam time, I’ll peek at the top students’ answers for you. Guaranteed admission.” The ghost grinned. “You’re the only one here who can see me anyway.”

  “And then both of us get struck by heavenly lightning for cheating? No thanks. That’s bad for my spiritual resume.”

  They fell silent.

  “You know, I’ll miss you when you’re gone,” the ghost said suddenly.

  “Don’t. Missing me gives you headaches.”

  “You ungrateful brat.” He huffed. “And you burn incense for me at high noon? This sun is brutal—and all this youthful Yang energy everywhere is itching my soul.”

  Suddenly, a shout came from across the field.

  “Hey! Which class are you from? Setting fires on school grounds?!”

  Li Li’s heart jumped. She blew out the incense, stomped on the flames.

  “Security’s fifty meters out,” the ghost reported casually, still savoring the last traces of smoke.

  “Shut up!”

  She poured her bottled water over the ashes.

  “Ten meters. If you get caught this time, it’s a real mark on your record, right?”

  Li Li ducked into the bushes and hurried away.

  When the guard arrived, all he found was a soggy pile of ash and half-burnt incense sticks. He glanced around, then shivered—a sudden chill in the warm air.

  “Weird,” he muttered, rubbing his arms. “Perfectly sunny, but I’m cold.”

  After one more look around, he left quickly.