The night air in Melbourne was thick and electric, city lights glimmering like a sea of constellations scattered across black velvet. Xiaohuo stood by his window, fingers drumming absently on the sill, mind looping back over every detail of his meeting with Alex and the mysterious man. He felt the shadow of the spirits pressing ever closer—no longer just a private torment, but a force that gnawed at his sanity and the psyches of those around him.
He couldn't shake the image of Su Wan'er's eyes, hollowed by dependency; Li Qing's voice, laced with confusion and helplessness; the anonymous girl in the WeChat group, her pain bleeding through the screen. It was as if invisible threads now wove these people to him, their emotional states drifting with his own. The guilt, the fear—it all crystallized into a hard, cold resolve: he would find a way out. He would learn to live with the spirits' presence, to master them, and stop them from hurting others.
The next morning, Xiaohuo messaged Alex, expressing his urgent wish to meet Sophie. Alex replied right away, promising to arrange an introduction. Later that day, under a sunlit Melbourne sky, Xiaohuo waited on the central lawn at RMIT University. Students from every continent crossed the grass, their voices a cacophony of languages and laughter, their youthful energy a vivid contrast to the shadow world Xiaohuo now inhabited. For the first time, he felt acutely aware of how small his problems were in the wider world—and how deep and secret the abyss of the spirits could be.
A tall woman with sun-kissed brown hair tied back in a ponytail approached him, her stride both relaxed and purposeful. Her English was laced with a strong French accent as she greeted him, "You must be Xiaohuo." Her eyes were calm but piercing, as if she could see straight through his facade.
"Yes, I'm Sophie," she continued, extending her hand. "Alex told me about you. Let's find somewhere quiet to talk."
They tucked themselves into a window seat at a nearby café. Sophie didn't speak right away, simply observed Xiaohuo with a gentle, almost clinical curiosity. Her gaze wasn't invasive—it felt more like a diagnosis than an interrogation.
"Tell me what you're feeling," she invited in English.
Xiaohuo sketched out his recent experiences, focusing on the backlash: not just his own spiraling emotions and moments of dissociation, but also how those around him seemed to be unraveling—falling into dependency, losing their sense of self, even talking about harming themselves. He admitted, for the first time aloud, that he was afraid of his own power, that he'd sometimes fantasized about running away from it all.
Sophie nodded, her expression grave. "You're not alone. Every spirit holder faces this, sooner or later. The spirits feed on desire and attachment, but they also react to fear and guilt. The more you try to shut them out with panic, the deeper they dig in."
Her words surprised him. He'd always assumed that suppression, avoidance, or brute-force discipline were the only ways to fight back. He'd never considered that fear itself might serve as nourishment for the spirits.
"Real self-control isn't about cutting off your emotions," Sophie said quietly. "It's about coexisting with them, observing them, harmonizing them. You have to learn to watch your mind's movements; don't let the spirits hijack your feelings. That's why I invited you to my meditation workshop."
Sophie explained that she held small meditation sessions near campus every week. Some participants just wanted to de-stress, but others, like Xiaohuo, carried invisible burdens or secrets. She asked him to come the next day, cautioning, "Don't expect miracles. It takes patience, honesty, and a willingness to face your darkest self."
On the walk home, Xiaohuo replayed her words. The courage to look honestly at his own shadows seemed far more daunting than mere repression or avoidance—but perhaps, also more fundamental.
That night, the spirits' whispers grew sharper, slicing through his thoughts with a clarity they'd never had before. They tempted, challenged, threatened—sometimes cooing like lovers, sometimes sneering like demons.
"You think you can be rid of us so easily?"
"Didn't you enjoy being needed, being depended upon? Didn't you crave the feeling of power?"
Xiaohuo forced himself to remain calm, trying to observe these voices rather than fight them, as Sophie had advised. He realized that the desires, the fears, the guilt and the pride, all came from deep within him. The spirits weren't just foreign invaders—they were amplifiers of his own hidden cravings and weaknesses.
The next afternoon, Xiaohuo arrived at Sophie's meditation group. Besides him, there were three others: Helena, a quiet, serious young woman from Germany; Daniel, an outwardly cheerful American who radiated a nervous energy; and Lucas, a local Australian who looked placid but whose eyes darted restlessly.
Sophie invited them to sit in a circle and spoke in a calm, unwavering voice. "Meditation isn't just about relaxation. It's about seeing yourself clearly, accepting your vulnerabilities. Today, we'll start with the breath."
Xiaohuo closed his eyes, following Sophie's instructions and shifting his focus to the rhythm of his breathing. As the minutes passed, he felt the fragments of nervousness, fear, and guilt rise to the surface. Each time a dark thought appeared, he tried not to resist or push it away, but simply to notice it, as if he were watching someone else's mind.
After what felt like both an eternity and a moment, the meditation ended. Sophie asked each participant to share something from their experience. Helena spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper—her mind had been full of guilt toward her parents and anxiety about her future. Daniel admitted that he'd always run from his fears, terrified that if he ever stopped moving, he would fall apart. Lucas said softly, "I realized I've been hiding from everyone, including myself."
When it was Xiaohuo's turn, he hesitated, then said, "I'm afraid of losing control. I'm afraid of hurting people. But at the same time, I crave being needed, being relied on. The spirits aren't just a temptation—they're a mirror for everything I can't admit to myself."
Sophie nodded approvingly. "That's the first step. When you can see yourself honestly, the spirits lose some of their power."
After the session, Sophie kept Xiaohuo back for a private chat. She gave him more detailed advice: meditate at least half an hour every day, no matter how busy he was, and use short breathing exercises whenever he felt the spirits trying to seize control.
"Only through consistent practice can your awareness grow stronger than the spirits' pull," she said earnestly.
He took her advice to heart. From that day on, meditation became as much a part of his routine as eating or sleeping. Every morning and night, he found a quiet corner, closed his eyes, and focused on his breath, striving to observe rather than judge his thoughts. At first, the spirits' voices seemed to intensify, bombarding him with more intrusive thoughts and vivid temptations. But gradually, he found himself less reactive. The urges to control or dominate others lessened. Even Su Wan'er and Li Qing seemed to regain some of their autonomy—their moods and interactions no longer so tightly bound to his own.
He encouraged them to seek out campus counseling and to focus on their studies and hobbies, gently nudging them toward independence. He noticed for the first time that letting go of his need to be needed did not make him invisible. Instead, he felt lighter, less chained to an endless cycle of desire and guilt.
One night, Xiaohuo received a private message from the girl in the WeChat group. Her name was Olivia, an exchange student from the UK. She confessed that she'd felt lost and empty for a long time, and lately, had been plagued by dreams of a shadowy figure whispering cruel things in her ear—urging her to doubt herself, sometimes even to harm herself.
Xiaohuo felt a jolt of recognition and dread. He suspected Olivia's suffering was connected to the same spiritual forces he struggled with. He listened patiently, offering comfort and suggesting she try meditation and seek professional help. As he did so, he realized that the less he tried to "fix" her, the less he was tempted by the spirits' urge to control. Simply being present, compassionate, and honest seemed to weaken the spirits' hold. Maybe, he thought, this was what Sophie meant by "harmonizing"—when you acknowledge your own and others' pain without judgment or manipulation, the darkness retreats.
Days passed, and meditation became a sanctuary. He still heard the spirits' whispers, but now they seemed muffled, their power diluted by the growing clarity and calm within him. Each time he faced his own darkness, he felt a small, true strength growing—a strength not built on dominance or secrecy, but on understanding and acceptance.
One evening, Sophie invited him to her home on the city's outskirts—a simple, bright house surrounded by lavender and rosemary. They sat by a wide window, sipping hot tea. For the first time, Xiaohuo felt comfortable enough to ask about Sophie's own past.
She told him, quietly, that she too had come close to being destroyed by her connection to the spirits. The spirit world, she said, was far more intricate than most realized. There were "resonators"—people who could sense the spirits' true nature or even negotiate with them. There were also "controllers," whose ambition and talent allowed them to wield immense power, sometimes at terrible cost. Some used their gifts to help others, some for selfish gain, and some lost themselves entirely, becoming little more than puppets for the spirits' will.
"You're still at the beginning," Sophie warned. "You'll meet others—some will help you, others will try to use you or destroy you. But remember: as long as your awareness remains strong, the spirits can't fully own you."
Xiaohuo asked, "And if I meet someone much stronger? Or if I feel like I'm about to lose control?"
Sophie handed him a string of wooden prayer beads, smooth and fragrant. "I made these myself. When you feel on the edge, hold them, focus on your breath, and remember—inner calm is your last refuge."
That night, as he walked home beneath a sky ablaze with stars, the beads warm against his wrist, Xiaohuo felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—a quiet confidence. He didn't know what dangers lay ahead, or what new allies or enemies he would encounter. But he knew he was no longer the boy who only ran or repressed. The crack in the spirit world was widening, and he was ready to face what lay beyond.