Chapter 5: The Ripples of Awakening 

Dawn had barely broken when Xiaohuo woke to the raucous chatter of sparrows outside his window. The Melbourne summer sun was already creeping in, casting golden rectangles across his bedsheets. He reached instinctively for his phone, half-awake, as the familiar sounds of his mother's cooking drifted up from downstairs—oil sizzling, garlic and ginger hitting the pan, the faint aroma of soy sauce mingling with the morning air.

He pulled on a loose t-shirt and shorts and padded down to the restaurant, where everything looked just as it always had: neat rows of tables, the "Cash Only" sign taped next to its Chinese translation above the register, his father and mother discussing the day's grocery list in Cantonese. The restaurant had never been a bustling hotspot, but the regulars—locals, expats, students—kept business steady, and the family had long since learned to find comfort in the rhythm.

Yet lately, Xiaohuo felt an undercurrent of tension thrumming beneath that routine. Ever since the arrival of the black box, it was as if someone had nudged his world off-balance, and the city itself seemed to be holding its breath.

After breakfast, he glanced at his phone. In the WeChat group for Chinese students, a strange discussion had started: "Did anyone see that Japanese girl from the next street talking to herself in the alley last night? She kept saying she'd do anything for someone called 'the master'." Another post claimed, "A girl on campus disappeared—rumor is, it's got something to do with a mysterious guy." Some joked about ghost stories, others spun wild theories, but Xiaohuo felt a chill settle in his chest.

He alone could sense the subtle shifts that others missed. The spirits' power was rippling outward, silent and invisible, seeping into the cracks of daily life.

Before lunch, the restaurant began to fill with regulars. There was the Aussie office worker who always ordered coffee and fried noodles, the Indian couple who came for the mapo tofu every Friday. Xiaohuo greeted them all, but couldn't help scanning their faces, searching for signs—an odd gleam in the eye, a strange softness in their tone. That was when the door swung open and Su Wan'er appeared.

This time, she didn't seem overtly bewitched, as she had in her livestream. Instead, she moved with a new poise, her eyes gentle yet unwavering. She smiled at him at the counter and said quietly, "Xiaohuo, is there anything you need help with today? Whatever you ask, I'm happy to do."

The words seemed harmless enough, but Xiaohuo's heart tightened. He nodded, asking her to help wipe down the tables. Su Wan'er obliged, her movements light and content, as if this small service was a gift.

He forced himself to act casual, but inside, waves of unease crashed over him. It was becoming increasingly clear: those chosen by the spirits were not simply being controlled. Something deeper was shifting within them. Their loyalty felt as real as it was unnatural—a source of pleasure and a warning of danger.

The afternoon sunlight stretched long shadows across the floor as Xiaohuo pondered the consequences. What would become of this strange power if it continued to spread? Could he remain himself, or would he be consumed by the temptations it brought?

A notification pinged on his phone. It was Li Qing: "Xiaohuo ge, can I come see you tonight? There's something I want to talk about."

He stared at her message, conflicted. He'd noticed the changes in Li Qing too—her growing dependence, the way her eyes lit up with hope and devotion whenever she saw him. He knew it wasn't natural; he could almost sense the invisible hands of the spirits, shaping her feelings.

Taking a deep breath, Xiaohuo resolved to face the truth. Tonight, he would talk to Li Qing. It was time to confront the reality of the spirits' power—and to confront himself.

Night fell quietly over Melbourne, the city's orange streetlights flickering to life as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the low skyline. After closing the restaurant, Xiaohuo lingered in the kitchen, cleaning up in silence while his parents retreated upstairs. The clang of dishes and the distant hum of a tram outside were the only sounds that accompanied him, making the emptiness of the space feel even larger.

It wasn't long before the gentle chime of the doorbell echoed through the quiet. Xiaohuo dried his hands and went to open the door. There stood Li Qing, her petite figure framed by the soft glow from the streetlights. She wore a simple dress and a denim jacket, and clutched a box of freshly baked cake.

"Hi, Xiaohuo ge. I brought you something," she said softly, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

He smiled, ushering her inside. They sat at a small round table near the window, the city's night spilling in around them, wrapping the world in a hush. Li Qing pushed the cake toward him, her eyes expectant.

"I made it myself. I hope you like it."

Xiaohuo took a bite. It was sweet, just the right amount—comforting and homey. He set the fork down and looked at her seriously. "Li Qing, have you… felt anything strange lately? Anything that doesn't feel like you?"

Li Qing hesitated, her fingers tracing slow circles on the table. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought. "I'm not sure how to explain it. I've been having dreams about you. In them, you're sitting on a throne—like a king. And all I want is to make you happy, to do whatever you say."

She looked up, confusion and longing mingling in her eyes. "Sometimes I'm scared. I wonder if I'm going crazy. But when I see you, that fear disappears. I just feel… content."

Xiaohuo felt a constriction in his chest. He wanted to blame it all on the spirits, but he couldn't ignore the real, raw emotion in her voice. "If someday you found out that you only felt this way because I accidentally influenced you—because there's something I can't control—would you hate me?"

Li Qing seemed surprised, then shook her head. "No. I wouldn't hate you. If anything, I feel important for the first time, because you need me."

In that instant, Xiaohuo realized the true nature of the spirits' power. It wasn't merely about control; it was a subtle, binding thread that made people willingly tie their happiness to his desires. He was both the master and the captive—trapped by the very power he wielded.

He leaned forward, voice low. "Li Qing… If you could choose, would you want to go back to the way things were before?"

She bit her lip, thinking. "I don't know. I was always just… ordinary. But now, at least I matter to someone. At least you notice me."

The weight of her words pressed on him. The city outside seemed impossibly vast, the quiet of the night almost oppressive. For the first time, Xiaohuo truly understood the cost of the spirits' gift—not just the loss of free will for those around him, but the burden of knowing he was responsible for taking it away.

He walked Li Qing to the door when it was time for her to leave. Her silhouette vanished into the night, swallowed by the soft glow of the streetlights. When Xiaohuo closed the door, the silence felt absolute, broken only by the faint buzz of the city settling down for the night.

He returned to his room, the black box waiting on his desk like a silent judge. Sitting on his bed, he stared at it for a long time. He didn't know what the future would bring, or if he could ever truly master the spirits' power. But one thing was clear: he would have to try—if not for himself, then for the people whose lives had been changed by forces they could never understand.

Outside, the city's lights twinkled, and Xiaohuo felt the magnitude of his responsibility settle onto his shoulders. The journey ahead would not be easy, but he was determined to search for answers—to protect those around him, and to reclaim agency for both himself and the ones bound to him.