“So… he even did… *that* to you?”
Upon hearing Qi Yue’an’s account, a surge of indignation welled up on Xiyin’s face, impossible to suppress.
Regarding Lin Xiao, Xiyin had heard numerous fragmented tales of him since she first befriended Qi Yue’an. While Qi Yue’an seldom delved into the specifics of their shared past, Xiyin keenly sensed the profound importance the figure of Lin Xiao held within Qi Yue’an’s heart.
“That kind of thing? But he didn’t attack me at all?”
Qi Yue’an tilted her head in confusion, her silver eyes reflecting a profound bewilderment.
Witnessing her utter incomprehension, Xiyin’s cheeks, paradoxically, flushed with a subtle, almost imperceptible blush, her voice tinged with embarrassment:
“Uh… I didn’t mean an attack, but rather… a more… *intimate* kind of contact…”
“?”
Qi Yue’an continued to gaze at her with those clear, yet somewhat vacant, silver eyes, as if she were an oddity.
Witnessing her recount everything with the innocence of a blank page, devoid of any ulterior thoughts, Xiyin secretly let out a breath of relief. Her unreserved, unblushing, and undistorted narration was a clear indication that the young woman before her had not truly grasped the psychological implications of the actions, nor had her heart been swayed by them.
Then, as if retrieving a scene from a forgotten chamber of her mind, Qi Yue’an raised a finger and gently tapped the side of her cheek—the very spot where a tender touch had briefly rested.
“Are you referring to… *this*?”
Her tone remained as placid as if discussing the weather, yet a blush, nonetheless, bloomed uncontrollably across her pale cheeks.
Regardless, such an intimate and overtly meaningful proximity was an utterly foreign experience for someone who had been reclusive and emotionally detached from others since childhood.
This fleeting blush, however, was swiftly eclipsed by a deeper shade of melancholy as she softly lowered her gaze.
“Xiyin… you know, he’s merely a substitute. The *real* him… would never, ever treat me like that.”
That poignant declaration, “The *real* him would never treat me like that,” was imbued with an almost imperceptible tremble. To Xiyin and Li Yan, it resonated as the helpless murmur of a tragic girl, whose heart, once ensnared by a tender illusion, was now shattered by the stark reality.
“An’an…”
A surge of righteous anger ignited within Xiyin. She had often heard tales of individuals who delighted in toying with others’ emotions, yet she had never expected to witness a “victim” firsthand today.
“Xiyin, are you upset? I’m so sorry, it’s my fault…”
Qi Yue’an, keenly attuned to the shift in Xiyin’s mood, instinctively sought to apologize, internalizing the blame herself.
“Don’t apologize, An’an!”
Xiyin interrupted her, her voice ringing with unwavering conviction.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. I promise I’ll help you unravel this entire affair, to expose his true colors. Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side every step of the way!”
Having spoken, and as if to mask her own surging emotions, she abruptly spun around and resumed her seat on the sofa, leaving Qi Yue’an to gaze at her back—a silhouette that, despite appearing somewhat miffed, radiated an undeniable sense of loyalty.
Qi Yue’an stood rooted to the spot for a moment, not entirely comprehending the sudden intensity of Xiyin’s emotions. Yet, the simple promise, “I’ll be by your side every step of the way,” infused her heart with warmth, dispelling her lingering anxieties.
“Ahem… ladies, has our little whispered conference concluded? Perhaps it’s time we discussed matters of actual importance?”
To be frank, he had been reluctant to interrupt so soon. After all, these unfolding events were quite intriguing; he had never imagined such intricate emotional entanglements amongst them.
‘So, the boss is *that* kind of person, huh? But then why ask me to look out for her? Ugh, never mind. They’re all so twisted up. If it were me, I’d just go straight for it; no need for all this complexity.’
Musing these thoughts to himself, he too approached the sofa, settling beside Xiyin, and the group began to deliberate their subsequent course of action.
Ultimately, they resolved that Xiyin should venture to the anomalous fringes of the school in search of clues pertaining to the chalice. Given their hypothesis that the chalice was linked to spatial phenomena, the areas exhibiting the most severe spatial distortions along the periphery were deemed the most probable locations. This decision was, in part, influenced by Qi Yue’an’s own reasoning.
The figure of the maiden holding the chalice on the door she had previously observed possessed an ambiguous, almost genderless quality, which serendipitously aligned with Xiyin’s own enigmatic origins. Furthermore, Qi Yue’an harbored a personal motive: the more densely populated areas within the school tended to manifest greater dangers and anomalies, whereas the seldom-visited peripheral zones had, until now, presented no significant threats beyond spatial distortions.
“In that case, I’ll focus my investigation on the first five floors of the apartment building. The clue about the feather, after all, came from Miss Cat, so it’s possible other significant substitutes possess similar knowledge. Moreover, I need to ascertain the status of the remaining survivors.”
As he concluded, all eyes converged upon Qi Yue’an.
“An’an, that substitute mentioned earlier that Mr. Demon King intends to bring you to the sixth floor. This could prove exceedingly perilous. You might consider exploring the school’s periphery alongside me instead.”
Qi Yue’an shook her head, a hint of tenacious obsession gleaming in her eyes.
“Regardless, some matters simply cannot be evaded. While I remain uncertain of his true intentions towards me, I refuse to abandon any pursuit connected to him. Furthermore, I possess a strong premonition that crucial clues regarding the hourglass lie within that very place.”
Xiyin still wore a troubled expression, yet Li Yan voiced his support.
“Exactly. We cannot afford to waste any more time. I sense this apartment is gradually eroding our very perceptions; perhaps in a matter of days, we truly won’t be able to escape.”
His words instilled a fresh sense of urgency in the hearts of the other two.
“Very well, let us depart then. An’an, should anything occur, you must send a message; I will hasten to your aid.”
With these words exchanged, the group disbanded. Qi Yue’an opened her door, traversed the corridor, and returned to her room. It remained precisely as she remembered it, though Lin Xiao, she realized, had already been waiting for her there, his arrival unbeknownst to her.
“My apologies, Miss Moon, for entering your room without prior permission.”
As he offered his apology, Qi Yue’an subtly shifted her facial muscles, gifting him a gentle smile.
“It’s perfectly fine. For you, it’s always acceptable. Besides, you did mention you’d be waiting for me in my room.”
She settled almost flush against Lin Xiao, and he, perceiving her sudden proximity, seemed to momentarily stiffen before quickly regaining his composure.
“Mr. Demon King, what prompted your sudden visit to my floor?”
Qi Yue’an inquired tentatively, her voice carefully modulated to be gentle and devoid of any forced artifice.
Lin Xiao offered no immediate reply. Instead, he abruptly encircled her waist, drawing her close so she might lean against his shoulder.
Qi Yue’an’s cheeks were instantly stained crimson by this sudden embrace, yet she swiftly compelled herself to regain composure, adopting an air of playful coyness.
“Naturally, because I missed you.”
Lin Xiao replied softly, his gaze fixed on the curve of her ear, yet he failed to notice the sudden disappearance of the blush from her cheeks.
“So he missed me… Heh…”
Qi Yue’an softly echoed his words, then gently disentangled herself from his embrace, meeting his gaze for a brief, charged moment.
In that precise instant, Lin Xiao beheld an expression in her eyes that he had never conceived possible on that familiar face.
Her face still bore its customary adorable expression, but within her eyes, rather than the anticipated shyness or affection, there resided a fathomless darkness and a profound gravity, as if they were windows to an endless abyss—cold, obstinate, and imbued with a subtle, unnoticed paranoia.
“Miss Moon…?”
He instinctively murmured her name, an inexplicable chill suddenly coiling in the depths of his heart.
Yet, in the very instant he apprehended that anomaly of emotion, a radiant smile once more graced Qi Yue’an’s face, as though her prior expression had been nothing more than a trick of the light.
“It’s nothing at all,”
Her voice reverted to its former softness, now imbued with a dreamlike, ethereal quality.
“I was merely contemplating… how truly… *blissful* it is for ‘me’ to be able to reside here indefinitely.”
Clasping her hands behind her back, she struck a pose reminiscent of an anime character from her television memories, offering him a gentle, charming smile. Yet, inwardly, her heart was far from tranquil.
She found herself unable to proactively ascend to the sixth floor where he resided, much like her perpetual inability to truly reach the authentic Lin Xiao, who consistently kept her at arm’s length.
Each and every time, it was *he* who dictated his presence, who chose whether to bestow upon her a flicker of care or warmth.
This inherent passivity, this pervasive sense of unbridgeable distance, had always existed, never truly receding. Her past self had been capable of self-deception, of simply ignoring it, but it was only after his unannounced departure, leaving her to grapple with profound loneliness, that she began to grasp its crushing reality.
Subsequently, upon their reunion, he had cloaked himself in an aura of riddles and indifference, consistently presenting her with a mysterious back while simultaneously refusing to depart entirely.
And now, encountering *that* gentle version of him once more, a confluence of suppressed grievances, unyielding resentment, and even a complex, almost twisted affection finally coalesced into a corrosive jealousy, igniting a fierce blaze within her heart.
Once more, as she had done for the past two years, she buried everything deep within her.
“Therefore, without further ado, let us depart.”
Qi Yue’an extended her left hand, grasping his, then turned to face forward.
Trailing his steps, the staircase leading to the sixth floor materialized before them. Unlike her solitary previous ascent, this section of the staircase, much like after 11 PM, exuded an air of lavish grandeur.
To her surprise, the moment Qi Yue’an’s feet touched the ground of the sixth floor, an aura distinctly different from all the levels below enveloped her.
Gone were the endlessly stretching corridors teeming with “acquaintances.” In their stead lay a majestic tableau, reminiscent of the interior of an ancient palace or a clandestine fortress.
Vaulted ceilings, stone pillars intricately carved with unfamiliar patterns, walls studded with crystals that diffused a soft glow, and beneath their feet, dark floor tiles, polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting their forms.
A cool, fragrant aroma permeated the air, lending an atmosphere of profound tranquility and solemnity, as though the very passage of time had become slow and ponderous within this space.
“Is this… the residence of Mr. Demon King?”
Qi Yue’an whispered, her silver eyes sweeping across her surroundings, every detail surpassing her wildest imaginings.
Lin Xiao’s hand remained clasped around hers, his fingertips warm, as if clutching something he was loath to relinquish.
“Hmm, do you like it? It’s exceptionally quiet here; few ever disturb this place.”
He inclined his head, his gaze settling upon her.
“I wished to show you the places where I typically spend my time.”
He guided Qi Yue’an through the silent “palace,” leading her through the vast library.
Finally, they paused upon an expansive terrace, from which they could gaze upon—or rather, witness—a simulated vista of a boundless cloud sea and distant mountains, conjured by this enigmatic space.
Throughout this journey, Lin Xiao’s demeanor remained utterly natural. When she stared, lost in thought, at a luminous stone, he would gently inquire if she liked it, and if she nodded, he would retrieve it for her.
Whenever her curiosity was piqued by an object, he would patiently offer an explanation.
Even the Lin Xiao she had held in such high regard two years prior had merely offered the companionship of a friend, not this mature, precise, and seemingly tailor-made solicitude.
It was as though he had peered into the deepest yearnings of Qi Yue’an’s heart, each casual gesture bringing her immense comfort. Even if she did not fully comprehend such emotions, even if she lacked intimate memories with him, she felt herself bound by an invisible, gentle thread.
In the afternoon, Lin Xiao accompanied her on a lounge chair on the terrace, idly observing the scenery below.
He offered little in the way of words, merely extending an arm to draw her close, allowing her to rest against him.
Whether for the sake of their act, or perhaps stirred by something deeper within her heart, she, by some strange impulse, offered no resistance, allowing herself to be captured by him.
His chest was firm, imbued with a scent unique to his youthful vitality, which instinctively quickened her breath and left her feeling somewhat disquieted.
In her heart, Lin Xiao had once been her sole friend, her most important companion, the one who had promised never to betray her.
Yet, deep down, she also resented his departure, and yearned desperately to understand why it had happened, how she could bring him back. She had once imagined him here as a nightmarish final enemy, but she had never anticipated his “substitute” here would play the unfamiliar role of a lover.
No matter her past, her relationship with Lin Xiao had always been that of childhood friends who could simply talk to each other, never anything strangely intimate or romantic.
Indeed, ever since his “death”—his unannounced departure that year—she had only felt sadness, and guilt for not having attended his funeral.
She did not truly understand these emotions. Her life, perennially overcast, had always been filled with incongruous differences. Let alone the deeper intimacy of love, even friendship was something she only half-understood.
But since becoming a magical girl, since the day she wished to end everything yet encountered him once more, something new seemed to have sprouted within her heart.
She longed to know the answer to this question.
Two people, so close in proximity yet with their hearts pulling in separate directions, leaned against each other, wishing for time to slow its relentless flow.