“Are you… leaving?”
Qi Yue’an’s voice was soft, imbued with a tremor so subtle it was almost imperceptible, as her fingers instinctively clutched a corner of his robe.
The intimate hours, fleeting as a mirage, were drawing to a close. Outside the window, the simulated daylight had already softened into dusk, casting the opulent room in a fleeting, ambiguous golden hue.
On the young woman’s face, a palpable mix of reluctance and gloom intertwined.
“Could you tell me… what you’re going to do this time?”
She lowered her head slightly, her voice faint, as if she already knew her question would vanish like a stone dropped into a deep abyss.
Predictably, Lin Xiao offered no direct answer. Instead, he simply turned, his warm palm gently covering her cool hand.
“Wait for me here; I’ll be back soon.”
At these words, Qi Yue’an abruptly lifted her gaze, her silver pupils meeting his eyes.
His gaze was unlike the pure, role-playing tenderness he had shown before; now, it seethed with complex emotions she could not decipher—a profound depth, an intense focus, and even a hint of hidden, stubborn resolve. It was the same look he had given her that afternoon on the chaise lounge, when he had held her tightly in his arms—an embrace so warm it felt intoxicating, yet also like an invisible, resilient net, gently binding her within a dark cocoon.
An inexplicable tremor surged through her, her heart seized as if by an invisible hand. A dangerously loaded question slipped uncontrollably from her lips:
“Are you… the real Lin Xiao?”
He still offered no reply, merely allowing a profound curve to grace the corner of his lips. His silence itself seemed a tacit affirmation, as though he had long anticipated her discerning guess.
The pressure of his grip on her hand intensified slightly. Only when Qi Yue’an began to subtly struggle, uncomfortable with the prolonged tightness, did he speak again, his voice deep:
“The hidden truths of this world are far more intricate than they appear on the surface. But, An, you needn’t trouble yourself with them.”
He reached out, drawing her into his embrace once more. That hug remained so warm, so inviting, it made one yearn for eternal slumber within it, as if it could shield her from all storms—yet it also felt like an inescapable cage.
“Entrust everything to me. Once the dust settles, I will reveal all the secrets to you.”
This promise, however, brought no comfort; instead, it plunged her into a profound sense of suffocation. The feeling of being kept in the dark, passively left to the whims of fate, choked her breath.
“And after that,”
His lips brushed against her earlobe, his warm breath sending a shiver through her.
“I will never leave you again.”
The words felt like the most venomous curse, as if she were about to be consumed by them. She had expected to feel anger at yet another illusory promise, but at that moment, the fire within her seemed to extinguish.
“So, be a good girl and wait for me.”
Before the words had fully faded, he released her, turned decisively, and walked into the depths of the long corridor.
Only then did Qi Yue’an dimly realize that this room, with its comfortable chaise lounge and fantastical scenery, was arranged with an overly exquisite thoughtfulness. It seemed less like an accidental stop and more like… a private chamber specifically prepared for her, where she could wait indefinitely until he returned to favor her with his presence.
She gazed blankly as his retreating figure vanished at the end of the corridor. Once her sight could no longer reach him, the strength she had been clinging to seemed to drain away in an instant, and she slowly, weakly, collapsed onto the cold, smooth floor.
“Is it… like this again…?”
In the empty room, only her own whispers echoed. The beautiful, dreamlike scenery around her remained, yet now it was overshadowed by a chilling, heart-stopping silence.
“Speaking words I can’t understand… excluding me, time and time again…”
She hugged her arms tightly. Though the room’s temperature remained unchanged, the moment his warmth vanished, a bone-chilling cold spread from deep within her heart, freezing her limbs.
In the vast space, only the ancient grandfather clock on the back wall emitted a regular, muffled ‘tick-tock’. That sound seemed to transform into countless transparent threads, extending from the pendulum, coiling and binding her tiny figure below.
She remained curled on the floor for a long time, so long that it felt as if she were merging with the cold palace itself.
Eventually, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, she stiffly and slowly pushed herself up from the floor.
“I must… find clues. He wouldn’t harm me… No, he wouldn’t.”
She told herself, her voice imbued with a fragile, almost forced conviction.
****
Just as Qi Yue’an had followed him to the sixth floor, Xiyin was also searching for clues about the chalice at the school’s boundary.
Repeated attempts to breach the school’s boundary proved futile—no matter which gate she approached, she would invariably be returned to her starting point by a distortion in space.
She discovered that not only the academic buildings but also other areas of the campus were haunted by more eerie figures clad in red.
Like programmed specters, they wore vacant expressions, yet upon spotting her, they would attempt to call her name in various tones or utter nonsensical greetings.
Initially, Xiyin strictly adhered to the rules, never responding.
However, on one occasion, to test a theory, she tentatively replied from a relatively safe distance.
In an instant, the red-clad figure’s face contorted into an expression of extreme terror. The next second, that fear transformed into a furious malevolence, their body swelling and twisting as they roared and lunged at her.
Xiyin expended some effort to repel it, realizing that these red-clad figures seemed… to retain an instinctive fear of being “answered.” This fear would immediately trigger their attack mechanism, regardless of how much humanity might still linger within them.
After being “teleported” back by the boundary multiple times, and on the verge of despair, Xiyin forced herself to calm down and began to meticulously observe the red-clad figures’ behavior patterns.
She noticed that they were not entirely aimless; despite their slow movements, most stubbornly gravitated in a fixed direction.
Moreover, unlike the “substitutes” playing fixed roles in the apartment, certain red-clad figures occasionally displayed incredibly subtle traces of human emotion on their numb faces—bewilderment, pain, or a flicker of obsession.
Thus, she made a bold decision: to trail one of the red-clad figures who appeared relatively “calm.”
The red-clad figure seemed to sense her presence, yet instead of attempting to speak or immediately attack like the others, they behaved more like… a silent guide.
Their movements were exceptionally peculiar, circling the perimeter as if following some specific, arcane pattern—seemingly random, yet subtly hinting at a deeper mystery.
As Xiyin followed them for the third time, stepping into a specific area only to be “bounced back” by the boundary’s power, the scene before her abruptly shifted!
A colossal, ancient stone labyrinth, without any warning, materialized before her, as if it had always been there, merely concealed by some unseen force.
The guiding red-clad figure suddenly accelerated, emitting a whimper mixed with longing and pain, then lunged desperately toward the labyrinth’s entrance like a dying traveler in a desert spotting an oasis.
However, just as they were about to touch the dark, deep entrance, without warning, purple flames erupted violently from within their body. The flames were cold and soul-searing, silent, yet possessed an absolute power that seemed to purify all.
The red-clad figure convulsed violently in the flames. Before even a scream could escape them, in mere seconds, both body and soul were utterly reduced to nothingness, leaving not even a trace of ash.
Xiyin gasped, her footsteps halting instantly. Did this labyrinth’s entrance truly harbor such terrifying restrictions?
Just as she hesitated, wondering whether to risk entering, light and shadow flickered slightly at the labyrinth’s entrance, and a figure slowly emerged.
It was a slender young woman, clad in a strangely styled dress.
She possessed long, half-black, half-white hair identical to Qi Yue’an’s, and her face was strikingly similar, though her figure was more mature and voluptuous. Her brow held a gentle serenity and composure born of worldly experience, and her face bore a soft, yet inscrutable, smile.
She gently waved in Xiyin’s direction, her gesture natural, as if she had been waiting for a long time.
Although her heart was filled with caution, the striking resemblance to Qi Yue’an and the seemingly benign aura emanating from the stranger prompted Xiyin to make an immediate decision.
She unhesitatingly quickened her pace toward the entrance. Yet, the moment she stepped across that invisible boundary, the labyrinth entrance behind her rippled like water, then vanished completely.
Upon entering the labyrinth, Xiyin immediately felt a strange suppression.
While her magical girl transformation powers remained, an invisible force field enveloped the area, preventing her from using magic to fly and thus “cheating” her way through the maze.
She attempted to attack the walls with the spear she had conjured, but not even a scratch was left on the stone walls, whose material was unknown.
A surreal, fantastical atmosphere permeated the labyrinth. Looking up, the sky was no longer the oppressive gloom found elsewhere on campus, but a vast, boundless, deep starry night, with stars so dazzling they seemed unreal.
A colossal “moon” hung in the sky, appearing much larger than a normal moon, as if it had suffered a devastating impact. Its sphere was shattered, revealing a still-radiating core, and countless tiny fragments of stone orbited it, forming a tragic yet eerie ring.
Xiyin took a deep breath and began to explore, etching a mark on the ground with her spear.
However, the labyrinth seemed to possess a life of its own. She tried the classic right-hand rule, navigating the intricate passages for a long time, only to eventually find herself back at her original mark.
Not only space but also the passage of time here was strangely indistinct.
She felt no fatigue, no hunger, and even her magical energy seemed barely depleted.
The scenery within the labyrinth became increasingly monotonous the longer she observed it. After an indeterminate amount of time—perhaps minutes, perhaps hours—a pure white light, flickering like a sprite, suddenly appeared in the dark passage ahead.
It hovered in the air, silently watching her. When Xiyin tried to approach it, it drifted lightly forward; when she stopped, it would hover and wait.
Completely disoriented, the light became her only variable.
Xiyin no longer hesitated, choosing to follow it. The light led her through countless twists and turns, down paths that felt both familiar and utterly distinct, until finally, it guided her to the labyrinth’s heart.
It was not the perilous place she had envisioned, but a small, exquisite courtyard, lush with greenery, forming a stark contrast to the cold stone walls surrounding it.
In the center of the courtyard stood a pavilion built of white stone, and beneath it, the young woman—whose face so closely resembled Qi Yue’an’s from her memories, yet whose demeanor was far more mature and gentle—sat quietly.
“You’ve finally arrived.”