The attack, swift as an illusion yet agonizingly real, unfolded beneath the harsh glare of the sun.
Qing Xinxue had merely turned to sprint towards a nearby vending machine for water, a brief interval of no more than a minute or two.
Lan Yucheng remained rooted to her spot, her gaze still fixed on Qing Xinxue’s retreating figure. She had been wary of eyes potentially lurking in the alleyway, never anticipating that danger would strike in such a direct, utterly savage manner.
A figure, like a specter, suddenly lunged forth from the green belt behind them! It carried with it the pungent odor of sweat and a visceral, blood-soaked hatred.
It was the blond-haired boy!
His face was contorted into a mask of desperate ferocity, his eyes bloodshot and wild. The switchblade clutched tightly in his hand glinted with the cold, unforgiving light of death.
“Die!” he snarled, the blade plunging without hesitation towards Lan Yucheng’s waist and abdomen!
Excruciating pain!
The first strike: the frigid metal tore through her clothes, then into her flesh, delivering a sharp, suffocating agony.
Lan Yucheng didn’t even have time to cry out as the force of the impact sent her stumbling forward.
The second strike, the third… they came in rapid succession!
The boy seemed utterly insane, unleashing all his pent-up resentment and fear in this frenzied assault. Warm blood swiftly soaked through Lan Yucheng’s clothes, streaming down her leg to bloom into a blinding red stain on the ground.
Her vision began to blur, and strength drained from her body as quickly as her blood.
Lan Yucheng could hear Qing Xinxue’s distant scream, distorted with terror, like nails scraping glass, utterly heart-wrenching.
She saw the petite figure surge forward like a cannonball, saw the boy violently thrown back by Qing Xinxue’s unimaginable strength, saw him scrambling away, fleeing in disarray…
Then, darkness, like a tide, swallowed all her senses.
****
When consciousness returned, the first thing she registered was the heavy scent of disinfectant permeating her nostrils, followed by a dull, persistent ache emanating from various parts of her body, now swathed in bandages.
She struggled to pry open her heavy eyelids, her blurry vision slowly sharpening. What greeted her was the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room and a mature, beautiful face etched with worry.
“Xiaocheng? You’re awake?”
Su Yiyi’s voice carried a hint of profound relief. She sat by the bedside chair, a half-peeled apple still in her hand. “How do you feel? Don’t move too much; you’re not lightly injured.”
Lan Yucheng parted her lips, her throat too dry to utter a sound.
Su Yiyi quickly dipped a cotton swab in water, carefully moistening her lips.
“The doctor said it’s fortunate no vital organs were hit, but you lost a lot of blood and need plenty of rest.”
She paused, her gaze turning complex as she looked at Lan Yucheng. “Was it… that hooligan? Xiaoxue was practically insane at the time. If she weren’t staying to wait for you to wake up, she probably would have torn the school apart looking for him.”
Lan Yucheng nodded weakly. She wanted to ask where Qing Xinxue was, but found she lacked even the strength to lift a finger.
Just then, the hospital room door was gently pushed open. Qing Xinxue walked in.
She appeared… very calm.
Abnormally calm.
There were no tears, no hysteria, not even a trace of panic.
She had changed out of her blood-stained clothes, now wearing a clean white dress, her hair neatly combed.
However, those eyes, which always held dependence and timidity, now resembled two bottomless ancient wells—dark, silent, devoid of any light.
She walked to the bedside, ignoring Su Yiyi, her gaze fixed directly on Lan Yucheng’s pale face.
“Sister Cheng, you’re awake.”
Her voice was soft and gentle, yet it held an unsettling composure that sent a chill down one’s spine. “That’s wonderful.”
She reached out, her fingertips gently brushing Lan Yucheng’s bandaged hand, her movements tender.
“That person…” Lan Yucheng managed to gasp out.
“He ran away.” Qing Xinxue interrupted her, her tone utterly flat. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll find him. I will.” She spoke with such absolute certainty, as if stating an established fact.
Su Yiyi watched from the side, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately just sighed: “Xiaocheng just woke up; she needs rest. Xiaoxue, you shouldn’t be too…”
“I know.” Qing Xinxue interrupted her again, even a faint, almost twisted smile gracing her lips. “I will take good ‘care’ of Sister Cheng.”
She placed an almost imperceptible emphasis on the word ‘care.’
Lan Yucheng looked at her, and the chill in her heart began to spread once more. This tranquility was more disturbing than any madness.
After several days of observation at the hospital, and confirming she was out of life-threatening danger, Lan Yucheng insisted on being discharged. The doctor advised her to rest at home and change her dressings regularly.
Qing Xinxue handled all the procedures with astonishing efficiency. She helped the immobile Lan Yucheng into a taxi, and they rode in silence. Su Yiyi offered to help, but Qing Xinxue politely but firmly refused, stating, “I won’t trouble you, Sister.”
Back home, the familiar environment allowed Lan Yucheng to relax slightly. She thought that at least here, she could find a moment of respite.
Qing Xinxue helped her sit on the sofa, thoughtfully placing a cushion behind her, then went to fetch some warm water.
Then, she walked to the door.
“Click.”
A crisp, heart-stopping sound echoed.
It was the sound of the door being locked from the inside.
Lan Yucheng’s head snapped up, her gaze fixed on the doorway.
Qing Xinxue turned around, her face still wearing that abnormal calm. She walked back to the sofa, step by step, looking down at Lan Yucheng, who was weak and helpless from her injuries, unable to resist.
“Sister Cheng,” she whispered, her eyes profound. “You see, it’s too dangerous outside. Only here, by my side, will you be safe.”
She leaned down, placing her hands on the armrests of the sofa, effectively pinning Lan Yucheng between herself and the cushions.
“You can’t get hurt again… I can’t let you leave my sight again…” she murmured, as if trying to convince herself.
In Lan Yucheng’s astonished and vacant gaze, Qing Xinxue lowered her head, closing the distance between them with an undeniable assertiveness. It was no longer a touch seeking permission, but a silent, overwhelming tide.
Carrying the tremor of survival, a deformed obsession, and an utterly unleashed possessiveness, she sealed that familiar warmth. Their breaths intertwined like a desperate surge, fiercely washing over Lan Yucheng’s fading clarity and her attempts to construct a defense.
Lan Yucheng instinctively turned her face, desperate for a sliver of air, but Qing Xinxue’s palm gently yet firmly held her in place, preventing her escape. A sharp stab of pain from her wounds suddenly flared, bringing with it a cold sweat. Finally, all her strength dissipated in that suffocating, prolonged embrace. Only the lingering, iron-tinged pressure remained on her lips, a bond masquerading as love, tightening subtly with every heartbeat, imprisoning her within its confines.
When the dizzying, prolonged moment finally ended, Qing Xinxue slowly pulled back slightly, her breath a little ragged. She gazed at Lan Yucheng’s unfocused eyes and pale face, her fingertips lightly tracing her own lips, wiping away a touch of moisture, before a complex, profound smile, tinged with satisfaction and a hint of tears, bloomed on her face.
“This is how it should be…”
“Sister Cheng, you are mine forever.”
“No one… will ever be able to hurt you again, and no one… will be able to take you away from me.”
The locked door, her weakened body, and the lover before her, whose eyes were dark and who had completely shed their disguise.
Lan Yucheng leaned back on the sofa, closing her eyes, feeling the sting on her lips and the ever-expanding ice field in her heart.