With Su Yiyi gone, only Lan Yucheng remained in the room. The sounds from behind the closed door gradually weakened, eventually fading into a deathly silence.
Delivering food, sustaining life—these were indeed the only actions possible at present. Yet, they offered nothing more than mere sustenance.
The helpless resignation in Su Yiyi’s eyes, a silent plea of ‘nothing more can be done,’ settled like the final, crushing straw upon Lan Yucheng’s heart. Yet, in a strange twist, it didn’t ignite despair. Instead, it birthed a cold, unflinching resolve—a burning of all bridges.
Since gentle methods had proven ineffective, since both appeasement and established rules had utterly collapsed.
Since… even I had already become lost in this twisted abyss of love and desire.
Then, why not… repay her in kind, with her own methods?
A dangerous, dark thought, like a dormant viper, slowly raised its head in her heart, flicking its forked tongue.
What if she were treated with a method more extreme, more composed, and utterly beyond question than Qing Xinxue’s own?
This was not about revenge, nor was it punishment.
Rather, it was a more thorough ‘remodeling.’
The fear, control, and even the twisted affection she had inflicted upon me would be returned, refined and ruthless.
Let her, too, taste absolute dominance, the sensation of even her madness being seen through and controlled.
The very idea sent a shiver down Lan Yucheng’s spine, yet beneath that tremor, a strange, almost exhilarating warmth surged.
****
For the next week, Lan Yucheng did not appear before that door.
Only Su Yiyi delivered food and water at regular intervals, sliding them through the narrow gap beneath the door.
The person inside transitioned from initial frantic cries, banging, and pleas, to low sobs and murmurs, and finally, even these sounds gradually vanished, leaving only a deathly silence.
Lan Yucheng listened to it all from outside, her demeanor calm.
She could imagine the despair of the person within, imagine them perhaps believing they had been utterly abandoned, forever imprisoned in that small space, left to rot in the darkness.
This was precisely the effect she desired—to push Qing Xinxue into the deepest abyss, to shatter all her unrealistic fantasies and the ‘sense of security’ she relied upon.
When even Su Yiyi began to show reluctance, hinting whether it was time to end this ‘cold treatment,’ Lan Yucheng knew the moment was ripe.
The timing was chosen for the predawn hours of the seventh day.
All was silent. The moonlight, stark and pale, streamed through the window, casting cold, geometric patterns upon the floor.
Lan Yucheng produced a key, inserted it into the lock, and gently turned. The bolt slid open soundlessly.
She pushed the door open.
A mixed scent of sweat, tears, and a faint mustiness assailed her. The room was unlit; only the clear, cold moonlight outlined the disarray within—torn sheets, pillows scattered on the floor, and… a figure curled in the shadow of the corner, hugging their knees, head buried deep.
She appeared so small, so fragile, like a discarded, grimy kitten.
Her hair clung messily to her cheeks, and her once fair skin seemed even paler in the moonlight, even tinged with a grayish pallor.
She seemed to be asleep, yet even in slumber, her body trembled slightly.
Lan Yucheng softened her footsteps, walked to Qing Xinxue, and knelt down.
The moonlight perfectly illuminated this small area, and in turn, Lan Yucheng’s face.
She extended a hand, not immediately touching, but hovering above Qing Xinxue’s shoulder. Then, very gently, she shook her.
Qing Xinxue jolted violently, like a startled animal, groggily raising her head.
Her sleepy eyes, upon meeting the moonlight, were initially bewildered. Then, her gaze slowly focused, falling upon Lan Yucheng’s face, so close.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment.
Qing Xinxue’s pupils constricted abruptly in the darkness, then widened dramatically!
She seemed to have seen something utterly terrifying; her body recoiled violently, her spine slamming hard against the cold wall with a dull thud.
Her mouth hung open, but no sound escaped, only broken, choked gasps from her throat.
Fear.
It was pure, undisguised, bone-deep fear.
She looked at Lan Yucheng, her eyes devoid of the usual obsession, dependence, or madness, replaced solely by terror, as if gazing at a strange ghost returned from hell.
Lan Yucheng absorbed her reaction, and a ripple of almost cruel satisfaction spread across the cold lake within her heart.
This was precisely the effect she wanted.
Strange?
Yes.
This was only the beginning.
Lan Yucheng ignored her fear and did not show any reassuring expression as she might have in the past.
Her face was devoid of emotion, her eyes as calm as a frozen lake, bottomless, reflecting no light whatsoever.
She simply knelt there, watching Qing Xinxue tremble with fear, her gaze scrutinizing and imbued with an invisible pressure.
An eternity seemed to pass. Just as Qing Xinxue was on the verge of being driven mad by this silent oppression, Lan Yucheng finally spoke.
Her voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear in the silent pre-dawn, carrying an undeniable chill:
“Go take a bath.”
There was no preamble, no explanation, just a direct command.
Then, she paused, and meeting Qing Xinxue’s even more terrified and bewildered gaze, added, her tone flat, yet imbued with a chilling, declarative quality:
“You are too dirty.”
“Clean yourself.”
“And then, we—”
Her lips seemed to curve upward in an almost imperceptible smile.
“—need to have a ‘good talk.'”
The words ‘good talk’ were deliberately emphasized, carrying an unknown chill that crashed upon Qing Xinxue’s fragile nerves.
Qing Xinxue trembled all over, looking into Lan Yucheng’s utterly unfamiliar eyes, eyes that seemed capable of devouring all light. A chill deeper than that of being imprisoned, deeper than believing herself abandoned, instantly seized her heart.
The Senior Sister Cheng before her had become someone she no longer recognized.
And this so-called ‘talk’—was salvation awaiting her, or… an even deeper, darker descent?
She did not know.
She only knew that even the strength to tremble was slowly being frozen by that cold gaze.