Xiyin strode quickly through the final stretch of the labyrinthine passage, stepping into a refined courtyard that starkly contrasted with the surrounding icy stone walls.
Her gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, fixed firmly on the serene, mature woman seated by the stone table. That face, almost identical to Qi Yue’an’s, now held a disquieting mystery, an unsettling wisdom that seemed to penetrate all things.
“Who exactly are you? What is this place, and what is your relationship with An’an?”
Xiyin’s voice betrayed an irrepressible urgency; she felt herself teetering on the precipice of truth, yet before her lay an unfathomable abyss.
“I have no time for pleasantries; tell me the truth!”
Qi Yue slowly lifted her eyelids, her silver eyes shimmering with a complex emotion, a blend of nostalgia and sorrow.
Gently, she set down the fallen leaf she had been idly turning in her fingers, its origin unknown, and spoke in a voice that was soft yet imbued with power:
“Xiyin… it’s been so long. Your directness, your no-nonsense approach in critical moments, truly hasn’t changed a bit.”
Xiyin took a step forward, bracing her hands on the stone table, leaning slightly to exert pressure on the other woman.
“I have a terrible feeling, an ominous premonition. An’an might be in danger right now. What exactly do you know about the sixth floor and this place?”
Qi Yue gazed into Xiyin’s anxious eyes, her own filled with a soothing tenderness.
She nodded slightly, abandoning any further pretense:
“You are very perceptive, Xiyin. Indeed, you must have sensed it already: the cornerstone of this distorted space, its logic, its fragments of memory, all originate from a person named Qi Yue’an.”
“I noticed it, from the apartment floors to those eerie substitutes… but why? What’s the logic behind it? And what role does Lin Xiao play in all this?”
Xiyin’s questions tumbled out like a rapid-fire volley. Far from being annoyed by her intensity, Qi Yue smiled knowingly, appreciating Xiyin’s concern.
“The ‘me’ in this world is quite happy, too…”
Having spoken, Qi Yue did not directly answer, but instead posed a seemingly unrelated question, leaving Xiyin momentarily stunned.
“Xiyin, tell me, have you, Bai Jin, Bai Zhi, and ‘her’… have you visited that rumored ‘haunted house’ in the west of the city? The one where the demon Li Yan resides?”
Xiyin paused, then shook her head:
“No, we had a plan, but we haven’t had the chance yet…”
A sudden flash of insight illuminated her mind, and a bold conjecture surfaced.
“Wait, are you suggesting… this apartment isn’t merely mapping memories; it’s constructing itself according to a ‘storyline’? The fifth floor represents the ‘present,’ or rather, the point in your story after you visited Li Yan’s mansion? And that sixth floor… symbolizes the ‘future’ you experienced?”
“As expected of Xiyin, your reactions are always so swift.”
A curve of approval graced Qi Yue’s lips. She clasped her hands together, her tone that of a gentle older sister guiding a lost sibling.
“However, this ‘story’ woven by the ‘Sacred Artifact’ from my traces holds some… deviations from the reality you are currently experiencing.”
“In my world, that fellow Li Yan never joined any chaotic organizations. Like Lin Xiao at the time, he was a free demon, unbound by rules, his movements as elusive as the wind.”
Her gaze seemed to drift to the distant past.
“I recall your first encounter with him wasn’t exactly pleasant; it was more like… a rivalry that forged an acquaintance? Each time you met, it was like a firecracker ready to ignite, yet strangely, you weren’t mortal enemies. Your relationship was so awkward, I often wished I could give it a little push from behind.”
Her frivolous smile made Xiyin take half a step back. The personality of the young woman before her was a complete antithesis to the current Qi Yue’an.
“Let me be clear, this isn’t the past. At least, there’s absolutely no way I’d be caught up in some ‘lovers’ quarrel’ or ambiguous relationship with anyone.”
Seeing her reaction, Qi Yue covered her mouth and chuckled. She then provocatively lifted Xiyin’s chin, instantly causing a flush to spread across Xiyin’s face.
“What about me? Do you wish for something ambiguous with me?”
Xiyin immediately slapped her hand away.
“No, An’an’s personality is completely different from your mischievous one.”
“Oh~”
She smiled again, then retreated to a normal distance.
“Alright, let’s get back to business. While you were still interacting amicably, the ‘me’ of that time didn’t meet you so early.”
She paused, her voice dropping to a low tone:
“At that time, when ‘I’… having taken over the original personality, began to struggle alone in a quagmire of despair, destiny found me once more. Later, Lin Xiao and I met again, or perhaps for the first time, as if pushed by an unseen hand. We met, became companions, endured countless battles and partings, and eventually, the lively duo of Bai Jin and Bai Zhi joined our team… Exploring Li Yan’s mansion happened much later.”
Her words omitted many painful or terrifying details, leaving only a vague outline, yet the lingering weight of it remained palpable.
She refocused on Xiyin, her silver eyes unfathomably deep, and posed a question that seemed ethereal yet carried immense gravity:
“Xiyin, do you believe in… ‘destiny’?”
“Destiny?”
Xiyin frowned, instinctively repulsed by the word. Her past life had been a constant struggle against fate.
“Rather than such a sordid concept, I believe more in human endeavor.”
“Is that so…”
Qi Yue sighed softly, her breath laden with profound sorrow.
“But, you see… even if someone tries to defy fate and change their destiny, even if ‘he’ has gone to great lengths to start over, transmitting memories to the past… you all have still gathered together in almost the same way. Even many critical turning points have precisely reappeared, as if following a predetermined program.”
“Destiny… sometimes, it truly feels like countless ‘pasts’ layered upon each other, inevitably pointing towards a singular ‘future’.”
As she spoke, she extended her hands, palms upward, and purple flames materialized, then gradually dissipated to reveal what they had concealed.
In her left hand appeared an ancient, rustic chalice, radiating a tranquil, sacred glow. In her right, she cradled a dreamlike, ethereal flower, seemingly woven from solidified starlight and hope, its petals imbued with a soft, radiant sheen.
“Take this. This is one of the keys you’ve been searching for—the Chalice.”
She offered the Chalice to Xiyin, its surface warm to the touch. Then, her gaze, filled with immense gravity, fell upon the Starflower in her right hand.
“And this flower… this is the last gift I can give you. Keep it safe, hide it closest to your soul. In the direst moment, the instant you feel a mortal threat, it will absorb that attack for you and instantly transport you back here, preserving your life.”
Before Xiyin could recover from the shock of this revelation, Qi Yue’s subsequent words struck her like an ice pick, bringing her to an abrupt clarity.
“Be wary of Lin Xiao… I understand him profoundly, perhaps even better than I understand myself.”
“He is highly likely to strike the moment the ‘door’ opens and everyone’s attention is most scattered. His objective is clear: to take Qi Yue’an and seize the ‘Crown’ from her—the core of the ‘Sacred Artifact’ that triggered all these anomalies. It holds all the residual power and memories of ‘me’ from the previous cycle.”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“What’s more, he won’t spare you; he will attempt to seize your Soul Gem.”
Her eyes were filled with an almost desperate plea.
“This flower can perfectly simulate the vibrations of a shattering gem and the illusion of a dissipating soul, allowing you to enter a brief state of suspended animation, deceiving him.”
“Xiyin, I implore you… you must stop him. Do not let him commit truly irreparable sins again… And this time, you absolutely must save that foolish child… save Qi Yue’an, who barely escaped the icy rain in the past, and is now trapped in a cage, destined to be a sacrifice! And… Bai Jin, Bai Zhi… they are all good children. Please… you absolutely must protect everyone!”
Her voice began to falter, her form dissolving like snow in sunlight, transforming from the edges into myriad sparkling particles of light, gradually becoming transparent.
Xiyin was shocked to realize that the flower in her hand transmitted not just a warm power, but a life force originating from the same source as a Magical Girl’s Soul Gem. This was, in essence, Qi Yue weaving it for her with the last remnants of her own soul essence, now on the brink of complete annihilation.
“Lin Xiao… in this new cycle, he is executing a very… very terrifying plan. He needs… he needs to collect a vast number of souls, both demons’ and Magical Girls’… He…”
Her words trailed off, her figure, like a flickering candle in the wind, completely vanished into the cool air of the courtyard, leaving no trace. Only her unspoken plea weighed heavily on Xiyin’s heart.
Xiyin clutched the Chalice and the flower tightly. She took a deep breath, her eyes hardening with resolve. Resolutely, she turned and strode quickly away from the labyrinth, towards the apartment building that loomed like a dormant beast, ready to devour all.
****
The space on the sixth floor rippled faintly, and Lin Xiao’s figure silently materialized.
His face bore an undisguised weariness, his brow furrowed with an unshakeable solemnity, as if he had just returned from carrying a thousand-pound burden.
Yet, as his profound gaze swept across the opulent hall and landed on the small figure curled up in a large armchair, knees hugged to her chest, lost in contemplation of the false starry sky, all his burdens and hardened demeanor instantly melted away like ice.
His eyes softened immensely, even taking on a hint of almost devout adoration, as if that figure were the panacea for all his wounds.
He approached silently, then, without a word, drew Qi Yue’an into his embrace with an extreme naturalness, his arms tightening as if to meld her into his very bones, never to be separated.
“Ah…”
Qi Yue’an let out a soft gasp. Enveloped by his familiar scent, her body relaxed before her mind could fully register it.
The long wait, the frustration of repeated fruitless searches, and the bone-deep loneliness fostered by the overly opulent silence—all transformed into a palpable surge of grievance that welled up in her throat the moment his solid embrace enveloped her.
His body heat permeated her clothes. Instinctively, she inhaled deeply, drawing in his reassuring, faintly cool scent, which coursed through her almost frozen limbs like a warm current, making her feel as though she had been pulled back from the brink of oblivion into the tangible world once more.
“Why…”
She buried her face deep in his solid chest, her voice muffled, carrying a nasal quality and dependence that, while seemingly feigned, felt remarkably genuine.
“This time… why were you gone for so long? I was so worried.”
Once again, she voiced the question that had been circling in her heart, a hint of cautious probing in her tone.
This time, Lin Xiao did not evade with silence or vague endearments.
He gently stroked her long, half-black, half-white hair, which felt as smooth as silk, his movements as tender as if he were handling a precious treasure.
His deep voice resonated above her head, imbued with the tranquility of someone lost in distant memories:
“I…”
He paused, as if carefully weighing his words.
“It was due to an… unforeseen accident that I became this way, becoming a demon.”
He began his narration, his tone steady.
“For a long time after that, my world was chaotic, dark, directionless… I was like a walking corpse.”
His arms unconsciously tightened slightly.
“Later, to survive, or rather, to seek my memories and the meaning of my existence, I joined a demon organization. Through certain means and power, I gradually ascended to a high position, expanding and strengthening it… ultimately becoming the ‘Demon Lord,’ a figure whose very existence commanded the wary respect of all factions.”
He omitted the bloodshed, intrigues, betrayals, and endless solitude, offering only a crude and dark framework.
Then, he lowered his head, his chin resting gently on the crown of her hair, his voice filled with a guilt that seemed directed at either the past or the future:
“An…”
He called her name, his voice hoarse, imbued with emotions she couldn’t comprehend.
“I’m sorry… for leaving you to face all this alone. All these years, you must have… suffered so much, haven’t you?”
These words, like a tempered key, instantly melted the dam Qi Yue’an had desperately maintained in her heart. Yet, Lin Xiao continued, building upon that breach:
“Alone, enduring betrayal and solitude, feeling out of place with everyone… it must have been so painful, right? You must have thought about ending it all, haven’t you?”
“So from now on, entrust everything to me.”
His voice, like a powerful incantation, conjured forth all the grievances, sorrows, and stiflingly long solitude she had forcibly suppressed: two years of being alone, the terror of being forgotten by the world, countless nightmares in the dead of night, the despair of signing the contract, the agony of transformation.
Lin Xiao offered no more empty words of comfort. He simply held the girl, who seemed to have finally found her answer, even tighter, almost as if he wished to embed her within his own body.
Within the intoxicating warmth and security he created, Qi Yue’an felt the ice in her heart, solidified by abandonment and concealment, slowly melting and dissolving.
She greedily absorbed this newfound solace, so much so that she completely overlooked the vast, deliberately avoided blanks in his words, and the deeper, more unsettling obsession and possessive desire hidden beneath his extreme tenderness.
Thus, she sank into this meticulously woven cage of tenderness, her body finally softening in his reassuring embrace and to the rhythm of his heartbeat, allowing him to hold her close.
After an unknown passage of time, Lin Xiao gently, almost whispering, roused her:
“An…”
“It’s time for things here to conclude. We should go back, back to our new home.”
“But…”
She remembered her companions, realizing that leaving them would go against her principles.
“When the time comes, I will ‘bring them over’ as well.”
He whispered into the bewildered girl’s ear, taking her hand, his fingers intertwining tightly with hers, and led her out of the room.
In the corridor, the wall lamps cast a dim, warm glow. Outside the window, the night sky glittered brilliantly, yet its artificiality was unsettling. On the wall, an old grandfather clock’s hour hand pointed precisely to ten o’clock in the evening.