Liang Sheng didn’t press the issue further. She knew that asking wouldn’t get her anywhere; she’d only learn the truth when Akino Kazuko had thought it through and was ready to share.
Meanwhile, Ling Dang followed a narrow path to the train station. She crouched beneath a station sign, hugging her knees and shivering. She knew staying here meant she’d be found soon enough.
Sure enough, the Old Nanny tracked her down. She grabbed Ling Dang’s arm and wailed dramatically before calling Su Ze to report that they’d found her.
Afterward, the Old Nanny took Ling Dang to a nearby hotel. There, she drew a hot bath and helped her into a fresh set of clothes. Ling Dang’s hair hung damp around her face as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Su Ze came rushing through the pouring rain.
Bang!
The door slammed shut behind him.
“You…!” Accusatory words rose to Su Ze’s lips, but he couldn’t force them out. The finger he’d pointed at Ling Dang’s face slowly dropped to his side.
This wasn’t the first time Ling Dang had slipped away—there had been plenty of escapes before—but never one this far.
“You…” Su Ze crouched beside the bed, right next to her legs. “Yueying…”
A haze settled over Ling Dang. She recognized the sign: another blackout, another erasure of her memories.
Where? Where was something she could use to kill the man before her? Her thoughts muddled as she scanned the room, her vision growing indistinct.
A clear glass ashtray sat on the bedside table—spotless, without a trace of ash.
Without a second thought, Ling Dang snatched it up. As Su Ze gaped in shock, she raised her arm high. But in the moment before it descended, she froze.
Still… she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill anyone—let alone the man she loved.
Clang!
The ashtray hit the floor. The carpet muffled the impact, sparing it from shattering.
Darkness claimed Ling Dang’s vision, and she slumped onto the soft bed. When her eyes fluttered open again, it was all gone—forgotten once more.
Ling Dang’s hesitation and soft heart had squandered yet another perfect chance to kill Su Ze.
To be fair, though, it wasn’t entirely her fault. With her level of skill, Su Ze could have fended her off easily.
“Who… who am I?” Ling Dang stared blankly at the man before her.
Su Ze draped an arm gently around her shoulders, his smile strained. “You’re my wife. Your name is Lan Yueying.”
Ling Dang gazed at him with vague comprehension, nodding as she echoed his words. “I’m your wife. My name is Lan Yueying.”
Ding-ling~
The chime of wind chimes drew her attention to the string dangling by the window.
“Ling Dang?”
She squinted at them.
Su Ze’s expression darkened.
He had his suspicions: Ling Dang must have come here looking for Liang Sheng. Add in that earlier move—the terrifying pallor on her face, the raw intent to kill him—and his heart plummeted.
“Liang Sheng…” His fist clenched at his side.
He rose to leave.
Ling Dang’s hand shot out, grabbing his. “Where are you going?”
Su Ze replied, “I need to head back. Be good and let go.”
“Stay with me. Aren’t I your wife?”
Su Ze went rigid.
Any other time, he would have walked out the door. He always had more important conquests waiting.
But not this time. He sank back onto the bed in silence, drawing her into his arms and holding her close.
A nameless dread gnawed at him. This might really be the end. Better cherish this quiet moment, this fleeting sweetness.
Su Ze had never paused to consider the devastation his selfish love wrought—the misery and tears it brought to countless families and girls.
His love, his happiness, everything he possessed… it all rested atop the corpses of those girls and their loved ones.
—— —— ——
These days, Liang Sheng bolted to the infirmary after every class, grinding away at Mo Qingrou’s favorability.
To her relief, Mo Qingrou’s gains came slow but stuck. Once they ticked up, they rarely dipped back down—unlike with other girls, where silence or a wrong word could tank the meter.
Mo Qingrou’s favorability toward her now hovered just forty points shy of two hundred.
Still, Liang Sheng hadn’t cracked the code. It had stalled out for ages, no big jumps.
Mo Qingrou watched Liang Sheng slump over her desk during PE, skipping class and brooding. To her surprise, a thought bubbled up: So cute. Want to pat her head. Total creeper mode.
“Mo Qingrou—sis—” Liang Sheng drew out the words, fishing for conversation. “What do you think people live for, anyway?”
Good grief. Strategy hitting a wall and she’s straight-up emo now?
Mo Qingrou glanced at the lab report in her hand. “People live to keep living.”
“…”
Words of wisdom, alright.
“I think people live for love. For happiness.” Liang Sheng toyed with the pen on the desk, opting for some deep philosophy to rack up points.
Mo Qingrou didn’t get it. Didn’t care to, either.
Her world was small: herself, and a handful of people who mattered. The rest? Irrelevant.
“You’re too young to be moping like this. Go to PE and get some exercise.”
Eh? A rebuttal? And she was getting shooed away? Before, Mo Qingrou couldn’t get enough of her company!
Liang Sheng fumed.
Women and their novelty cravings! Time passes, spark fades, and poof—boredom sets in!
She shot to her feet, ready to storm off. But then she reconsidered. No way. Time to shamelessly cling. Clock was ticking; she couldn’t let Su Ze throw another wrench in things.
So Liang Sheng dropped to a squat in front of Mo Qingrou’s legs. Like a slippery eel, she wriggled onto her lap, then slithered up her arm and into her embrace.
Mo Qingrou, focused on her report, blinked in her straightforward way. “Liang Sheng, your hair’s covering the text. Shift down a little.”
Liang Sheng: “…”
Have I lost my charm? Do I look off today? Deep self-doubt spiral.
Mo Qingrou nudged her head lower and lifted the paper higher.
Annoyed, Liang Sheng started to pull away.
But the instant she did, Mo Qingrou’s other arm hooked around her, locking her right back in. Liang Sheng’s head nestled into two soft, fragrant pillows. She was done for—utterly pinned.
“Be good. I’ll play with you once I finish this report.” Mo Qingrou delivered the line in her cool, detached voice, but it landed with unexpected warmth.
Oh ho! That gap-moe charm just skyrocketed.
It felt too good. Liang Sheng had zero urge to leave.
She had it pegged now: Mo Qingrou went all-in on work, tuning out everything else.
Her aloof vibe screamed it—she threw herself fully into whatever she tackled, laser-focused.
