Chapter 104: Jade Shu

“Hmm?”

Chu Susu didn’t understand what she meant and looked puzzled. If she hadn’t died, then why had Qiao Qian appeared in soul form?

Qiao Qian paused, then explained, “The reason I said I haven’t died is because, in fact, I haven’t made my decision yet.”

The explanation only got more confusing, and Chu Susu grew even more bewildered, her face showing clear confusion.

Qiao Qian continued, “I’ve appeared this time to tell you everything Han Xuan and I talked about in that phone call before we jumped. Once I’m done, you’ll understand.”

“Alright, go ahead.”

… …

Two days before the jump, Han Xuan and Qiao Qian had met up.

“I’ve completed the task you asked me to do.” Han Xuan placed a file folder in front of Qiao Qian. Inside were just a few thin sheets of paper.

“This is…”

“The ‘truth’ you wanted.”

Qiao Qian stared at the paper bag. It was right within reach, but it felt like a massive boulder was weighing it down. No matter how much mental preparation she did, she still couldn’t bring herself to open it.

Han Xuan didn’t urge her on, simply waiting quietly for her decision.

Qiao Qian took a deep breath and finally tore open the seal, pulling out the documents inside. She read them line by line.

With every word she read, her face grew a shade paler. Her fingers clutching the edges of the paper began to tremble uncontrollably, as if she might faint at any moment.

Han Xuan offered no words of comfort and didn’t stare at her. As always, acting as if it had nothing to do with her, she averted her gaze.

“This…” Qiao Qian swayed unsteadily, unable to believe it. In an instant, she crumpled the paper in her fist. “This is impossible. Why would Yu Zize do something like this to me?”

Before this, they had been nothing more than strangers who crossed paths by chance. Why would Yu Zize do something so vicious to her?

It was as if Han Xuan had anticipated her reaction. She remained silent, merely reaching out indifferently and lightly touching Qiao Qian’s forehead.

In that moment, a segment of memory that didn’t belong to her flooded into her mind.

“How was the fun this time?”

“Boring. Injured girls are the easiest to coax—just a few sweet words and they’re dizzy with infatuation.”

“Oh? Looks like you’ve won the bet this time.”

“Of course. She’s already racked up tens of millions in usury loans because of me.”

“Ah? This… isn’t that going a bit too far? Tens of millions is an astronomical sum for an ordinary person.”

“It was her own choice. It has nothing to do with me.”

“But…”

“No buts. I won’t be in touch with her anymore. It’s hilarious—she actually thinks I like her and treats me like Bar T for real.”

“Ah?”

“People like her grab onto anything and treat it like a savior, right? Haha. Qiao Qian, you’re such a pitiful little thing.”

Countless familiar and unfamiliar voices stabbed at Qiao Qian. She couldn’t help but cover her ears, fleeing in agony.

When she opened her eyes again, Han Xuan was still the only one in front of her.

“You should know I have no reason to deceive you,” she said.

Qiao Qian steadied herself and fell silent.

Indeed, sowing discord between Yu Zize and her offered Han Xuan no benefit. Plus, that memory—from the tone to the habits—was unmistakably Yu Zize herself…

“Why?” The word squeezed out from between her lips. “Yu Zize hasn’t contacted me lately, but I thought as long as I paid off the money, I could go find her again…”

“I’ve never done anything to wrong her. Why would she hurt me like this…”

“What counts as harm to you was just entertainment for her.”

Qiao Qian’s eyes reddened even more at those words. Memories of her time with Yu Zize flashed through her mind. “Han Xuan, do I look like a ridiculous clown? Am I that laughable?”

“If you think so yourself, then others will naturally see you that way too.”

No matter how Qiao Qian wailed and broke down, Han Xuan remained unmoved, as if encased in a thick layer of ice that nothing could penetrate.

After that day, Qiao Qian shut herself in her cheap rental for two full days, not stepping out once and barely eating a grain of rice.

She had thought everything would get better. The lawyer Susu and Le’er had found for her said there was a high chance of waiving those illegal usury interest payments.

Everything seemed to be improving, but…

She had always seen Yu Zize as her deepest mental pillar, and now that pillar had suddenly crumbled.

Qiao Qian realized she had probably suspected something long ago. It started when her bar visits tapered off and Yu Zize stopped contacting her.

Yet she had sunk deeper into this dark vortex.

That night, Qiao Qian wrote a long suicide note on her phone, addressing everyone she could think of—parents and friends, teachers and classmates, former colleagues…

When she had nothing left to write, her thoughts inevitably turned back to Yu Zize.

In a daze, Qiao Qian realized that even now, she couldn’t fully hate Yu Zize. Why was she always so weak? The kind were bullied—this must be her karma.

She bought sleeping pills from the pharmacy, but just as she was about to swallow them, she remembered it was a rental. Dying here might trouble the landlord.

Why was even dying so hard for her?

Qiao Qian cried as she thought how nice it would be if the Imperial Capital were by the sea.

She’d rather plunge into the ocean and sleep forever in that blue expanse, never to wake.

Just then, her phone rang.

It was Han Xuan.

“Hello.”

“I’ve gotten the truth back for you,” the other side said slowly. “In exchange, help me with one thing.”

The request wasn’t excessive, but Qiao Qian had no job or money now, while Han Xuan seemed like an all-knowing god. What could she possibly help with?

Qiao Qian replied, “Tell me. If I can do it, I’ll give it my all.”

Consider it the last debt she’d settle before leaving.

“But.” Han Xuan dropped a bombshell, scaring a cold sweat out of Qiao Qian’s back. “Weren’t you just thinking of killing yourself?”

This woman was so formidable that guessing her thoughts was par for the course.

“…Yes. But don’t worry, I know how to repay favors. Since you’ve asked, I’ll definitely help you with this.”

Han Xuan sounded a bit puzzled. “Oh? But aren’t you suicidal because I brought you the truth? Sounds like you’re pretty grateful to me.”

“…You’re right.”

“If I hadn’t told you, would you have lived a few more years? Decades?”

“Yes.”

Qiao Qian said word by word, “But that has nothing to do with you. It’s my own path.”

“I see.” Han Xuan sounded thoughtful. “Got it.”

“How can I help you?”

Han Xuan’s voice was still crisp. “Simple. Be my test subject.”

What she said next sent chills down Qiao Qian’s spine.

“I’ll give you a potion. If you drink it and then kill yourself, your soul won’t dissipate right away. It’ll wander the world for 13 days.”

“After 13 days, you’ll have two choices. One is complete annihilation, the other is…”

“Go back to the past and start over.”

“Start over?” Those words ignited a flicker of hope in Qiao Qian’s heart, but it quickly died out. “…Forget it. Someone like me would just mess it up again.”

The Yu Zize incident had plunged her into extreme self-loathing.

Han Xuan’s calm voice carried a subtle temptation: “The choice is yours. But don’t you want to experience those 13 days in the afterlife? You could use the time to look after your parents and see everyone else’s reactions…”

Qiao Qian bit her lip, a glint flashing in her eyes. She couldn’t deny it—she was tempted.

She really wanted to know what Yu Zize would be like after learning of her death.

Would she mock her? Or show even a hint of sorrow?

“You want to test that potion? No problem, I can take it. But after 13 days, I’ll still choose death.”

“Good. But it’s still experimental. After you kill yourself, there might be side effects even I can’t predict.”

Qiao Qian didn’t care. Getting those 13 days was already a gift from the heavens.

She wanted to make arrangements for her parents but hadn’t dared face them. A daughter like her must be such a disgrace.

Being able to accompany them as a soul for a while would be perfect.

“Thank you, Han Xuan…”

Chu Susu knew everything that came after.

Qiao Qian drank the potion and stood atop the building. Before leaping, she waved in her direction.

To both Chu Susu and Han Xuan.

Amid the howling wind, she plummeted at high speed. She seemed to hear someone’s murmur by her ear.

“Does jumping hurt…?”

Qiao Qian thought, yes, the feeling of every part of your body shattering against the hard ground—never again.

Fortunately, it was just an instant. Her soul slowly floated out.

… …

“Han Xuan didn’t lie. That potion does have side effects.”

Qiao Qian lowered her head and pointed at her chest. A clear chunk was missing from her transparent body in midair, right at the heart.

As if someone had dug a hole there.

“I can’t find my heart anymore,” she said indifferently. “But that’s just fine. It seems… I’ve already stopped caring about Yu Zize.”

For the current Qiao Qian, Yu Zize was just a stranger’s name. As for those feelings, they had been lost along with that heart.

This statement carried a huge amount of information, but Chu Susu quickly accepted it all.

As long as Qiao Qian was still alive—even if only in the form of a “soul”—that was better than having nothing left at all.

Chu Susu couldn’t help but grip the blanket tightly. She said softly, “Have you gone back to see your parents? They miss you so much.”

“Um, I’ll go home after saying goodbye to you. Also, could I trouble you to send this phone to them via same-city express delivery? After all, it’s my last memento.”

“Okay.”

The two fell silent for a moment. Chu Susu lowered her head, her tone laced with regret and confusion as she whispered, “At first, I misunderstood Han Xuan. I thought it was her who pushed you to suicide…”

Qiao Qian smiled. “I know there seems to have been some misunderstanding between you two. After turning into a soul, my senses have sharpened considerably.”

She pointed at Chu Susu’s head.

“I can sense that some key memories are covered by a piece of cloth, and you’re desperately trying to uncover them.”

“I understand your feelings—I’ve felt the same. I’d rather vanish with the truth than live on in ignorance.”

“However…” Qiao Qian paused. “The power on that cloth is already very weak, teetering on the edge. Just wait a little longer, and it will fall off on its own.”

“Fall off?”

She didn’t even need to say it—Chu Susu had felt this herself.

The reason she hadn’t gone to confront Han Xuan these past few days had another layer: she had noticed her past memories continuously resurfacing, and the headaches from her concussion stemmed from that.

But for now, they were only fragmented snippets. She needed more time.

At the same time, Chu Susu’s phone suddenly started vibrating wildly.

She turned to look. The contact saved as “Luo Yiyi” had sent her dozens of messages in a row.

When she had interacted with Luo Yiyi before, she could tell he wasn’t the type to lack any sense of proportion. For him to spam so many messages now meant he must have made an important discovery.

“Miss Chu, I’m very sorry to disturb you right now, but I have something important to tell you—I think I know what the Hunter really is.”

“I hope you can meet me tomorrow to discuss it in detail. Thank you!”