Chapter 105: Blue Ink

On the night of Christmas Eve, Chu Susu had originally booked a restaurant, planning to go there with Han Xuan after the class gathering ended. But in the end, because of Qiao Qian’s fall from the building, they hadn’t made it.

Meanwhile, the other surprise she had booked arrived fashionably late today.

December 31st this year was a clear, sunny day, as if the heavens themselves wanted to sweep away the recent gloom—the sunlight was even more piercing than usual.

That night, after receiving Luo Yiyi’s message, Chu Susu had asked Qiao Qian to sneak her out.

All this time, Luo Yiyi had been in the library searching through materials, working tirelessly without sleep or rest.

His clues were extremely limited—just the few hunter traits Chu Susu had described verbally. But perhaps the heavens favor the diligent; after his tireless investigation, he still made a very important discovery.

When Chu Susu met him, he had dark circles under his eyes and pushed a yellowed book in front of her.

“Miss Chu, I’ve finally got a lead,” Luo Yiyi said wearily. “This is a Western book, originally in German. Due to its extremely negative content, it was long ago banned abroad. I only spotted it by chance at an old book sale center and discovered it contains what we’re looking for…”

Chu Susu flipped through it—it was an English translation published many years ago.

Her English reading and writing were decent, but it was still very tough going, filled with obscure terminology that proved it was no ordinary book.

Luo Yiyi had listed his findings on a sheet of paper, going through them point by point for Chu Susu.

They talked for an entire afternoon, and only the two of them—along with Qiao Qian, who stood guard nearby—knew what was said.

After returning to the hospital, Chu Susu found an electronic version of the book online and read through it word by word, staying up all night.

Qiao Qian, worried about her condition, said softly, “Get some rest.”

Chu Susu shook her head, signaling that Qiao Qian didn’t need to worry. “You don’t have much time—go back and spend it with your parents.”

“You and Han Xuan…”

“We have a date tomorrow.”

They had planned it for New Year’s Eve, and Chu Susu had made plenty of preparations, planning a whole series of surprises.

No matter the outcome, she wasn’t going to let it all go to waste.

Chu Qingyang wouldn’t allow her to sneak out and had specifically instructed the doctors and nurses to watch her closely, but Chu Susu wasn’t too worried.

She patiently waited until evening. When night fell, it was just the time for the nurses’ shift change—about a five-minute gap.

Chu Susu sat on the bed, still in her hospital gown, but somehow she’d gotten hold of some makeup and quietly applied a light layer to cover her somewhat pale face and lips.

“Xingxing.”

The only response was the ticking of the second hand, growing louder and louder.

Chu Susu didn’t get discouraged and called again: “Xingxing.”

The night sky seemed to tear open with a massive rift, something slipping quietly out of it. By the time she came back to herself, a black skirt hem was right in front of her eyes.

Han Xuan stared at her face, seemingly stunned for a moment, as if puzzled why she was bothering to dress up while still in the hospital:

“You put on makeup?”

Chu Susu didn’t answer. She slowly lifted the blanket and got out of bed.

The hospital gown was already baggy, and she’d gotten even thinner these past few days, making it hang even more loosely on her.

“Didn’t we agree to have dinner together today?” she said, her tone devoid of extra emotion. “Let’s go.”

Han Xuan’s eyes were like a pool of autumn water, a faint ripple stirring in them, almost imperceptible.

“Let’s go,” Chu Susu said.

She knew Han Xuan could get her out of the hospital without anyone the wiser.

Chu Susu hadn’t canceled the reservation, so the restaurant spot was still held. The server asked for the reserved phone number and led them to their seats.

Even though they tried to hide it, the server and people around couldn’t help casting strange looks their way.

Because Chu Susu hadn’t changed clothes—under her down jacket, she was still wearing that very conspicuous hospital gown, completely out of place with her surroundings.

And the girl with her had black hair and a black skirt, wearing no coat at all in the freezing winter cold.

Chu Susu ignored others’ thoughts and slowly ate her meal.

This was probably the quietest meal she’d ever had—the only sound throughout was Han Xuan’s knife slicing across the plate, cutting her steak for her.

The two didn’t exchange a single word, only occasional eye contact.

About an hour later, Chu Susu called the server for the bill, stood up, and decided to leave.

Han Xuan silently followed behind her. It wasn’t until they were outside the restaurant that she asked ever so softly:

“Send you back?”

“No.”

Chu Susu shook her head and looked up at the moon in the sky.

It seemed to still hold the warmth of the day, bright and scorching, drawing all eyes.

“Take me to an amusement park.”

“Which one?”

“Winter Dream.”

Han Xuan apparently hadn’t expected that answer and froze for a moment.

“Winter Dream?” she murmured softly. “Winter Dream Amusement Park was abandoned long ago.”

“Perfect.”

“Hm?”

“Abandoned means no one lining up.”

In Chu Susu’s memory, she’d gone to Winter Dream Amusement Park once or twice as a kid, but it had closed down later due to poor management.

Rebuilding an amusement park took massive manpower and resources, so after the government reclaimed the land, no one wanted to buy it. Over time, it just sat there abandoned.

Dead leaves piled up, equipment rusted with age, the once-bright paint flaking off everywhere.

No matter how you looked at it, there was no value in visiting—the desolate scene couldn’t add a shred of joy to anyone’s heart.

Chu Susu had checked an old map of the park and headed straight for the Ferris wheel.

“Want to ride?” she asked, turning to Han Xuan.

It was a ridiculous question—the equipment was in such a state, how could it even run?

But with Han Xuan there, the impossible seemed possible.

Han Xuan didn’t speak. She slowly touched the nearest cabin, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.

It was an expression Chu Susu had never seen on her before.

“In middle school, I really wanted to come here,” Han Xuan said after a moment. “But the tickets were too expensive. I saved my pocket money for ages but never had enough.”

Chu Susu tugged at the cabin door—thankfully it was still intact and sturdy, no worry of it falling off. “No tickets needed now.”

“Close your eyes.”

Chu Susu obediently closed her eyes slowly. When she opened them, everything in front of her had changed.

The equipment, including the Ferris wheel, looked brand new, as if constantly polished and maintained, gleaming brightly.

The trash and dust on the ground were gone, replaced by soft carpet.

Warm music drifted from the carousel in the distance. Han Xuan stood before her and extended her hand. “Come on up.”

The two sat steadily in the cabin. The door closed automatically, and without any staff, it slowly began to rise, gradually getting farther from the ground.

Han Xuan asked softly, “Why the sudden urge to come to an amusement park?”

Chu Susu’s voice was equally soft, like a snowflake still drifting and hovering in midair before falling: “I read the diary you left at Han Yao’s house.”

“Diary?”

It seemed even Han Xuan didn’t remember it. No surprise—it was just middle school homework, and most people don’t remember what they wrote.

“In your last diary entry, you wrote that you wanted to ride a Ferris wheel once.”

Chu Susu’s original plan had been a proper amusement park, but her concussion aftereffects seemed serious and could act up anytime. New Year’s Eve would be packed with people too—if she passed out from a long line, it’d be bad.

After much thought, she’d chosen this place.

No one else around—just the two of them.

“…I see.”

Han Xuan’s gaze fell on the bulging pocket of Chu Susu’s down jacket.

It wasn’t noticeable when standing, but sitting down made the contents clear.

Chu Susu didn’t hide it and pulled them out—two black VR glasses.

She handed one to Han Xuan. “Put it on.”

Unbeknownst to them, the Ferris wheel was about to reach the top, nearly level with the stars and moon, piercing through the clouds.

At that highest point, brilliant fireworks suddenly bloomed before their eyes.

With the sky as canvas, black backdrop against aurora violet flowers bursting open, streaking like meteors, surging like ocean waves.

Finally converging into a simple little heart.

?

The last line in the diary was—

“I also want the amusement park staff to set off a bunch of fireworks for me, appearing together with Stars at the highest point.”

But the Imperial Capital banned fireworks and firecrackers—no exceptions, let alone in a crowded amusement park.

So no matter what, Chu Susu couldn’t make that happen.

But she was willing to spend time building a VR effect, every bit of color hand-drawn by her, the brushstrokes immature and clumsy, far from professional.

Even if unreal and fleeting, it was the best gift she could think of.

The fireworks bloomed over and over before their eyes. Han Xuan didn’t take off the VR glasses, letting it loop again and again.

“Han Xuan.”

Chu Susu called her name.

The Ferris wheel had passed the top and was starting its descent, just like in reality.

The fictional gorgeous exterior was already beginning to peel and fade bit by bit, everything quietly returning to its original state. Looking down through the transparent glass, one could already see those withered branches and fallen leaves reappearing.

Just like the words she spoke at this moment.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Chu Susu’s voice carried a faint, almost imperceptible tremble and pain. “Waiting for you to tell me your secret with your own mouth.”

“But I didn’t wait for it. In the end, I still learned it from someone else’s mouth.”

“I didn’t want to believe it.” She swallowed, as if holding back some emotion. “But what’s placed right in front of me is only that one explanation.”

“You gave Qiao Qian a choice, but you didn’t give me one.”

“Why exactly… did you seal away my memories and stay completely silent about your own secret?”

Han Xuan finally removed the VR glasses, revealing those purple pupils the same color as fireworks.

“What did you hear from others?” she asked.

Chu Susu quietly gazed at her, remaining silent for the moment. In an instant, many memories surfaced in her mind.

Not long ago, Luo Yiyi’s words were still ringing in her ears:

“The Hunter you mentioned should be related to a European myth called the ‘Wild Hunt’.”

“The content of this myth is that a group of hunters chase monsters in the wild—this behavior is known as the Wild Hunt. These hunters aren’t humans, but ghosts and specters.”

“Once they spot their prey, they pursue and slaughter it relentlessly by any means necessary, until they drag the prey to another world.”

“I suspect the reason I was possessed by the Hunter is because they wanted to use my body to approach their prey.”

“And what exactly their prey is…”

The answer lay in the book he handed her, its title page bearing only four yellowed large characters—

《Malleus Maleficarum》.

Purple eyes that cast magic through the eyes as a medium, the faint pungent fragrance on her body coming from sage burned in candles and altars.

Everything matched perfectly.

The book depicted witches as utterly terrifying existences, claiming their magic stemmed from pure evil—the devils’ incarnations on earth. They hated life, harmed newborns, and inflicted the most horrific curses on all things.

But Chu Susu only glanced at it twice before setting it aside. After all, the author of this book was one of the witch executioners from the Middle Ages.

She only wanted to hear Han Xuan’s answer.

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?”