Chapter 108: Dull Azure

That night’s events felt like a long dream. They had clearly only spent a short while at the amusement park, yet Chu Susu felt as if she had ridden a roller coaster.

The ups and downs, her whole body feeling like it had been run over—it was something she never imagined her body could achieve such unbelievable flexibility.

That was also the first time she saw the real Han Xuan.

The sounds of struggling and torment echoed endlessly in her ears, plunging both of them into uneasy emotions.

Amid their constant panting, their only exchange was clutching each other tightly, as if the other was their sole support in this vast world.

Everything finally had an explanation, whether it was those unbelievable dreams or the finger cot fragments left at home.

Because this kind of thing had already happened countless times between them.

The reason Chu Susu never liked letting others take the lead gradually became clear.

——She had long grown accustomed to Han Xuan’s touch alone.

No one else was allowed but Han Xuan.

Those deeply buried memories were like tattoos engraved only for her by Han Xuan’s fingers, etched into the deepest layer of her skin.

But Han Xuan still hadn’t told her what exactly happened that night, leaving only silence and endlessly flowing tears.

Chu Susu understood that Han Xuan was like her in certain ways, such as not wanting to expose her vulnerable side to others.

Even when crying, she pinned Chu Susu down by the shoulders, refusing to let her turn around and see her helpless expression.

Just like when the crescent moon came, Han Xuan lay in the bathtub, unwilling to let Chu Susu see her body covered in eerie patterns.

“I don’t want your pity.”

Chu Susu wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that.

But she had no chance to speak.

After reading those documents, she could roughly guess that Han Xuan had some unspeakable secret, which was why even in such a deadlock, she refused to reveal the truth.

The witch’s abilities were mostly related to curses. And just like writing or eyes, speech was a medium of conveyance.

If the truth contained something that couldn’t be spoken aloud, then hearing it directly from her own ears might trigger unimaginable consequences.

Later, when Li Le’er came to visit her at the hospital again, Chu Susu shared her guesses with her.

Li Le’er fell silent for a long time before asking in return, “Why do you trust her so much?”

After all, the deception and concealment were undeniable facts.

“I don’t know.”

If she understood why, she would have pulled away right at the beginning.

Yet Han Xuan was like an addictive poison, drawing her deep into it, impossible to escape.

She knew there was a bottomless abyss ahead, yet she was determined to walk toward it.

Qiao Qian’s funeral was held one week after her fall from the building.

Her parents wanted to bury her before the New Year, so the preparations were somewhat rushed. They didn’t invite many people, only some of Qiao Qian’s friends from before her death.

Chu Susu’s concussion had mostly recovered, with no recurrences, so she was discharged from the hospital as scheduled.

On that foggy, overcast day, she and Li Le’er attended the funeral together.

In the desolate cemetery, Qiao Qian’s body was placed in the coffin and, under everyone’s witness, deeply buried in the earth.

At that moment, everyone couldn’t help but shed sorrowful tears.

For the passing of a young life, for the tragedy that had occurred.

Only Chu Susu could see Qiao Qian’s translucent figure lingering by her parents’ side, as if wanting to reach out and wipe the tears from their faces, yet ultimately touching nothing.

“Mom, Dad.”

Her self-blaming murmur flowed past her ears like water.

Qiao Qian watched her parents sadly calling her childhood nickname by the cold tombstone. The elderly couple, over fifty, nearly fainted from crying, yet she was powerless to help.

Feeling heavy-hearted, Chu Susu walked over and offered some brief comfort to her parents.

But in the face of life and death, any words were pale and powerless. Even though she knew Qiao Qian hadn’t truly died, in her parents’ eyes, their child was gone.

When no one was paying attention, she slightly lifted her head and looked at Qiao Qian in the air:

“Now, do you still want to choose death?”

Qiao Qian didn’t answer, merely reaching out to touch the spot where her heart was missing.

Chu Susu knew she had wavered.

After staying by her parents’ side for seven days and nights, she should know better than anyone how heartbroken they were by her departure. Now that she understood the consequences of her death, it would be hard to choose to leave again.

“Thank you.” Qiao Qian’s parents stood up trembling, tears streaming down their faces as they grasped their hands. “Thank you for not holding grudges and still coming to see Qianqian.”

Chu Susu’s heart ached, feeling her tears about to burst forth again. She didn’t dare look at their faces.

The deep guilt nearly crushed her.

She regretted not caring more about Qiao Qian before her suicide. If she had just made a phone call during the time Qiao Qian disappeared—even a small word of comfort—the outcome might have been different.

The silver lining in this misfortune was that Han Xuan had given Qiao Qian another chance.

But what did another chance matter? It couldn’t erase her parents’ current heartbreak.

Zhou Xiaoying hadn’t seen them for a long time because she had been avoiding Li Le’er. This was her first reunion with Li Le’er in ages, and regret was heavy on her face.

All of them felt the same self-blame without exception.

Zhou Xiaoying’s voice was barely audible: “At the time, I was only focused on my own affairs and didn’t help Qiao Qian more. If only…”

“It’s my fault.” Li Le’er’s eyes were red, her voice hoarse. “You stayed away because of me. If I hadn’t made things so awkward back then, maybe we could have banded together and helped her through the crisis…”

Chu Susu said nothing, just gently held both their hands and sighed softly.

“People always only cherish things after losing them.”

Scattered raindrops fell into the soil, as if heaven itself was mourning in its own way. The pattering rain sounded like a final requiem.

The funeral was nearing its end, and everyone opened their umbrellas.

But at that moment, a figure burst into the cemetery regardless of the rain. It was a tall, strikingly beautiful woman, looking panicked and glancing around as if searching for something.

“Is this Qiao Qian’s funeral?” She grabbed a nearby person and asked anxiously.

After getting an affirmative answer, the woman walked forward in a daze, staring at the words on the tombstone, her gaze nearly shattering.

——”Tomb of Beloved Daughter Qiao Qian.”

“No, this is impossible.” She muttered to herself in disbelief. “How could Qiao Qian, perfectly fine, suddenly be gone?”

The woman’s behavior drew others’ attention. Qiao Qian’s parents rallied their spirits and softly asked, “May I ask who you are?”

They didn’t remember inviting her.

“I…” She paused. “I’m… her friend.”

From the moment this woman appeared, Chu Susu had been staring fixedly at her, trying to discern something.

She slowly walked forward, leaning close to the woman, and asked calmly, “You’re Yu Zize, right?”

Among them, only Chu Susu had casually seen Yu Zize’s face once in that bar, so she recognized her quickly.

“…Yes.”

A crisp slap tore through the rain. Chu Susu used all her strength to land a resounding slap on Yu Zize’s face, her palm stinging slightly.

“How dare you show up here.” Her chest heaved slightly, her voice sharp, eyes glaring coldly at her. “She’s dead now, and you still won’t let her go?”

The slap left Yu Zize’s cheek swollen high. Her hair was soaked by the rain, clinging to her face, making her look utterly disheveled.

The two behind her were stunned for a moment. They knew Chu Susu had a temper, but they’d never seen her hit anyone.

Li Le’er quickly pulled her back, while Zhou Xiaoying stepped between Chu Susu and Yu Zize to prevent further conflict and disrupt the funeral.

“Miss Yu, you’re not welcome here.” Zhou Xiaoying’s tone was icy. “Qiao Qian’s family and friends want to send her off peacefully. Please leave at once.”

Even after being publicly humiliated, Yu Zize showed no reaction, not even attempting to retaliate.

She stood blankly in place, letting the rain drench her completely, repeatedly murmuring:

“Qiao Qian… she’s really gone?”

No one answered her question.

Only Li Le’er couldn’t hold back. No longer caring about propriety, she turned and berated her furiously: “How dare you even ask? Qiao Qian was driven to death by you!”

“How could I want her to die? I just…”

“Shut up, you heartless bitch! You’ll get your karma!”

Qiao Qian’s parents also figured out who she was. They clenched their fists, equally enraged by Yu Zize.

Chu Susu calmed down and glanced at Qiao Qian’s ethereal figure in midair.

She turned away, not sparing Yu Zize another look, as if she were a complete stranger.

“Forget it, Susu.” Qiao Qian said. “No need to waste words on her. Just chase her off so my parents don’t get upset.”

No matter how others cursed or shoved her, Yu Zize didn’t budge. She knelt weakly on the ground, as if that could alleviate some of the guilt in her heart.

Chu Susu didn’t want to spare her any more glances and was just about to turn away to put some distance between them when someone suddenly grabbed her sleeve.

“Hmm?”

She frowned and looked up at the person before her, quickly recognizing who it was—

“Kong Zhizhen?”

Chu Susu hadn’t even noticed that she had come to Qiao Qian’s funeral. This person seemed to have popped up out of nowhere. “Are you also Qiao Qian’s friend?”

They had only met twice in total. The first time was at an out-of-town music festival, and the second wasn’t all that pleasant. She didn’t even know Kong Zhizhen knew Qiao Qian.

However, Kong Zhizhen didn’t answer her question. Draped in a raincoat with her face hidden beneath the blackness, she blinked. “Why didn’t Han Xuan come with you?”

Chu Susu glanced at her, not understanding what she meant, and immediately shook off the other’s hand.

But she noticed Kong Zhizhen’s gaze drifting toward another spot—precisely the position in mid-air where Qiao Qian was.

Could she see it too? How was that possible?

Kong Zhizhen grabbed her arm again. Chu Susu couldn’t quite explain it, but she just felt that she was different from before.

She said slowly, “While she’s not here, I have something important to tell you. Come with me.”