Chapter 61: Hawksbill

They had arrived fifteen minutes early originally, but after this delay, the movie theater’s large screen had already started playing the pre-film ads. It would probably begin in about two more minutes.

This was a lighthearted and fun comedy, produced by a niche team with good online reviews. But with this interruption, it was hard to feel any pleasure anymore.

Most people had gone to see the romance film next door starring a famous celebrity, so there weren’t many people here. To be honest, if it weren’t for the hugely popular female star recording a promo video for them, there probably wouldn’t even be these few audience members.

And that VCR played right before the start: “Hello everyone, I’m Rong Yi. I hope everyone will support Director Liu’s new movie…”

Before long, the two of them soon saw the familiar movie studio logo, and then the female lead’s resounding first line came from the 3D surround sound—

“I must be blind to be with you!”

With that, she slapped the male lead hard across the face.

The two had just settled into their seats and hadn’t even had time to react when they were both amused by the actors’ exaggerated expressions.

Chu Susu glanced to her left and met Han Xuan’s gaze. The two stared for a couple of seconds before smiling at each other.

The earlier tension and seriousness involuntarily dissipated quite a bit, as if that line had pulled them into the scene.

The others were seated pretty far away, so talking wouldn’t disturb them. Thus, Chu Susu leaned in a little closer and spoke softly to her.

“I don’t know if you like this kind of movie,” she said. “For our first date, I picked something lighthearted so it wouldn’t make the atmosphere too serious.”

“I don’t have any preferences. Anything works.”

“That’s good.”

For some reason, Chu Susu started thinking about what had happened earlier again. She wondered, those people knew when and where they were watching a movie, enough to set up a blockade at the ticket check—why not just follow them into the theater?

And the description of “young women traveling together” was pretty vague too. Why not be more specific, adding their physical features?

These contradictions turned a corner in her mind, leading Chu Susu to a conclusion she didn’t even dare believe—that—

These people might not even know who they were looking for.

That made it even stranger. Watching a movie with Han Xuan wasn’t a big deal; they’d only decided yesterday, and up until just now, she hadn’t told anyone. How did it leak out?

It was utterly baffling.

As Chu Susu watched the movie plot while lost in thought, Han Xuan spoke up from her left: “Earlier…”

She gave her a focused, listening look.

Actually, even without Han Xuan saying anything, she had wanted to ask.

Normally, Chu Susu had no interest in prying into others’ privacy, but now that she wanted to get along well with Han Xuan, Han Xuan wasn’t “others.” If Han Xuan was willing to share, she hoped to learn more about her.

For example, why exactly these people were targeting her—it didn’t seem as simple as it appeared on the surface.

Han Xuan lightly tapped below her eye with her fingertip, then placed her hand restrainedly back on her knee. “Even if I don’t say it, you probably guessed. They had the ticket checker inspect eyes at the entrance, probably because they got some info from who-knows-where and wanted to identify me this way.”

“Identify who you are?”

“Mm.” Han Xuan took a deep breath. “This might be a bit hard to understand. You can think of it like this—”

“These people know there’s someone with unusual abilities. They might be able to track this person’s whereabouts, know where they go and what they do… but right now, they don’t know who this person is.”

“Oh? Why?”

Han Xuan didn’t speak, just her gaze shifted slightly, revealing a deep purple hue.

Chu Susu understood instantly. She always had ways to protect herself, like altering memories and such.

“Likewise, I know there’s a group like this always looking for me and people like me. But they’re in the shadows, I’m out in the open. I can’t find out who they are or what their next move is.”

“They… you all, do you have names? Any unified term?”

Han Xuan seemed to think of something, her lips pressing together lightly.

“Hunters,” she said. “They’re called ‘Hunters.'”

Hearing those two words, Chu Susu instinctively felt a bad premonition: “If the Hunters are going to such lengths to find you all, what’s their goal?”

At that moment, the comedic and absurd argument between the female and male leads resumed in the film. Honestly, the script was pretty good—every line was packed with punchlines.

The suddenly louder volume interrupted their conversation. Han Xuan fell silent for a moment, the screen’s light reflecting in her eyes, showing emotions Chu Susu couldn’t read.

She didn’t answer the question, only giving a faint smile: “Sorry for dragging you into this. I’ll tell you all about it slowly later.”

“Don’t always say sorry.” Chu Susu chewed on some popcorn, her tone a bit serious. “I’m the one who wants to stay with you. No one’s forcing me.”

Han Xuan said nothing, just suddenly reached out her hand and placed it on Chu Susu’s left hand.

Probably for convenience in drawing, her nails were trimmed close to the skin, very neat without any excess. But that didn’t detract from how slender and elegant her fingers looked—seemingly too delicate to grasp firmly, yet showing strength when they bent.

Chu Susu could feel the thin callus on her fingertips rubbing back and forth over her knuckles, cool and faintly ticklish.

“But there will be many more incidents like this.”

Han Xuan’s words were half statement, half sigh. As she lowered her head slightly, her bangs and the black hair at her cheek tilted forward, obscuring her expression in shadow.

“Staying with me, every day—even every second—might bring things like this, forcing you to be on edge constantly. Is that okay?”

“Even if you can accept it now, you might not be able to keep enduring it later. After all, this goes far beyond ordinary people’s understanding,” she said.

Chu Susu frowned, not yet grasping her meaning: “Don’t worry, I’m an adult. I can take responsibility for my choices.”

“No.” Han Xuan said, “You don’t understand. What happened today is just the tip of the iceberg. As long as you choose to stay with me, more—worse, scarier—things could happen at any time.”

She rarely used such grave wording with anyone, let alone Chu Susu.

Han Xuan pressed her lips together again, her little pear dimple faintly visible:

“I know you’re good to me, but no one wants to have an extra burden anytime, anywhere, taking on things they don’t have to.”

Chu Susu couldn’t refute this, nor give a quick yes or no, because she didn’t know just how “worse” or “scarier” Han Xuan meant.

She wasn’t a saint. If getting close to Han Xuan led to consequences as dire as risking her own life, few people could accept that.

Though Chu Susu’s expression didn’t change, Han Xuan seemed to see through her thoughts and gave a seemingly relaxed smile.

“But I won’t let you get hurt, Susu.” She said seriously, her eyes brimming with vow-like sincerity. “I promise, absolutely not.”

“Though, I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with always being on edge because of me, living in fear.”

Her smile seemed a bit forced, but she still kept her lips curved peacefully: “Whenever you can’t take it anymore, just tell me. I can understand.”

Their overlapped hands felt even cooler.

This time, Chu Susu didn’t respond. Instead, she withdrew her hand and covered the back of Han Xuan’s with her palm, giving her a sliver of warmth.

If it were anyone else, she could easily play along and say, It’s fine—no matter what happens in the future, I’ll bear it with you.

After all, it would just be empty words, not meant to be taken seriously.

Girls all had soft hearts, and Chu Susu knew how to make the other feel cared for, how such words would bring them closer.

And honestly, would anyone really think that? Even if said, how much of it would be believed?

Chu Susu understood all this, but she just couldn’t say it aloud. For some reason, because it was Han Xuan, those words suddenly felt like a solemn promise.

If she couldn’t keep it, better not say it lightly.

Chu Susu didn’t know why she always became unlike herself around Han Xuan. She figured it was probably because she’d never experienced this before, so she was inevitably hesitant.

And…

She didn’t want to see those deer-like, moist eyes show a heartbroken, sad expression.

No matter the reason.

The movie continued, and the two occasionally chatted about the plot, not touching on other topics.

Han Xuan stared at the screen but took in none of it, just blankly keeping her eyes open.

Whether by coincidence or not, everything happening now miraculously overlapped with the past. Many of the words were what they had once said, many of the actions what they had once done.

Some people clearly didn’t remember, yet it was just like before.

…

She still remembered that their first time watching a movie was after class one day. Han Xuan didn’t have much pocket money as a kid, so the other girl bought the tickets and generously covered her snacks and drinks too.

Rushing out of the school gate right on the dot after classes ended, the girl in her upper-year school uniform hurriedly dragged her forward. They rushed like mad and finally managed to plop down in their seats one second before the movie started.

But unfortunately, Han Xuan hadn’t slept well that day and was short on energy. On top of that, the movie was boring as hell, so before long, she slumped onto the girl’s shoulder and fell asleep.

In just those short ten-odd minutes, she had a nightmare. When she woke up in a daze, she grabbed the girl’s hand and mumbled,

“Will you leave me someday too?”

The other girl didn’t reply. Han Xuan was too exhausted to press her and simply lay back down on her shoulder.

She felt the girl gently drape her school jacket over her shoulders and let out a sigh. “I can’t promise you anything… I can only say that right now, I’ll stay by your side…”

Something like that, but she couldn’t make out the words that followed anymore.

The Han Xuan of back then thought: It’s fine—even a few short seconds are precious enough.

But the current Han Xuan thought expressionlessly: No.

It can’t just be a few short seconds.

She was sick of those days consumed by maddening jealousy, yet utterly powerless to turn the tides.

Susu can only be mine.