Chapter 40: “Why Are You Running?”

Meng Bai slammed on the brakes and spun around, only to see Miao Bai standing amid the tall grass.

She was dressed in white today—a form-fitting garment reminiscent of a qipao, accentuating her waist and exuding a timeless classical beauty.

Meng Bai was accustomed to seeing her in black and hadn’t expected white to suit her even better. For a fleeting moment, she was utterly captivated.

“Ah, I—” Meng Bai’s mind went blank, her tongue stumbling over itself. “I-I-I…”

Miao Bai’s lips curved into a blooming smile, her eyes glinting with appraisal. “Hmm? Why the rush?”

“I was just on my way to find you.”

The answer she’d anticipated.

“But I told you not to come looking for me tonight. Go hang out with your friends instead.”

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I skipped it.”

Not feeling well? No one runs like that if they’re under the weather. What a flimsy excuse.

Miao Bai arched one eyebrow, her gaze pinning Meng Bai with unmistakable scrutiny. She said nothing, yet it felt like she’d laid everything bare.

Rather than call her out, she shifted gears. “Does your foot still hurt?”

It hadn’t until she mentioned it, but now a dull ache surfaced.

“Um, yeah, a bit.” Meng Bai even shifted her weight, half-hoping Miao Bai would inspect the wound.

Miao Bai stepped closer and lifted the cuff of her pant leg.

Twilight had deepened into near darkness, making it hard to see.

Miao Bai crouched down and brushed her fingertip lightly along the edge of the injury.

The touch tickled Meng Bai, sending a shiver straight to her core. She couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with her—it felt utterly peculiar.

If she had to put it into words, it was like…

Miao Bai’s fingers were tiny flames, igniting wherever they grazed. But that wasn’t all; the searing heat surged upward, flooding her chest and tightening her throat.

“M-Miao Bai…” In the shadows, Meng Bai instinctively drew her foot back, cheeks burning. “It’s nothing. It’ll heal soon enough.”

“Mm. Don’t forget to put some ointment on it when we get back.” Miao Bai withdrew her hand.

As Miao Bai rose, they stood mere inches apart. She was taller than Meng Bai, forcing her to tilt her head up to meet her eyes.

So close, Meng Bai could make out every exquisite detail—the shimmer in her eyes, each individual lash.

Her heart thundered in her ears, her face flushing hot.

Miao Bai gazed down, their eyes locking. Meng Bai darted her gaze away.

“Oh, right—I wanted to ask. Why’d you suddenly leave this afternoon?”

Miao Bai nodded toward the path ahead. “Let’s walk and talk.”

They fell into step side by side along the quiet country lane, deserted at this hour.

Glancing at the ground, Meng Bai was startled to notice that Miao Bai cast no shadow tonight!!

“Because it seemed like I was disrupting your lesson, so I left.”

“No way!” Meng Bai hurried to explain. “I already knew all that material. I wasn’t planning to pay attention anyway—I’d have nodded off regardless of whether you were there.”

“That’s not what I meant. You pinned the blame on Zhou An for no reason. No need to drag your friend into it.”

It was a fair point. She and Zhou An were close; anyone else might have taken offense.

“I don’t want my presence to come between you and Zhou An.” Miao Bai shot her a sidelong glance, underscoring her words. “Don’t waste so much time on me.”

Meng Bai couldn’t fathom why she’d frame it that way. Time spent with her a waste? How could that be?

She bit back a retort and pivoted instead. “Miao Bai, during this morning’s tutoring session, Zhou An told me a story.”

“What story?”

“About the Old Courtyard. Her grandma shared it with her.”

Miao Bai halted abruptly, and Meng Bai followed suit.

“Should I not have brought it up?”

A breeze swept through, tousling their hair.

Tension knotted in Meng Bai’s chest. Had she overstepped with such bluntness?

“And then?”

“And—” Meng Bai steeled herself. “So there was no story at all. You’re Miss Miao, aren’t you?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Meng Bai’s anxiety spiked. Had she hit a nerve?

Just as an apology rose to her lips, Miao Bai spoke first. “If you need a straight answer, then yes. I am Miss Miao.”

Even with her suspicions, the confirmation hit like a thunderbolt.

She was Miss Miao.

And Miss Miao’s tale was far from a fairy tale.

“I’m sorry—”

“No apologies necessary.” Miao Bai’s lips quirked faintly. “You haven’t done anything wrong. What do you have to be sorry for?”

“It can’t be a fond memory for you.”

“That’s all in the past.” Miao Bai let out a slow breath. “Ancient history, too distant to stir any sorrow now.”

Was that really true?

“Miao Bai…”

“So I’m telling you—don’t waste your time on me.” Miao Bai’s expression turned grave. “Truth be told, I’m no omnipotent immortal from your fantasies. If anything, I’m as good as dead.”

“No!” Meng Bai despised that notion. She grabbed Miao Bai’s arm, needing the solid warmth to reassure herself. “Why would the heavens allow you to exist if that were the case? You’re one of a kind—the only one like you in the world.”

One of a kind.

Miao Bai let out a laugh. The phrase clashed with her self-image, yet here was Meng Bai, bestowing it upon her.

“I’m perfectly ordinary. Nothing unique about me.”

“One of a kind! Absolutely one of a kind!” Meng Bai shook her arm emphatically. “You are! You are!”

Miao Bai dissolved into laughter from the jostling. “All right, enough shaking. I’m one of a kind, I’m one of a kind—happy now?”

“Exactly.” Meng Bai fixed her with an unwavering stare. “You really are.”

She doubted she’d ever encounter anyone else like her in this lifetime.

Miao Bai’s amusement faded. “Nothing special there. Like everyone else, someday I’ll vanish from this world entirely.”

“Disappear? Where are you going? Didn’t you say before that you could exist until you no longer wanted to?”

“That’s true.” Miao Bai’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But I don’t want to.”

Meng Bai froze for a moment. She had never imagined such cold words coming from Miao Bai’s mouth.

It felt so unfamiliar—unfamiliar enough to suffocate her.

Meng Bai couldn’t quite understand. “Why say something like that? Isn’t being alive pretty great?”

“It is for you. It isn’t for me.”

The two of them were right at the crucial point in their conversation when, by some ill-timed coincidence, someone passed by behind them.

“Someone’s coming!”

In the blink of an eye, Miao Bai vanished like a gust of wind, leaving Meng Bai standing there in a daze.

She already knew all the answers. Miao Bai had told her everything without holding back, but the answers left much to be desired.

Auntie walked by and gave Meng Bai a glance. “Little Meng, out of school already? Why aren’t you heading home?”

Meng Bai nodded woodenly. “Yeah, I’m about to.”

“Your dad came home today. I saw him this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Only then did Meng Bai snap back to reality. It was the weekend—time for Meng Xingzhong’s day off.

Auntie waved a hand. “Get home soon.”

“Okay.”

Auntie continued on her way with her basket slung over her back, while Meng Bai remained rooted to the spot, still lost in thought.

About Miao Bai.

The idea of disappearing—she actually harbored thoughts like that.

The sky gradually darkened, but Meng Bai stayed where she was, waiting for Miao Bai to reappear. She didn’t, though. Meng Bai called out a few times, but there was no response.

Miao Bai was always like this—appearing and vanishing in an instant, like a ghost.

A ghost…

Meng Bai’s throat tightened. No, she shouldn’t think of Miao Bai that way.

On the walk home, Meng Bai was truly listless, as if every ounce of her energy had been drained away.

She realized that sometimes, knowing too much wasn’t a good thing.

Prying to the very root of it had gotten her all the answers: the future was no longer a mystery, but it had been forcibly painted over with a layer of sorrow.

Meng Bai hated that feeling.

By the time she got home, Lin Li and Meng Xingzhong had already finished dinner, though they’d left a portion for her on the table.

Ribs soup—something Lin Li made every week.

“Your tutoring session ran pretty late,” Meng Xingzhong remarked from the living room, where he sat smoking.

“The driver was going slow,” Meng Bai said, brushing it off.

Meng Xingzhong took a drag from his cigarette and glanced up at her, his gaze probing. “How’ve things been for you lately?”

“What do you mean?” Meng Bai thought his tone was odd, so she looked at him more closely and noticed something off in his eyes.

Meng Xingzhong stubbed out his cigarette, letting the sparks fall to the floor before grinding them underfoot. He stood up. “Come here.”

Lin Li emerged from the kitchen, her hands still covered in dish soap suds. “I told you! Whatever it is, just say it nicely!”

Meng Xingzhong’s expression was grave. “This doesn’t concern you. My daughter’s my business!”

Everything happened so suddenly that Meng Bai felt utterly bewildered—and a little scared, too.

Meng Xingzhong rarely acted like this. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding.

Of course, she followed him. He stopped in the stretch of hallway between the front gate and the living room, then pointed at the sofa. “Sit down. You first.”

“Dad—” Meng Bai’s voice trembled with fear. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Meng Xingzhong stared straight at her, cutting right to the chase. “I’m asking the same question as before: what have you been up to lately?”

“What can I be up to? Studying. Prepping for exams.”

“I’m asking who you’ve been hanging out with lately.”

“Just… just Zhou An—” Meng Bai grew tense.

Meng Xingzhong looked up at her, his eyes brimming with incomprehension. “Zhou An—and then who else?”

It was as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it straight from her mouth.

Seeing that look on his face gave Meng Bai a bad feeling.

“Dad, don’t be like this. Who I hang out with is my freedom.”

“Freedom!” Meng Xingzhong bellowed, his face flushing red with anger. “Do you even know what you’re doing right now? Do you know who she is?”