Chapter 63

“Have you… seen a really amazing woman too?”

Rain fell in rapid drops, pattering loudly on the tabletop until the sound filled the whole world.

The sudden downpour felt so noisy, the entire sky turning overcast.

Meng Bai looked up, rain streaking across her vision, and forgot what she was going to say.

Teacher Xu’s voice sounded in her ear:

“That person is very special. She’s different from everyone else—she’s magical…” Xu Qin glanced uncertainly at Meng Bai again. “So, have you seen her? Be honest with me.”

Wasn’t she talking about Miao Bai? So someone had known about Miao Bai’s existence all along.

“Yes, I have.”

Xu Qin let out a breath of relief. “So the person you were talking to at the school gates at noon… that was her?”

Teacher Xu knew everything.

Meng Bai had no intention of hiding it and nodded.

With that confirmation, Xu Qin grew a little excited. “Do you know where she is?”

“No.” Meng Bai glanced sideways. “When did you meet her?”

“When I was little.” Xu Qin went on, “When I was very young, she helped me. She can turn invisible and vanish, create illusions—she’s incredible. The moment you showed me that video, I thought of her right away. No one else could pull that off.”

Meng Bai responded with silence.

Her attitude made Teacher Xu’s tone sharpen with agitation. “If you see her, will you tell her thank you from me?”

Meng Bai nodded. “I will. So what did you want to tell me? Why didn’t you call the police?”

“The reason is—” Xu Qin leaned closer to Meng Bai, lowering her voice. “The worst one hasn’t shown up yet.”

Boom! A bolt of thunder ripped across the clouds, crackling in broad daylight.

The torrent poured down, rain slanting through the air to splash across them both.

Meng Bai felt lost. “The worst one? Who?”

Xu Qin shook her head. “I can’t tell you yet. That’s why I haven’t called the police—I need to find evidence on him first.”

Meng Bai wanted to press for more, but Xu Qin clearly wasn’t saying another word.

“That’s enough for today. You should head home.”

~~~

Meng Bai left the office feeling stifled, her chest tight.

Xu Qin’s words had hit her hard.

So she knew Miao Bai. And Miao Bai had helped her too.

Sure, it wasn’t surprising—Miao Bai helping others made sense—but why this twinge of strange displeasure in her heart?

Lost in her troubled thoughts, Meng Bai barely noticed Zhou An and Xu Zhou dashing out of the classroom.

“How’d it go?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

Zhou An pulled out a big red plastic raincoat, wrinkled and crumpled.

“It’s pouring. So, do we huddle under this one raincoat together or wait it out?”

Meng Bai looked up, only just realizing. “School’s already out?”

“You walk around in a daze every day or what?”

Meng Bai snapped back to herself and sighed. “You two take the raincoat. I’ll bike home.”

“Bullshit! It’s a downpour—you’re not biking home alone!”

Meng Bai explained, “I’m in a bad mood. I need to be by myself.”

“What happened? Did Xu Qin chew you out?”

“No, it’s Miao Bai.”

“Miao Bai? What’d she do?” Zhou An looked baffled. “You’ll catch your death biking in this with that skinny frame of yours.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Meng Bai turned to go.

“You can talk to us, you know. No need to bottle it up.”

Meng Bai took a deep breath. “I don’t even know how to explain. When my mood’s better, we’ll sit down, all three of us, and talk it out. Right now, I just want to go home alone. Soaked to the bone or coming down with a cold—doesn’t matter. I just want to be alone.”

Without waiting for Zhou An to reply, Meng Bai turned and walked away, too fast to call back.

~~~

Autumn evenings darkened early, and with the violent rain, the sky was pitch black, like a heavy gray curtain draped over the world. The oppressive weather pressed down, making it hard to breathe.

The small town was always like this—one good rain and the roads turned to mud.

Students huddled at the school gates for shelter as the rain hammered down relentlessly.

Meng Bai pedaled her bicycle straight into the curtain of rain, soaked to the skin in moments. Everything blurred into wet smears before her eyes.

She rattled along the bumpy stone path, her mind replaying Xu Qin’s words on loop.

【When I was very young, she helped me. She can turn invisible, use illusion techniques—a truly magical woman.】

【If you see her, tell her thank you for me.】

In the downpour, something caught hard in Meng Bai’s chest, like a stubborn lump.

Was it just that someone else knew Miao Bai existed?

No. Deeper down, it was fear—a fear that she knew nothing about Miao Bai at all.

Like how Miao Bai had told her to give the storage card to Teacher Xu Qin without ever mentioning that she knew her.

She still had no clue what had happened to whom, or what those people even wanted.

Good guys, bad guys—she knew nothing, caught in some swirling vortex, lost and ignorant.

Her thoughts tangled, she lost track of how much rain had pounded her.

She rode past her house without a second thought, making straight for the Old Courtyard instead.

The wind must have been fierce; by the time she reached the gate, the trees inside bent at wild angles, yellow leaves shedding in the rain.

So cold.

She had no attention to spare, propping her bicycle aside. The iron gate hung unlocked. Inside, no sign of Miao Bai.

Dead ahead loomed the Star Lattice Gate, painted black. In that moment, it looked eerie and frigid, the two halves shut tight, radiating a thick aura of ancient weight.

Was Miao Bai not home?

Meng Bai hurried to the door and knocked a few times—thud, thud. No answer.

A crack in the door suggested it could be pushed open.

Creak.

“Miao Bai—”

She swung the door wider. The inside was dark, but the gloomy daylight outside pierced the blackness.

Gurgle, gurgle—from the kitchen off the main hall, something bubbled on the stove.

Meng Bai opened the door fully, and a wave of fragrance washed over her. The bubbling grew clearer.

She went to check: an earthen pot simmering on the stove.

It smelled good. No idea what it was.

Meng Bai stepped up and lifted the lid—loquats and pears inside. No wonder it was so sweetly aromatic.

At the same time, Miao Bai’s voice came from behind her. “Out of school already?”

Meng Bai turned around and spotted Miao Bai emerging from the bedroom.

She padded barefoot across the rug, her hair tousled over her shoulders, her eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.

Meng Bai’s gaze settled on her and lingered on a dress she’d never seen Miao Bai wear before.

It was a long white gauze gown cinched at the waist with a silk ribbon, tied just right—not too loose, not too tight. Whether it was the fabric or something else, it clung to her figure in a way that highlighted every curve.

Meng Bai’s eyes fixed on Miao Bai’s shoulders, not daring to drift lower as her heart hammered inexplicably in her chest.

“What are you staring at?” Miao Bai asked suddenly.

“Your dress,” Meng Bai replied evenly, forcing down her nerves. “I’ve never seen you in it before.”

“Oh. I wear it to bed.”

“It looks good on you.”

Miao Bai sauntered over, and Meng Bai assumed she was heading for the pot on the stove. She quickly stepped aside to make room.

“Why are you dodging around like a startled rabbit?” Miao Bai teased.

“Uh, I’m not,” Meng Bai stammered.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

God, she smells so good. Every other scent in the room faded away as she drew near.

Miao Bai picked up the spoon by the pot, gave its contents a stir, and turned off the heat.

At the same time, she raised a hand, and the candles throughout the room flickered to life. In the warm glow, Miao Bai’s silhouette sharpened into view.

Her porcelain skin took on a lustrous sheen under the candlelight’s golden wash, every inch radiant.

That dress of hers seemed a little sheer, which only made Meng Bai flush with embarrassment.

Once she’d finished with the pot, Miao Bai turned back and finally noticed how drenched Meng Bai was.

“You didn’t bring an umbrella to school?”

“Nope.”

Miao Bai tilted her chin toward the bedroom. “Go change.”

“I’m not going home.”

“I’m not telling you to go home. Wear something of mine.” She nodded toward the room, indicating Meng Bai should help herself.

Meng Bai didn’t budge, eyeing Miao Bai. “I’ve never been in your room before.”

The implication hung unspoken: she wasn’t about to barge right in.

Miao Bai chuckled. “What’s there to be shy about? It’s just a room.”

Even so, she led the way inside.

Miao Bai’s bedroom was utterly unimaginable—there wasn’t even a conventional doorway one might expect. The moment Meng Bai stepped in, it felt like she’d slipped through a rift in time.

Every furnishing, every decorative item was something Meng Bai had never laid eyes on before. The room resembled a living history tome: the bed, the wardrobe, the vanity—all of it evoked a bygone era, pulling her back through the years.

For an instant, she had the surreal illusion of brushing against time itself, layers of the past overlapping in the present.

Then again, it made perfect sense. Miao Bai wasn’t from this era to begin with.

Meng Bai trailed obediently behind her. Miao Bai crossed to the wardrobe, pulled out a white qipao, and handed it over.

Meng Bai waved it off hastily. “Oh, no, I can’t wear that.”

“I don’t have anything else that would fit you. Just put this on for now. I’ll dry your clothes, and you can change back before you head home.”

Meng Bai bit her lip, feeling awkward. “But I’ve never worn a qipao before…”

“Then this is your first time.”

With Miao Bai’s hand hovering expectantly, Meng Bai had no choice but to take it.

Clutching the garment, she tried for a casual tone. “Your closet’s full of clothes. How come you’re always partial to black?”

“I used to like color,” Miao Bai said flatly. “Now it feels too flashy. Black’s the simplest.”

“Oh.” Meng Bai examined the qipao more closely, relieved to see it wasn’t the high-slit style. It was a fairly modest cut, too—the sort a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl might wear in Miao Bai’s time.

White, with minimal embellishments. She could probably manage that.

“Should I change here?” Meng Bai gestured to her soaked clothes, her gaze shy. “Don’t peek, okay?”

“Why would I?” A faint smile tugged at Miao Bai’s lips as she turned away.

Meng Bai gripped the qipao tighter. Even though Miao Bai couldn’t see her, she still felt a wave of bashfulness.

She’d never changed clothes in front of anyone else before.

And this was Miao Bai, of all people.

“Started yet?” Miao Bai prompted.

“Um, not yet.”

“Hurry up, or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Right.”

Steel ing herself, Meng Bai stripped off her wet things in a flurry, her skin prickling with goosebumps in the cool air. She barely registered whether it was a skirt or a qipao as she yanked it on.

She was slim enough that it fit perfectly, though it hung a touch longer on her frame than it probably did on Miao Bai.

Meng Bai tugged at the hem. She wasn’t used to skirts and fiddled self-consciously with the shoulder seams. “All done,” she said softly.

Only then did Miao Bai turn around.

There stood Meng Bai, slender and hugging herself across the chest. The fitted cut accentuated her budding figure, the telltale signs of adolescence plain to see. Her long legs stretched straight beneath the hem, her bare toes curling slightly against the floor as she shivered.

A subtle ripple passed through Miao Bai’s eyes, though her expression remained impassive. “Still cold?”

A blush crept across Meng Bai’s cheeks. “Yeah, a little. This thing’s pretty thin.”

“Here—get on the bed for now.”

Meng Bai jolted. “Your bed?”

Miao Bai shot the question right back at her. “The quilt will keep you warmer. I suggest you lie down. What’s the problem with that?”