The electronic voice came too suddenly, catching her completely off guard.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly beneath those two sentences. Ye Chengxing paused for a moment before asking, 【Is it only me who can leave?】
The electronic voice in her mind ignored the question entirely, relentlessly repeating the prompt at an accelerating pace, like a countdown urging her on.
【Do you wish to detach from the current world?】
【Do you wish to detach from the current world?】
……
The electronic voice offered no answer, but Ye Chengxing could already sense the implication.
It meant that only she could return—and once she did, there would be no coming back.
With that, she decisively selected no.
She chose to remain in this world.
The moment she made her choice, the inquiring electronic voice fell silent.
【Ding! Detected Retained Tasker refusing detachment from current world.】
【Energy conversion complete. Maintenance measures withdrawn.】
After declaring the maintenance measures withdrawn, the electronic voice fell silent once more. Ye Chengxing’s mind went utterly still, verging on deathly quiet.
Though one question remained unasked, in that instant, a powerful premonition gripped her.
This had been her final chance to choose.
There would be no next time—no more electronic voice asking if she wished to detach from the world.
After selecting no, Ye Chengxing realized Li Jia was still awaiting her response.
She met Li Jia’s gaze, her lips curving into a natural smile as she seamlessly picked up where the World Will’s interruption had left off. “Sure, let’s wear them together.”
The exchange between Ye Chengxing and the World Will had been swift, unfolding in the blink of an eye.
Yet Li Jia had noticed that fleeting pause just before Ye Chengxing’s reply.
Unaware of the World Will’s intervention, she assumed Ye Chengxing was reluctant.
Her gaze lingered on the soft smile gracing the Alpha’s lips, and a sudden heaviness pressed down on her chest.
If she was unwilling, why agree at all?
Was it because of all the wedding dresses filling the room, and she feared a refusal would embarrass her?
But no matter the reason… she had agreed.
Li Jia wouldn’t selfishly force her to stay by her side any longer.
So it didn’t matter if Ye Chengxing didn’t love her that way.
If they could wear wedding dresses together before everything truly ended, Li Jia would consider it as if they had been together forever.
That would be enough.
Seeing the red tint at the corners of Li Jia’s eyes after her reply, Ye Chengxing couldn’t help but cup her face. “What’s wrong, Xiao Li? You look like you’re about to cry.”
Tears brimmed in the Omega’s eyes, ready to spill with the next blink.
“Are you suddenly feeling unwell somewhere?”
Li Jia shook her head. “No, Sister. I’m fine. I’m just… so happy.” She was lying. She wasn’t happy at all—in fact, the mere thought of letting her go was pushing her toward collapse. But what else could she say?
How could she make Ye Chengxing love her too?
She was beyond saving, her greed, hatred, delusion, love, and desire all fixated on this one person, growing ever more turbulent with time.
“Sister…”
She called out, and the tears finally escaped despite her efforts. “Do you love me?”
Love her just a little more.
But Ye Chengxing clearly didn’t love her that way, yet she was sacrificing herself to this extent. Li Jia couldn’t burden her further.
Even knowing the answer, she couldn’t stop herself from asking again.
Even a single “I love you” would do.
Just one sentence could slow the crumbling in her heart.
Ye Chengxing still cradled her face. Hearing her voice, she leaned in closer, kissing away every tear from her nose to her lips, her fingertips soothingly tracing Li Jia’s back.
She wasn’t forceful, but she fully drew Li Jia out of her spiraling thoughts. “I love you.”
Li Jia wrapped her arms around Ye Chengxing’s waist, her emotions gradually calming under the kisses and repeated declarations of love.
Ye Chengxing held her tightly in her arms.
The Omega’s body still trembled faintly with unease, a discovery that left Ye Chengxing feeling a touch defeated.
It wasn’t annoyance or anything of the sort—just a rare bewilderment. She had stayed by her side completely, pouring everything into loving her, yet Li Jia still didn’t seem to fully believe her.
Though Li Jia hadn’t voiced it, Ye Chengxing could sense that fragile, fractured lack of trust teetering on the edge.
She still didn’t believe her.
A faint bitterness welled up in Ye Chengxing’s heart, but she concealed every trace of it beneath even gentler coaxing and caresses.
She had to keep her emotions stable.
She couldn’t break.
Li Jia was like shards barely held together—solid on the surface, but the cracks lingered beneath, ready to shatter at the slightest provocation.
So Ye Chengxing’s emotions needed to remain steady—must remain steady.
If hers faltered, Li Jia would crumble even faster.
Her doubt ran so deep, her mistrust so profound. All Ye Chengxing could do was love her with every ounce of her being.
Ye Chengxing soothed Li Jia’s emotions, then led her to the garden, where they used snow to sculpt little rabbits. After finishing the rabbits, she molded a ring of heart shapes around them, nearly enclosing the bunnies entirely. She even added blushing cheeks to the little rabbits, making them utterly adorable.
Li Jia gazed at the snow rabbit Ye Chengxing had made for her, then suddenly lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sister. Am I being annoying…?”
Hearing this, Ye Chengxing pulled her into a hug, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “We agreed apologies come with hugs, remember? And what do you have to be sorry for?”
She simply kept her arm around Li Jia and continued shaping another heart.
She finished it quickly.
Ye Chengxing placed the new heart amid the cluster surrounding the little rabbit. “To me, Xiao Li is just like this bunny. It only ever feels like there’s not enough love to give it. How could it be the bunny’s fault for not having enough love?”
She glanced at the lingering red at the corners of Li Jia’s eyes, leaned in for a kiss, then stood while holding her. “Tonight, I’ll teach Xiao Li how to wrap dumplings, okay? We’re short on materials for spring couplets, so we’ll skip those, but we can definitely make some dumplings.”
With that, Ye Chengxing naturally took her hand, interlocking their fingers fully.
Ever since discovering that Li Jia adjusted their grip this way after holding hands, Ye Chengxing had made a point of initiating it herself every time.
Before moving here, Li Jia had often cooked with her in the kitchen, so Ye Chengxing assumed she’d pick up dumpling-wrapping quickly.
To her surprise, when Li Jia actually started, it was nothing like she’d imagined.
The Omega’s expression was gravely serious as she held the small dough wrapper, carefully adding the filling. Her movements were so cautious it seemed she’d forgotten to breathe—like she wasn’t wrapping dumplings but conducting some perilous experiment.
Seeing this, Ye Chengxing suddenly recalled Li Jia’s earlier snowman—the one whose head had tumbled off right after completion.
A strange premonition crept over her, and sure enough, in the next moment, Li Jia’s dumpling sprang a leak. The pale dough split open, revealing the shrimp and corn inside.
Watching the Omega deflate along with her failed dumpling, Ye Chengxing couldn’t suppress a curve of her lips. She picked up the leaky one, salvaged it in two or three deft motions, and praised without missing a beat. “Xiao Li, you did great. So smooth for your first try. Want to make a few more?”
Li Jia stared at the fresh wrappers slid her way and the admittedly imperfect dumpling, blinking before picking up another skin.
It really wasn’t good at all.
Yet Ye Chengxing praised her constantly, as if making up for every compliment Li Jia had never heard in her previous life.
And she never sounded insincere—always utterly genuine, her gaze warm beyond measure.
In the past, she’d rarely heard such straightforward praise; criticism had been far more common.
“Li Jia, don’t you know what kind of trash heap you crawled out of? Don’t blame us for the shitty terms we gave you. Think about how worthless you are—no other company would touch you. Be grateful.”
“Don’t look at us like that. You trusted the wrong people; it’s your own fault. If you have to blame someone, blame yourself for being too pretty.”
Her reminiscence cut short as she glanced sideways at Ye Chengxing.
The Alpha had tied her hair back with a simple band, the long strands draped loosely over one shoulder, her profile soft and beautiful.
Those old memories had grown hazy anyway, and she hadn’t had nightmares in ages.
Even recalling the ugly depths of those times now brought Ye Chengxing’s expressions to mind—sometimes gentle, sometimes resolute.
“Believe in yourself more, Xiao Li. You’ve got so many wonderful qualities, they’re impossible to count. You’re already an incredibly outstanding girl.”
“If I had to compare, you’re more like a butterfly—the kind that breaks free from its cocoon and is reborn.”
“Those scum were the ones in the wrong. You did nothing wrong.”
“Our Xiao Li is really amazing.”
“Xiao Li, you’re doing so great.”
“You’ve already done wonderfully.”
She was always like this, staying by her side, encouraging and affirming her.
Li Jia lowered her gaze.
If she hadn’t gone through all that, could she be with Ye Chengxing like other lovers? Like the couples in romance movies strolling in the sunlight, openly expressing and receiving love.
Lost in the thought, she stared blankly at the dough wrapper in her hand.
Seeing Li Jia hold the wrapper motionless for a while, Ye Chengxing assumed hesitation from the earlier failure. She set down her own dumpling and drew closer from behind.
Guiding her hand over hand, she helped wrap one. Li Jia’s lashes fluttered.
It felt just like being held in her arms.
Once it was done, Ye Chengxing held up the dumpling with a grin, mimicking a dramatic reveal. “Ta-da~”
Li Jia stared at her steadily, then said after a moment, “Sister, you’ve got flour on your face.”
Ye Chengxing blinked out of character for a second. “Oh? Where abouts?”
But before she finished speaking, the Omega leaned in close—and licked her cheek.
Stunned by the sudden move, it took Ye Chengxing a beat to react. “Flour’s raw, though…”
Li Jia replied indifferently, “There. Clean now.”
She paused there for a moment. “Sister, I still haven’t learned how to wrap them. Could you teach me hand over hand again, like you did before?”
Hearing this, Ye Chengxing set the dumplings aside in neat rows, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “You don’t even need to ask. Of course I can.”
Li Jia felt her presence wrap around her once more, breathing it in with near greed.
Once the new year had passed, she’d let her go.
Right before Ye Chengxing left, they could even take a photo together in their wedding dresses.
The easy, bright expression on Ye Chengxing’s face lingered only until she’d coaxed Li Jia to sleep.
Then it finally fell away.
A faint weariness seeped from the depths of her eyes.
Truth be told, she hadn’t rested well for many consecutive days now.
This poor rest wasn’t the sort where sleep simply wouldn’t come. It was the kind where she fell asleep only to jolt awake moments later.
And every time she startled awake like that, the sensation of something vital draining from her body only accelerated.
Going without sleep avoided those awakenings, but prolonged wakefulness was little different from constant interruptions—and most importantly, staying awake didn’t halt the drain.
It persisted relentlessly, second by second, even during the day. It was simply less pronounced than at night.
Ye Chengxing suspected this was the lingering weakness from her extended time in this world, just as the System had warned her before.
Yet the feeling of her life force slipping away, bit by inexorable bit, utterly beyond her control…
She held Li Jia close as the long, silent night stretched on like a soundless, cruel punishment.
So many rude awakenings had left her with real difficulty falling asleep now—or more precisely, she’d developed an aversion to sleep itself from the constant interruptions.
After all, drifting off inevitably led straight to being yanked back.
It clung to her like a malignant growth fused to her bones, impossible to shake free.
Ye Chengxing intended to pass the hours as usual, simply closing her eyes to rest without truly sleeping. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but that night, she sensed the drain quickening even though she wasn’t in the midst of one of those jolts.
Yet after lying there a while, a trace of drowsiness crept in. She teetered on the hazy edge of true sleep. Normally, her heart would start pounding violently by then, but tonight… nothing.
She was simply too exhausted. After a futile second of mental resistance, she surrendered to the unfamiliar pull of real sleepiness.
