Chapter 80

The moment Ye Chengxing heard Li Jia’s voice, her movements faltered for a second.

Li Jia’s voice was soft and low, clearly expressing pain yet laced with a hint of amusement.

After thoroughly checking Li Jia’s hand, Ye Chengxing thought to herself that this definitely wasn’t the first time the other woman had done something like this. Fortunately, there was no injury. Still, recalling that earlier scene made her heart ache uncontrollably.

“Um…” She parted her lips, wanting to say something, but the impulsive rush that had brought her rushing over had faded. Looking at the scene before her now, she couldn’t help but let out a light cough.

None of the words she’d rehearsed on the way here came to mind—words for what she should say if she actually ran into her. Instead, she’d directly taken the woman’s hand and examined it inside and out.

After a pause like that, the concern on the tip of her tongue involuntarily turned into a stiff, awkward remark: “I’ve checked. No burns.”

Before Li Jia could respond, Ye Chengxing pressed her lips together and averted her gaze slightly, wondering what on earth she was saying.

But the words were out. What she’d forgotten, though, was that she meant to let go of Li Jia’s hand afterward. Yet they stayed like that a little longer—neither of them letting go, neither speaking.

Li Jia hadn’t made a sound since those words left Ye Chengxing’s mouth, so Ye Chengxing shifted her gaze back.

Li Jia was staring at her unblinkingly, as if she’d just realized something. The look in her eyes was profoundly inscrutable.

Meeting that gaze, Ye Chengxing suddenly felt Li Jia twist her wrist. Her fingertips slipped into Ye Chengxing’s sleeve, brushing against the skin there—

Only then did Ye Chengxing realize she’d forgotten to release the other’s hand.

“Sorry,” she said on instinct. “I didn’t think just now…”

But Li Jia’s fingertips didn’t withdraw. They kept rubbing back and forth over that small patch of skin on the inside of her wrist.

The sensation made Ye Chengxing’s heart tingle numbly. A thousand thoughts swirled through her mind, but in the end, she simply stood there motionless, letting Li Jia touch her.

After a long while, she finally heard Li Jia speak. But the woman asked nothing and said nothing meaningful—just repeated her name, low and deliberate, syllable by syllable: “Ye… Cheng… Xing?”

Hearing that tone laced with slight uncertainty, Ye Chengxing’s first reaction was that five years apart had indeed made things distant and cold. For a moment, she couldn’t quite pinpoint her own emotions.

…Well, that made sense. After so much time without seeing each other, it was impossible for Li Jia to call her “sister” with the same intimate affection from her vague impressions.

Ye Chengxing paused, but she still answered the implied question. Right after, she felt those fingertips pressing harder against her skin, as if losing control.

Yet in the blink of an eye, Li Jia withdrew her hand. That hint of lost control felt like an illusion. Her expression showed no change, and her tone was perfectly casual: “Why are you coming here so late?”

Ye Chengxing didn’t know how to respond to that—mainly because she felt she should mention the memory loss first.

But Li Jia didn’t seem to expect an answer. She simply gave Ye Chengxing a deep look before saying, “Want to come inside and sit?”

Ye Chengxing knew she meant the villa. She still didn’t know how to reply to the previous question, so she nodded. “Sure, let’s go in.”

They couldn’t just keep standing at the door, after all.

She herself was fine, but she had no idea how long Li Jia had been standing out here. The night air was chilly; it would be much warmer inside.

Ye Chengxing followed Li Jia in.

Once inside, though, she discovered the villa was impeccably clean—no trace of the dust she’d imagined from years of neglect. Spotless would be an understatement.

It didn’t look abandoned for five years at all. At first glance, it almost seemed like someone still lived there.

And…

Her gaze casually swept over the layout, and in a daze, everything felt incredibly familiar.

“Have a seat. It’s all clean.” As she spoke, Li Jia handed her a cup of freshly poured warm water and sat down beside her.

Ye Chengxing took the cup and instinctively said, “Thanks.”

It hadn’t been that noticeable outside the door, but now that they were inside—especially sitting side by side on the same sofa, with just the two of them in the entire space—their mutual presence felt intensely vivid.

As Ye Chengxing pondered what to say next, her throat tightened. She lowered her eyes and took a sip of the warm water.

She hadn’t been tired on the way over, but that sip still made her feel truly alive.

After drinking, she realized Li Jia had only poured water for her. Lifting her eyes, she asked, “Do you want some water too…?”

But as she looked up, she met Li Jia’s gaze head-on.

Li Jia was propped on one hand, watching her from the side—as if the simple act of Ye Chengxing drinking water was utterly captivating.

Under that stare, the cup in her hand suddenly felt scalding hot.

Right now, Ye Chengxing couldn’t quite read Li Jia’s emotions.

The memories she could recall were too scattered and fragmented. Or rather, these were all she could remember at the moment. The truly crucial ones were still blank—like what exactly had happened between them five years ago, why she’d come to this world, and… how she’d left.

Memories like those showed no sign of resurfacing.

Li Jia noticed Ye Chengxing’s fingertips tighten slightly around the cup. Her gaze trailed upward to those lips, reddened from the water.

The skin she’d just touched was warm.

The pulse at her wrist seemed linked to her heartbeat, making Li Jia’s body—and even her soul—tremble in response.

That faint, familiar scent on her breath was the one she’d longed for through countless sleepless nights.

She hadn’t dreamed of her much; she’d spent those nights wide awake. The past was like sugar—or a blade wrapped in candy coating.

Everything now felt so unbelievable. She couldn’t help suspecting it was a dream, one that would shatter upon waking, leaving her once more in a world without Ye Chengxing.

She was even reluctant to blink.

Li Jia veiled the darkness in her eyes and replied as if just hearing the question: “I’m not thirsty.”

Ye Chengxing paused at the casual response, her lips parting briefly before closing again, as if weighing her words.

Li Jia watched her intently, suddenly craving the warmth of those lips and tongue.

…She was going mad.

She’d finally succeeded in sending her away—yet here she was, back at her side.

Hearing Li Jia’s faint words, Ye Chengxing hesitated before deciding to tell her about the memory loss first.

Her grip tightened on the cup as she met Li Jia’s eyes, her voice slow and soft: “Here’s the thing—recently, due to an accident, I lost some memories. Especially from five years ago; I can’t recall the details clearly.”

She kept the reason vague, summing it up as an “accident.”

The real cause was too far-fetched, after all.

Someone using the System’s Wish Contract to make her lose those memories… It was as ridiculous as her being from another world. Better to keep it simple with “accident.”

She wasn’t sure if Li Jia knew she wasn’t from this world, but probably not.

She’d already rehearsed how to explain the amnesia in her mind, so once she started, the rest flowed naturally.

As Ye Chengxing spoke slowly, she watched Li Jia’s expression.

But the woman before her showed no change upon hearing about the five-year memory gap—no surprise, no stunned look. She just kept watching with that deep, unfathomable gaze.

“In any case, that’s how it is. Though I haven’t forgotten everything completely…”

Ye Chengxing finished her explanation, adding that it wasn’t total amnesia.

Li Jia hadn’t spoken from start to finish.

The air grew heavy with silence, utterly still.

An inexplicable tension gripped Ye Chengxing. She wasn’t afraid of some emotional outburst, but this calm unnerved her more—it could mean so many things.

She might even feel relieved in this instant.

Finally, Ye Chengxing heard Li Jia speak: “Did you get the address from Xi Yue and the others?”

Her tone was less a question and more a statement of fact.

Ye Chengxing murmured agreement, surprised she’d guessed so quickly.

But before she could say more, Li Jia continued: “Sister, if you can’t remember clearly, why come back here?”

Ye Chengxing hadn’t expected the “sister” at that moment—like in her hazy memories.

Though this voice was lower now, not the girl’s soft tone.

The same term felt entirely different.

Li Jia leaned closer. Her eyes were lush and dense, lashes long and fine.

No longer a girl—a mature woman.

Sensing her daze, Li Jia let out a sudden laugh that didn’t reach her eyes.

She braced one hand by Ye Chengxing’s head, the other rubbing her lips in an ambiguously intimate gesture, like caressing a flower: “You’ve seen Xi Yue and the rest, so you’ve heard something about five years ago. Aren’t you afraid of repeating the same mistake by coming here?”

The emotion suppressed in her voice surged like a tide.

She couldn’t understand why Ye Chengxing would return even with blurred memories.

Pinned against the sofa by Li Jia, Ye Chengxing heard a certain phrase and curved her lips: “Then I’ll repeat it.”

“After all, I came back to see you.”