Chapter 68: Flame Scorches the Heart

The sky was gradually brightening, and on the distant edge of the mountain gorge, a pure white like snow was emerging. Along the endless mountain road as far as the eye could see, everything was a pure blend of gray-brown and vibrant green, making the whole world feel like a vast patchwork painting where it was impossible to tell where the canvas might end.

Ye Jingqiu yawned again.

After a night of frantic rushing, fatigue was inevitable, especially since she’d spent the previous few nights in a life-or-death chase with Messiah, her nerves stretched taut like a violin string on the verge of snapping. Now, the captain—who’d been unconscious for so long—was driving healthily at her side, while one of their half-dead enemy informants lay slumped in the back seat.

So when the off-road vehicle cheerfully barreled down the southward mountain road, Ye Jingqiu finally let out a complete sigh of relief. The exhaustion hidden beneath her excessive tension crashed over her like a tidal wave.

And most crucially, why did the knife wound on her right arm feel faintly hot? Could it be from overdoing it last night and getting an infection?

Ye Jingqiu, her eyes watering from sleepiness, glanced at the captain’s expression. She didn’t dare utter a repair command at her right arm. A few hours ago, when the captain had dragged her out of the cold storage, she’d been utterly stunned—she’d never seen the captain that angry before.

Whatever, it was just a minor injury.

Ye Jingqiu yawned again and casually shook her arm as if to cool it down. She tugged at her seatbelt and leaned forward to peer ahead. Once she took in the scenery, her drowsiness vanished by more than half in an instant.

Hadn’t they just passed through this place?

Ye Jingqiu turned her head, only to see Shi Zui casually gripping the steering wheel from the driver’s seat, looking utterly calm and composed. She couldn’t help doubting her own memory. After much hesitation, Ye Jingqiu finally overcame her inner fear and asked obediently, “Dear Captain, aren’t we going in circles a bit?”

Captain Shi Zui—surface-level expert driver who actually checked the navigation every time and was secretly directionally challenged: “…”

“I’m not too familiar with the terrain around here, but…”

Shi Zui’s face remained impassive and her heart steady as she casually glanced left. Instinct: Hurricane Blade activated silently, and with a crack, a large tree by the roadside split cleanly in two.

“That should mark it. We ought to find the exit soon.”

Ye Jingqiu: …Captain, don’t you know that when you’re feeling guilty, you always pause for ages between words?

The captain’s self-deceptive little actions had long since failed to fool Ye Jingqiu, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she stared at Shi Zui’s side profile, pretending to be nonchalant, and secretly chuckled to herself. Captain Kitty was being tsundere again—she didn’t need to explain herself so thoroughly, after all.

Had anyone ever called the captain “cute” before?

Ye Jingqiu suddenly found herself adoring this expression on the captain, a strange itch rising in her heart like a healing wound. If only that little cat named Aether were here right now; who knew what secrets about the captain it might uncover.

Ye Jingqiu lazily yawned once more, deciding not to dwell on it. She simply frowned slightly and carefully touched the wound on her right arm.

Why was it heating up so unusually? Wait, she remembered that spot had clearly just scabbed over. So this incredibly smooth texture, which felt familiar from that time at the auction…

A eerie sense of déjà vu crept over her heart. Ye Jingqiu heard her own pulse skip a beat as she slowly turned her gaze—

The Little Candle Dragon, with a circle of foxtail grass tied around its waist, was coiled around her wrist, joyfully hopping in what could only be described as a “long time no see, I missed you so much” grass skirt dance.

Was this look too avant-garde for the little dragon…? No, what she should be asking was how the hell had the little dragon gotten here?!

Ye Jingqiu froze for a moment, then reacted with lightning speed to stop the little dragon’s brilliant but idiotic plan to prance and sing right in front of the captain. She mercilessly stuffed it into her pocket and wriggled toward the back seat like an earthworm, clutching her clothes.

Noticing the movement, Shi Zui paused briefly and tilted her head slightly. “Why are you going to the back?”

Ye Jingqiu punched the Silver-Masked Man hard again and shouted hurriedly, “I-I just want to lie down in the back for a bit!”

Shi Zui: “…”

Did high schoolers change their minds this quickly these days? Just half an hour ago, Ye Jingqiu had refused her offer to nap in the back seat, swearing up and down that she’d weld herself to the front to keep her company while driving. And now she was volunteering to go back there? Had she gone quiet because she was bored?

Shi Zui’s thoughts raced. A few seconds later, when she snapped out of it, Captain Shi finally noticed something was off.

Since when could she extrapolate so many issues from a single action by her teammate?

This sensation was even harder to control than losing control entirely. Shi Zui pressed her lips tightly together, feeling that these bizarre thoughts of hers had come entirely out of nowhere.

Just then, a cool, feather-light touch suddenly brushed across the skin at the back of her neck. Shi Zui shivered involuntarily, a faint current seeming to course through her entire body. She gripped the steering wheel fiercely, momentarily too stunned to speak.

It was so soft and gentle. Shi Zui had always steered clear of sweets, but this unexpected sensation at her nape inexplicably reminded her of the chocolate-coated marshmallow her little teammate had forced on her not long ago.

So—

“Ye Jingqiu, what are you doing back there?” Shi Zui gritted out, realizing there wasn’t even a glimpse of Ye Jingqiu in the rearview mirror.

“I-I really didn’t do anything!”

Ye Jingqiu sprawled on the back seat, on the verge of tears. She clutched the culprit—the Little Candle Dragon’s tail—desperately, suddenly understanding the profound consensus among pet owners.

They said raising pets could curb one’s control freak tendencies. Yes, that was spot on, because this thing was utterly uncontrollable!

The Little Candle Dragon blinked its round, shiny eyes. Before Ye Jingqiu could sternly warn it, that short, fluffy tail suddenly erupted with immense force. It broke free from her hands, darting upward in a swipe—

The off-road vehicle jolted hard.

Shi Zui couldn’t help letting out a soft hiss. She instinctively leaned forward, and once she realized what was happening, Captain Shi ground her teeth.

The next second, a voice thick with warning echoed inside the car: “Classmate Ye Jingqiu, you’d better not make any little moves while I’m driving.”

Calling her by name and adding the “classmate” suffix meant Captain Shi’s patience had reached its absolute limit. The Little Candle Dragon struggled to fly forward while the utterly exhausted Ye Jingqiu slumped in the back seat. Her right hand desperately clutched at the dragon, clinging to the last shreds of her dignity. She was too drained—or rather, she had no idea what excuse to muster in her defense.

Want to die. I really want to die right now.

Captain, don’t you know how much I respect you? I’d never dare do something so presumptuous! Spouting nonsense like that was already the height of bravery for me!

There was no response from the back seat for a long moment, only strange whimpering sounds. Shi Zui still couldn’t catch sight of her little teammate anywhere, so that faint spark of irritation quickly fizzled out, replaced by worry and confusion.

Shi Zui knew Ye Jingqiu hadn’t gotten a proper rest in ages. She fell silent and seized the chance to glance back.

Her teammate was sprawled in the back like a limp sheet of paper, her right hand braced against the seat for support. From this angle, Shi Zui had a clear view of the black-red gash snaking across Ye Jingqiu’s right arm. Looking to the right, she saw Ye Jingqiu lying perfectly still, her pale face a mask of utter exhaustion—or so it seemed; in truth, she just wanted to die.

Their eyes met for an instant before darting away.

Damn, good thing the Little Dragon’s right up by the driver’s seat!

Actually, Xiao Qiu didn’t mean to. She’s clearly exhausted.

A brief silence fell over the car. Ye Jingqiu swiftly yanked the Little Dragon back, letting out a dry, stuttering laugh. “S-sorry, Captain! That was totally an accident!”

Shi Zui hummed in acknowledgment. Noticing that her teammate had pulled her hand back, she added casually, “It’s fine. The car’s not that big anyway—sit however you need to for comfort.”

Ye Jingqiu stared at the spacious seven-seater van and mumbled an awkward agreement, all while nabbing the Little Dragon’s tail, which had been pointing insistently to the right.

A warm, wet sensation brushed her chin. She looked down to find the Little Dragon bouncing up and down, desperate for her attention, its eyes brimming with resentment and grievance.

Huh?

Was the Little Dragon not doing it on purpose?

Before Ye Jingqiu could say a word, Shi Zui remarked offhandedly, “The night before last, before you got to Jiang Zhinan’s place—did you run into any enemies?”

Ye Jingqiu strained to decipher the odd language of the Little Candle Dragon’s tail. After stumbling through it for what felt like forever, she finally managed a feeble cover-up. “Uh… yeah, just one or two brain-dead Saviors. I’m totally fine, Captain!”

Wait, hold on—let me think. Is the Little Dragon saying it was just coming over to guide us?!

Her mind raced as Shi Zui’s next question landed. “In that case, when we get back, we could split this encounter into two separate task reports. You’d handle the lead section?”

Every mission at the Base required dividing roles between leader and supporter to calculate contributions and evaluate individual performance. A team member only half a year in ought to jump at the chance, but Ye Jingqiu was too busy confirming with the Little Dragon. She replied offhandedly, “Nah, you do it, Captain. I’m aiming to be the ultimate slacker supporter for life.”

Shi Zui shot back, “Supporter? You were the leader on both missions, though. You said so yourself just four hours ago.”

The Little Candle Dragon nodded vigorously upon realizing Ye Jingqiu had caught on, its relief as profound as Yan Zhao’s when Ye Jingqiu aced a chemistry exam with a perfect score.

Ye Jingqiu’s eyes lit up. She quickly waved the banner of camaraderie. “That was all nonsense! I, Ye Jingqiu, am fully committed to supporting every teammate with utmost diligence. Even if it were A-Xie or Sister Zhouzhou, I’d be the perfect sidekick.”

Even A-Xie and Sister Zhouzhou?

So in Xiao Qiu’s eyes, she wasn’t all that different from the others. Just another teammate, another big sister—except she’d spent a bit more time teaching her, a bit more time keeping her company. But that was all part of a captain’s duty anyway. No real distinction.

Shi Zui paused. Being impartial and dutifully supportive was a good trait, one that would make it easier to get loaned out for Action Division missions later on. Whether as a member of the Center Group or captain of Team One, she really ought to endorse the mindset…

But for some reason, she suddenly had nothing left to say.

Oblivious to her captain’s shifting mood, Ye Jingqiu buzzed with excitement. Sure enough, at every fork in the road, the Little Dragon would plaster itself to the window and point the way with its tail. Olivia must have been worried about her, enough to send the Little Dragon along.

“Xiao Qiu, you…”

“Captain, Captain, I know the way now—huh, Captain?”

The two voices overlapped in the car. Shi Zui’s already soft words drowned in Ye Jingqiu’s eager chatter. Faced with her teammate’s puzzled look, Shi Zui let out a faint, barely audible sigh and dropped the subject.

“Nothing. Tell me about your discovery.”

“Right, Captain—my Word Manifestation seems to work like a compass! Want me to navigate from the back seat? Next intersection, right turn!”

Shi Zui nodded, choosing not to probe why Ye Jingqiu insisted on sitting in the back. The answer didn’t matter anymore.

“Still right turn?”

“Got it.”

“Straight ahead—wait, no, turn—hold on, straight! Though it might be a bit… snaky?”

“What do you mean, snaky?”

“Er—like a snake, twisting straight ahead?”

“?”

“Ack, Captain, don’t look at me like that—it’s scary! You look just like my math teacher right now.”

“Your math homework’s still untouched.”

“Kill me now! Captain, not the winter break assignments at a time like this!”

~~~

The moon sank and the sun rose, blazing across the wilds. The noisy off-roader barreled out of the forest, hurtling toward the highway that symbolized modern civilization in the distance.

A familiar shout rang out from the window. Shi Zui looked up to see Xie Pingzhi sprinting from the checkpoint, waving enthusiastically.

“Yes! Captain Shi and Xiao Qiu are back!”

“Thank the heavens—the world’s not doomed just yet.”

“Quit joking around, A-Xie. Aren’t you going to play the perfect attendant?”

“You got it!”

The familiar banter of her teammates rang out, and Shi Zui allowed a faint smile to grace her lips—a rare sight indeed.

“Xiao Qiu, we…”

She turned, but the words died on her tongue at the last moment.

There, on the back seat of the off-roader, Ye Jingqiu cradled a bundle of clothes to her chest, her eyes gently closed in slumber. Her face held neither the glee of playful teasing nor the relief of a mission accomplished. It was simply calm—a rare, almost docile calm.

She slept as though utterly at ease, her lashes fluttering softly with each rise and fall of her chest, lost in what seemed a beautiful dream she hadn’t enjoyed in ages.

In that instant, all those nagging questions and answers ceased to matter. Sunlight cascaded like a waterfall through the sunroof, spilling a dazzling haze. The refractions danced lazily across the glass, settling on Ye Jingqiu and sealing away the clamor and chaos of the world beyond this intimate little space—

Leaving only serenity. An almost ethereal serenity.

Shi Zui stared at Ye Jingqiu, transfixed. In a heartbeat, the cacophony of voices and blaring horns dissolved into a distant wind, vanishing beyond the unreachable horizon. Colors and scenes alike froze into a still backdrop.

In that moment, the only sound she could hear was the faint rhythm echoing within her own chest.