Chapter 98 Part 2

Liu Lingshu suddenly realized it. Terror seized her; she wanted to flee Leng Xiang but couldn’t stand. She had fallen down stairs before, never fully healed, and now her bones were shattered.

She crawled on the ground, pathetic and broken, her whole body shaking violently. Overwhelming fear urged her to get away, but she was pinned.

She screamed, “Murder! Murder! Help! Someone’s trying to kill!”

Leng Xiang kicked her in the stomach. Liu Lingshu deflated like a punctured ball, unleashing an earth-shattering shriek.

Leng Xiang kicked again and again. Her mind was a blur of crimson, buzzing, eyes bloodshot. Her high heel smashed against bone, and the screams grew fainter, weaker, until Liu Lingshu went utterly still.

A long, long time passed before Leng Xiang stopped.

Liu Lingshu lay motionless, without a sound.

Leng Xiang stood frozen for a moment, hands and feet ice-cold. Only then did she register what she had done. She stumbled back two steps, staring incredulously at her hands.

She had killed her.

She really killed her.

Blood stained her stockings, her white high heels. The red glared against the white, nauseating. A faint metallic tang hung in the air.

The surveillance camera overhead, like an eye in the night, faithfully recorded it all.

Leng Xiang’s limbs felt leaden as she crouched beside the unmoving Liu Lingshu, face ashen. Trembling, she reached to check her breathing.

The faint breath hit like thunder in the silent stairwell, exploding in Leng Xiang’s mind with a roar.

She snapped awake.

Liu Lingshu wasn’t dead. She was still alive.

…She was still alive.

Leng Xiang took out her phone. The stairwell had been quiet for too long, and the voice-activated light suddenly went out, plunging everything into pitch darkness. The phone’s glow illuminated her face. Her lips were pale, her complexion ashen, and her fingers trembled as she tapped on the screen, missing several times before finally opening her contacts after much fumbling.

Jiang Sisi was pinned to the top.

Her finger hovered in mid-air for a long time, but in the end, she didn’t press it. Instead, she dialed 120.

She tried to steady her voice, but on close listen, the tremor was still evident.

“This is Jinmao Residential Complex, Building 22, Unit 3. There’s an elderly person who fell. Yes, the elevator is broken. I found them while climbing the stairs—ninth floor, head injury, and they’ve passed out.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She hung up, then skirted around Liu Lingshu and hurried downstairs, floor by floor, until she stood by the flower bed at the base of the apartment building.

Streetlights cast their glow on her, with small flying insects circling the lamps. It was already eleven at night. Her mind was blank, and she looked around in bewilderment, suddenly feeling like she had nowhere to go.

Countless lights flickered in the world, but none offered her a place to belong.

A sharp pang twisted in her heart, overwhelming panic and lingering fear gripping her tight. She slowly squatted down by the flower bed, covering her eyes with her hands.

If she had just killed Liu Lingshu… then she really would have become a murderer.

She suddenly recalled her childhood.

Before she was fifteen, she had lived with Liu Lingshu and Leng Guogen in the dingiest, most rundown corner of an urban village. The house faced a poor direction, never seeing sunlight, always dim and damp. People lived worse than rats in the stinking gutters. Local thugs loved to prowl the area. She’d study alone at night, homework in hand, listening to drunken cursing and brawls passing by outside—fights were commonplace. She’d even witnessed punks smashing beer bottles over each other’s heads, blood mingling with beer as it pooled across the ground.

Ten years— a full ten years. She had worked desperately, all her efforts aimed at escaping those days.

She thought again of Liu Lingshu lying motionless on the ground.

Leng Xiang hugged herself tightly.

How was she any different from those people?

Had she truly escaped?

Leng Xiang wondered if she was just like that deep down. Maybe violence ran in her veins.

All these years of cold detachment, her straightforward and stubborn temper, her refusal to bow even slightly—was it pride, unyielding integrity, a reluctance to let others see her true self, or simply cowardice, sensitivity, and inferiority rooted in her bones?

These years, was she refusing to admit defeat, or had she never shaken off the shadows of her past?

Her phone suddenly vibrated.

It was Jiang Sisi calling.

Jiang Sisi had just gotten home, kicking off her shoes as she walked in, and dialed Leng Xiang on impulse.

“Xiangxiang, I’m home.”

Leng Xiang’s hand was still shaking, her mind a blank void. Hearing Jiang Sisi’s voice, tears suddenly streamed down her face.

There was a long silence on the other end. Thinking Leng Xiang hadn’t heard, Jiang Sisi called again: “Xiangxiang?”

Leng Xiang wiped her eyes, her palm wet with tears. She forced her voice steady: “…Mm.”

Jiang Sisi sensed something off: “What’s wrong? Throat sore? Or have you been crying?”

She had noticed after all.

Leng Xiang clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob.

Jiang Sisi grew more concerned: “What happened? Is something wrong?”

She still had Jiang Sisi… She only had Jiang Sisi left.

“Can I come over?” Leng Xiang suddenly asked, her voice hoarse.

Jiang Sisi had spent half the day persuading her to stay over, but she’d refused. Why now…

Caught off guard, Jiang Sisi was surprised: “Sure. Want me to pick you up?”

The faint wail of an ambulance echoed from outside the complex. Leng Xiang shot to her feet, but after squatting so long, dizziness washed over her vision.

She steadied herself and said: “…I’ll come on my own.”

When Jiang Sisi opened the door, Leng Xiang stood outside, head bowed, her expression hidden.

Jiang Sisi instinctively felt she wasn’t right and held back her usual teasing words, pulling her inside.

It was strange—very strange. Leng Xiang wasn’t lively, but she wasn’t this lifeless either, utterly unresponsive.

Jiang Sisi half-held, half-carried her, arm around her waist, guiding her to the living room.

Jiang Sisi said gently: “Xiangxiang, what happened?”

Leng Xiang just shook her head, still looking down, silent. Her face was pallid, lips bloodless, eyes slightly swollen with red-rimmed sockets and flushed corners, as if she’d been crying. Her body trembled faintly.

Something must have happened.

Jiang Sisi pulled her into an embrace. Taller than Leng Xiang, she wrapped one arm around her waist, drawing her close with a bit of force until cool skin met warm. Her other hand rose, threading through Leng Xiang’s jet-black hair to gently grasp the nape of her neck—like soothing a startled cat, or assuring her that no matter what, she was safe now.

Leng Xiang yielded to the pull, burying her face in Jiang Sisi’s shoulder. The faint tremors coursed through her body, transmitting flawlessly via their shared warmth.

What could scare Leng Xiang this badly?

Jiang Sisi was puzzled, but with Leng Xiang silent, she had no answers. Her hand pressed against Leng Xiang’s back and realized her clothes were soaked through, drenched like she’d been pulled from water—all cold sweat.

She’d catch a cold like this.

“Take a bath first, okay? You’ve sweated so much; you’ll get sick otherwise.”

Leng Xiang was like a frightened bird, flinching at every sound.

She lifted her head from Jiang Sisi’s shoulder, face full of lost bewilderment, as if unsure where she even was.

She nodded hesitantly, pulling away. But as Jiang Sisi released her, she took two steps, legs buckling. She stumbled, nearly falling.

Jiang Sisi had no choice but to carry her to the bathroom.

The tub filled with hot water, steam rising to fog the frosted window.

Leng Xiang wore only a skirt—easy to remove. In moments, Jiang Sisi had stripped her bare and settled her into the tub.

Jiang Sisi’s sharp eyes caught a dark stain on her stockings. She touched it—dried blood, it seemed.

And if she wasn’t mistaken, there’d been red bloodstains on Leng Xiang’s shoes when she arrived.

What on earth had happened?

Jiang Sisi withdrew her hand. Leng Xiang sat dazed in the tub, eyes vacant, staring at nothing.

Jiang Sisi rolled up her sleeves, like tending a baby. She fetched a small stool, sat by the tub, and began washing her.

Patiently, she directed: “Extend your left arm.”

Leng Xiang always lagged half a beat, soul seemingly adrift, eyes empty and lost. Only after a moment did she extend her left arm.

Jiang Sisi grasped her wrist, squeezed body wash onto her snowy arm, lathering thick foam and washing the full length.

Faint marks lingered on her skin—shallow and deep ones from that afternoon, blurred underwater, dotting her pristine, snow-like curves. They marred the pure expanse yet held a chaotic beauty.

Jiang Sisi kept her gaze lowered, composure like a monk in meditation, ignoring it all as if blind.

She finished the left arm and was about to have her switch when the damp, boneless hand trailed softly over hers. Slender white fingers slid across her knuckles, gripping her wrist with slow, suggestive rubs.

Jiang Sisi: “…”

She looked up. Leng Xiang had curled in on herself, head bowed, long curled lashes shedding water droplets. Aside from that teasing left hand, she seemed fragile enough to shatter at a touch.

Jiang Sisi seized the hand, quickly finished washing her, lifted her from the tub, dried her off, dressed her in pajamas, and half-carried her to the bedroom.

Leng Xiang had half-expected something more.

She sat on the bed as Jiang Sisi blow-dried her hair from behind. The whirring hum pulled her thoughts back. She tilted her head, exposing her vulnerable nape, and tugged her collar open, baring a swath of white skin.

Jiang Sisi glanced down. Leng Xiang couldn’t bear that gentle, all-embracing gaze and turned away awkwardly.

Jiang Sisi adjusted her clothes. Once her hair was dry, she fetched a glass of warm water and helped her drink.

Drenched in sweat then bathed—she needed fluids or she’d dehydrate.

With everything done, Jiang Sisi tucked her under the covers, pulled her close, and clicked off the bedside lamp with a “snap.”

Darkness enveloped the room.

Leng Xiang lay there, cradled in her arms, eyes open to the shadowy ceiling. The dark lent a sliver of fragile security. Finally, she spoke her first words since arriving.

Her voice was still husky: “Aren’t we going to do it?”

Jiang Sisi held her tighter in the dark: “Sleep well. If you can’t, and if you’re willing, tell me what happened today, okay?”

Jiang Sisi knew nothing.

Nothing at all.

Leng Xiang fell silent for a long time. Sleep eluded her; she just stared at the ceiling.

“Let’s break up,” she suddenly said.