“You told them?!” Tang Coco’s voice snapped like a taut bowstring in the dark.

“Of course—not.” Ningxin let out a theatrical huff, like a puff of stage smoke. “I wouldn’t spill something that heavy. Your last Anomaly Power rampage is classified. Everyone’s muzzled.”

“Oh… okay…” Relief loosened her shoulders like a slipped knot, but a cold prickle crawled under her skin like ants.

Why is Meng Yuting digging into my power? Did she find something? Did I slip somewhere? The questions fluttered like sparrows trapped in a room.

She never guessed a drip of ice cream had sold her out, like a trail of melted sugar on hot stone.

“Honestly, I think Meng Yuting and Gu Xin have their eyes on you,” Ningxin said, voice smooth as river water. “I told them the moment you met, they’d agree to protect you. See? With them beside you like twin blades, I can finally breathe.”

“…” Fear slid through Coco like a draft under a door. The danger closest to her wasn’t the world outside; it was Meng Yuting and Gu Xin, standing like shadows at noon.

“Alright then, message delivered. I’ve got work,” Ningxin said, light as a tossed leaf. “You have fun over there.”

“Mm. Thanks, Ning-jie.” Coco’s sweetness rose like warm honey, even as her heart thudded like a muffled drum.

“What’s with the thanks between us? Bye-bye.” Ningxin laughed, bright as wind chimes, then dropped the call like a curtain.

“Ning-jie, is this really okay?” Her assistant Xiao Qiao stood with an armful of files like a stack of winter logs, worry clouding her face like mist.

The smile on Ningxin’s face vanished like dew under sun, replaced by a frost-hard mask. The office air felt tight, like glass before a storm.

“No choice. In this weather, we can’t trust anyone,” she said, brows knitting like black wings. “Even the Shadow Division can’t be told too much.”

This afternoon, Xiao Qiao had found a thread: a mole inside the organization, a worm in the root. They were after Tang Coco, their intent as sharp as sleet.

“Worse, there’s a good chance Coco’s already on foreign Anomaly organizations’ radar,” Ningxin said, the words dropping like stones into a pond.

“But… then Phantom and the Princess will start doubting us,” Xiao Qiao murmured, her voice a thin flame in wind.

“We gamble.” Ningxin’s hands tightened like iron rings. “Coco’s ties with them may not be simple. They called, asking for her. And last time, she saw them and bolted. Storms don’t gather for no reason.”

“We can’t juggle everything now,” she said, knocking the desk like a gavel. “If Coco stays near them, the blade won’t fall as fast. My priority is finding that mole.”

She slapped a file. A grainy photo lay there like sandpaper: a black-clad figure slipping into their archive like a shadow-fish, stealing every document on Tang Coco.

“Yes, Ning-jie.” Xiao Qiao’s answer rang like a nail set in wood.

In Meng Yuting’s room, the air held the quiet of a sheathed sword.

“Well? Did she say anything?” Gu Xin sat on the bed like a perched hawk, eyes steady as winter stars.

“No. She said she didn’t know.” Meng Yuting shook her head, the motion a willow in a soft breeze.

“How?” Gu Xin’s disbelief flickered like a candle guttering.

“She didn’t tell us on purpose,” Meng Yuting said, gaze like a drawn line of ink. “Which means Tang Coco’s power has a problem.”

“Then we find a chance to make her use it,” Gu Xin suggested, a test laid out like a chess move.

“Not that easy.” Meng Yuting’s refusal was quiet as falling snow. “We can’t push her. She’ll brace. If she’s really Tang Ke, cheap tricks won’t fool her.”

“True. Parlor tricks won’t mask a blade,” Gu Xin said, her mouth a thin line, her thoughts circling like kites in a shifting wind.

They didn’t know that today’s Tang Coco had lost that razor edge; right now, she was just a soft, clueless sweetheart, warm as a steamed bun.

At that moment, Tang Coco lay sprawled on her bed, breathing soft as cat purrs, sleep pooling around her like dusk.

Beep-beep. The phone on her nightstand chirped like a sparrow at dawn. Coco blinked heavy eyes, lids like damp leaves, and picked it up.

A text from Ye Yiyi: Time to head out~

She glanced at the clock. Almost seven, the sky deepening like indigo dye. Then she remembered her promise to Meng Xiaoxiao: the Shengshi Xinyan Banquet.

No helping it. Coco rubbed her eyes, palms warm as tea, slid on her shoes, and padded toward Ye Yiyi’s room like a drifting cloud.

Knock-knock. Her fingers tapped the door like rain on bamboo.

“Coming!” Ye Yiyi’s voice rose bright as a bell from inside.

“Let’s go~” The door swung, and Coco leaned with one hand on the frame, the other on her waist, striking what she thought was a cool pose, like a movie poster caught in wind.

Ye Yiyi just stared, speechless as a stone.

“Uh… you’re going like that?” Her eyes widened like lanterns.

“Uh… what’s wrong with this?” Coco spread her arms and did a slow turn, a sleepy top wobbling on a table.

“What’s wrong? Your hair and clothes are a storm-tossed nest,” Ye Yiyi said, grabbing her like a brisk aunt. “Get in. I’ll fix you.”

“So much trouble…” Coco muttered, the grumble small as a beetle under a leaf.

“Where’s Xiaoxiao?” she asked once inside, not seeing Meng Xiaoxiao’s shadow anywhere in the lamplight.

“Yuting-jie called her over,” Ye Yiyi said, already hunting a comb like a swift looking for twigs.

“Oh.” Coco sat obediently, straight as a reed, while Ye Yiyi’s hands moved like quick swallows through her hair.

“All done~” A few minutes later, Ye Yiyi stepped back. Coco had shifted again—elegant as a lotus in still water, edges soft as silk.

“Yiyi-jie, ready?” The door pushed open, and Meng Xiaoxiao poked in her head like a curious squirrel.

“Mm, ready.” Ye Yiyi answered, then blinked as two more figures filled the doorway—Gu Xin and Meng Yuting, both changed, both bright as blades fresh from oil.

“Huh? Sister Gu? Yuting-jie?” Surprise lit her eyes like fireflies.