Meanwhile, in Meng Xiaoxiao’s apartment, Gu Xin and Meng Yuting shared a room, moonlight pooling across the floor like spilled milk.

Yuting, I’m going to dig up intel on that Anomaly Power outfit, Gu Xin said, her voice flat as a knife laid on stone.

Right, anyone bold enough to move in the U.S. capital has backing deep as a trench, Meng Yuting nodded, her eyes steady as anchored buoys.

Ningxin couldn’t trace them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t, she added, hope casting a net in darker water.

Then I’ll ask him, Gu Xin said, and she drew out her phone, the screen lighting her face like a lone firefly.

Hello! Who’s this? A man’s voice came through, clean American twang like cold wind over glass.

It’s me, Gu Xin said coolly, her words falling like quiet rain.

Whoa! Sis-in-law! You finally called, he blurted, switching accents, his Mandarin snapping bright as a lit match.

Are you in the States? Gu Xin ignored the flattery, her tone a still lake hiding depth.

Yeah, came the answer, casual as a hand in a pocket.

Then have you heard about that mystery Anomaly Power group in D.C.? Gu Xin asked, her question an arrow loosed into fog.

Huh? No, not a thing, he said, his ignorance landing like a wet leaf.

Gu Xin was speechless, silence stretching between them like a drawn bow.

Meng Yuting snatched the phone like a hawk taking a rabbit, her shout cracking like thunder. Stop chasing girls all day! Do you even do real work?

Crap! You’re there too… he yelped, his true thoughts slipping out like a startled cat.

What did you say? Meng Yuting raised her voice, heat flaring like a stovetop.

S-Sister Ting, he folded, his bravado collapsing like a paper fan in rain.

Get me what’s going on in the U.S.—detailed, complete, she said, each word a nail driven straight.

Uh… you’ll have to wait, I can’t get away right now, he said with a bitter laugh, tied up like a knotted rope.

Tomorrow morning I want results, I’m flying to the U.S. tomorrow, and if you don’t have them, wait for me at your door, she warned, a storm rolling toward shore.

Alright, alright—consider it done, he said, promises piling like sandbags.

This guy, Meng Yuting muttered, hanging up, the screen going black like a lid dropped on a pot.

Heh, Hawkeye’s gotten real humorous, Gu Xin said, a smile flickering like a firefly.

He’s just itching for a beating, Meng Yuting huffed, sparks popping like oil in a pan.

I wonder how everyone’s been these last few months, Gu Xin murmured, her gaze dimming like rain on glass.

They’ll be fine—those idiots can take care of themselves, Meng Yuting said, sitting beside her, her grip warm as a hearth.

Mm, Gu Xin nodded, the sound small as a pebble in a stream.

Seeing Gu Xin sink, Meng Yuting changed tack, her voice turning brisk as wind. We should figure out how to subdue Tang Coco, then have Ningxin do a mind override, turn her back—then we put the screws to her and ask if she’s that person.

Gu Xin was speechless again, the plan landing heavy as an iron pot.

But does she have a weakness? Gu Xin asked, the question circling like a kite in a fickle breeze.

I don’t know, but I have a bigger question, Meng Yuting frowned, her thoughts knotting like roots. That red-haired Tang Coco—whose soul is it? Where did it come from?

Gu Xin went silent, the doubt settling over her like evening mist.

Think of it as two souls in one body: one is Tang Coco, or maybe Tang Ke; where’s the other one from? Meng Yuting pressed on, each word stepping stones across a dark stream.

You mean… she’s not from this world? Gu Xin asked, the idea rising like a pale moon.

Exactly, Meng Yuting nodded, certainty hard as a flint, and she must have a mission or a purpose tucked away like a sealed letter.

Too bad she won’t say a word, Gu Xin sighed, her mouth sealed like ice on a well.

So I think Ningxin’s right: we use Tang Coco to carry out this job, then find a way to take her down—let them clash, and we reap the spoils, Meng Yuting said, eyes sharp as a hook.

Yeah, true, Gu Xin agreed, the thought settling like dust.

Let’s hope the plan goes smooth, Gu Xin whispered, and the two of them drifted into sleep like stones sinking into a quiet pond.

Past ten the next morning, sunlight spilled over the bustling city without mercy, bright as a fresh coin, while in Tang Coco’s place, Ye Yiyi actually slept in like a cat in a warm patch.

She usually trained at dawn, but now she blinked awake, her eyelids heavy as wet leaves.

Tiredness flooded her body like lead in her bones; she tried to sit, but when she raised a leg, heat knifed up from below.

Mm—ah! Ye Yiyi cried out, the pain sharp as a thorn, snapping her fully awake.

She glanced around, the room wide as a shoreline, and Tang Coco was nowhere to be seen.

Ye Yiyi struggled up slowly, each movement a creak of old wood, then reached for her clothes, finding her nightdress vanished like smoke.

She lifted the quilt, breath catching like a bird, and froze—the white wasn’t white, it was a sheet stained red like a struck sunset.

Ah! The gasp burst out, then she clapped a hand over her mouth, color surging to her face like a tide, and she yanked the quilt up to cover the scarlet.

Breathing rough as wind through reeds, Ye Yiyi slid off the bed, and she limped to the wardrobe like a wounded fawn.

She opened it and grabbed a black nightdress, slipping it on without inner layers, cloth falling like ink over paper.

She tidied herself, covering what needed covering like shutters drawn at dusk, then hobbled back, tore off the bedsheet, and bundled it into a ball like gathered stormclouds.

She hugged the bundle and shuffled to the bathroom, tossing it into the washing machine with a thud like a dropped stone.

Ding-dong—the doorbell rang, clear as a bell over water, and Ye Yiyi had no choice but to limp downstairs like a sailor on a listing deck.

She checked the peephole, the little circle bright as a coin, saw Meng Xiaoxiao, and opened the door with a rush of relief like a window to spring air.

Xiaoxiao? What are you doing here? Ye Yiyi asked, her voice thin as a reed.

Sister Coco texted me, Meng Xiaoxiao said, eyes clear as glass. She said your period came these days, told me to take care of you a while. She won’t be back for a few days.

What! Ye Yiyi blurted, her pretty face going red in a flash like a blossom in sudden sun.

Tang Coco! she screamed inside, the name crashing like a wave.

Achoo—on Ningxin’s private jet, freshly airborne, Tang Coco sneezed, the sound small as a popped seed.

System, adjust my body temperature, she thought, worry fluttering like a moth. Why am I sneezing—don’t tell me I’m catching a cold.