The news that three students at Diguang High had fallen into drugs blew in like a cold draft under the door, straight to Chongming Yan.

Word on the street said Mo Yao caught them lying about their progress, like rats frozen under a lantern, then had a needle bite them like a viper’s fang.

The timing itself felt wrapped in fog, strange before and strange after.

After hearing it, Chongming Yan went fishing for proof, asked a contact for a photo of the three addicts.

When he saw the picture, his mind iced over, a stone dropped into a winter pond.

The three in the photo were hunched like withered reeds, faces gone to ash, eyes dull as dead embers, cheeks so hollow the bones pressed like pale wings under skin.

Even like that, he could still make out their shapes in the blur, the same men from the private box at the Yuedi Entertainment Club not long ago.

How did a few days turn into a cliff they fell from?

Coincidence?

No. That word tasted like stale smoke.

Those whispers said the trio had done plenty of dirty work for Mo Yao. He wouldn’t cripple them over a single lie; there had to be deeper roots under the soil.

This…

Could it be tied to Suo Sen?

The thought sprang up like a fishbone catching his throat, and even he startled at himself.

Impossible. Someone like Suo Sen shouldn’t even brush Mo Yao’s sleeve.

But…

Before that night, Suo Sen did run into him at Yuedi, face to face under neon rain.

Not just that—she had been spying toward Mo Yao’s box, a shadow peering at a tiger’s den.

Call it chance? Chongming Yan wouldn’t buy that even with a blade at his back.

What kind of woman slips into a club in the dead of night to peep at a murderer, like a moth kissing a flame?

That’s not just twisted. That’s twisted twice.

Besides, Suo Sen had followed him three, almost four years. He knew her habits like lines on his palm.

She’d never be the type to go bouncing under strobe lights at midnight; her feet were roots, not wings.

There had to be another current under this surface.

Tsk… where did that woman run off to at a time like this?

He clicked his tongue, irritation pricking like sand in the eye.

He hadn’t seen Nana Toki since their last meeting; if he had, he could have dragged her into the light and asked.

But the woman named Suo Sen had vanished like breath in winter air, leaving not even a footprint.

Unease pooled in him like cold water in a well.

Yes.

He felt himself stepping into a net he couldn’t see, threads tightening, but he had no clue where the knots were.

On campus, talk of Nana Toki thinned like mist at sunrise, as if the woman had never stood under this sky.

What in the world was this?

“Chongming?”

Just as the fretfulness rose like cicadas at noon, Chen Yiyi’s soft voice rang behind him like a bell.

“?”

“What’s wrong?”

Lately, whenever he saw Chen Yiyi, a strange aversion crawled up his spine like a draft through reeds.

It felt like she was hiding something, a pebble in his shoe he couldn’t shake.

“You don’t look well. Are you alright?”

She sat beside him, close as a shadow by a wall, worry furrowing her brow. “Did something happen?”

“…”

“Nothing.”

He lowered his head, thoughts circling like crows, then shook them off with a hard breath.

“I’m fine. You’re overthinking.”

“But…”

“Are you free this afternoon?”

He didn’t want to swim that current any longer; even his tone showed the snag of impatience.

“Zhao Kang will be back soon. Come walk with me this afternoon.”

“Eh?”

At that name, Chen Yiyi went still, like a deer catching a scent.

“Zhao Kang?”

“Mm. That Zhao Kang.”

Another headache flickered; Chongming scratched his hair like trying to rake leaves in wind. “The one I told you about—the guy who took the murder rap for Mo Yao.”

“Because of his backing and the grease of money and power, he’ll walk out of prison in a few days.”

“You hate him?”

She studied his stormy face, paused, then let the question out like a cautious kite.

“Hate that guy?”

His hand froze mid-scratch. “No. I just think he’s trouble. He acts like wind over water, too free, can’t be read. That makes my skin crawl.”

At the words unpredictable, another face flashed, a woman who knotted his mood like thorn vine.

“That bastard…”

“Did you say something?”

Chen Yiyi tilted her head, curiosity bright as a sparrow’s eye.

“Nothing.”

He smoothed his tone, turned back to her. “So? Will you come walk with me this afternoon?”

…

Meanwhile, over on Nana Toki’s side—

With everything that needed doing finally done, she gifted herself a rare day off, like laying down armor under a willow.

“Man, it’s been ages since I felt this light.”

Sprawled on the couch at Yuzuki’s place, her body melted into cushions like warm wax.

“The last time I felt this chill was when I went on hiatus from some novel.”

System: “…”

Host, aren’t you going to check the hidden mission?

Hidden mission?

What hidden mission? Since when did I get a hidden mission?

She stretched like a cat in a sunbeam. Hidden missions, whatever. Trash System, don’t buzz in my ear. I’m napping.

System: “…”

Hand on your heart, Host—what have you done in nearly a week since arriving in this world?

And you dare to rest?

Excuse me? I haven’t done enough? Her eyes went wide like plates. This trash System thinks I’m slacking?

Do I look like that kind of transmigrator?

System: You don’t look like it. You are it.

Nana Toki: “…”

No love left. Bye.

Heh. Drama queen.

The System’s laugh was a thin knife.