When that bell-bright voice slipped into his ear, Ye Weibai’s heart lurched like a stone dropped down a well.
“Could it—”
He snapped awake from the dark.
What filled his eyes was Mu Ling’s cute face, all dimples and mischief.
Big, bright eyes. Cherry lips slicked with gloss, looking biteably sweet. Skin soft and milk-white. A slant-cut top baring her round right shoulder. Cute enough to topple a city.
Yet Ye Weibai’s brows drew tight.
“As expected.”
Back to the scene at the very start. This was—[Time Rewind].
“What’s with that face?” The girl puffed her cheeks, sulky as a sparrow. “Is that how you look at a beautiful girl?”
“That’s the face of someone jumped by a beautiful girl,” Ye Weibai tossed back, deadpan.
“What do you mean jumped… with an assistant this cute, Senior, what more could you want?”
“If Miss Robot shipped with a mute setting, that’d be perfect. Motor-mouths aren’t great assistants.”
“—Senior!!”
He let her tiger-cub glare gnash in the air—still cute, honestly—while his mind churned hard, clawing back through [yesterday].
“Yesterday…”
…
…
[Yesterday]
The TV cut off mid-sentence.
Click.
He switched it off. The wall clock said midnight. Bone-tired for no clear reason, Bai Ye decided to turn in.
His study sat on the third floor, so he usually slept in the third-floor bedroom too.
He climbed the stairs. Passed the second floor, where Shaohan’s room sat. The stairwell was ink-dark. Bai Ye stopped.
“Take a look.”
That was the thought as he moved to act. But when his gaze fell on the doorknob to the girl’s room, he froze—something cold and uncanny sprouted in his chest.
No—uncanny wasn’t the word. It was the speed of it. It came for no reason, no warning, and surged up from the heart in a single bound. Like a nail driven straight into his chest, pinning the feeling in place.
And it pinned the right hand he was about to extend.
—Don’t meddle with her!
That was the shape of the thought.
—Don’t go near her!
In the dark, a low voice seemed to lean against Bai Ye’s ear—warning him.
Under his messy bangs, his pupils flickered with uneasy light.
“Like a nail…” he murmured. “Maybe that’s not a metaphor.”
He stared at his right hand. Somehow, it really felt nailed in place, dead still.
“Something supernormal? Or what?” He tried again and again. From shoulder to fingertip, the whole arm refused the simple act of “open the door.”
He could turn his body; the arm simply wouldn’t move.
Yet the second he thought about backing away, his right hand came back to life.
As if, in this ink-black night, a transparent person stood at Shaohan’s door, palm on Bai Ye’s wrist, stopping him from going in.
After a long beat, Ye Weibai’s mouth curled. “—Interesting.”
“The one who won’t let me near Shaohan—” He smiled, slow and thin. “Is it you?”
“As you wish.”
With that thought settled, he turned without a shred of reluctance and went up.
Only as he turned did his nose give a faint twitch. “This smell… the scent of [Misfortune] is strong. Why is it so strong? Unless—”
A wave like a midnight tide crashed over his skull, swallowing the thought he was about to spin out.
“No good. Too tired… this body’s way too weak.” He shook his head, helpless, and cut the thread. Bed first. Thinking later.
What he didn’t expect was how the drowsiness thickened. It was like someone kept tugging at his eyelids, forcing them down.
He nearly dozed off in the shower. He toweled off, didn’t even dry his hair, and face-planted into bed.
“Tomorrow… then…”
…
…
[Tomorrow]
“This is bad—”
Bad to the bone.
If the one dead wasn’t him, then—
Shaohan was dead.
But—murder, or suicide?
Would Shaohan really be so fragile she’d kill herself over a few words from me? No—no way. If Shaohan were that brittle, she’d have snapped long ago.
That level—she should have been used to it.
Ye Weibai narrowed his eyes. In his head, he slid himself into “Shaohan.”
“If—I were Shaohan…”
After being treated like that by my uncle, sullen and exhausted, I’d go back to my room and crash. In that state, I’d sleep heavy; little sounds wouldn’t wake me.
If—at that time, some “person” climbed in through the window… I might not notice.
“Would that ‘person’—be the one who killed ‘me’?”
Ye Weibai’s pupils edged open. In his lash-shadow, a scene seemed to flicker.
I sleep on my back, hands clenching the blanket without meaning to. With a wound on my knee, I can’t lie on my side. I should be facing up.
And as I sink into the dream—
Ka-ka-ka—
The sound of the window being slid open.
Maybe I don’t hear it. Or I hear it and take it for the wind.
Either way, I don’t react. If I did, my uncle upstairs would sense it at once.
In a darkness where you can’t see your hand, a shadow as light as a feather slips over the sill and drops to the floor.
It tiptoes, skimming across the room. It sees me. It crawls onto the bed, lowers itself over me, palms planted by my sides, weight hovering above me.
Before I can feel the wrongness and open my eyes, it whips out a rag smeared with something from behind, clamps it over my mouth. Its full weight sinks to trap my legs. It doesn’t let a sound through.
Until—
I die.
…
…
“Would it… be like that?”
Ye Weibai asked himself under his breath.
And then he felt it—something off.
Too quiet.
Where was that chirping Mu Ling? She’d been right here a moment ago. When had she slipped out?
She was noisy, yes, but the sudden silence felt wrong in his bones.
“Little—”
Before he could say bell, Mu Ling ghosted up from beneath the far side of the desk, half a head popping into view.
“Senior, looking for me?”
“…” He stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“I dropped something under the table just now. Been digging forever and couldn’t get it.” She giggled, a cat with a stolen fish.
“What a pain.” He shook his head, helpless, and bent to help her search.
“Senior.”
“What?”
“Don’t peek under my skirt, okay?”
“Who’d want to.” He said it automatically, but his eyes flicked across the way on reflex.
Yeah, you’re not even sitting on the floor. Knee-length skirt, not a mini. Even if I wanted to, there’s nothing to see.
“Senior.”
“What now?”
“You did—peek, didn’t you?”
“Told you I’m not interested.”
He grumbled, groping around until his fingers found something cool. He straightened and let out a long breath. “Wrecked my old back for this.”
“Senior—”
“I said I didn’t peek!”
“No—” She puffed her cheeks, some random dissatisfaction brimming, and looked at him. “With a chance that good, and you didn’t peek—Senior—you’re an idiot, aren’t you?”
“Huh?” Ye Weibai’s hand flashed out. He flicked her forehead, hard.
“Ow!!” The little bell clutched her brow and nearly toppled over.
“You’re the idiot. Where’d you learn those lines? Too much porn?” He tossed the thing he’d found to her. “Catch. This what you wanted?”
“Oh, oh!” She scrambled to catch it. She wiped it on her shirt without a second thought, then tucked it into her pocket with great care.
“What is it, that you’re babying it like that? Your boyfriend’s gift?”
“Boyfriend?” She tilted her head at him, then broke into a blinding smile. “I wish.”
“This thing…” Her dazzling smile slowly softened, but her feeling overflowed even more—like a brimming glass of honeyed water in anyone’s eyes. “It’s mine—Mu Ling’s—ID card.”
The girl said it, smiling like that.
…
…
