As if trapped at the bottom of an endless abyss, there was no light, no sound.
She could see nothing here.
She could hear nothing here.
Only a silence as still as a graveyard.
And utter loneliness.
She tried to breathe, but it felt like sinking deep underwater.
No sensation.
No salvation.
Only suffocation.
Everything was lifeless, as if already dead. If this was hell’s border, shouldn’t she at least meet its demon king?
Of course, hell’s border was just a hypothesis.
She still didn’t know where she was, or if her heart still beat.
Like a clay statue,
cold,
silent,
numb to pain.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, or even who she was.
As if millennia had gone by, she remained asleep here, silent.
Not turning over. Not snoring.
Wasting countless years immersed in darkness.
Only when another voice sounded did she realize she was still alive.
“Are you okay?”
The voice asked.
A man’s voice, eerily familiar.
“I… I guess so?”
She tried to speak, startled to find she could still make a sound.
She should be fine. Nothing bad seemed to have happened.
“Do you feel lonely?”
Faced with this, she fell into thought.
Was she lonely?
No.
Even if asked, she didn’t know.
But if she had to say…
“Very lonely,” she replied, recalling her past.
Since elementary school, her parents had abandoned her under the guise of work. Left alone at home, ignored completely.
Even on Chinese New Year’s Eve, she never knew where “Dad” and “Mom” were.
As if they’d never existed. All she remembered were the living expenses they sent, and notes no longer than three lines.
But what could she do?
Waiting.
Only waiting.
She quietly hoped they’d return, hoping the parents from her childhood memories would come back.
But one second passed.
One minute passed.
One hour passed.
One day, one month, one year passed.
After countless days and nights, she still hadn’t seen their faces. Over time, she grew used to the room’s quiet.
As if this home had always been this way, unchanged since her birth.
“But are you really still lonely now?”
The familiar voice asked again.
“What do you mean?”
Was she lonely?
She asked herself again. Only bottomless darkness answered.
She knew nothing.
“For twelve years, you’ve never been this happy before, have you?”
“I… happy?”
“Yeah. I saw you happy.”
The voice stated firmly.
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but your expression’s much brighter now.”
“So you saw it?”
“Yep. Crystal clear.”
If that was true, it’d be great.
“So…”
The voice faded, drifting farther away.
“Cherish it. Protect it with your life if you must.”
These were their last words before parting.
◆
Nangong Shiyu slowly opened her drowsy eyes. The first thing she saw was the white ceiling she knew so well.
The setting sun filtered through white curtains, bathing walls, furniture, ceiling, and quilt in a cozy orange-red glow. She hadn’t seen this sight in ages.
But why was she sleeping here?
Nangong Shiyu tried to recall her past. Her last memory was only of defeating the mantis monster. After that, nothing.
Probably she’d passed out from overusing her power. Guessing was useless—only Xia Zixin could explain.
Just then, her stomach gurgled softly. The sound was weak, like a hungry girl begging at a rich household’s door. Not wild. Not manly at all.
…
As expected, Nangong Shiyu’s body had transformed into a girl’s. Black hair flowed over her neck, resting on the quilt. Just looking at it sparked a desire to touch. But she quickly dismissed the thought.
No, no—no impure thoughts about her own body!
This body was cute—even a mirror glance made her heart flutter—but it was still hers.
She could never do that to herself. After all, it was her own body.
Hmm.
Her own body…
…
…
Actually, touching herself wasn’t wrong, was it? Logically, it was only natural.
Just as Nangong Shiyu realized this, she understood—even if she didn’t act, others might.
Like the former Thunder God—Xia Zixin—under the covers, rubbing Nangong Shiyu’s chest with her hands.
