Night had fallen. Outside the window, the view had vanished completely, replaced by nothing but a grayish haze. Only on rare nights when the moon shone brightly could anything be glimpsed through the glass. But even the most unchanging scenery would grow tiresome after a while, Yue Ge mused. Perhaps that was why Bai Ya paid the window no mind at all.

Dinner had ended long ago. Once certain Bai Ya’s temper had cooled, Little Ash swaggered down from wherever it had been hiding and began darting around Yue Ge. It never seemed to tire—even when Yue Ge merely watched it circle endlessly, it would keep spinning. When exhaustion finally hit, it would flop onto a chair, curling into a tight ball to sleep.

Bai Ya didn’t mind Little Ash ignoring her. In fact, she seemed relieved. It was a rare luxury to take the cat out without having to split her focus between work and playtime. For the first time, Bai Ya felt a tangible benefit to having taken Yue Ge in. At the very least, he was a competent litter-box attendant.

Setting aside her tablet, Bai Ya slumped back in her chair, eyes closed, wearing a look of utter exhaustion.

"Done working?" Yue Ge asked, glancing at her. He knew she was busy with something, but the details were beyond him—likely something he couldn’t help with anyway. She’d shown him her screen once, but it was filled with symbols he couldn’t decipher. Explaining it all would’ve taken forever.

Though the written words were the same, most of this specialized knowledge belonged to a world Yue Ge had never accessed in his past life. Even if he started learning now, he’d never catch up enough to be useful. He didn’t need to understand the specifics to recognize Bai Ya’s brilliance. She was a true genius, operating in realms far beyond his reach.

*That mischievous Deity probably dropped me there expecting exactly this*, he thought.

"More or less," Bai Ya replied, stretching with a yawn. "Since it’s all theoretical work, it’s relatively simple. Once this is wrapped up, I can call it a day." She patted her knee. "Little Ash, come here."

*Only now does she remember she owns a cat.*

The sleeping cat lifted its head, then reluctantly hopped onto the table and padded over. Before it could steady itself, Bai Ya scooped it up, settling it onto her lap. She stroked its fur while scratching under its chin—a clear stress-reliever.

"What time is it?" Yue Ge asked, watching her.

"Almost nine. Time for a shower?" Bai Ya guessed.

"Nothing urgent… I’ll head to the next carriage then. Call if you need anything." Yue Ge nodded. He’d only been waiting for her to finish anyway.

"Ah, wait," Bai Ya called out unexpectedly.

"Hm?" Yue Ge tilted his head, puzzled.

"Stay a while longer. I’ll grab coffee and snacks. It’s still early, right?" She set Little Ash down gently. "I’ll be right back."

Yue Ge didn’t question her. He simply sat back down.

"Good. Give me a moment." Bai Ya’s expression softened slightly as she strode out of the carriage. She returned carrying two trays—one with two cups of coffee, the other piled with cake and cookies.

"So… what shall we talk about?" Yue Ge lifted a cup, mimicking Bai Ya’s sip. To his surprise, the coffee wasn’t bitter at all. A subtle sweetness masked its sharpness, and its color was light—nothing like the dark brew he’d smelled before.

"What to talk about…" Bai Ya cradled her cup, tilting her head slightly. "I don’t know."

Yue Ge was mildly surprised. He’d assumed she’d kept him for a reason. But he let it pass, taking another sip. "Do you know who that man was today?"

"No idea." Bai Ya shook her head, gently massaging Little Ash’s ears. "The Organization has too many people to know them all. Honestly, Nan is the only one I’d call familiar."

"Because you’ve always lived alone?" Yue Ge asked curiously. He knew little about Bai Ya’s daily life, and this quiet moment felt like a rare chance to learn.

"Something like that. I used to live at the Organization’s headquarters. All I remember is work—endless work. Sometimes I’d be so swamped that after showering in my room, I’d collapse straight into bed, only to wake up and dive back in. Everyone obeyed my orders, and the research progressed smoothly… but after that project wrapped up, I moved out." She bit her lip. "Everyone there just… felt so driven."

"The Essence research?" Yue Ge ventured.

"Partly. It was about sedatives—the kind used on you back then." Bai Ya stared into her cup, her expression unreadable. "After that incident, I rarely returned to headquarters. I handed all operational duties to my deputy. Yet the data still flows to me. I’m still doing the exact same work… even now."

Yue Ge said nothing. He simply listened. He suddenly understood that Bai Ya wasn’t as emotionally detached as she appeared. The original topic didn’t matter anymore; the conversation flowed with the quiet atmosphere.

Mostly, Bai Ya spoke while Yue Ge listened. Occasionally, she’d pause mid-sentence, staring blankly into space as she sipped her coffee. Only then did Yue Ge grasp the true distance between them. He had no words to bridge it—only waiting patiently for her to return before gently steering the talk onward.

Subconsciously, he didn’t want the conversation to end. Even trivial chatter felt precious. Gradually, he realized it had been years—so many years—since he’d talked with someone like this. The memory was almost too painful to touch.

"And then…" Bai Ya smiled wryly, though she didn’t seem truly reluctant, "Nan told me how wonderful it would be to see me in the front row at every concert."

"Did you go?" Yue Ge asked.

"Rarely. Almost never, really. Her touring schedule forces her to travel constantly. But unless it’s critical, I never leave my city." Bai Ya shook her head.

"It must be amazing. Her concerts…" Yue Ge recalled the footage on her tablet. Nothing from his past life could compare to that feverish devotion.

"‘Streets emptying’ wouldn’t be an exaggeration. She’s the only one bold enough to ride trains between cities. People don’t just admire her—they worship her like a Deity." Bai Ya propped her chin on her hand. "This era is so twisted, so starved for meaning. Even the feudal ages described in history books seem like paradise compared to now. At least back then, you didn’t have to worry about monsters appearing out of nowhere."

"But there are city walls," Yue Ge pointed out.

"Yue Ge," Bai Ya said quietly, "humanity didn’t survive because of walls. Just as rabbits didn’t escape extinction by living in burrows."

"So that’s why they push themselves so hard?" Yue Ge understood. Yet he felt no surge of fear or determination—only calm acceptance.

"Probably. But I stayed out of… curiosity. Wanting to understand why. My father never taught me how to survive in that world. In the end, I ran away." Bai Ya lowered her head, hugging her knees.

Yue Ge stared at his nearly empty cup. Even though he wasn’t fond of coffee, he’d drained most of it without noticing. He lifted it now, pouring the last drops into his mouth.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Bai Ya checked her tablet. "Half past nine."

"Should we continue? I’ll grab more cake and coffee." Yue Ge gestured at the empty trays.

Bai Ya blinked, then pressed her lips together. "Yes. Please. Let’s talk until ten."

"Understood. I’ll be quick." Yue Ge stood, clearing the trays before stepping out.

Bai Ya watched him go, her expression as unreadable as ever. She glanced at Little Ash sleeping nearby, sighed softly, and stroked its head without a word.

Some things couldn’t be spoken aloud. Some feelings couldn’t show on her face. Only by staying strong could she remain herself.

She couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

A flicker of relief crossed her mind—Yue Ge hadn’t pried, hadn’t pushed. If she ever stopped being *herself*, she’d have nowhere to go. Just… listening to her vent, hearing her grumble about buried frustrations—that was enough.

"I’m back." Yue Ge returned swiftly, carrying even more coffee and cake than before. "Shall we continue?"

"Mm." Bai Ya took a piece of cake. "Where were we…? Ah, headquarters. Don’t wander there if you’re unfamiliar—it’s easy to get lost. Though… my old room might still be there." She kept talking, drifting from topic to topic, sharing even the most trivial details.

She’d never realized she had so much to say.

Yue Ge listened in quiet contentment. His mind felt unusually peaceful around her—no need to question why, no hesitation. Everything felt natural. He knew this calm wasn’t just simple affection.

Perhaps… not even Bai Ya herself noticed how her expressions shifted as she spoke. Moments of confusion. Fleeting, childlike smiles.

They talked until nearly half past ten before finally parting ways.