Ling Mo’s consciousness was already fading.

He’d broken three ribs—possibly crushed by Xia Xinyan lying atop him—and one had pierced an internal organ. A severe injury. Seeing the long list of debuffs in his status panel, he’d resigned himself to surrender.

He only wished to wait until Xia Xinyan left before granting himself release—a final vigil.

Yet she never left. That moved him deeply.

Even the pain in his body seemed to soften.

This was just a game, yet in this moment it felt utterly real, filling him with sorrow at a parting of life and death—*he* was the one being sent away.

Still… it warmed his heart.

He’d never felt true death, but guessed the simulation came close. In his overly sentimental days, he’d wondered: would anyone weep for him at the end? The answer was no.

He’d felt melancholy then. What does a life truly leave behind?

—Too philosophical. He’d stopped thinking about it.

But now, he was living that very feeling.

Xia Xinyan hadn’t cried. She’d simply sat silently on him. Yet that wordless vigil comforted him deeply. In this moment, he knew—he truly mattered to her.

That was enough.

—Until she suddenly kissed him.

The sewage-soaked trash beneath him had drained his warmth; his limbs were numbing. But that kiss felt like clouds parting in a night sky, revealing a canopy of stars.

Its impact dwarfed their first fleeting brush.

Perhaps this would become a memory he’d never forget.

The kiss lingered.

No—this barely qualified as a kiss. Neither had experience. Xia Xinyan had steeled herself to heal him; Ling Mo froze, mindlessly reciprocating, oblivious to his own changing body.

His wounds healed rapidly. Blood loss, chill, even fractured ribs mended at impossible speed. Within moments, mobility returned.

Sensing the shift, Xia Xinyan pulled away, climbed off, and stepped aside with faint embarrassment. “You… should be recovered now, right?”

Ling Mo paused. His injuries *were* gone. Even prior debuffs vanished. Only [Debilitated] remained—a minor speed and strength reduction, negligible now.

Could it be… Xia Xinyan?

That kiss… was it healing him?

“You…” He pushed up, expression odd. “Just now—”

“Ahem.” Xia Xinyan snatched her fallen pistol, turned away. “Let’s catch up with Murong Yue. They’re probably far ahead…”

Dim sewer lights spaced every ten meters barely illuminated the gloom. Yet Ling Mo caught the faint blush on her face just before she turned.

She… was flustered?

After two seconds, he let out a foolish grin.

*How* she healed him no longer mattered. Everyone had secrets—even couples. Ling Mo valued control, but wouldn’t pry. She’d tell him when ready. He could wait.

Besides… he’d been the one “benefiting.”

What struck him now: her genuine shyness.

So flustered she avoided his gaze for even a second before hurrying after the others. This revealed far more than before.

Xia Xinyan had always projected bold dominance, dropping hints he couldn’t ignore—yet that very awareness made him uneasy. Her advances felt excessive for their current bond. Not bad… just disarming.

*Overwhelmed with unexpected favor* fit perfectly.

But now… her true self seemed worlds apart from that act.

If she truly craved rushing intimacy, a kiss like that would’ve meant nothing. No way she’d blush *this* hard.

Unless he was blind—he knew: she’d been pretending.

Why? He didn’t know.

…Did she enjoy teasing him?

Ling Mo fell silent a moment, then followed.

Ah well. Who *doesn’t* like a girl who seems bold but is secretly pure-hearted?

Especially his girlfriend.

And seemingly *only* bold with him.

He almost smiled again.

Fatty and Murong Yue hadn’t gone far, slowing to wait. But seeing Ling Mo approach, Fatty blinked in surprise. “You respawned?”

Ling Mo smirked. “Surprised?”

“Surprised, sure…” Fatty eyed him, frowning. “How’d you recover?”

That fall had been brutal—they’d witnessed it. Even guessing the injuries meant weeks in ICU, Fatty was baffled. Miracle medicine?

Ling Mo glanced sideways at Xia Xinyan.

She fiddled with her phone’s navigation, utterly detached.

A faint smile touched his lips. “Secret.”

Fatty shrugged. “Fine. But we should hurry. Only two hours left. Ten kilometers to go, do.”

“No worries,” Xia Xinyan murmured. “Even if we miss rescue, the game offers other clears. Just exit the city before the five-hour deadline.”

The military sweep was the dungeon’s hard deadline. Escape routes existed until then—but miss it, and death was certain.

Fatty nodded. “Sooner we clear it, better, do. Dragging it out invites trouble, do.”

Ling Mo halted, staring at Fatty. “Wait. What did you say?”

“Huh? I said sooner, do…” Fatty repeated instinctively—then froze.

An eerie silence fell.

*Click—!*

The rack of a slide shattered the quiet. Murong Yue raised her loaded pistol, stepping back from Fatty. Xia Xinyan and Ling Mo followed, eyes sharpening with wariness.

Fatty: “….”

Damn it.