“Don’t mess around.”

Tianzheng fell silent for a moment, then gave Bai Xia a light tap on the head, trying to calm her down.

After all, they’d walked half a day to finally reach this spot. The underground ruins were right there—yet she wanted to turn back now? Are you out of your mind?

Bai Xia wasn’t suggesting a stroll just because she was bored. Nor was she entirely joking. She just… had a fear of heights.

And honestly, it wasn’t her fault. This place was *way* too high! Sure, the ruins loomed across the chasm, but the floating stone steps connecting the two sides were crumbling badly—so fragile one wrong step might shatter them completely.

How was anyone supposed to walk on *that*?

Worse, dozens of gravity-defying steps hovered over the abyss, with noticeable gaps between each.

Bai Xia glanced down at her short legs, seriously doubting she could even make the jump.

And even if she *could* jump… mustering the courage was another problem entirely.

She’d long stopped thinking ultra-realistic graphics were always a good thing. It was like horror movies: cheap, low-budget effects versus blockbuster visuals created totally different experiences—and totally different levels of dread.

Now, staring at those so-called “steps” (more like floating rocks), the hyper-realistic environment made Bai Xia’s legs feel weak.

Yep. She was scared.

Bai Xia had never been brave. Standing near the edge of a three-story building made her dizzy. How could she handle *this*?

Sure, it was just a game—but who said you couldn’t get scared playing one? It wasn’t about the game. It was the dizzying height, the treacherous path, the crushing realism. Fear was just… natural.

“…Bai Xia. Are you afraid of heights?” Tianzheng noticed her pale face, paused, then asked quietly.

Bai Xia froze, then shot back instinctively: “Hah? Nonsense! I just think these steps look dangerous and— Wah!? What are you *doing*!?”

Before she finished, Tianzheng gave her a gentle nudge from behind. Startled, Bai Xia shuddered and reflexively clamped onto his arm—grip tight as a drowning person grasping a lifeline.

Eyes locked. After a long silence, Bai Xia stopped struggling. Head lowered, expression somber.

“…Okay. Fine. I admit it. I’m *a little* afraid of heights.”

*Just* a little?

Seeing her grip still locked on his arm, Tianzheng wisely said nothing.

He scanned the path ahead, frowning slightly.

No way Bai Xia could cross this alone. But turning back now? Idiotic. So…

“No choice. I’ll carry you across.”

He assessed the damaged steps and gaps. Since they sloped downward, jumping while carrying someone should work.

“Carry me?” Bai Xia hesitated. It *was* a solid plan… but would he take liberties again?

Ugh. Was the earlier chest grab and butt touch not enough? Was this guy seriously one of those harem protagonists who casually gets away with touching girls?!

Unaware he’d been branded a “harem protagonist,” Tianzheng tilted his head. “What’s wrong? Close your eyes if you’re scared. It’s quick.”

As he spoke, he crouched down. But Bai Xia didn’t move. She just stared at his back, expression suddenly distant.

Only her father had ever carried her like this. Her clearest memory: burning with fever one stormy midnight. He’d thrown on clothes, hoisted her up, and trudged through pouring rain to the clinic.

Cold rain. Warm back. A safety so deep it stayed with her even through delirium.

But now…

Her chest tightened. She might never see those warm memories again.

No family. No friends.

In this strange world, even small things triggered a suffocating feeling. Her heart ached, sharp and sudden.

“Bai Xia?”

Tianzheng’s voice pulled her back. She wiped her eyes hastily, meeting his puzzled look.

“I mean… you don’t have to cry just ’cause you don’t want me to carry you.”

“…Who’s crying.”

Thankfully, the game didn’t render tears. She was genuinely grateful—she hated showing weakness.

She took a slow breath. “Your move just now… reminded me of my dad.”

“Do I look *that* old?”

“…I mean, only my dad ever carried me. So I thought of him. Wait—are *you* trying to take advantage?”

“Impossible.” Tianzheng waved it off. Sensing her mood shift, he didn’t press. He lowered his back further. “Enough talk. Hop on.”

“First warning: hands where I can see ’em. Or I’ll kill you.”

Bai Xia relented. Awkward? Yes. But the ruins were *right there*. No turning back. A warning was non-negotiable.

Tianzheng shot her a helpless look, dead serious. “Do I seem like *that* guy?”

“Aren’t you?”

“…Fine. I am.”

“…” How thick was this guy’s skin? Bai Xia was speechless—but weirdly, the banter eased the gloom. (Though the urge to kick him into the abyss grew stronger.)

Kicking him? Not happening. *Yet.*

After a beat, she climbed onto his back—and pressed her dagger against his neck.

“Touch anywhere you shouldn’t… and I’ll take you down with me.”