The Garden was steeped in a thick floral fragrance under the night sky, but Mu Xi had no heart to appreciate it.
She followed closely behind Tuesday, treading along the pebble-paved path, using the faint moonlight and scattered lamps to make out the surroundings.
Soon, Tuesday led her to a secluded corner of the Garden, where a hidden path lay tangled with weeds, nearly swallowing the trail whole.
Mu Xi recognized this place—it was where she and Tuesday had parted last time.
Back then, she hadn’t trusted Tuesday and watched as he walked alone down that very path.
Thinking back now, she felt foolish beyond measure for having missed a chance to escape.
A complicated wave of emotions surged in her chest—guilt toward Tuesday and frustration with herself.
She wanted to apologize to Tuesday for doubting him before, but the words caught in her throat; now was clearly not the time.
Even now, she didn’t fully trust Tuesday.
Escaping the Manor was the priority.
Tuesday seemed unaware of Mu Xi’s silence.
He walked to the Iron Fence Gate at the end of the path, pulled a small tool from his pocket, and expertly began to pick the lock.
The old lock creaked and groaned sharply, piercing the quiet night, tightening the knot in Mu Xi’s throat.
With a “click,” the lock popped open.
Tuesday pushed the Iron Fence Gate ajar and motioned for Mu Xi to follow.
Beyond the gate was a field of Ruins—broken walls and scattered rubble, revealing nothing of what the original structure had been.
The air smelled damp and decayed; the tall surrounding walls blocked the moonlight, leaving the area dark and adding an eerie chill.
Uneasy, Mu Xi tugged gently on Tuesday’s sleeve and whispered, “Is it… safe here?”
Tuesday glanced back at her, his eyes calm and resolute.
“Don’t worry. I checked in advance. Follow me.”
With that, he stepped into the depths of the Ruins first.
Mu Xi took a deep breath, gripping the hidden dining knife and fork concealed in her sleeve, mustering her courage to follow.
For freedom, for escaping Ye Lan’s clutches, she had to take this risk.
Deep within the Ruins, a pitch-black hole came into view, like the gaping maw of a beast ready to devour everything.
This was the entrance to the Basement.
Its edges were crumbling, exposing jagged bricks, making the decay even more obvious.
Tuesday jumped down without hesitation, moving with astonishing agility, landing with barely a sound.
Mu Xi cautiously leaned over the edge and looked down.
The Basement was shrouded in darkness; nothing was visible.
Only Tuesday’s voice echoed up from below, tinged with a simple warmth, “It’s okay. Jump down, I’ll catch you.”
Catch her?
Mu Xi’s lips curled into a cold smile.
She was no delicate girl.
“No need,” she said coolly, her tone distant, “I’m not that weak. You go first; I’ll follow behind.”
Her voice was low but carried undeniable firmness.
Tuesday seemed momentarily taken aback, then gave up pressing, replying, “Alright,” before turning toward the darkness.
Only then did Mu Xi flip herself down, her knee aching slightly on landing, but she ignored it and steadied herself quickly, eyes fixed on Tuesday’s retreating figure, maintaining a careful distance—not too close, not too far.
The tunnel smelled moldy and damp, cold and oppressive.
The low, arched ceiling barely allowed two to walk side by side.
The rough walls occasionally dripped water, the droplets falling to the floor with faint “tick-tock” sounds that echoed sharply in the silent passage.
Mu Xi tread lightly, trying not to make a sound.
The cold metal of the dining knife and fork in her hands gave her some reassurance.
After about ten minutes, the space suddenly opened up ahead—the tunnel connected to a room-like chamber.
It was small but fully furnished: a simple wooden table, several chairs, and a single bed tucked in a corner.
Food was scattered messily on the table; the fruit was already shriveled, and the dishes had long lost their warmth, clearly left there some time ago.
Tuesday sat down without ceremony, pointed to the food, and said to Mu Xi, “Let’s eat something. I prepared all this earlier. The road ahead is still long; you need to eat to keep your strength up.”
His tone was casual, as if they were truly friends.
Mu Xi looked at the food; hunger did gnaw at her.
But did she really dare eat?
Had Tuesday really prepared this?
Or was it another trap set by Miss Ye Lan?
Who knew if the food was drugged or worse?
“No, I’m not hungry.” Mu Xi declined coldly, her tone laced with clear suspicion.
Tuesday seemed to have expected her refusal.
He smiled, still simple and sincere but with a subtle hint of teasing.
“You’re always so cautious. Fine, watch me eat then. Don’t say I’m cruel—it’s your own choice not to eat.”
He picked up his chopsticks and ate as if starving, swallowing rapidly.
Mu Xi stood still, eyes coldly fixed on him, heart filled with wariness.
She studied Tuesday’s expression closely, searching for any crack, any sign of deception.
But Tuesday ate heartily, his face natural—nothing unusual.
Could it be that she was just overthinking?
Soon, Tuesday finished everything on the table, burped contentedly, stood up, and turned to Mu Xi, a hint of surprise on his face.
“You really won’t eat anything?”
Mu Xi remained silent, only meeting his gaze.
Tuesday pulled a bright red apple from his pocket, tossed it lightly in his hand, then earnestly offered it to Mu Xi.
“I’ve been carrying this with me. It’s completely safe. Take it—if you don’t want to eat now, just hold onto it. Eat it if you get really hungry.”
Mu Xi hesitated a moment, but in the end, took the apple.
Not because she trusted Tuesday, but because she needed something to ease the awkward silence.
“Thanks.” Her words were stiff.
The two continued forward, the tunnel narrowing further, the arched ceiling pressing close, intensifying the suffocating atmosphere.
Tuesday walked ahead and suddenly stopped, turning back to reach out a hand, palm up, cautious.
“Hold my hand—watch your step.”
Mu Xi looked at the rough, dark hand, the black grime from the mine still caked under the nails.
She didn’t move, just tilted her head slightly to avoid his touch.
“No need.”
Tuesday’s hand froze midair; his simple smile seemed to falter for a moment but quickly returned to normal.
He withdrew his hand, scratched his head, and gave an embarrassed smile while saying, “Alright, then just stay close behind me. The path ahead is tricky.”
Mu Xi pressed her lips tight and followed at a distance, never letting him get too close.
The tunnel was oppressively silent, broken only by their faint footsteps and the occasional drip of water falling from cracks in the wall—each drop tapping a sharp rhythm on Mu Xi’s nerves, filling her with restless unease.
After a short while, Mu Xi suddenly sensed that something was wrong.
It was a subtle feeling, like a tiny needle prick, but it instantly sharpened her alertness.
She racked her mind, trying to grasp that fleeting thought—what exactly was off?