But she didn’t.
Standing over her, looking down. She could feel that Ye Lan hadn’t left immediately but was standing by the bed, her gaze scrutinizing and probing, making her extremely uncomfortable.
She forced herself to hold onto the last shred of clarity, slowly opening her eyes to look at Ye Lan.
“Sleep,” Ye Lan said, her voice returning to its usual flatness, betraying no emotion. She bent down to pull the blanket up for Mu Xi, her fingertips brushing against Mu Xi’s cheek unintentionally.
Mu Xi flinched slightly.
Ye Lan paused for a moment, then withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened and straightened up.
The sound of footsteps faded away. The door was gently closed, emitting a faint click.
“Get some rest.” She left these words behind, then turned and walked toward the door.
Finally, only Mu Xi remained in the room. After confirming that Ye Lan had truly left, Mu Xi’s tense nerves abruptly relaxed.
An immense exhaustion engulfed her like a tide.
But she didn’t fall asleep immediately.
She turned sideways, curling up, burying her face in the soft pillow. In the darkness, her eyes were startlingly bright, churning with bone-deep hatred and a sliver of icy resolve.
The light outside the window was that peculiar grayish hue unique to a post-apocalyptic wasteland, carrying a sense of accumulated dust. It managed to spill a few faint rays through the thick alloy windows, cutting stiff blocks of light and shadow onto the cold metal floor.
Mu Xi slept deeply, as if trying to make up for all the sleep she had lost. This slumber felt as long as crossing an epoch.
She was awakened by a sharp pang of hunger deep within her body. Her throat was parched as if about to smoke, her stomach completely empty, letting out soft protests.
The moment consciousness returned, what struck her first wasn’t the physical discomfort—it was that omnipresent, bone-tired exhaustion, along with the bitter hatred.
She moved her fingers, touching the soft yet cold sheets beneath her.
This was the Silent Language Building, Ye Lan’s cage to imprison her.
The air carried a faint scent of disinfectant mixed with the cold, hard aura of metal.
She remembered Ye Lan had come last night, remembered that scrutinizing, probing gaze, remembered the momentary shiver when her fingertips accidentally brushed her cheek.
But she just turned over, burying her face in the pillow, and closed her eyes again.
Hungry? Thirsty?
So what?
In this ice-cold cage, her feelings, her needs—they had never mattered.
Ye Lan said she would give her freedom, spoil her.
What a ridiculous lie.
That was just another form of control, more insidious, more cruel.
She would rather return to the direct torment of the past; at least then she could hate purely.
Half-consciously, time lost its meaning.
She didn’t know how long had passed when she woke again.
This time, the hunger was even stronger, almost making her dizzy.
The light outside had turned to the intense glare of noon. Though still filtered through the heavy windows, it still stabbed her eyes painfully.
She struggled to sit up. Her silver hair slid over her shoulders, making her delicate face look even paler.
Her body felt like lead; every movement was excruciatingly difficult.
Barefoot, she stepped onto the cold metal floor and walked to the door. In the corridor, there was indeed a tray with lunch on it. Simple food: a bowl of thick soup, a few pieces of hard bread, and some jerky that looked unrecognizable.
She picked up the tray, returned to the bedroom, sat by the bed, and silently stuffed the food into her mouth quickly.
It tasted like wax.
After eating, she belatedly remembered she should have washed up first.
‘Truly… I’ve been so tormented I’ve almost forgotten basic living habits.’
She walked into the bathroom. The cold tap water splashed onto her face, bringing a brief moment of clarity.
The mirror reflected a face that was overly delicate yet lifeless. Those eyes, once lively and expressive, were now only hollow and cold. Long lashes drooped low, hiding all surging emotions.
When she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, steam still rising from her body, her heart suddenly clenched.
Ye Lan was standing in the middle of the bedroom.
She wore a black combat suit, outlining her tall, powerful figure. Her jet-black hair was casually tied back, and those deep, phoenix-shaped eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her.
When did she come in?
Mu Xi instinctively stepped back, gripping her towel tighter.
Ye Lan didn’t speak, just quietly watched her. Beneath that calm surface seemed to lurk some indescribable undercurrent.
Mu Xi noticed that there was now a half-person-high wooden basin on the floor of the room.
The rim of the basin had rough, wooden grain patterns, looking quite old. Beside it, things were scattered haphazardly: red berries, a few bunches of purple grapes, some golden, unidentifiable tubers, and even a few pieces of bread that looked freshly baked.
These… ingredients?
A premonition of ill omen flashed through Mu Xi’s mind.
“Awake?” Ye Lan finally spoke, her tone still flat and unreadable. “Slept well, Little Xi’er?”
Mu Xi didn’t answer, just looked at her warily.
Ye Lan took two steps forward, stopped in front of the wooden basin, and lightly nudged its rim with her toe. She tilted her head, looking at Mu Xi, the corner of her mouth lifting into a faint smile—a smile that held no warmth.
“I haven’t had lunch yet,” she said slowly. “Today, you’ll make it.”
Mu Xi’s breath caught.
Cook?
Her? For Ye Lan?
“But,” Ye Lan paused, then added, “Use your feet.”
Mu Xi’s pupils contracted sharply.
She almost thought she had misheard.
Ye Lan meant for her to use her feet to stomp those fruits, bread, and unknown tubers into a pulp, mix them together, and then… feed them to her?
An indescribable wave of nausea and humiliation surged into Mu Xi’s heart.
Her face turned even paler, her lips trembling slightly.
“Is there a problem?” Ye Lan raised an eyebrow, apparently satisfied with Mu Xi’s reaction. “Hm?”
Mu Xi bit her lower lip hard, almost drawing blood.
She forced herself to calm down, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor: “I… I slept all day yesterday and haven’t washed my feet.”
It was the only, the most feeble resistance she could think of.
She hoped Ye Lan would give up this absurd idea out of disgust.
“That’s even… better.”
Those five words, like poison-tipped ice picks, stabbed deeply into Mu Xi’s heart. Ye Lan’s smile deepened, taking on a near-cruel amusement.
“Is that so?” She let out a soft laugh, her voice carrying a hint of pleasure. “Is that so?”
Ye Lan didn’t care at all about cleanliness or dirtiness!
What she wanted was this ultimate humiliation!
She wanted to see her struggle, see her resist, see her finally submit!
Ye Lan was using this method to remind her that no matter how calm or obedient she appeared, in her eyes, she would always be a toy that could be trampled and toyed with!
Freedom, spoiling—all bullshit!
This woman was simply insane! A complete lunatic!
Mu Xi’s body trembled slightly from anger and humiliation.
But in the end, she slowly released her clenched fists.
Resist?
Was it useful?
In the face of this absolute power disparity, any resistance would only invite harsher treatment.
Li Xin and Little An were still waiting for her.
She couldn’t act impulsively.
She had to endure.
One day… one day she would make Ye Lan pay! A hundredfold! A thousandfold!