A long, slow exhale mingled with the warm steam, spreading a layer of white mist across the bathroom.
Su Yun sank into the newly acquired constant-temperature bath, revealing only her smooth shoulders and neck. Her porcelain-white skin was flushed a delicate peach-pink from the 42-degree water, and a few strands of wet black hair clung to the side of her neck, swaying slightly with her soft breaths.
The bathtub was an oversized model she had specially chosen, its edges wrapped in soft velvet. As she soaked, the warm water, carrying a faint lavender scent, gently kneaded away the tension that had been coiled in her nerves for days.
No more constantly watching Mo Qingqing’s expression. No more putting on a soft, obedient voice. No more tiptoeing around under the other girl’s controlling desire.
This complete release of pretense, this sense of relaxation that belonged only to herself, made her unable to help letting out another long sigh. Her fingertips idly stirred the water, sending droplets splashing onto the edge of the tub, shattering into tiny splashes.
“It feels so good not having to serve anyone.”
She murmured softly, the corners of her eyes curving slightly, but there was no real smile in them—only a cold, sober clarity.
Mo Qingqing’s transformation today had indeed eased the weight on her heart by more than half.
That person, who had always been aloof and had “control” etched into her very bones, had finally been willing to lay down her proud stance. Her eyes hid a panic and concern she herself hadn’t even noticed, and she had even actively softened her tone, no longer putting on that domineering “I want you to do this, so you must do it” attitude.
But Su Yun knew better than anyone that this was only temporary.
A yandere and a lovesick fool were always separated by just a paper-thin membrane.
The former was a paranoid possessiveness: “You are mine, only mine, even if I have to destroy you, I won’t give you to anyone else.”
The latter was a groveling desire to please: “I’ll do whatever you say, as long as you don’t leave me.”
They seemed worlds apart, but at their core, both were extreme obsessions. With a single misstep, that desire to please could easily slide into uncontrollable madness.
Right now, Mo Qingqing still put on an air of cold aloofness, her school uniform collar buttoned all the way up, her back straight as a rod, and even when standing in front of her, she deliberately maintained a certain distance.
But those frequent glances that drifted over, those clenched and then released fingers, that urgency hidden in the depths of her eyes—they had long since sold out her intentions.
“This won’t do.”
Su Yun pressed her fingertip against the edge of the bath. The cool ceramic surface sharpened her foggy mind.
She understood the nature of human weakness too well. The easier something is to get, the less it’s treasured.
The more readily available the gentleness, the easier it is to discard like a worn-out shoe.
If she went along with Mo Qingqing’s wishes right now and accepted her flattery without reservation, it might buy her a moment of being valued.
But once that novelty faded, once Mo Qingqing slowly realized that she had been deceived and toyed with from the very beginning, what awaited her would only be a backlash even more terrifying than in her previous life.
The image flooded her mind uncontrollably.
A dim room. Cold chains.
Mo Qingqing, red-eyed, gripping her chin, asking over and over: “Why did you lie to me?” “You can only be mine.”
The madness and brokenness in those eyes—even just imagining it sent a chill down her spine.
She absolutely could not let that situation happen!
But she couldn’t push her away completely either.
A refusal that was too harsh would only ignite Mo Qingqing’s possessiveness. If that paranoia, already etched into her blood and bones, made her feel that “Su Yun is going to leave me for good,” she would only try to bind and imprison her with reckless abandon.
At that point, the situation would spiral completely out of control, with no room left for maneuvering.
“Ughhh!”
Su Yun grabbed her hair in frustration, splashing water even higher, wetting her face. Cold droplets slid down her jawline, snapping her back to reality.
Right.
The bloody lessons from the novels of her past life, the plots consumed by obsession—they had now become her best bargaining chips.
Su Yun looked up at the warm, circular light on the bathroom ceiling.
The steam blurred the light, but it only made her eyes clearer.
A faint, calculating smile slowly curled at the corners of her lips, like a hunter watching its prey enter the trap—calm and confident.
“Looks like I’ll have to play the fisherman.”
The fish had to be reeled in slowly. The line had to be tightened gradually.
Too fast, and the prey would be startled away. Too loose, and it would slip off the hook.
Only by alternating between tension and relaxation, by being sometimes close and sometimes distant, by making the prey anxious and fixated, by transforming the prey from a “controller” into a “pursuer,” could she make them willingly take the bait, unable to escape.
This game, she had to win.
The night passed without a single dream.
The next morning, when the morning light filtered through the curtain gap and into the room, Su Yun was already packed and quickly left the house.
It was the familiar classroom, the familiar seat.
The afternoon sun was especially glaring, slanting through the glass window and spilling onto the wooden desks, stirring up fine dust that floated in the air.
The classroom was buzzing with noise, students gathered in twos and threes to chat, but the corner where Su Yun sat was as quiet as a different world.
Just like yesterday, she sat quietly in the corner, her back straight, her head down as she flipped through a textbook on soul arts theory. Her fingertips traced over the pages covered in dense text, her gaze focused, as if nothing around her concerned her.
And Mo Qingqing stood right in front of her.
She had Su Yun firmly cornered between the wall and the desk, her tall figure casting a thick shadow that enveloped Su Yun completely, blocking even the sunlight.
Compared to yesterday, Mo Qingqing today was clearly more than one degree more agitated.
She was usually cold-eyed, her jawline taut, radiating an “approach and die” low-pressure aura that even the most boisterous boys in the class dared not come within three feet of.
But now, those deep, ink-black eyes seemed drawn by a magnet, frequently and uncontrollably drifting toward Su Yun.
From the top of Su Yun’s bowed head, to her slender, curling eyelashes, to her delicate fingers holding the pen, even to her lightly pursed, pale pink lips—her gaze was stuck like glue, unable to look away for a moment.
She thought she was being very discreet.
But Su Yun’s ability to read these emotions had long been honed to perfection.
She appeared to be focused on her textbook, but her peripheral vision was catching every little movement Mo Qingqing made, every bit of panic and urgency hidden in her eyes.
The clenched fist, the lightly tapping toe, the drifting gaze, even the faint blush spreading to the tips of her ears—none of it escaped Su Yun.
But she pretended not to notice.
Whatever it was, it could wait until school was over.
She still needed her credits for now, so there was no need to cause trouble during class, and even less reason to prematurely pierce this delicate window of ambiguity.
Su Yun’s calm indifference formed a stark contrast with Mo Qingqing’s restless anxiety.
The air was thick with a tense and ambiguous atmosphere, like a string pulled to its breaking point, ready to snap with the slightest touch.
The students around them seemed to sense the strange tension too; no one dared to approach this area, and even their voices unconsciously lowered.
Time ticked by, each second feeling like an agony for Mo Qingqing.
She stood there, staring at Su Yun’s profile, rehearsing the words she would say over and over in her mind, her palms sweating.
Until the dismissal bell finally rang, its shrill sound cutting through the classroom’s silence and breaking the deadlock between them.
Mo Qingqing, as if finally receiving a signal to release, took a deep breath, suppressed the emotions churning inside her, cleared her throat, and spoke in a voice that carried a trace of barely perceptible tension, along with a hint of deliberately softened flattery.
“Cough… Well… there’s a new self-service BBQ restaurant that just opened in the city center. I heard they use fresh meat from beast realms; it’s supposed to be really fragrant and has excellent reviews. Do you… would you like to go try it together?”
She stood in front of Su Yun, her eyes slightly downcast, her usually cold, icy voice now carrying nine parts of careful hesitation, and even a slight tremor at the end.
She had been mentally preparing this invitation since the first period of the morning, silently rehearsing it countless times. She had even asked someone to go ahead and find out the restaurant’s location, business hours, and signature dishes, and had memorized the sweet dipping sauce Su Yun might like.
She had even thought that if Su Yun agreed, she would go early to save a seat and grill all of her favorite dishes herself, just like Su Yun used to serve her, but this time to flatter her in return.
Her heart was full of anticipation, like a balloon about to burst, waiting for Su Yun to say a single word: “Okay.”
Su Yun’s hand, which was turning a page, paused. Her fingertips stopped on the page for a full three seconds.
She slowly looked up at Mo Qingqing in front of her.
The sunlight shone from behind her, coating her in a thin layer of gold, making her features appear soft, her long eyelashes casting a faint shadow beneath her eyes.
Then, she gave a light smile.
It was a very faint smile, but it carried a distant warmth. Her tone was calm, yet it held an undeniable refusal.
“No, I already have plans with Ning Tang and Lin Wan. We’re going to a dessert shop after school for strawberry cake. I reserved a spot a long time ago.”
“…”
The anticipation on Mo Qingqing’s face froze instantly, as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her, chilling her from head to toe.
Those eyes that had been shining gradually dimmed. Her ink-black pupils churned with disappointment and shock. The curve of her lips also froze in place, and even her breath seemed to stop for a beat.
Her clenched fist tightened even more, her knuckles turning pale, her nails almost digging into her palm. The pain did nothing to suppress the emptiness in her heart.
She had prepared for an entire day, made all the arrangements, and opened her mouth full of joy, only to receive a light, “I already have plans.”
Seeing Mo Qingqing frozen in place, not saying a word for a long time, her gaze even turning hollow, Su Yun looked up at her, her eyes carrying a perfectly appropriate hint of confusion, along with a faint, barely perceptible distance.
“Is there anything else?”
Her tone was very calm, as if she were asking an irrelevant stranger, devoid of any warmth.
Mo Qingqing’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently, as if something was stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t speak for a long time.
After a long while, she finally found her voice.
It was so low it sounded like a mosquito’s hum, several degrees softer than usual, and carried a hint of grievance, pleading, and even a touch of desperate urgency that she herself hadn’t noticed.
“…What about tomorrow? Tomorrow I can wait for you. No matter when you’re free, I’ll wait.”
“No, I can’t do that either. I have plans to farm soul beads with them tomorrow. I promised a long time ago, so I can’t break my word.”
Su Yun refused almost without hesitation, her tone as natural as could be, as if she really did have prior arrangements, leaving no room for negotiation.
Mo Qingqing’s shoulders sagged slightly, and the cold, sharp aura around her instantly dimmed, as if all her strength had been drained away.
She lowered her head, her long bangs hiding the emotions in her eyes. All that could be seen were her tightly pressed lips and slightly trembling fingertips.
Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, filled with a dejected, lost feeling and a hint of humble pleading.
“…Then… when are you free?”
The words were as light as a breeze, but they carried a heavy weight, crashing into the air.
She didn’t even dare to lift her head and look into Su Yun’s eyes, afraid of seeing boredom, impatience, or even disgust in them.
She was afraid Su Yun would say, “I’m never free,” afraid that Su Yun would truly abandon her for good.
Seeing her looking so dejected and humbled to the dust, Su Yun raised an eyebrow slightly, a faint smile flashing in her eyes, too quick to catch.
The heat was just about right.
Pushing any further would backfire and cause Mo Qingqing’s paranoia to erupt fully.
Fishing was all about knowing when to take the gain and when to give back, when to tighten and when to loosen.
She was silent for a few seconds before slowly speaking. Her voice was clear and light, but it was like a stone thrown into the stagnant lake of Mo Qingqing’s heart, rippling in layers.
“Then the day after tomorrow. I’ll be free after school the day after tomorrow.”
Almost the moment the words left Su Yun’s mouth, Mo Qingqing immediately responded:
“Okay!”
Her voice held an undeniable joy, relief, and a hint of post-crisis gratitude.
In her eyes, Su Yun’s willingness to agree to have a meal with her meant she hadn’t been completely pushed away. It meant there was still a chance for reconciliation between them, and it meant she still had an opportunity to keep Su Yun by her side.
As long as there was still a chance, she would never let go.
Even if she had to drop all her pride, even if she had to grovel and flatter, even if she had to become the person she most despised, she would keep Su Yun in her grasp.
Seeing the joy and obsession churning in Mo Qingqing’s eyes, Su Yun’s smile deepened.
The fish had already started to take the bait.
Now, all she had to do was slowly reel in the line.