Those humiliating, painful fragments, scene by scene, assaulted her mind, as clear as if they had happened yesterday.
Every time she was forced to submit, every time she was treated as a plaything, every scar and bruise… a wave of nausea churned in her stomach.
She rushed out of bed, staggering to the bathroom toilet, and began to retch violently.
Nothing came up, only the sour, bitter bile burning her throat.
That kiss just now, every inch of skin Ye Lan had touched now felt as if it were contaminated with a virulent poison, making her tremble with disgust.
How could she?
When she had lost her memory, how could she have developed that kind of dependence on Ye Lan?
How could she have tacitly allowed, even responded to, that kind of intimacy?
Thinking of her previous compliance and confusion, Mu Xi felt only waves of shame and anger intertwining, wishing she could completely erase that memory.
Truly… utterly stupid!
She supported herself against the cold wall, stood up, and walked to the mirror.
The girl in the mirror had a pale face and disheveled silver hair, but the emptiness and confusion in her eyes were gone, replaced by a cold flame—a deep-seated hatred.
Why had she suddenly regained clarity?
Mu Xi forced herself to calm down.
The Silent Language Building was as solid as a fortress—reinforced concrete, covered with alloy panels, almost completely isolated from the outside world.
‘Luoyuan’s chip… mental control…’ She looked around.
This building, almost entirely cut off from the outside world—Ye Lan had certainly spared no expense to imprison her, or rather, to “protect” her.
‘Blocking the signal?’
This thought flashed through her mind.
It was highly likely.
It was precisely because the Silent Language Building blocked the signal from Luoyuan’s control chip that she had been able to break free from its restraints.
This impenetrable “cage” had perhaps inadvertently blocked Luoyuan’s will.
Mu Xi twitched the corner of her mouth, revealing a cold smile.
Ye Lan would never have dreamed that this meticulously crafted safe house would become the very thing that allowed her to recover her memories.
She walked barefoot on the floor, feeling the chill, step by step back to the bedroom.
Now was not the time for impulsiveness.
Ye Lan would return soon, and outside were her Escort Team.
She had to keep up the act.
At least for now, she had to continue playing the role of the “obedient,” amnesiac Mu Xi.
But the voice in her heart roared: ‘Ye Lan, Luoyuan… what you owe me, I will take back, bit by bit, with interest!’
She lay back down on the bed, pulled the covers over herself, closed her eyes, and tried to steady her breathing.
***
Dawn broke.
The Silent Language Building was as quiet as ever, the smell of disinfectant in the air seeming slightly fainter.
Mu Xi silently got out of bed, her bare feet touching the floor, the cool sensation making her even more alert.
She made no sound, moving like a cat, slipping lightly into the kitchen on the first floor.
Everything here was kept in perfect order, the metal cookware reflecting a cold, hard light in the morning sun.
Her eyes quickly scanned the cabinets and drawers, finally settling on the magnetic knife rack by the counter.
A Western-style chef’s knife, with a long, slender blade and a chilling gleam.
This was it.
She stood on her tiptoes, reached out, and grasped the handle.
A cold sensation spread from her palm.
The knife had some weight to it.
Holding it made her heart, which was agitated with hatred, settle down a little.
Holding the knife, she quickly looked around, confirming there were no surveillance cameras pointed at this corner.
Then she turned and, just as silently, returned to her bedroom on the second floor.
‘Hide it directly under the pillow? No, too easy to discover.’
That woman Ye Lan was meticulous.
She walked to the bed, examined the soft, large mattress, then struggled to lift one corner.
She carefully slid the chef’s knife, along with a clean dishcloth she had taken from the kitchen, into the gap between the mattress and the bed frame.
The position was near the head of the bed, both hidden enough and convenient for her to retrieve as quickly as possible.
After stowing the weapon, she rearranged the bedding, smoothing out all traces.
Having done all this, she finally felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted.
She slid down against the bedpost to sit on the carpet, breathing heavily.
Her heart was pounding—not from fear, but from a mix of tension and excitement.
Ye Lan could push the door open at any moment.
She had to stay calm, had to pretend nothing had happened.
The waiting time felt exceptionally long.
To keep herself from overthinking and to increase her meager chances of success, she began to practice in the room.
Without a reference, relying entirely on imagination.
She faced the full-length mirror, miming the posture of holding the knife, simulating stabbing, slashing, and blocking movements.
At first, her movements were clumsy and laughable, like a child imitating an adult waving a toy.
But she repeated them over and over, her gaze growing more focused, more ruthless.
The girl in the mirror had a pale face, disheveled silver hair, and a body so thin it seemed it could be blown over by the wind.
Yet the fire burning in her eyes was enough to incinerate everything.
She didn’t need to master combat.
She just needed one chance, one fatal opportunity.
Sweat trickled down her temples.
She didn’t bother to wipe it.
She just stared fixedly at her reflection in the mirror, imagining Ye Lan’s face, imagining the feel of the blade cutting through skin.
Every swing carried a silent curse.
Her stamina was draining rapidly.
Her physical foundation was too weak after all.
Such intense, explosive movements were a tremendous burden for her.
Her arms began to ache, her breathing grew ragged, the silver hair on her forehead was damp with sweat, sticking to her pale skin.
All the humiliation and hatred in her heart poured into the tip of the imaginary blade.
But she didn’t stop.
Instead, she put more force into it, as if trying to vent all the pain bottled up inside.
“Knock, knock.”
A sudden knocking sounded at the door, neither too loud nor too soft, with a distinctive rhythm.
Mu Xi stiffened.
Reacting almost instantly, she sharply turned her body away from the mirror, quickly wiped the sweat from her forehead and cheeks, and took several deep breaths, forcing her racing heart to calm down.
The vengeful figure with the ruthless eyes in the mirror vanished, replaced by a girl with a somewhat dazed, slightly frightened-deer expression.
“Who is it?” she called out, her voice deliberately tinged with a hint of timidity and hoarseness.
Ye Lan’s voice came from outside the door, carrying her usual, slightly low and magnetic tone, but now sounding particularly gentle, “Little Xi, it’s me. Are you awake?”
She was here.
Mu Xi lowered her eyelids, hiding the flash of ice in her eyes.
She walked to the door but didn’t open it immediately.
Instead, through the door panel, she answered in a sleepy, soft voice, “Mm… just woke up.”
“Breakfast is ready. May I come in?” Ye Lan’s voice sounded very patient.
“Wait a moment.” Mu Xi quickly scanned the room, confirming nothing was amiss.
The bed was neatly made, no sweat stains on the floor, the knife safely hidden under the mattress.
She walked to the bed and sat down, pulling the quilt up to her waist, pretending she had just woken up.
Then she raised her voice, “You can come in now.”
A soft “click” came from the lock as Ye Lan pushed the door open and walked in.
Today, she was wearing a fitted black combat suit that accentuated her tall, straight figure.
Her jet-black hair was tied in a high ponytail, revealing her smooth forehead and those deep, phoenix eyes.
In her hands was a tray holding steaming milk, toast, and a small dish of jam.
Ye Lan’s gaze fell on Mu Xi’s face, carrying scrutiny, but more than that, an indescribable tenderness.
She walked to the bedside, placed the tray on the nightstand, then very naturally reached out a hand to feel Mu Xi’s forehead.
Mu Xi instinctively flinched back.
Ye Lan’s hand paused in mid-air, her eyes darkening slightly, but she quickly resumed her gentle expression, “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?”
“N-no… nothing.” Mu Xi lowered her head, her voice faint, “It’s just… I’m still not used to it.”
She raised her eyes, giving Ye Lan a quick glance, her eyes filled with the kind of confusion and unease unique to an amnesiac.
“Ye Lan… you, you’re so good to me.”
These insincere words made her stomach churn again, but on the surface, she forced a shy, dependent smile.
She saw Ye Lan’s eyes light up slightly at her words, “you’re so good to me,” and the corner of her mouth lifted a little.
‘Good. Keep it up.‘ Mu Xi sneered inwardly, ‘Acting. Who can’t do that?’