Chapter 310: Self

This was a long-lost comfort, one that almost made her want to cry.

She closed her eyes and sank her entire body into the water, leaving only her face exposed. The hot water gently licked her skin, soothing her tense muscles and nerves. The压抑 and exhaustion of the past few days seemed to melt away little by little in this warmth.

Water droplets slid down her pale neck and disappeared into the water, creating tiny ripples.

Her silver hair clung wetly to her shoulders and back, like seaweed.

She washed her body slowly, her movements gentle, almost reverent.

Her fingertips traced across her skin, feeling its fineness and smoothness, along with a strange sense of unfamiliarity.

This body had endured too much pain and humiliation. Ye Lan’s lashes, Luo Yuan’s chip, the hardships of the escape, and now the hopelessness of this imprisonment.

Yet it still lived, still retained its youthful vitality and startling beauty.

She raised her arm and watched the water droplets roll down from her rounded shoulder.

Her skin had turned a faint pink from the hot water, like peach blossoms on a branch in early spring.

She remembered how Ye Lan used to “appreciate” this body, with that look of aggression and possessiveness.

She also remembered how Ye Lan had mercilessly left scars on this body.

But this time, another, more complex emotion quietly surfaced. She needed this body, needed it to be healthy enough to support her survival.

‘Using that method to deceive another person. Just thinking about that plan makes my stomach churn. Using my own body… how is that any different from Ye Lan?’

‘No, there is a difference. I’m doing this for Li Xin and Little An, for revenge. How is that any different from Ye Lan?’

She told herself this, over and over.

The water gradually cooled.

She stood up from the bathtub, water droplets pattering back onto the surface.

Grabbing the soft towel nearby, she dried her body. The bathroom mirror was covered in a thin layer of steam.

She walked over, raised a finger, and wiped a clear patch on the mirror’s surface.

In the mirror, a face of exquisite beauty was reflected. The swirling mist gave her a hazy, ethereal glow.

Her silver hair hung wetly on both sides of her face, water dripping from the ends.

Her skin was fair and translucent, like the finest suet jade.

Those eyes, now devoid of the fear and timidity of the past, and without any deliberate coldness, held only a deep, bottomless calm—a calm so profound it was almost hollow.

Her long eyelashes still held droplets of water, trembling slightly.

Her lips were naturally rosy, made even fuller and more tempting by the hot water.

She looked at herself in the mirror, somewhat lost.

This was Mu Xi.

The princess of Wu City, the orphan who had lost both parents, Ye Lan’s disciple, Luo Yuan’s former puppet.

Who was she? Who was she, really?

The image in the mirror was so clear, yet so foreign.

She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips lightly touching the mirror’s surface. A cold sensation came through. A layer of cold glass separated them. The person in the mirror did the same, her fingertips meeting hers across that face.

A fragment of a soul belonging to “Mu Xi.” She stared for a long time, until the steam on the mirror rose again. She wiped another small patch and gazed into those eyes, trying to find something familiar.

An absurd thought intruded into her mind without warning. Her gaze fell on the rosy lips of the mirror image.

She leaned forward slightly, closing the distance to the mirror. Her warm breath fell on the cold glass, instantly clearing a small patch of mist.

She closed her eyes. Then, gently, she pressed her lips to the mirror.

Cold. Hard. No warmth, no response. Only the soft feeling of her own lips and the cold barrier of the mirror.

A phantom kiss, like an embrace with herself. As if to confirm her own existence, or to mourn something that was lost.

She opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror, lips pressed against the glass. Her gaze was blank.

Why did she do this?

She didn’t know.

Perhaps it was because she was too lonely. In this cold cage, the only “companion” she could see, could touch, was her reflection in the mirror.

Perhaps it was a subconscious rehearsal for and resistance against Ye Lan’s plan. She would have to use these lips to complete a dirty transaction. So before that, she would leave a pure, purposeless kiss for herself.

Or perhaps it was simply that, after everything she had been through, she needed a way to prove to herself that she was still “alive,” that she could still feel her lips were soft, unlike this cage, which was cold and hard.

The mirror was covered again by the rising steam, and the lip mark disappeared.

She straightened up and walked away from the mirror, as if nothing had happened. She did not look back at the mirror.

Mu Xi wrapped herself in a bath towel and walked barefoot on the cold floor, water droplets falling from the ends of her hair, leaving small, fleeting wet marks on the floor.

Back in the bedroom, she did not immediately put on clothes. Instead, she walked to the window.

The window was made of special bulletproof glass. Outside, there was only the deep night, or rather, the sky of Stone City that was forever yellowish from the lights.

No stars were visible, no moon.

Only the figures of patrolling soldiers on the distant high walls, and beyond that, the huge shadows cast by the city’s steel buildings.

Everything here was suffocatingly hard.

She reached out, her fingertips tracing the cold glass.

“Ye Lan…” she whispered the name, her voice carrying neither hatred nor anything else. “What exactly do you want to turn me into?”

Silence was her only answer.

She stood there for a long time, until the warmth of her body gradually dissipated and she felt a chill. Only then did she turn and walk to the wardrobe.

Ye Lan had prepared many clothes for her, of various styles and fine quality. But she only chose the simplest, most plain ones to wear.

After dressing, she sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the black pistol.

The gun was cold and heavy in her hand.

She was no longer as afraid of it as she had been when she first got it. She could even skillfully check the magazine and assume a aiming posture.

The muzzle pointed at the empty wall.

Her finger rested on the trigger, feeling the cold metal.

If she pulled it, there would be a loud bang, a mark would be left, a proof of her resistance.

But in the end, she slowly released her finger and put the gun back under her pillow.

She lay down on the bed, pulled the covers over herself, and forced her eyes shut.

Now was not the time. Now was not the time. She had to rest, had to conserve her energy.

Tomorrow would be another day.

Day after day, in this cage called Silent Language Building.

Until Ye Lan returned, or until an opportunity presented itself.

She curled up, licking her wounds in the dark, gathering her meager strength.

After an unknown amount of time, a slight noise came from downstairs—the sound of a metal gate opening and then closing.

Mu Xi’s eyes snapped open, her heart tightening instantly.

She held her breath and listened.

The footsteps were steady, rhythmic, with the metallic echo unique to the building. They struck the dead silence of the stairwell, and also struck Mu Xi’s taut nerves.

That footstep was especially clear—the crisp, sharp sound of military boots on metal stairs, carrying an unquestionable authority.

It was her.

Mu Xi recognized it almost immediately.

No one else but Ye Lan would walk with such a stride in this cage, as if this place were not a prison, but her palace.