The night was as black as ink, thick and impossible to dissolve, completely engulfing the Silent Language Building.
No lamps were lit. Only the occasional beam from Stone City’s searchlights outside the window briefly tore through the darkness before being swiftly stitched shut again.
Dead silence.
The air seemed frozen, carrying the metallic, dusty chill.
Mu Xi sat on the cold, large bed, clutching the doll called Liuli tightly in her arms.
The doll had glass-bead eyes that reflected nothing—hollow, just like her heart at that moment.
She was barefoot. The icy floor’s chill crept up from the soles of her feet, little by little eroding her limbs and bones.
Her fingers unconsciously stroked the Liuli’s cold, smooth cheek, again and again.
Ye Lan.
That name was like a scar, deeply branded into her soul.
Did she hate her?
Of course she did.
Hatred was like boiling magma in her chest, scorching every shred of her reason.
Ye Lan had killed her parents, destroyed everything she once had.
Ye Lan had imprisoned her, used every means to torment and force her, trampling her dignity underfoot.
Not long ago, in that dining hall, Ye Lan’s cold fingers had pinched her jaw, forcing her to eat like a lifeless doll. That humiliation was still clearly etched on her lips and teeth.
But… did she love her?
The moment that thought arose, it was like a viper’s tongue flickering, making her whole body tremble. Love the demon who had pushed her into the abyss? How could that be possible? How could she love her enemy?
During their escape, Ye Lan had taken her through the thin line between life and death. Yet fragments of memory surfaced inappropriately.
The burn scar on Ye Lan’s back—ferocious and deep.
The fleeting exhaustion Ye Lan occasionally revealed, and the frantic, possessive look in those deep phoenix eyes when they gazed at her.
And then.
Her gun—that cold black pistol—its muzzle pressed firmly against Ye Lan’s temple.
She only needed to gently pull the trigger, and all the pain and entanglement would end.
Her fingertip was already on the trigger, feeling that cold, deadly touch.
Ye Lan was right in front of her, close enough to touch.
No dodging, no fear, not even a single ripple.
Those phoenix eyes were still unfathomably deep, even carrying a hint of mocking amusement, as if certain she wouldn’t dare pull the trigger.
“Little Xi, don’t be difficult.” Ye Lan’s voice was low, carrying its usual imperious indulgence.
Then, under the threat of the gun, Ye Lan’s hand reached out and touched her cheek, the thumb pad with its thin calluses gently rubbing her skin.
At that moment, Mu Xi’s finger froze.
Not out of fear, but because of a more complex, more bewildering emotion.
Hatred still surged, but deep in her heart, something held her back.
Was it the interdependence during their escape?
Was it the “tenderness” Ye Lan occasionally showed, making her mistake it for something else? Or was it a morbid dependency she herself refused to admit?
In the end, she put down the gun. Not because she couldn’t bear it! It was because… she couldn’t understand herself.
Ye Lan smiled, a smile of understanding and overbearing arrogance.
“See? You still can’t bear to let me go.”
In the darkness, Mu Xi clenched her fists. Ye Lan acted with impunity.
Even with a gun to her head, she still did as she pleased—took off Mu Xi’s clothes, touched every inch of her skin with those calloused hands, whispered humiliating, commanding “training” words into her ear in that low voice.
Ye Lan said she was someone who responded to force, not kindness.
Ye Lan said she would make Mu Xi fall in love with her this way.
What was she even thinking?
What was this relationship of theirs? Enemies? Lovers? Master and pet?
Mu Xi had lived two lives, but never encountered such a ridiculous, twisted situation.
She felt like a crumpled piece of paper, having lost its original shape, letting Ye Lan smear and carve on it freely.
Where was the future?
All was gray.
Like the sky of Stone City outside the window—always a dull, yellow-gray haze.
Rebel?
She had tried.
Every rebellion felt like crashing into a hard steel wall. It only left her bruised and battered, changing nothing.
Ye Lan’s control was everywhere, from body to mind, airtight. This thought sent a chill through her heart.
Living was too painful.
Betrayal, killing, despair—like parasites clinging to the bones, gnawing at every survivor.
And she, Mu Xi, the princess of Wu City, holder of the so-called legitimate right of succession, was trapped in this gilded cage called the Silent Language Building, a plaything in Ye Lan’s palm.
Even her own body’s instincts, driven by drugs, were used to complete Ye Lan’s plan—the plan to use her as bait to lure Nan Qiao. And it succeeded. So what? She was still a pawn.
Ye Lan’s plan was grand and cold: use Nan Qiao, seize Stone City, then use Stone City’s power to help her retake Wu City…? She was still a pawn.
It sounded like it was for her own good.
But Mu Xi only found it ironic.
All of this was built on her pain and submission.
Keep clashing with Ye Lan?
Every verbal spar, every collision of gazes, seemed to drain the little strength she had left.
She was so tired.
Really, so tired.
Like struggling in a boundless, dark sea, unable to see the shore, unable to grab any driftwood.
Ye Lan was that sea—sometimes calm, sometimes turbulent. And she could only passively endure everything.
Maybe… just give up?
Let it all slide.
Admit it.
Admit she hated Ye Lan to the bone.
But also admit that, in the cracks of that hatred, something had sprouted—emotions even she couldn’t understand.
It wasn’t love, at least not the love she knew.
But that entanglement, that bond she couldn’t completely sever, made her hesitate the moment she raised the gun.
Admit she was tired, tired of disguising herself with thorns.
Admit she could perhaps try to comply.
Not because she yielded to Ye Lan’s training, not because of Stockholm Syndrome, but because she truly had no strength left to resist.
Why was fate so cruel?
She had once been a man, with a different identity and life.
One death, one rebirth, and she became “Mu Xi”—a delicate, weak woman, a princess burdened with city vengeance and family hatred, a puppet imprisoned and toyed with by her enemy.
But that meant another death. She desperately wanted to turn back.
Having experienced that bone-chilling cold and darkness, she feared death more than anyone. She also feared death.
And who could guarantee that after dying, there would be another rebirth?
Maybe this was her fate.
A gender she couldn’t choose, a hatred she couldn’t escape, a life she couldn’t control.
Accept it.
Mu Xi took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, as if trying to exhale the heavy stagnation in her chest.
The air was still cold, carrying the metallic smell unique to the Silent Language Building.
She looked down at the Liuli doll in her arms.
Those glass eyes still stared blankly at the ceiling.
Perhaps compliance was also a way to survive.
At least it would let her temporarily avoid so much pain, avoid being constantly tense, fighting against that woman too strong to resist.
As for love…
She didn’t know.
She didn’t want to know anymore.
She set the Liuli doll aside, slowly lay back on the bed, and pulled the cold blanket over herself.
In the darkness, she opened her eyes, staring at nothing.
Let it be.
Whatever Ye Lan wanted, she would give.
She closed her eyes, no longer thinking about those chaotic, painful emotional entanglements.
At least, until she found a real chance, she would survive first.
Her consciousness gradually blurred, sinking into the thick darkness.