She slowly opened her eyes again.
The light seemed to sting her newly awakened eyes, so she blinked once more.
Her eyes were hollow and lifeless, as if covered by a thin layer of obsidian, having lost their former intimidating luster.
The spark in her eyes was scattered, filled with the confusion of a long coma.
Then, as if pulled by some force, she slowly, very slowly, turned her gaze toward the bedside.
Her vision had no focus, wandering over the ceiling for a moment, and then Mu Xi’s heart nearly leaped out of her throat.
Ye Lan’s gaze finally landed on her face.
Those eyes were no longer hollow; they began to slowly focus, weak, full of exhaustion, and still carrying a hint of not yet fully awake scrutiny.
Then, her gaze became fixed, as if nailed to that spot, not moving.
Time seemed to stand still.
Mu Xi could clearly see her own reflection in Ye Lan’s eyes—so small, so disheveled.
Her clothes were half-open, revealing large patches of snow-white skin.
There were still ambiguous marks on her chest, her hair was slightly messy, and her face showed fatigue and a lingering flush.
Like this, she must look very unsightly.
But Ye Lan’s gaze grew deeper and deeper, darker and darker, like a deep, unfathomable cold pool, slowly, slowly beginning to stir with some obscure and hard-to-read emotion.
What was it?
The emotion was too complex, too intense, that Mu Xi couldn’t distinguish it.
Was it surprise?
Doubt?
Or something else?
“Ye… Ye…” Mu Xi called softly, her voice a little hoarse, with a tremor she herself hadn’t noticed.
Ye Lan’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, her eyeballs moving slowly, as if trying to see her clearly, or to confirm that she wasn’t dreaming.
Her lips moved, producing an extremely faint breathy sound, like wind brushing over leaves, almost indistinguishable.
Mu Xi leaned down, bringing her ear close to Ye Lan’s lips, trying to make out the words she wanted to say.
“You.” Ye Lan uttered another syllable, this time slightly clearer, though still as weak as a sigh, but Mu Xi heard it clearly.
She was calling her.
“I’m here, I’m here.” Mu Xi quickly responded, taking Ye Lan’s hand.
That hand was cold and weak, almost without any strength.
Ye Lan’s eyes gazed at her, still somewhat unfocused, but a familiar light began to slowly gather within them—a light that belonged uniquely to Ye Lan, domineering yet affectionate.
Ye Lan’s voice came in fragments, each word seeming to be squeezed from deep in her throat, with a dying hoarseness, yet exceptionally persistent, as if using all her remaining strength to grasp this last thread of hope.
“Don’t… leave…”
‘Don’t leave?’
Mu Xi’s heart felt as if struck by something heavy, stunning her into a daze.
She looked at Ye Lan, at her face pale as paper, at her hand gripping hers tightly, fingertips icy cold, yet stubbornly refusing to let go.
“Don’t leave…”
These two words, like an invisible rope, tightly bound her heart, making it impossible for her to breathe or break free.
She had wanted to escape from Ye Lan countless times, to escape from this demon who had imprisoned and tormented her.
But now, when Ye Lan was so weak, so fragile, gripping her and uttering “Don’t leave” with her last strength, she found that she couldn’t refuse.
She looked down at Ye Lan, and slowly, very slowly, a complex and hard-to-express emotion welled up in her eyes.
Was it pity?
Sympathy?
Or something else?
She didn’t know.
She only knew that she couldn’t leave.
At least, not now.
“I’m not leaving.” Mu Xi said softly, her voice very light, yet exceptionally clear, in this silent room, clear as an oath.
“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere.”
Hearing this, Ye Lan’s eyes seemed to brighten slightly, her fingers gripping Mu Xi’s loosened a little, and the corner of her mouth seemed to want to curl into a smile, but in the end, it only twitched faintly and fell limply again.
But her eyes became much softer, no longer filled with the pain and persistence from before, but a faint, almost satisfied calm.
“Little… Xi’er.” Ye Lan spoke again, this time her voice was clearer than before, though still weak, carrying a subtle tenderness.
“Mm, I’m here.”
Mu Xi responded softly, her own voice gentle enough to surprise herself.
Ye Lan gazed at her, her eyes full of attachment and reluctance, as if she had thousands of words to say, but was too weak to utter a single one.
In the end, she just slowly, very slowly, closed her eyes.
This time, she truly fell asleep.
Mu Xi watched her quietly, looking at her sleeping face, her heart filled with mixed emotions, her thoughts tangled like a mess.
She had saved Ye Lan.
In a way that even she found absurd, she had saved this woman who had once imprisoned and tormented her, yet loved her madly.
And now, Ye Lan was alive.
So, what next?
What would become of them?
Was she really supposed to try to love her?
Could she really?
Mu Xi didn’t know.
She only knew that at this moment, looking at the sleeping Ye Lan, her heart was no longer filled with pure hatred, nor just fear and disgust.
There were also some emotions she couldn’t distinguish or define—complex and unfamiliar—quietly sprouting and spreading.
They made her feel a bit lost, a bit helpless, and also a faint, barely admitted, hint of anticipation.
The escort team members, who had their backs to them, remained silent, like statues, not moving.
They seemed to sense the change in the room’s atmosphere; though they didn’t turn around, they all quietly sighed in relief, and their tense bodies relaxed.
The captain slowly turned around and looked toward the bedside.
When she saw Ye Lan’s peaceful sleeping face and the complex expression in Mu Xi’s eyes, her own eyes flickered slightly.
In the end, she just sighed silently and waved her hand.
The other escort team members understood and silently exited the room, leaving only the captain to stand guard at the door.
Mu Xi stayed by Ye Lan’s bedside, her gaze fixed on Ye Lan’s sleeping face.
Ye Lan’s breathing had finally stabilized, no longer the faint, heart-stopping airflow that could cut off at any moment.
Even breaths rose and fell through the thin blanket covering her, carrying a post-calamity peace.
Mu Xi watched her.
This was the first time she had observed this woman’s sleeping face so defenselessly up close.
Without the usual sharp, intimidating aura, without the madness and obsession lurking deep in her eyes.
At this moment, Ye Lan’s brows were relaxed, her long eyelashes casting a faint shadow under her eyelids, and her pale lips had regained a slight rosiness due to steady breathing.
The word “fragile” abruptly invaded Mu Xi’s mind.
She looked at the delicate skin on Ye Lan’s neck, even seeing the faint blue veins beneath.
It was hard to imagine that such a seemingly slender body possessed such terrifying strength, and had also endured such horrific injuries.