Around noon, when the sun should have been at its brightest, only faint patches of light filtered through the forest canopy.
Following the erratic flight of a small insect through the twisted paths of the woods, they stumbled upon a dark, damp cave hidden behind the shrubs.
Song Tingxue recognized it instantly. "This is where we were held captive as children."
Zhao Rongyue had been brought here again—was it a coincidence, or was the kidnapper connected to the one who had died years ago?
Song Tingxue didn’t have time to dwell on it. He rushed inside without hesitation, the others close behind.
With every step forward, his heart grew heavier.
Those days of captivity had cast a long shadow over his childhood memories. It was Zhao Rongyue’s presence back then that had brought him solace amidst the endless fear.
Now, he was no longer the helpless child he once was. Yet, stepping into this place again after so many years, he couldn’t shake the primal dread creeping into his bones.
Fang Songhe noticed Song Tingxue’s unease and asked, "Are you alright, Mr. Song?"
Song Tingxue shook his head. "I’m fine."
Finding Zhao Rongyue was the priority—he wouldn’t let childhood trauma make him falter now.
The cave was dimly lit. Among the group, only Chu'he was an ordinary person, struggling to navigate the uneven terrain while the others moved effortlessly.
She stumbled over another loose stone, teetering until a hand steadied her.
Ninth scoffed. "Clumsy."
Chu'he glared up at him. "It’s pitch black in here! How is that my fault?"
Ninth tilted his head down. "You’re the only one tripping. You’re the slowest."
Chu'he opened her mouth to argue but found no rebuttal. Pressing her lips together, she pinched his arm in frustration.
"Shut up!"
Ninth barely flinched. "Doesn’t hurt," he remarked matter-of-factly.
Chu'he was fuming. If the situation weren’t so dire, she’d have kicked him.
Fang Songhe, walking ahead, cleared his throat softly and cast a glance back at the two.
—Song Tingxue is frantic, and you two are flirting? Really?
Chu'he tugged Ninth’s hand, signaling him to stay quiet.
Suddenly, Fang Songhe spoke. "The floral scent is overwhelming."
Song Tingxue noticed it too—a familiar fragrance. He quickened his pace, then froze at the sight before him.
Black vines crawled over the stone walls, twisting and tangling endlessly like the limbs of monstrous demons.
Among them bloomed eerie purple flowers, their petals exuding a hypnotic fragrance. Their vivid hues and unnerving vitality in this sunless abyss made the scene all the more unsettling.
"Ghost flowers," Song Tingxue murmured.
Since the disappearances of women began and these flowers appeared out of nowhere, many had searched for their origin. Yet no one expected them to thrive deep within this hidden cave.
The sight was staggering, beyond anything they’d imagined.
Ninth’s gaze lingered on the blossoms. He reached out, fingers hovering near the radiant petals—until Chu'he yanked his hand back.
"Don’t touch them! What if they’re dangerous?"
She clung to his arm, afraid he’d do something reckless.
Ninth simply replied, "Oh," and let her hold his hand without protest. His eyes, however, kept drifting to her face, filled with an unreadable emotion.
The insect flitted ahead into the darkness.
"Rongyue!"
Song Tingxue charged forward without hesitation, vanishing into the flower-choked passage.
Fang Songhe called after him, "Mr. Song, be careful!" But he was already gone. With no choice, Fang Songhe plunged in after him.
Ninth took a step forward, only for Chu'he to pull him back.
He turned, puzzled.
Didn’t she say we had to find them?
Chu'he hesitated. "If we go in there… will we be safe?"
The sinister plants gave her a bad feeling. She feared they might not make it out alive.
Ninth asked, "What counts as ‘danger’?"
"Like, people getting hurt—or worse!"
Ninth: "Won’t happen."
Chu'he eyed him skeptically. "You’re sure?"
Ninth: "You told me to find them."
"I did, but I didn’t say to charge into certain doom!"
He shrugged. "I’m not afraid of danger."
"I am! What if you get torn apart and I can’t put you back together?"
Ninth paused, his expression shifting as he studied her. Then, softly, he said, "You don’t want me to die."
Chu'he groaned. "Of course I don’t!"
He added, "You worry about me."
Naturally she did. As a key supporting character, she had plot armor—but he was a nameless cannon fodder in the original story, disposable at any moment.
Then, with a triumphant grin, he declared, "I know. You like me."
Chu'he blinked. "Huh?"
His fingers interlaced with hers, their palms pressing together. His skin was always cool, but hers was warm—soon, his chill faded into a comfortable heat.
At the same time, his other hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up.
Chu'he’s cheeks squished like dumplings. She wanted to scold him, but as he leaned in—his striking, otherworldly features inches away—her words lodged in her throat.
The silver-haired boy merely hovered there, motionless, as if reminiscing. Oblivious to the intimacy of their proximity.
Then, his eyes lit up.
Chu'he’s stomach dropped.
He lowered his head, his cool lips brushing against hers.
Just a touch. Nothing more.
Exactly like that time in the underground tunnels, when Chu'he had kissed him to convince him he was "Xiao Bao’s father."
They stood frozen, breaths mingling, staring wide-eyed at each other in awkward silence.
She didn’t dare move.
He only knew how to mimic—not what came next.
After a moment, he pulled back.
Touching his reddened ear—where a white feather earring adorned with a ruby swayed—he mused, "Not that special."
He couldn’t fathom why the "Desire" puppet had been so obsessed with this.
When he looked up again, Chu'he had scrambled backward, pressed against the wall as if he were a thief.
Ninth, amused, grabbed her wrist and yanked her close. "Let’s go."
Chu'he dug in her heels. "This place reeks of danger! There could be actual ghosts!"
She genuinely wanted to save someone, but she absolutely had no intention of getting herself killed in the process.
How cowardly of her.
And yet, she had once raced toward a swarm of venomous insects, digging through a mountain of corpses to retrieve "his" "body."
The faint chime of bells echoed through the dim and perilous surroundings, weaving into a strangely cheerful melody.
The white tips of the young man's hair swayed lightly, tracing an arc full of youthful exuberance.
Once again, he pinched her cheek, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.
"Then I’ll take you to slay demons."
