Xia Miao had never seen someone as shameless as No. 13, who played the victim despite being the one at fault. No matter how pitiful he acted, she kept a stern face, showing no mercy as she turned to leave.
"You’ve known me long enough—I’m just this harsh. If you hate it, stay away from me!"
But staying away was out of the question.
No. 13 quickly caught up to her. "Young Mistress, are you still mad at me?"
"It’s just a game anyway, nothing serious. Why would I be angry?"
The tension in No. 13’s mind tightened. Even if he was clueless about emotions, he wasn’t dumb enough to miss the fact that her words said one thing while her tone screamed fury.
"I misspoke. Give me a chance to make it up to you."
He had a surprising talent for playing the meek and apologetic role—softened voice, gentle tone. Who would’ve guessed that this was the same man who could take a life without blinking?
Xia Miao let out a disdainful "hmph," offering no further response.
No. 13 continued, "About the investigation into Mary’s disappearance… I’ve found something."
At that, Xia Miao finally stopped walking and looked up at him. "What did you find?"
"I… can’t quite remember." He feigned frustration for a moment before smiling. "But if the young lady stops ignoring me, maybe it’ll come back to me."
Xia Miao’s expression remained blank.
No. 13 leaned down, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers, his face a picture of pitiful pleading.
After three seconds of staring, Xia Miao was the first to cave.
She turned her face away, grumbling, "Fine, hurry up and remember!"
Taking her reaction as tacit approval, No. 13 beamed. He reached for her hand, and when she didn’t resist, he interlaced their fingers, holding her tightly.
"I found that Mary’s ID card and access logs are still being updated," he said. "According to the records, she’s been moving between first-class and second-class cabins. Either she’s traveling back and forth frequently, or someone else is using her card."
He lowered his head, bringing his face closer to Xia Miao’s, his gaze drifting distractedly to her rosy lips. "But I think the latter is more likely. Her job wouldn’t require her to move between cabins so often."
Xia Miao frowned. "So you think whoever has her card might know what happened to her?"
He smirked. "Or they might be the one who made her disappear."
The suggestion sent Xia Miao spiraling into conspiracy theories. The train was full of all kinds of people—it wouldn’t be surprising if a few bad apples were among them.
As she pondered whether Mary’s disappearance was tied to love or vengeance, she suddenly felt the brush of slender, calloused fingers against her cheek.
Xia Miao snapped back to reality, realizing the young man’s face was now inches from hers.
No. 13 stared at her unblinkingly, his eyes shimmering with an almost hypnotic allure, impossible to resist.
Before she could react to his closeness, he dipped his head and captured her lips—first a gentle press, then a deeper, more insistent exploration, his mouth moving against hers in a rhythm that left them both breathless.
In moments like these, the usually carefree young man became startlingly decisive.
Xia Miao pushed his face away before her rationality completely deserted her, stepping back. "Are you insane? What if someone sees us?"
Given her status, it wouldn’t take long for scandalous rumors to spread across the entire star system.
No. 13 leaned in again, brushing his lips against hers as he murmured, "Then let’s go to your room and continue."
It wasn’t a question, but a carefully phrased statement—because he could sense the rising heat in her body, the same desire that burned in him.
And it was a desire she made no effort to hide—a desire for him alone.
After all, she’d once admitted that she’d noticed him the moment they first met.
Though he hated to admit his own childishness, No. 13 couldn’t deny the pride he felt over that fact.
They said the young mistress had high standards, but he was different—he was the one who’d made her fall at first sight.
He fully expected Xia Miao to invite him back to her room, but instead, she kicked him.
"You heartless playboy! I’m not doing anything more with you!"
With that, she turned and fled into her room, slamming the door behind her.
No. 13 stood frozen in the hallway, bewildered. Seconds ticked by before he finally hunched over like a dejected puppy, trudging back to the break room.
A group of young men chatting inside fell silent as he entered, curiosity written all over their faces.
No. 13 slumped into a chair, propping his chin on his hands. He alternated between sighing at the ceiling and doodling circles on the table, his gloom so thick it seemed he might grow mold from it.
The others exchanged glances before crowding around him.
No. 3 spoke first. "Hey, 13, what’s wrong?"
No. 13 glanced at them before muttering, "I have a friend."
The group’s expressions instantly sharpened with knowing amusement.
No. 13 continued, "He likes a girl, but when he kissed her, she kicked him."
The room erupted in poorly suppressed excitement.
No. 5 blurted, "Wait, so you—I mean, your friend—got into a fight with the girl he likes?"
No. 7 elbowed him. "Watch your words! It’s his friend, not him!"
No. 5 nodded hastily. "Right, right! Your friend!"
No. 13 sighed. "Earlier… I mean, my friend said something wrong and upset her."
No. 8 gasped. "Don’t tell me you—he—just kissed her without making up first!"
No. 7 groaned. "For the last time, it’s his friend!"
No. 8 corrected himself. "Right, your friend!"
No. 13 looked genuinely lost. "So… if a girl’s mad, you have to make it up to her before she’ll let you into her room to keep kissing?"
No. 10 couldn’t hold back. "Holy shit, 13, are you that dense? If you don’t fix things first, why would she want to kiss you?"
Before No. 7 could scold him again, No. 10 added, "I mean, why would your friend’s girl want to kiss him?"
