Finally free from Su Yang’s barrage of thanks and attempts to get her phone number, Jiang Nuan let out a long breath.
Jiang Ce drained the last of his milk tea, tossed the cup accurately into a trash bin five meters away, and named an address.
“The top floor of the Xinghai Hotel. Qinian’s small concert.”
For the past year, they had been searching for the core of the forbidden zone.
The key node that kept this entire false world running. It could be an object, a person, or even a concept.
Before leaving the apartment that morning, they had already planned to find Qinian that evening, because he had received a gift from a fan.
A painting. Qinian said he had sensed unusual energy coming from it.
But...
“Are you kidding?” Jiang Nuan stopped short. “Half a block near the mall just collapsed. The concert is still going ahead?”
“It was originally announced as canceled,” Jiang Ce said, tilting his head. “But the fans made a huge fuss. Once public pressure mounted, the organizers put it back on the schedule.”
“No wonder he’s number one on the rookie rankings,” Jiang Nuan remarked.
Qi Sui still had not been found. It had been three days.
Yet Qinian was standing onstage at that very moment, not because he was heartless.
Quite the opposite.
This was practically a form of self-destructive combat.
Lu Shiyan’s plan had been clear from the beginning: to seep into every vein of this world like a virus.
And Qinian’s status as a celebrity was the sharpest blade in his hand.
The attention of millions meant a convergence of information, a chance to reach any clue that might be out there.
As long as his sensory connection with his brother had not been severed, Qinian would continue wearing that flawless mask. He would exploit every opportunity available to him, regardless of the cost, in search of the root cause that had trapped them here.
Even while smiling for the cameras, he was going mad inside.
Jiang Nuan shoved her empty milk tea cup into a roadside trash bin.
“Let’s go.”
*
Top floor of the Xinghai Hotel.
The instant the elevator doors opened, the blast of sound nearly knocked Jiang Nuan back inside.
Screams, the glow of light sticks, the air heavy with perfume, and the excited laughter of young women packed the entire rooftop ballroom to bursting.
The stage lights were dazzling. On the enormous LED screen, the two characters of Qinian’s name shifted through a cascade of colors.
Jiang Ce leaned close to her ear amid the deafening noise. “I’m heading backstage to find Qinian’s manager and take a look at the painting first. You can stay in the audience for a while. Come backstage and find us after the event.”
“Qinian’s manager?” Jiang Nuan asked in surprise. “One of our people too?”
Jiang Ce smiled, but did not reveal the name. “You’ll know when you get there.”
With that, he turned sideways and squeezed into the passage leading backstage.
Swept along by the surging crowd, Jiang Nuan found a seat near the edge.
“Did you come by yourself?” a young woman beside her asked.
Jiang Nuan turned toward her. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, wearing elaborate fan-support makeup and clutching two glow sticks in her hands.
Before Jiang Nuan could answer, the girl enthusiastically stuffed one of the glow sticks and a fan banner into her hands.
“Here! Today is the first anniversary of Qinian’s debut. He’s going to sing a new song later! It’s so good!”
Jiang Nuan looked down at the glow stick in her hand, Qinian’s name printed on it.
In the world outside, Qinian was the vanguard fighter of Squad Zero—the violent young man who would charge into hordes of monsters, eyes bloodshot, his entire body drenched in blood.
But here, he was a top idol adored by tens of thousands.
Absurd, yet somehow fitting.
Qinian had always possessed an aggressively striking face. The faint upward tilt of his eyes, the hint of roguishness and swagger between his brows—he truly did have the kind of looks that could make people scream at their screens.
The lights went dark.
Every glow stick in the hall lit up at once, like a sea of swaying stars.
At the center of the stage, a spotlight slowly descended.
Qinian rose from beneath the stage on a lift.
Today, he wore a dark suit jacket over a sheer black mesh shirt, the lines of his collarbones visible beneath the fabric.
His hair had been styled into soft waves, a few loose strands falling over his brow and making his features appear even more refined.
He stood at the center of the stage, holding the microphone in one hand, his chin slightly raised.
It was a slow song.
The melody was low and lingering, almost like a whispered murmur.
His voice was huskier than Jiang Nuan remembered, likely from the strain of performing continuously.
Yet that slightly roughened tone, paired with the tender melody, only added a layer of fragile vulnerability that made hearts flutter.
The audience’s screams nearly lifted the roof off the building.
The girl beside her excitedly grabbed Jiang Nuan’s arm. “Ahhh, listen! This song is so good!”
Onstage, Qinian lowered his gaze slightly. As he reached the chorus, his eyes slowly swept across the audience.
Then they stopped in her secluded corner.
Separated by hundreds of people, by the blinding spotlight and the ocean of glowing light sticks, the corner of his lips curled up.
Jiang Nuan instinctively held her breath.
She had to admit it—under the spotlight, Qinian’s looks truly gave him the power to captivate anyone.
“Ahhhh! He smiled! He smiled while looking this way!” The girl beside her had completely lost control, covering her face as she screamed. “Was he looking at me? I’m going to die!”
*
The event finally came to an end beneath a grand shower of confetti.
Avoiding the crowd as they filed out, Jiang Nuan used the pass Jiang Ce had given her and made her way through several winding corridors until she found the private dressing room.
The door stood slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside.
The air was thick with the cloying scent of cosmetics, mixed with the lingering smell of sweat and heat.
A huge vanity mirror covered the entire wall opposite the entrance, ringed by harsh bulbs that left nowhere to hide.
Qinian stood before the mirror with his back to her.
He had already taken off his suit jacket from the stage, leaving only the sheer black shirt and black trousers. With one hand, he was tugging irritably at the decorative chain around his collar.
The metal rings gave off a faint clinking sound.
Jiang Nuan’s reflection appeared in the mirror.
His hand stilled.
“Qinian,” Jiang Nuan said, sweeping her gaze across the room. “Jiang Ce said he went with your manager to look at that anomalous item. Where is he?”
Qinian did not turn around immediately.
He yanked off the bothersome decorative chain in one sharp motion and casually tossed it onto the table.
The metal chain struck the glass countertop with a crisp clatter.
Only then did he turn around.
Instead of answering her question, he smiled.
“Nuannuan.”
He spoke her name, his voice lower and huskier than it had been onstage.
“You finally came.”
He walked toward her.
“Wait—”
She tried to sidestep him.
But he was faster.
His hand closed around her wrist. Using the momentum of her attempt to dodge him, he gave her a push—
“Hiss...”
Her hands flew out instinctively against the mirror. The glass was so cold that she shuddered.
Qinian followed closely behind her.
His entire body pressed against her back. His arms braced against the mirror on either side of her, trapping her completely between himself and the glass.
His chest was pressed tightly to her back, radiating the elevated body heat of someone who had just stepped offstage.
There was no room to breathe.
Jiang Nuan’s breath caught.
The mirror clearly reflected both of them. Her face had gone faintly pale with surprise, while behind her, Qinian’s face—still wearing stage makeup—was so exquisite it seemed almost unreal. His long, upturned eyes were lowered, his gaze fixed on her.
“Nuannuan, don’t rush to look at the painting.”
His scorching breath brushed the side of her face.
“Look at yourself in the mirror first.”
Jiang Nuan’s fingers curled slightly against the glass.
“Do you know something?” His chin rested against the top of her head, rubbing lightly against her hair. “Just now, there were so many people onstage, but I saw you at a glance.”
His arms tightened, forcing Jiang Nuan’s back even closer against him.
Through the thin gauze of her blouse, she could even feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“Qinian…”
“These past two days…I’ve been looking for clues about my brother.” His voice suddenly dropped, tinged with a hint of grievance. “But I still haven’t found anything.”
“You will.” Jiang Nuan could hardly believe it. She was the one being cornered against a mirror, yet she was actually comforting him instead. “You have the captain and Shen Wu helping you.”
“Mm.”
Qinian pulled one of Jiang Nuan’s hands away from the mirror and pressed it behind her, between them, against his chest.
Through the thin gauze, his heartbeat came through clearly into her palm.
Fast.
“I haven’t seen you in far too long.” His voice was almost shattered against her ear. “I missed you so much.”
“You finally came looking for me.”
“Qinian, stop fooling around.” She tried to turn around in front of the mirror.
But one arm held her firmly around the waist.
“Fooling around…?”
He let out a low laugh. There was no joy in it whatsoever.
“Nuannuan, I’m going crazy.”
The mirror reflected the scene in its entirety: his face buried against the side of her neck, his breath spilling over her skin.
“I’ve been living in this fake world for more than a year.”
“Everything is fake.”
His arm tightened further.
“So let me hold you for a while. Just for a while.”
She looked at the man in the mirror.
A top idol who shone brilliantly beneath the stage lights, maintaining his perfect smile and carefully crafted persona all by himself in a false world while searching for clues about the core of the Forbidden Zone.
And in these past three days, the news of Qi Sui’s disappearance must have kept him from sleeping. Although his face was covered in foundation, the bluish shadows beneath his eyes were still visible up close.
Jiang Nuan stopped struggling. She placed the hand braced against the mirror over the arm wrapped around her waist.
Her voice softened, carrying a faint sigh.
“Qinian, I’m here. We’re all by your side. You’re not alone.”
Qinian’s breathing faltered.
Then he buried his face in the hollow of her neck, resting his forehead against her shoulder as his entire weight sank against her.
He held her so tightly.
And soon, simply holding her “for a while” was no longer enough.
His other hand rose. His fingers closed around her chin, gently yet firmly turning her head to the side.
Jiang Nuan’s breath caught.
The mirror displayed the damn movement in full.
She saw her reflection with her head tilted back, her neck slender and vulnerable.
Behind her, the man’s eyes were half-lidded, his gaze lingering over the image with an almost entranced intensity.
He lowered his head.
Jiang Nuan felt his warm, damp lips touch the skin just above her collarbone.
First, he brushed against it lightly.
Then his teeth sank in.
“—!”
A faint sting shot through her. Jiang Nuan sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers curling against the mirror.
Behind her came the man’s low, satisfied breathing.
Compared with the sting on her skin, the image in the mirror left her mind utterly blank.
In the reflection, a smear of red slowly surfaced.
“Do you see it, Nuannuan?”
Qinian’s tongue slowly traced over the mark. The damp sensation made her whole body shudder.
His voice vibrated against her skin.
“My name is printed here now.”
Jiang Nuan’s ears burned hot. “Qinian, you bastard!”
She had just bought several dresses, and not one of them had a high collar. How was she supposed to face anyone now?
After being cursed at, Qinian’s mood only grew more heated.
He turned her around in front of the mirror.
The cold glass pressed against her back.
Those slightly upturned eyes were now inches from her face, their pupils reflecting her image.
The emotions in his gaze were so intense they seemed ready to set everything ablaze.
He took hold of her chin.
His fingertip pressed just beneath her lips, applying a little pressure and forcing her face upward.
“Qin—”
Her words were cut off.
He bent down and kissed her.
His tongue pushed straight in, without the slightest hesitation.
With the back of her head against the mirror, Jiang Nuan had nowhere to retreat.
The way he kissed her was so hungry it left her breathless.
The distant sounds of fans dispersing outside the room faded into a background noise from another world.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Nian Nian.”
The voice outside was cool and detached.
“Jiang Ce and I have finished looking at that painting.”
Jiang Nuan seized the opportunity to slip out of Qinian’s arms.
She recognized that voice.
She knew it far too well.
Qinian, however, calmly released her and took a step back. He licked his lips, his eyes curving into a smile.
There was triumph in that smile, and satisfaction, along with a hint of…
Deliberate provocation.
Jiang Nuan suddenly thought of something.
“Qinian, your manager is—”
“Mm.” Qinian tilted his head, his tone unbearably innocent.
“Shen Wu. What about it?”
There was a two-second silence outside.
Then Shen Wu’s voice came again, still cool and even, though there seemed to be something else beneath it now.
“The door isn’t locked. I’m coming in.”
“Or do you need me to wait a little longer?”
