After Song Huaicheng left, the corridor fell quiet again.
The painting of the Tower of Babel still hung on the wall, its kneeling figures silently gazing up at the tower that would never be finished.
The group walked east along the central hallway of the residence. So far, everything matched the map Shen Wu had provided—until they reached the eastern wing.
On the blueprint, the eastern wing was left blank, with only a small question mark sketched at the edge.
In reality, Jiang Nuan stood at the end of the hallway, staring at a perfectly ordinary courtyard wall. Smooth and seamless, not a single joint line in sight.
She glanced back the way they came. The doors on either side of the corridor were evenly spaced and regularly distributed—nothing but a perfectly normal courtyard.
Shen Wu stood two steps behind her, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn't on the wall, though. His head was tilted slightly, as if listening for some extremely faint sound.
After a few seconds, he spoke.
"The structure is fine."
Then, with a rare hint of uncertainty, Shen Wu added, "Why is there nothing here?"
Jiang Nuan thought to herself: Shen Wu, whose information network supposedly covers every corner of the Federation, can't even figure out one section of the Bai family estate. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Shen Wu's gaze shifted toward her, expressionless.
"I suggest you delete that sentence from your head."
Jiang Nuan's face remained perfectly composed, her eyes brimming with feigned sincerity.
Shen Wu looked away, his voice cool. "The Bai family's authority over architectural modifications involving supernatural abilities is a special approval from the Federation. There's a possibility—"
A very faint sound came from deep in the corridor.
All three of them went silent at once.
A few seconds later, the sound didn't repeat. It might have been pipes settling. Or it might not have been.
Shen Wu didn't continue his earlier thought. His eyes darkened slightly, and he simply said, "We'll talk back at the base."
Ye Que hadn't been part of that conversation.
From the moment they'd set out, his attention had never left the surroundings. He walked a full circuit along the base of the wall, his fingertips silently gliding across the surface, then crouched near the baseboard for a few seconds to inspect.
Quick motions. Utterly silent.
He was scouting every environmental vantage point—every corner they passed, every window, every recess and shadow where someone could hide. He swept them all.
That was a sniper's instinct.
Someone who lived behind a scope every day automatically divided the world into range, blind spots, and cover. In his visual system, living people were classified only as targets or obstacles.
Now he straightened up and turned around. "No suspicious devices."
Jiang Nuan and Shen Wu nodded.
So far, the Bai family had detected nothing unusual.
Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, hard to say.
Dinner was about to begin. The three of them turned back along the same route.
As they stepped out of the eastern wing corridor—
"By the way," Shen Wu suddenly spoke. "About you two pretending to be a couple."
Jiang Nuan's footsteps faltered slightly. "What about it?"
Shen Wu's gaze shifted from Jiang Nuan to Ye Que, then from Ye Que back to Jiang Nuan.
The distance between them was roughly the length of a full arm span.
"The gap between you two," Shen Wu said flatly, "is wide enough to build a magpie bridge across. Are you waiting for Bai Siyuan to come and build it for you personally?"
"..."
"Bai Siyuan's observational ability is far beyond the ordinary. If the two of you go before him in your current state, you'll be exposed in less than three minutes."
Shen Wu continued.
"Once he sees through the disguise, he'll seize on it and use it as a reason to constrain and control what we do."
Jiang Nuan's heart skipped a beat.
Shen Wu had a point.
When she'd proposed the "couple" plan earlier, she'd only thought about keeping Ye Que by her side.
But she'd overlooked another crucial detail: Bai Siyuan wasn't an ordinary man. Putting on an act in front of him meant more than just delivering a line or striking a pose.
If she couldn't even fool him with her body language, the performance would be pointless—worse, it would become leverage against them.
She didn't hesitate.
She reached out and took Ye Que's hand directly.
This was the second time she'd held it since the purification test.
His palm was warmer than she'd expected. His fingers were long, his knuckles clearly defined, and the pads of his fingers and the web of his thumb bore the thin calluses of years of gripping a weapon.
The grip didn't feel quite right. She was just about to adjust her hold to make their hands look more natural when—
Ye Que moved.
His fingers slid firmly between hers, his broad palm swallowing her hand whole, interlacing them joint by joint until their palms pressed flush against each other.
The force was perfectly controlled.
It wouldn't hurt her, but there was absolutely no pulling free.
Jiang Nuan's mind went blank for a second.
She instinctively looked up at Ye Que.
He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed ahead, his expression silent, his jaw tight.
But the tips of his ears, under the warm light of the corridor, showed a faint flush of red.
Jiang Nuan's heart thumped hard.
Shen Wu's voice drifted over, unhurried.
"Ye Que. Restrain your thoughts."
"Shen Wu, shut up," Ye Que said, his fingers tightening slightly.
But he didn't let go of Jiang Nuan's hand.
"...What is he thinking?" Jiang Nuan couldn't help asking.
Pure curiosity.
Really, pure curiosity.
Shen Wu glanced at her.
That look was very complicated—carrying a subtle "are you sure you want to know" energy.
"You don't want to know," he said, his voice chilly.
Jiang Nuan shut her mouth.
When the three of them made their way back to the main house, the sky had already darkened.
From the dining hall at the end of the corridor came the murmur of voices and the soft clink of dishes—the staff were setting up for dinner.
Jiang Nuan's steps slowed.
She looked down at the hand she and Ye Que had clasped. Fingers locked, palm to palm—from the outside, it really did look convincing.
But the problem was, whom they were about to face wasn't just anyone.
It was Bai Siyuan.
A psychic ability user. A man who'd grown up alongside her original self, relying on each other since childhood. A man who knew her habits, her expressions, her micro-movements by heart.
She could certainly use the amnesia as an excuse—and she really had lost her memory.
But Shen Wu's mind-reading didn't work on Bai Siyuan, and that was the most dangerous part.
Which meant the moment she sat down at that table, her biggest intelligence advantage was gone.
"I'll maintain the mental link between the three of us throughout dinner," Shen Wu said quietly.
Ye Que nodded. "If any one of us senses anything unusual, we sync immediately."
And at that moment, Jiang Nuan's heart slowly settled.
Judging by the red bean cake, Bai Siyuan wanted her to remember those days in the refugee district, to remember their shared past.
That urgency, in itself, was a weakness.
She might be able to use that weakness to get closer to him—and from there, find a way into the Federation Central Archives.
Jiang Nuan closed her eyes.
When she opened her eyes again, the panic and unease on her face had completely vanished.
In its place was a girl who looked somewhat curious, harboring a cautious, eager anticipation toward the brother she hadn't seen in a long time.
She felt Ye Que's thumb press gently against the back of her hand.
She knew he was still saying:
[I'm here.]
Ye Que pushed open the door to the dining room.
A warm, golden light spilled out.
The table had already been set.
White porcelain plates, silver cutlery, and fresh roses arranged at the center of the table—too exquisite for what the end of the world should look like.
Bai Siyuan sat at the head of the table.
He wore a white shirt with the top button undone, black hair falling naturally, making him look clean and gentle. His right hand held a teacup as he sipped.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up.
A smile curved onto his lips first.
Then his gaze drifted downward slightly, settling on the intertwined hands of Jiang Nuan and Ye Que.
The curve of Bai Siyuan's lips didn't change.
If anything, it deepened faintly, warm and polished in the candlelight.
But his right hand trembled slightly.
The tea in his cup rippled, spilling silently over the rim, seeping into the white tablecloth in a small damp patch.
He didn't look down at it.
"You're here," he said with a smile, his voice as gentle as ever.
"A Nuan, come, sit beside me."
