Chapter 36: The Cracking Ice Plain

The Ferris wheel car momentarily halted at its apex, seeming to float suspended between the starry sky and the city lights. The clamor of the world below was utterly sealed away, leaving only the near-intertwined rhythm of their breaths within the confined space, and Xia Yue’s bewildered whisper reverberating in the air.

“I don’t understand… what, truly… is the right way?”

Jin gazed at the rare, almost fragile helplessness clouding Xia Yue’s eyes, her own heart giving a faint, sympathetic tug.

She hadn’t anticipated that her apology would, instead, plunge Xia Yue into an even deeper abyss of confusion.

After a moment of silence, she refrained from directly addressing the question of ‘right and wrong’. Instead, she softly posed a counter-question: “Xia Yue… what were you like, before?”

This question appeared to flick a hidden switch within her.

Xia Yue’s gaze drifted from Jin’s face, returning to the dazzling, distant city lights beyond the window. Points of light shimmered within her icy-blue eyes, yet they seemed strangely hollow.

Her voice regained a semblance of its usual cool detachment, though a complex undercurrent surged beneath its surface.

“Before…” She began slowly, her voice like a machine booting up to retrieve ancient data. “From the moment I can remember, I was the very embodiment of ‘excellence’. My magical talent: A+. My theoretical learning ability: top-tier. My combat proficiency evaluation: optimal. I was the youngest official member of the Silver Cross Star (the predecessor to the Star Guardians), and the undisputed student council president of St. Sakura Academy.”

Her tone remained flat, as if she were merely stating facts utterly disconnected from her own being.

“All eyes were on me. My mentors, my peers, even… my enemies. They expected me to remain flawless, to always make the most correct choices, to perpetually lead the way. And I… I always believed the same.” Her fingers unconsciously tightened, gripping the hem of her skirt. “Given such abilities and placed in such a position, I believed it was my duty, my very mode of existence, to maintain peak efficiency, pursue optimal solutions, and discard all unnecessary emotions and distractions.”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze unfocused, fixed on some indistinct point in the empty space.

“Crying was inefficient, anger was a loss of control, and relying on others was a sign of weakness. Even preferences and aversions were things that ought to be rationally weighed and suppressed. I had always… excelled at it.”

‘Until… I met you.’

She didn’t voice these words, yet her gaze, abruptly swiveling to Jin, conveyed the unspoken sentiment with stark clarity.

Her eyes were filled with inquiry, confusion, and an emotion she herself couldn’t define—something akin to fascination.

“You are… the most peculiar ‘creature’ I have ever encountered.” A faint, almost imperceptible… warmth? entered Xia Yue’s voice, even she seemed unaware of it.

Perhaps it was the intense focus one adopts when confronted with an insoluble problem. “Your magical power is so negligible it’s almost nonexistent, your physical assessment barely scrapes by, your theoretical knowledge is meager, and your first instinct when faced with danger is to flee or hide… From any objective data, you exist… at the very bottom.”

“According to my logical models, a being like you should not warrant any additional attention from me, nor should you… interfere with my emotions and judgment.”

Her speaking pace quickened slightly, as if she were desperately trying to untangle a Gordian knot of thoughts.

“But… why?” She looked at Jin, and something deep within those icy-blue eyes seemed to fracture. “Why, upon seeing Lin Wan approach you so unreservedly, do I feel… a sharp pang? Why, upon hearing Yu Niannian fawn over you in such a childish manner, do I feel… such agitation? Why, when you reject my carefully calculated ‘optimal solution’, do I lose control to the point of… wanting to confine you by my side in the most primal way?”

For the first time, her voice carried a clear, incomprehensible agony.

“This shouldn’t be… displaying weakness is a sign of incompetence, and relying on others is foolish. Yet… why is it only when I’m by your side, listening to your utterly illogical complaints, watching you fluctuate between joy and sorrow over trivial matters… that I feel… here”—she unconsciously pressed a hand to her chest—”is quiet? Is… good?”

As if finally voicing the question that had plagued her deepest self, her body leaned slightly forward, her gaze locking onto Jin, as if desperate to extract from her an answer that would unravel all her contradictions.

“I don’t understand… Jin. Tell me, why is this happening? Why does someone like you—this strange individual who ranks at the bottom in every conceivable aspect—make me feel… so utterly unlike myself? This shouldn’t be… This is clearly wrong…”

Her voice dwindled, until it was little more than a choked, breathless whisper. Her spine, which had always remained perfectly straight, at that moment curved almost imperceptibly, revealing an inner turmoil and struggle she had never before shown.

She was no longer the perfect, omnipotent Xia Yue.

She was merely an ordinary girl, overwhelmed by chaotic emotions, adrift, and even beginning to doubt the very principles she had always held sacred.

The Ferris wheel began its slow descent, gradually carrying them back towards the bustling world below.

Yet, in that tiny car, suspended high above, Kazami Jin gazed at Xia Yue, who had shed every layer of her armor, revealing her raw vulnerability and profound confusion. Jin’s heart was filled with an immense tremor and… an ineffable ache.

She finally saw it.

The true Xia Yue, hidden beneath that icy exterior.

A sixteen-year-old girl who, like anyone else, could be lost, afraid, and utterly tormented by her own incomprehensible emotions.

Jin reached out, not to embrace her as Xia Yue had imitated earlier, but to gently, tentatively, cover Xia Yue’s hand—the one still tightly clutching her skirt, knuckles white.

Jin’s palm was warm, subtly damp with a touch of perspiration.

Xia Yue’s body jolted, as if struck by an electric current. Instinctively, she tried to pull her hand away, but ultimately, she froze rigidly, allowing that warm hand (perhaps a little too warm for her) to remain covering her cool skin.

“…I don’t know why,” Jin said, her voice soft, yet imbued with a strange, soothing power. “Nor do I know what truly constitutes ‘right’.”

“But Xia Yue…” She paused, meeting the utterly bewildered gaze of Xia Yue’s eyes, and spoke with earnestness. “To be confused, to lose control, to become ‘unlike yourself’ because of someone… perhaps that isn’t some ‘mistake’ that needs to be corrected.”

“Perhaps… it’s simply… ‘liking’.”

“A ‘liking’ that doesn’t demand an optimal solution, nor high efficiency, nor even… an understanding of its own reasons.”

At that final word, Xia Yue’s pupils abruptly constricted.

The Ferris wheel settled steadily onto the ground, its car door slowly gliding open. Immediately, the boisterous clamor of human voices and music from outside surged in.

Yet Xia Yue remained frozen in her seat, as if still suspended in that silent moment high above, Jin’s words echoing relentlessly through her mind.

‘Liking…?’

This word—utterly unquantifiable, impossible to integrate into any mathematical model, brimming with uncertainty and inefficiency…

‘Was that… the answer?’

She watched Jin withdraw her hand, then step out of the car first, melting into the vibrant tapestry of light and shadow below.

Upon her own palm, that brief yet searing warmth still lingered.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Xia Yue too rose to her feet.

She lowered her gaze, looking at her empty hand. Deep within her icy-blue eyes, the vast ice plain that had been frozen for sixteen years finally emitted a clear, undeniable sound of shattering.