Chapter 54: The Shattering Ice

The Ferris wheel carriage paused briefly at its apex, as if suspended between the starry sky and the city lights.

The clamor of the world below was completely shut out, leaving only the intertwined breaths of two people in the small space, and Xia Yue’s whisper, filled with profound confusion, echoing in the air.

“I don’t understand… what exactly… is the right thing to do?”

Jin gazed at the rare, almost fragile helplessness in Xia Yue’s eyes, her heart clenching as if gently squeezed.

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

Jin remained silent for a moment, not directly answering the question of ‘right or wrong,’ but instead softly countered, “Xia Yue… what were you like before?”

The question seemed to flick a hidden switch.

Xia Yue’s gaze drifted from Jin’s face, returning to the dazzling, distant city lights beyond the window. Specks of light reflected in her icy blue eyes, yet they appeared somewhat hollow.

Her voice regained a touch of its usual coolness, but beneath it, a complex undercurrent surged.

“Before…” she began slowly, like a machine initiating the retrieval of ancient data. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been synonymous with ‘excellence.’ My magical talent was A+. My theoretical learning ability was top-tier. My combat proficiency assessment was 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 was flat, as if stating a fact entirely unrelated to herself.

“Everyone looked to me. My mentors, my peers, even… my enemies. They expected me to remain perfect, to always make the right choices, to always lead the way. And I… always believed the same.” Her fingers unconsciously tightened, gripping the hem of her skirt. “Since I was endowed with such abilities and placed in such a position, then maintaining efficiency, pursuing the optimal solution, and discarding all unnecessary emotions and distractions became my duty, my… way of existing.”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze unfocused, resting on a point in the empty air.

“Crying is inefficient, anger is losing control, relying on others is weakness. Even… preferences and dislikes should be things that can be rationally weighed and suppressed. I have always… done very well.”

‘Until… I met you.’

She didn’t voice these words, yet her gaze, suddenly fixed on Jin, conveyed the unspoken sentiment with profound clarity.

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

“You are the most… peculiar ‘being’ I have ever encountered.” A faint hint of… warmth? entered Xia Yue’s voice, something she herself didn’t even notice.

Or perhaps, it was the intense focus one adopts when facing an unresolvable problem. “Your magical power is so negligible it’s almost imperceptible, your physical assessment barely passes, your theoretical knowledge is meager, and your first reaction to danger is to flee or hide… From any objective data, you are… at the bottom.”

“According to my logical model, a being like you shouldn’t warrant any extra attention from me, much less… interfere with my emotions and judgment.”

Her speaking pace quickened slightly, as if she were desperately trying to untangle a knotted mess.

“But… why?” She looked at Jin, and deep within her icy blue eyes, something was fracturing. “Why do I find it… jarring to see Lin Wan approach you without a second thought? Why do I feel… agitated when I hear Yu Niannian try to curry favor with you in such a childish manner? Why, when you reject my meticulously 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 pain.

“This shouldn’t be… clearly, showing 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 illogical complaints, watching you fluctuate between joy and sorrow over trivial matters… that I feel… quiet here?” (She unconsciously pressed a hand to her chest.) “Is it… good?”

As if she had finally voiced the question that plagued her most deeply, her body leaned slightly forward, her gaze locked onto Jin, seemingly desperate for 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 person who’s at the bottom in every aspect… make me feel so unlike myself? This shouldn’t be… this is wrong…”

Her voice grew softer and softer, until it was little more than a choked whisper. Her spine, which had always been perfectly straight, now curved almost imperceptibly, revealing an inner confusion and struggle she had never shown before.

She was no longer the perfect, omnipotent Xia Yue.

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

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

Yet, in that moment, within the small carriage suspended high above, Jin gazed at Xia Yue, who had shed all her armor and revealed her true vulnerability and confusion. Her heart swelled with immense shock and… an indescribable pang of tenderness.

She finally saw it.

The real Xia Yue, hidden beneath that icy exterior.

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

Jin reached out, not to embrace Xia Yue as she had once mimicked, but gently, tentatively, to cover Xia Yue’s hand—the one tightly gripping her skirt, knuckles white.

Her palm was warm, slightly damp with perspiration.

Xia Yue’s body jolted, as if struck by an electric current. She instinctively moved to withdraw her hand, but ultimately froze, allowing the warm (perhaps too warm for her) hand to rest upon her cool skin.

“…I don’t know why.” Jin looked at her, her voice soft, yet imbued with a strange, soothing power. “And I don’t know what’s ‘right,’ either.”

“But Xia Yue…” Jin paused, gazing into the other girl’s bewildered eyes, and spoke earnestly. “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 just… ‘liking’ them.”

“A kind of ‘liking’ that doesn’t require an optimal solution, doesn’t need high efficiency, and doesn’t even… need to understand why.”

Xia Yue’s pupils abruptly constricted at that final word.

The Ferris wheel smoothly reached the ground, and as the carriage door slowly opened, the noisy chatter and music from outside instantly flooded in.

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

‘Liking…?’

‘This word, completely unquantifiable, impossible to integrate into any mathematical model, filled with uncertainty and inefficiency…’

‘Was this the answer?’

She watched Jin withdraw her hand, then step out of the carriage first, blending into the vibrant kaleidoscope of lights and shadows below.

On her own palm, the brief yet searing warmth still lingered.

Xia Yue slowly, incredibly slowly, rose to her feet.

She looked down at her empty hand, and in her icy blue eyes, the frozen expanse that had endured for sixteen years finally emitted a clear, shattering sound.