Chapter 63: To the Rescue

Su Yutao opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

That woman looked at her and let out a soft laugh. It was a pleasant sound, like a bell.

She reached out, grabbed the back of Su Yutao’s collar, and lifted her off the ground.

Su Yutao dangled in the air, clutching Qiansui, like a cat scruffed by the neck.

That woman held her close and examined her face.

Blood still wet on her hand smeared onto Su Yutao’s clothes, warm and metallic.

Su Yutao trembled.

The familiar smell of blood, just like that rainy night, just like that person.

That woman studied Su Yutao’s face for a long time.

Then her gaze dropped to Su Yutao’s clothes, a loose T-shirt, an adult’s shirt, hanging on her like a dress.

She reached out, pinched the hem, and rubbed it between her fingers.

That voice came again, tinged with amusement. “This shirt… looks familiar.”

“Where did you get it?”

Su Yutao didn’t dare move.

That woman thought for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, I remember. Isn’t this the one Lin Xue used to wear? How did you end up with it?”

She leaned in closer, her nose nearly touching Su Yutao’s collar, and inhaled.

Su Yutao froze.

That woman’s expression changed.

Not anger, but something indescribable and complicated. A mix of hatred, disgust, and something else.

She let go of the hem and sneered. “Same damn scent. Pisses me off just smelling it.”

She lowered her head, put the cigarette in her mouth, took a drag, then blew a smoke ring into Su Yutao’s face.

The white smoke hit Su Yutao’s face, making her eyes water.

She shook her head frantically, waving her arms to fan the smoke away.

She hated the smell of smoke. It choked her, made it hard to breathe.

That woman laughed at her, shaking with amusement. “Oh, this little thing fights back, does it?”

She took another drag, tilting her head and looking at Su Yutao like a curious toy. “I wonder, if I burn her, will she scream louder?”

She reached up and took the cigarette from her mouth.

The tip glowed red, smoke curling off it.

Su Yutao could “see” that red dot swinging in front of her, brightening and dimming.

She started shaking all over.

That woman blew another smoke ring into Su Yutao’s face.

Su Yutao couldn’t cough, only making a wheezing sound like a broken bellows.

That woman laughed even harder.

Then her gaze fell on Su Yutao’s clothes, and her expression cooled. “This shirt really pisses me off.”

She reached out and pressed the cigarette butt against Su Yutao’s arm.

A soft sizzling sound.

Su Yutao felt a searing pain on her arm, like being branded with a hot iron.

Her mouth open, she let out a muffled scream from her throat. It wasn’t crying, it was pain, an excruciating pain that cut through her.

Her whole body trembled. Her hands clawed, her feet kicked. Qiansui slipped from her arms, but she didn’t bother to pick it up. She only felt the pain, only shook, only whimpered.

“Luo Qianning.” A voice came from the entrance of the alley.

It was cold and flat, like a blade scraping over ice.

Su Yutao and that woman both looked up, turning toward the sound.

Su Yutao’s sonar was almost gone, but she still “saw” a silhouette, a figure standing at the alley entrance.

She wore a black turtleneck, black casual pants, and short boots. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, hanging neatly behind her.

The streetlight behind her cast a long shadow.

Her face was sharp, with high cheekbones, a clean jawline, and slightly raised eyebrows. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black in the light, heavy and devoid of warmth.

She stood there like a drawn blade.

Her hands were in her pockets, and a small knife hung at her waist, its black handle polished to a shine.

Luo Qianning was taken aback.

Then she laughed again, her voice sweet and cloying. “Oh, if it isn’t our Sister Xue. What brings you awake at this hour? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

She paused. “And you don’t have a mission either. You know, waking up without authorization means you’ll have to write a self-criticism.”

Lin Qingxue’s expression turned cold.

She took a step forward, her voice even colder. “Don’t give me that crap. I’ll write the self-criticism myself. Now, right now, put my stuff down.”

She stared at Su Yutao in Luo Qianning’s grip, her eyes like knives.

“I hate it when others touch my things.”

Luo Qianning looked down at Su Yutao in her hand, then up at Lin Qingxue, and giggled.

Her laugh was sweet and sticky, deliberately coquettish. “Oh, Sister Xue, don’t be mad. You’re my senior, after all.”

She shook Su Yutao like a toy.

“Besides, this little thing is obviously a beggar. What do you mean ‘your stuff’? There are plenty of beggars like this on the street.”

She tightened her grip, squeezing Su Yutao’s neck.

Su Yutao’s breath cut off instantly. Her face turned red, mouth open, no sound came out, only a strangled wheeze, like a chicken with its throat squeezed.

Her legs kicked in the air. She grabbed Luo Qianning’s wrist, her nails digging in, but couldn’t pry her off.

Lin Qingxue’s eyes changed.

Not colder, but completely without warmth.

She stopped speaking and walked forward.

She walked slowly, but each step carried a suffocating pressure.

Her hand went to her pant leg and pulled the knife from its strap.

A short blade, its edge glinting coldly under the streetlight.

Knife in hand, she charged at Luo Qianning.

Not walking, but rushing.

Her boots hit the gravel, soundlessly, only the wind.

Luo Qianning’s smile froze.

She hadn’t expected Lin Qingxue to actually attack, not even a word before charging.

She quickly set Su Yutao down, stepped back, raised her hands, and said with a forced smile, “Hey, no, no, no. Sister Xue, I was joking.”

Lin Qingxue was already in front of her.

A flash of steel. Luo Qianning dodged sideways, the blade grazing her face, cutting off a few strands of hair.

Luo Qianning’s smile vanished. She leaped back, her voice shrill. “Lin Qingxue! What the f*ck! Are you serious?”

Lin Qingxue didn’t answer.

The second strike was already coming.

Luo Qianning dodged again, half a beat too slow. A cut opened on her sleeve, blood seeping through.

She clutched her arm, backing away, step by step.

She couldn’t beat Lin Qingxue.

She’d always known she couldn’t beat Lin Qingxue.

She was all talk. In a real fight, she stood no chance.

Especially when Lin Qingxue had a knife.

Luo Qianning grew more flustered, dodging, weaving, retreating.

She didn’t dare fight back, knowing it was useless.

She glanced at Su Yutao lying on the ground, the little blind girl hugging Qiansui.

Luo Qianning rushed over, bent down, grabbed Su Yutao by the scruff of the neck, and lifted her.

“Don’t move!”

Luo Qianning’s voice was sharp and urgent as she held Su Yutao in front of herself like a shield.

Lin Qingxue stopped.

She stood there, knife in hand, staring at Luo Qianning and at Su Yutao in her grip.

Su Yutao was held aloft, clutching Qiansui, trembling all over.

Her sonar had completely dispersed; she couldn’t “see” anything.

She only heard her own heartbeat, fast, so fast it felt like it would burst.

She only heard Luo Qianning’s heavy breathing and Lin Qingxue’s silence.

Lin Qingxue didn’t move.

She just stood there, looking at Su Yutao. Then she moved.

Not to stop, not to retreat, but forward.

She reached out, grabbed Su Yutao’s wrist, and yanked hard.

Su Yutao was torn from Luo Qianning’s grasp and flung aside.

She hit the ground, rolled twice, and slammed into the wall. It hurt. But she ignored the pain, clutching Qiansui and curling into a ball.

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