Song Ying, after all, was just an ordinary person—a girl with so decent stamina from prior exercise, but not enough for the harsh cold that quickly drained her strength.
Like soone afflicted with hypersomnia, Song Ying’s eyelids hovered between open and closed as she clung to Luo Qiu, holding onto him without separation since the beginning. Perhaps it was rely an instinctual survival chanism, with no ulterior motive, just the simple need to share warmth.
“Congee...”
“Congee?”
Luo Qiu’s body was also nearing its limits. This ti, he’d impulsively decided to experience the fear of death—but he found he felt nothing of the sort. He had technically ‘died’ once before, shot by a custor during his first transaction, only to be revived imdiately at the club.
He realized that his subconscious, anchored in the concept of ‘immortality,’ couldn’t perceive death with any real fear. This attempt at understanding had turned out fruitless. He likely wouldn’t bother with such an endeavor again.
His mind felt as though split in two—half analytical, the other half experiential. But rationality persisted in dissecting every bit of sensory experience. In the end, Luo Qiu still hadn’t fully grasped his essence.
“The white congee... I realized it was you who made it that morning, right?” Song Ying’s voice, weakened, mumbled as her eyes threatened to close.
“Mm,” Luo Qiu admitted, seeing no reason to deny it.
“How long... have we been here?” she asked feebly.
“Quite a while—almost an hour, I think.”
“Only an hour?” she murmured, as though speaking in a dream. “Feels like... a year.”
“You could think of sothing happy,” Luo Qiu suggested.
Song Ying didn’t catch the steadiness in Luo Qiu’s voice, contrasting with his shivering body. She managed a bitter smile, “Happy thoughts... they’re hard to find right now...”
Luo Qiu glanced toward a shelf in the cold storage and then softly said, “Isn’t being with family one of those happy things? The days are countable, so surely the good monts are, too.”
“There’s... a lot... so much…” Song Ying’s head naturally leaned on Luo Qiu’s shoulder, her consciousness drifting even as her body shivered, yet a peculiar, deep fatigue overriding the biting cold.
“When I was in kindergarten, there was... a dance competition…” she began, recounting mories, old secrets stored in her heart, stirred perhaps by the approach of death. Here, her inner stories could flow freely, with no care for what should or shouldn’t be shared.
"These mories... I have so many,” she murmured, eyes barely open, lips turning up in a faint smile. “Now that I’ve shared mine... shouldn’t you say sothing too?”
Luo Qiu suddenly asked, “One thing I can’t understand: that night, you said you’d keep here, even suggested marriage as a ans… Why?”
Song Ying paused, unsure if her mory was hazy from the cold, but Luo Qiu’s question stirred a foggy recollection. Keeping her thoughts straight was hard now, so she just replied instinctively, “After my parents died... I woke in the hospital and saw my grandfather, sitting beside , looking alone and helpless. The head of the Song family, crying beside ... I never want to see that happen again.”
“Finding you was my grandfather’s greatest wish. So, I thought I’d keep you…”
“If we could wash the Song family clean, we’d have fewer enemies… That would be worth every effort, exhausting as it may be.”
“I know my grandfather cherishes , but he still favors sons over daughters. I don’t mind, though... He does it because he thinks hard work should fall on n, while won keep the family safe.”
“I never tried to prove myself stronger than n… I simply saw that no one else could uphold the Song family. The vast legacy of the Song family only has my uncle as an heir…”
Song Ying gave a faint, bitter smile. “But as you know, he… he isn’t capable of maintaining it. He has his own dreams… he might not care about the family’s wealth. He might create sothing even greater than the Song family soday... but I can’t.”
“I lack that talent, no matter how hard I work, how much ti I put in… All I can do is hold on, keep my grandfather’s legacy going.”
“I’m so tired…”
“So I thought… if, at that mont, there could be one more person… soone like you.”
“You share the bloodline of the Song family. You’re the descendant of my grandfather’s brother… So, in a way, you’re more qualified than I am.”
“When my grandfather told about you, I hesitated. But, honestly… you’re my best option to stabilize the Song family right now…”
“People in wealthy families don’t get happy marriages. Arranged unions for power and wealth are the norm… Compared to others, I’m actually lucky... I don’t really dislike you... And Gan Hong also likes staying by your side… I rarely see her that relaxed.”
“But you… you’re so aggravating. I’m impatient, and you’re so calm, never rattled... If I keep going, I’ll just get frustrated…”
“When you asked earlier what I’d do first if we got out, and I said ‘get so warm water,’ that was a lie. Really, I’d go straight to my grandfather and tell him I’m okay…”
“Are you still listening?... Are you asleep?... Luo Qiu…”
With a final surge of energy, she lifted herself, looking at his calm face, realizing he was gazing back at her with a gentle smile.
That gentle smile brought a distant mory of her parents. “Actually… you look good when you smile.”
She felt an urge to kiss him.
But it wasn’t an urge sparked by romantic attraction; this kiss was free from any deeper affection or desire. Her mind gradually dulled, letting go of conscious thought, moving only by instinct.
She closed her eyes, her last trace of warmth fueling the motion. She felt as if she was moving toward sothing warm.
But, in reality, she collapsed.
Luo Qiu held her as she fell, realizing her intent. Yet, ultimately, she succumbed to exhaustion.
Supporting her, he murmured softly, “Save it for soone who can truly bring you happiness… It should be almost ti.”
As he spoke, he slowly lowered his head. Frost settled over them, encasing their hair in a glimring layer.
Silent.
Silent.
Silent.
Deathly silent...
Suddenly—with a loud crash, the cold room’s door burst open as a figure rushed inside, swiftly grabbing Luo Qiu and Song Ying by the backs and carrying them out.
Outside the cold room, Song Haoran, still holding them by their shoulders, was in tears as he looked at Song Tianyou in front of him and hoarsely said, "Dad... I was wrong."
Song Tianyou sighed, looking older in an instant, and softly replied, "Call the doctor. I... I was wrong too."
…
…
Ding-a-ling.
The sound of a wind chi stirred by the breeze near the window. Outside, the hot weather made the asphalt road shimr with heat waves. In the large bed inside the room, Luo Qiu slowly opened his eyes.
After waking up, he glanced at the wind chi by the window and smiled, then looked at Song Haoran, who was silently sitting on the nearby sofa.
He seed to be deep in thought but noticed that Luo Qiu had awakened.
Song Haoran didn’t get up; he remained seated on the sofa. At least he managed a slight, forced smile as he looked at Luo Qiu and asked, "How are you feeling? Back among the living?"
"Alive and well. We’re back at the Cold Residence, aren’t we? This decor only exists here," Luo Qiu said, glancing around.
Song Haoran paused, curious, "You don’t seem at all surprised about your rescue?"
"If this were all part of a pre-planned script, there wouldn’t be much reason to be surprised, right?" Luo Qiu replied, shaking his head.
Song Haoran was taken aback, "When... when did you figure it out?"
Luo Qiu casually replied, "I wasn’t entirely certain at first. But later, when I was looking for butter in the cold room, I accidentally saw a power cable. Then I noticed a cara hidden behind a shelf."
"A single cara doesn’t prove much... maybe Basil installed it to blackmail my father," Song Haoran suggested.
Luo Qiu shook his head. "When you left this morning, you deployed so many people, yet your enemies still managed to infiltrate the Red Tower and even take Chairman Bai hostage. It seed a bit too convenient."
Song Haoran opened his mouth, then suddenly laughed, "Luo Qiu, if you were my enemy, you’d be terrifying."
He shook his head and made a phone call, simply saying, "You can co in."
A mont later, there was a knock at the door, and a burly middle-aged man walked in. Despite his build, his face was thin and looked sinister—this man was, in fact, Basil.
Seeing Song Haoran, Basil quickly greeted, "Young Master."
He then turned to Luo Qiu, "Young Master Qiu!"
Luo Qiu feigned ‘surprise’ and asked, "Are you going to tell ... you two know each other?"
Song Haoran gestured, and the man posing as Basil put his hands to his face and started rubbing. Soon, the ‘Basil’ tore off an entire layer of skin from his face.
"A 3D-printed skin mask," Song Haoran explained. "Developed using techniques taught by Mr. Blind. This face belonged to the real Basil, whom I’ve already taken care of."
"When was this?" Luo Qiu asked curiously.
"Rember the day we first arrived and went to Chinatown? I felt sothing odd about Bai Shuitang’s attitude... I’ve told you, my intuition is usually spot-on. So, later, I had O'Neil and Lluvia do so digging... Don’t be fooled by Lluvia’s fiery looks—she’s a skilled hacker!"
"Lluvia found records on Bai Shuitang’s private computer that he had secretly used Song Dynasty funds to establish a company. That company had a partner."
"Basil?" Luo Qiu asked.
"Exactly," Song Haoran nodded. "I’ve tangled with Basil a few tis before, and he’s always lost. I didn’t expect him to team up with Bai Shuitang this ti... I decided to trap that old fox Bai Shuitang. So, before returning to the village on my father’s orders, I instructed O'Neil to take care of Basil."
He looked at the man without the mask, "The Basil you’ve been seeing is actually soone I picked from the village. For over a week, he’s been the one eting with Bai Shuitang."
"Does your father know?"
"I didn’t tell him initially," Song Haoran shook his head. "I planned to finish everything today, but then Song Ying suddenly barged into the Red Tower, and I had to adjust the plan on the spot."
With a wry smile, Song Haoran added, "I apologize. Locking you both in the cold room was my idea. I had hoped sothing might happen between you two, but now I’m just left feeling guilty."
"What about Bai Shuitang?"
Song Haoran replied calmly, "What else? For soone with such malicious intentions, I sent him on a trip around the world."
"Why tell this?" Luo Qiu suddenly asked.
After a mont of silence, Song Haoran replied, "Because I feel guilty... The things Song Ying said in the cold room—I never even considered them, and neither did my father..."
He looked at Luo Qiu. "I wanted you to know so you wouldn’t hold it against . I can promise it won’t happen again."
With that, Song Haoran stood up, lowered his head, and apologized sincerely, "I’m sorry."
"What are you planning to do next?" Luo Qiu asked again.
Song Haoran replied, "I’ll tell Song Ying that the assailant has been killed and that Bai Shuitang sacrificed himself to save ... Only you, my father, and this fake Basil know the truth."
"If you feel guilty, why not be honest with Song Ying?" Luo Qiu shook his head.
Song Haoran sighed, "Song Ying saw Bai Shuitang as family. If it were you... would you want to know the truth?"
"In that case, there’s no need to apologize to ," Luo Qiu smiled slightly. "This way is fine."
Song Haoran studied Luo Qiu closely and suddenly asked, "Those things Song Ying said... did you deliberately guide her to say them?"
"I don’t rember," Luo Qiu shook his head. "I was nearly dead myself... what do you think?"
"Haha!"
…
"Rest well."
Song Haoran left Luo Qiu’s room and walked down the hallway with the fake Basil.
The fake Basil asked, confused, "Young Master, there’s sothing I still don’t understand. We secretly planted explosives in Miss Ying’s car—just a small blast to deceive the assassin... so why did it send the car straight off the cliff?"
"I don’t know either," Song Haoran shook his head, smiling wryly. "Maybe it was heaven’s way of warning to stop tempting fate..."
…
Ding-a-ling.
Still the sound of the wind against the chi—this ti, in another room.
When Song Ying woke, she found Song Tianyou sitting beside her, holding her hand tightly, "Grandfather..."
"It’s alright, it’s alright," Song Tianyou chuckled, gently patting her hand. "It’s alright. Grandpa didn’t cry this ti."
"Grandfather..." Song Ying laughed through her tears. "I’m alright too."
Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling, ding... ling.
The evening breeze blew.
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