“A good show always tastes better once the full audience has arrived, right?”
Lin Zhizhi’s fist, fitted with spiked brass knuckles, hovered in front of Bai Linlin’s swollen and aching cheek like a cruel countdown.
Bai Linlin squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her entire body tensed as she prepared for the skin-tearing pain.
The expected impact never came.
Instead, a slender hand reached out silently from the side and behind, firmly grasping Lin Zhizhi’s wrist just as it was about to descend.
The hand looked delicate and without much strength.
Yet Lin Zhizhi’s metal-spiked fist was locked in place in midair, unable to advance even an inch.
Lin Zhizhi turned her head in shock.
Xiran had somehow already appeared right beside her, standing so close that the tremble of her eyelashes was visible.
Under the moonlight, Xiran’s face appeared even paler than usual.
Her deep black eyes stared unblinkingly at Lin Zhizhi, containing no anger and no fear—only an unsettling calm, like dark currents surging beneath the still surface of a deep pool.
“Let go.” Xiran’s voice was soft, yet carried an unquestionable icy authority.
Bai Linlin’s eyes snapped open. Seeing this unexpected scene, her mind grew even more confused.
Xiran… protecting her?
No, that’s not right. Bai Linlin knew Xiran too well. That tone, that gaze—it wasn’t protection.
It was…
Lin Zhizhi tried to yank her hand back, but her wrist was gripped with iron strength.
She was stunned for a moment before rage and confusion surged together.
“Ha?” She tilted her head, looking at Xiran as if she were some kind of monster.
“Wait a second, I’m a little confused.”
She struggled to make sense of this absurd situation.
“Xiran, have you lost your mind? How that bitch treated you—have you forgotten? You’re helping her? What gives you the guts to interfere with me?!”
She simply could not comprehend it. How could a pitiful creature who had been bullied by Bai Linlin for so long turn around and protect the abuser?
“Let go! Do you hear me!”
Lin Zhizhi was completely furious. Being obstructed by a “weakling” she looked down on made her feel insulted.
Her left hand clenched into a fist. Without mercy, she swung it viciously toward Xiran’s bloodless face!
Smack!
The fist landed solidly on Xiran’s cheek. Her head snapped to the side.
Several strands of black hair stuck to the corner of her mouth.
A red mark quickly bloomed on her fair skin.
Lin Zhizhi had just begun to flash a triumphant sneer when the next second brought excruciating pain exploding from her right hand—the one gripped by Xiran!
“Aaaaaahhhh!!!”
A shrill scream tore through the night sky.
Lin Zhizhi’s eyes widened in terror. She looked at her right wrist.
There was clearly nothing there. Xiran was only gripping her wrist. But—
An invisible force suddenly stabbed into the inner side of her wrist, instantly piercing straight through her palm!
The pain was unbearable. Indescribable agony!
“Ugh—ah! My hand… my hand!”
Lin Zhizhi’s body convulsed in pain. She could no longer hold the spiked brass knuckles.
Clang! The weapon dropped into the grass.
Looking down, she saw a clean penetrating wound had appeared out of nowhere in the center of her right palm.
The edges were eerily neat, yet no weapon was visible.
An invisible attack!
What the hell is this girl?!
Only then did Xiran slowly turn her slapped-aside face back.
She raised her hand and gently wiped the corner of her lips with a fingertip.
A faint trace of blood had seeped there. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if wiping away an irrelevant smudge.
Then, she released Lin Zhizhi’s wrist.
Lin Zhizhi immediately clutched her blood-soaked right hand and staggered back several steps.
She stared at Xiran in shock and suspicion, her forehead full of cold sweat from the pain.
Xiran’s gaze swept over Lin Zhizhi’s bleeding hand, then toward the dumbfounded Bai Linlin hanging in midair, before finally settling on Lin Zhizhi’s face twisted by pain and shock.
Her voice was colder than the night wind in the forest, each word spoken with terrifying clarity.
“Lin Zhizhi, I hope you understand one thing.”
She took a small step forward.
Although she was smaller and more delicate than Lin Zhizhi, her presence completely overwhelmed the other girl.
“The person who touches her—”
Xiran’s pupils under the moonlight seemed bottomless, reflecting Lin Zhizhi’s terrified face.
“Can only be me.”
Can only be me.
Those words slammed into Lin Zhizhi’s brain like ice picks.
They also crashed into Bai Linlin’s chaotic thoughts.
Lin Zhizhi endured the pain.
Her brain spun at unprecedented speed.
All the previous fragments—the strange way they interacted, Bai Linlin’s vague scruples toward Xiran, Xiran’s near-numb calm when facing the bullying—clicked together in this moment into an absurd yet only reasonable picture.
Lin Zhizhi suddenly raised her head. She no longer cared about the injury on her hand.
She looked at Xiran, then at Bai Linlin.
For the first time, her face showed a look of near-horrified realization.
“Could it be…”
Her voice was a little dry, filled with disbelief.
“The one who made Bai Linlin do those things—”
She stared at Xiran and spat out the absurd conclusion:
“Was you, Xiran?”
The night wind seemed to stop.
Bai Linlin held her breath. Her heart nearly stopped beating.
Xiran stood in place. Moonlight outlined her slender figure.
Hearing the question, her face showed no panic or anger at being exposed. Instead, there was an almost frank calm.
She even tilted her head slightly, as if confirming whether Lin Zhizhi truly understood.
Then, she nodded. In a tone as flat as stating a simple fact, she spoke clearly.
“It was me.”
She raised her eyes and looked at the suspended, dazed Bai Linlin.
A twisted gentleness flowed in her gaze, born of absolute control.
“It was me who made Linlin do it.”
She paused. A very faint, complex smile curved her lips.
“Because I like watching her do things for me.”