Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Golden sunset edged the living-room in warmth, yet the air felt thick as setting resin. The crystal chandelier stayed dark; twilight gloom caught Yun Xi “busy” in front of the bookcase.
Dark-wood shelves upstairs held Meng Yun Xi’s antique classics, Wei Wu’s psychology paperbacks (his attempt to grasp how a brother became a sister), and assorted junk.
“Hm... Basic Runic Energy-Field Topology, Annotated...” Yun Xi’s voice was purposely level, almost perky. On tiptoe she groped the upper shelf, mind elsewhere. Sunlight danced over silver hair but could not pierce the midnight-blue eyes.
Wei Wu lolled on the couch scrolling military forums, rugged face flicking up in curiosity. Milu sat cross-legged on the window-rug, wrestling her warped Stardust Light wand, cheeks puffed in concentration while she sneaked glances at Yun Xi.
“Old Wei.” Yun Xi didn’t turn, forcing breeziness, the old banter back in her throat. “What’s dinner? Hot-pot? The new Sichuan place? My treat!” A beat. “Celebrating... the consultant fee landed!” The excuse clunked.
Wei Wu raised a brow at her rigid spine. “Oh? Miss Yun Xi’s buying? You’re on—Sichuan, extra pepper!” He chuckled, worry still lodged in his eyes.
Milu looked up, jade eyes sparkling. “Hot-pot, Senior Yun Xi! Shrimp paste...” Her little face glowed.
“Sure, whatever you want.” Yun Xi swung round, smile nailed on. She knelt beside Milu. “How’s practice? The Star Core Model hinges on steady mind-force, like breathing...” She ghosted a finger toward the wand crystal.
A speck of light gathered at her fingertip—then the familiar drag! Energy writhed like a snake in tar, guttered, died. Milu watched the spark vanish, puzzled.
Yun Xi’s grin froze; she swapped it for a teacher’s frown. “See? Unstable. Drill until it’s muscle memory.” She stood briskly, avoiding Milu’s disappointed eyes.
Under the calm, a lava sea roiled.
She felt like a cracked porcelain doll: pretty glaze hiding fracture lines. Meng Yun Xi’s line—“Power springs from soul harmony”—rang in her skull like a curse. Harmony? Her soul had been sawn in half. The half called Yun-xi battered its cage, refusing to be painted over by Yun Xi’s duties, expectations, frost-white future.
She could feel that suppressed will—chain-bound mad dragon—ramming the bars. Every slam tore new seams of pain and fury.
The spirit artifact shrieked.
Xing Dian’s indigo orb no longer drifted playfully; it clung to her shoulder like a guard dog, flame veined with pulsing crimson, humming the highest alert.
Yue Fei abandoned aloof grace. The regal cat-spirit leapt to her lap, nose cold and frantic against her wrist, purring a low urgent drum, amethyst eyes nailed to her face—pure fear.
“Yue Fei... I’m okay.” Dry words. She tried to stroke him; her fingers shook. He licked her wrist with his rough tongue, a living band-aid.
Yun Xi shoved the lava down and scanned the shelf litter: empty boxes, old magazines, a dust-furred carton, corners abraded, colour bled out—long forgotten.
“What’s that?” She frowned, reaching.
Finger brushed cardboard—
Slap!
The box slid, flipped, lid flinging open. Contents scattered across polished marble like confetti.
Time stopped.
Her gaze skewered the floor:
A yellowed scroll: Admission Notice. Name: Yun-xi. Photo: teenage boy, short hair, eyes bright, shy hopeful grin.
A worn key-chain: brass showing through, laser-etched “XY”.
A colour photo, edges curled: gentle parents. Mother tucked under Father’s arm, his hand on the shoulder of a high-school boy—sun-lit, white-teethed, eyes starry with tomorrow.
Every shard a smoking brand stamped Yun-xi = real. Proof of striving, loving, being loved.
Her spine turned to lightning rod. She stumbled, knelt, fingers trembling like prayer as she lifted the family portrait.
Cold photo against palm. She traced the boy’s unshadowed smile—college, friends, job, love, family—an ordinary precious life once within reach.
She lifted her head to the entry mirror.
Silver hair stuck to her brow, navy eyes flooded—shock, disbelief, grief—then pure incendiary rage. In the glass: flawless girl in pricey loungewear, Eternal Dream: Prime Abyss around her wrist—the sculpted “Yun Xi”.
Photo: sunny boy “Yun-xi”.
Mirror: broken girl “Yun Xi”.
The images collided, ripped, screamed. Everything smothered—identity, dreams, future—detonated.
“Ngh—!” A wounded-animal moan clawed free. She crushed the photo to her chest as if to graft that smile onto this alien skin. Grief slammed like a tsunami, smashing every levee.
“I—!” Voice gravel and snot. She jerked her head, eyes feral, swept across Wei Wu already half-risen, Milu frozen.
“—Suddenly beat! Need alone-time!” she screamed, each word a shard. “Dinner—don’t call me!”
Before they blinked she snatched the photo, the key-chain, the notice, hugged the box like ammunition, a silver comet of fury bolting for her bedroom.
BANG—!!!
Door slammed hard enough to rattle bones; the click of the lock followed like a tolling bell.
Silence inside, only her heart pounding war drums. She slid down the cold wood, landed heavy on the rug.
The carton burned like iron. She clutched it, lifeline and shroud.
“Ngh... uh...” Sobs cracked through, first tiny hiccups, shoulders jack-hammering. Then the dam burst—
“Aaah—!!!”
A roar of torn soul. She buried her face in the dusty cardboard, curled foetal, while tears stormed out, soaking relics and box alike.
Eternal Dream: Prime Abyss shrieked an ear-splitting whine, silver-blue light strobing like a lighthouse in cyclone, the bracelet itself groaning under psychic overload.
Outside, Wei Wu’s frantic knocking and Milu’s wail leaked through: “Senior Yun Xi! Open up!”
Inside: ragged howls, collapsing sobs, and an artifact crying out its own fracture—prelude to detonation.