Chapter Fifty-Seven: Phantom

Xie Yanluo opened her eyes and saw a white ceiling above her.

She felt a faint ache in her head.

Where was this place, again?

The young girl instinctively turned her head, and saw Die Xian in a white dress sitting nearby, peeling an apple with a fruit knife.

Bright red skin curled away, leaving only the snow-white, crystalline flesh beneath.

“President,” Xie Yanluo called out impulsively.

Die Xian turned to look at Xie Yanluo and smiled softly. “Do you still remember who I am?”

Xie Yanluo paused, thinking carefully. She realized she had never seen this woman in white before, though she thought her very beautiful.

But why had she addressed her as President?

Die Xian noticed the confusion flickering across Xie Yanluo’s face and sighed at last. “It’s all right. Just focus on resting and getting better.”

With that, she handed Xie Yanluo the peeled apple and turned to leave the room.

Carotes was waiting in the hallway.

The red-haired man leaned against the wall.

“What exactly happened?” Die Xian bit her lip. “Is this permanent, or just temporary?”

“When we arrived, Xie Yanluo was already a corpse,” Carotes replied evenly, gazing ahead. “She had shattered her own heart, and had been dead for over ten minutes.”

“To bring the dead back to life is a feat beyond comprehension.”

“But the Third Princess accomplished it.”

“How?” Die Xian pressed.

“With an astonishingly delicate operation, the Third Princess reassembled her heart, restarted the flow of blood, and infused her body with tremendous life force. With her own formidable spiritual power as a foundation, she forced the scattered remnants of Xie Yanluo’s soul back into her body,” Carotes explained in detail. “She resurrected someone who had already died—not by necromancy, but by a true and miraculous revival. Even if it was only ten minutes after death, it remains an unbelievable act.”

“However,” Carotes sighed, “such resurrection does not come without a price.”

“Xie Yanluo’s soul had already disintegrated, and her body had collapsed. Although the Third Princess restored her body, without a soul, she would have been but an empty shell. Forcing the scattered soul fragments back leaves the memories in tatters—how could those broken recollections ever be pieced together?”

“She will lose almost all her memories, leaving only fleeting glimpses, mere fragments of light. Even if she occasionally recalls bits and pieces, it will be like gazing through mist at a painting—everything distant and unfamiliar, as if witnessing the life of a stranger.”

“It’s as though a painted canvas has been wiped clean, returned to a blank sheet,” Die Xian understood Carotes’ words.

“Did the Third Princess realize the consequences?” she asked.

Resurrection like this could be crueler than true death.

“Perhaps she knew, perhaps not—but it makes little difference,” Carotes replied. “The Third Princess made her choice and acted; that is all.”

“If it were up to you, would you allow this to happen?” Carotes turned to Die Xian.

She shook her head. “I would rather die. For everyone I know to see me, knowing I remembered nothing, would only bring pain and sorrow.”

“That’s why the Third Princess does not understand human emotions. Xie Yanluo was a good child—she never imagined she would be revived in such a way,” Carotes said with a sigh.

“What do you plan to do now?” he asked Die Xian.

“Let her stay with the Snowfall Society. We’ll teach her knowledge and skills anew. At least she is healthy, with no hidden dangers. As for her future, that will be up to her own choices,” Die Xian replied calmly. “For us, this is a misfortune. But for Xie Yanluo herself, beginning a new life might not be such a bad thing.”

Carotes nodded. At that moment, the president’s pocket began to vibrate. He took out a black crystal and held it before him. A student’s voice emerged from within: “Liu Ru is at the door and requests to enter. Shall we allow it?”

...

Liu Ru was eventually let in.

She arrived just outside Xie Yanluo’s hospital room and saw both Carotes and Die Xian.

She had seen Carotes several times, but this was her first time meeting Die Xian.

The girl couldn’t help but study the woman in white.

Die Xian, with her black hair and tall figure, had a face of striking beauty laced with a hint of cold severity. After looking at her for a while, Liu Ru felt her eyes begin to ache, sensing an edge as sharp as a blade about her.

“Die Xian,” Carotes introduced calmly, “President of the Snowfall Society.”

Only then did Liu Ru understand that this was the president Xie Yanluo so often mentioned. She quickly bowed. “Greetings, President.”

“So you’re Liu Ru?” Die Xian had actually seen Liu Ru several times before, though always from the shadows. This was their first direct meeting. “Why did you come so quickly?”

“Because the Third Princess said my senior had awakened,” Liu Ru replied, looking at Die Xian.

She had insisted on coming herself, and besides, Su Ziye had secretly escorted her. If Mo Yun chose to strike so quickly, it would serve as a decoy; if not, it would simply be a hospital visit.

“She has awakened, but her condition is not good,” Die Xian said to Liu Ru.

“What do you mean?” Liu Ru was puzzled.

“She likely remembers nothing from the past—including all of us.” Die Xian explained evenly.

Liu Ru was stunned. “Why?”

Hadn’t the Third Princess revived Xie Yanluo? Why the amnesia?

“Because what was resurrected is mainly her body; her soul was almost reborn within it,” Carotes explained slowly from the side. “I’ve said before, the domain of life is sacred and noble.”

“I understand,” Liu Ru nodded. “I’d like to see her.”

“You may go in now,” Carotes replied calmly.

Liu Ru entered the ward, leaving the other two outside.

“What do you think?” Carotes asked Die Xian.

“She’s a good child, too,” Die Xian said quietly. “It’s Su Ziye whom I can’t quite figure out now.”

“You’re not alone—neither can I. Their arrival at the academy may not be a good thing, but it is at least the right thing,” Carotes said indifferently.

“What’s the topic for the second trial of the Third Test?” Die Xian asked suddenly.

“Wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. It was published in today’s Scarlet Heart Diary,” Carotes reminded her.

Of course, Die Xian already knew, but to ask again was to hint at something else.

“Liu Ru performed brilliantly in the first trial. I look forward to her performance in the second,” Die Xian said simply.

Just then, the door opened.

Liu Ru emerged from the hospital room, her eyes red as if she had been crying inside.

“President,” Liu Ru turned to Die Xian.

“Yes?” The president looked at her with some surprise.

“If I pass the third test, will you allow me to join the Snowfall Society?” Liu Ru asked.

“Have you already decided?” Carotes interjected.

“Yes.” Liu Ru nodded firmly. “I’ve decided.”

Die Xian looked at the golden-haired girl before her and finally nodded. “You may do whatever you wish to do.”

...

To the south of Nightleaf City, thousands of miles away, there stood a vast and dazzling city.

Its name was the City of Stars.

Or simply Star City.

In the southeast corner of Star City was a small wooden cottage, simple and humble—not particularly refined or elaborate, but arranged with warmth and care.

A man in white was carrying dishes from the kitchen to the table: stir-fried pickled vegetables with beans, tomatoes and eggs, shredded pork with wood ear mushrooms, scallion lamb, and a drink—sour plum soup.

Last was a small bowl of steaming rice, white and lustrous.

“Come and eat, Little Star,” the man called warmly after setting the meal.

As his words faded, a girl in silver silently appeared at the doorway.

She was like a ghost, floating rather than walking. The girl drifted noiselessly to the table, sat down, and picked up her chopsticks.

A bite of vegetables with beans, a mouthful of rice.

A taste of tomatoes and eggs, a mouthful of rice.

A taste of shredded pork, a mouthful of rice.

A taste of scallion lamb, a mouthful of rice.

Then she sipped the sour plum soup.

Afterwards, she reached again for the vegetables with beans.

Her actions were mechanical. She sampled each dish exactly once, showing no preference, making it impossible to guess her tastes. The length of her meal was determined solely by the small bowl of rice.

The man seemed accustomed to her eating habits, but he still chatted cheerfully at the table. “Little Star, which dish do you think turned out the best today?”

“Or was there one you didn’t like?”

“Did you notice I left out the salt in one dish?”

“And I put extra sugar in another.”

He rambled on, having apparently tampered with the food in hopes of altering her routine, but it had no effect.

In the end, the girl raised her right hand and made a subtle gesture.

Silence.

The man obediently stopped talking, watching quietly as she finished her meal.

When she’d scraped up the last grain of rice, the girl set down her chopsticks, pressed her hands together, and silently expressed her thanks.

It was all as mechanical as before.

The man sighed, took a sealed envelope from his pocket, placed it on the table, and slid it to her.

This time he said nothing.

The girl’s expression changed ever so slightly when she saw the envelope.

She picked it up, opened it, and read its contents swiftly.

The man stood quietly across from her.

After reading, a faint sense of relief seemed to cross her face.

She looked up at him.

“I need to leave for a while.”

Her voice was cold and even, devoid of all emotion—simply stating her intention.

“Where to?” the man asked with a smile.

She didn’t reply, but stood and walked outside.

Someone was already waiting for her there.

At last, only the man remained in the empty room. He returned to the kitchen, served himself some rice, and began to eat.

“Even without a pinch of salt, she finished the scallion lamb. And the tomatoes and eggs—three times the sugar, sickeningly sweet—she showed no reaction,” he grumbled as he ate. “Next time, I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. She barely eats, and in the end, it’s left for me.”

As he muttered, a person appeared across from him, though he hadn’t noticed when.

“Want to eat together?” he offered. “I rarely cook myself, you know.”

“Sorry, I’ve already eaten,” replied the woman before him.

She was strikingly beautiful.

“It must not feel very good, does it?” the woman said. “The taste of waiting for death.”

“You’re wrong.” The man looked up at her. “You can’t imagine how happy I am right now.”

“Did you know? She’s afraid.”

“She’s terrified that the next name in the envelope will be mine.”

“You sound awfully proud,” the woman remarked. “Why did you choose her in the first place?”

“I picked the strongest. Why shouldn’t I be proud?” the man declared, as if boasting of having raised the finest pupil.

“Some are already dead, some of the children too. You are almost the last master and disciple left,” the woman said calmly. “If you don’t act soon, you’ll die.”

“You’re no match for her.”

“How can you belittle me!” the man flared at her contempt. “Now that she’s gone, any of you can try me. Let’s go outside and see if this old blade isn’t still sharp!”

“But you still won’t defeat her,” the woman said quietly. “You know that as well as I do.”

“She was born a weapon, destined to stand atop the world, the sharpest blade of our clan.”

“Perhaps you’re her last fragile tie to this world; when you’re dead, she’ll be truly free.”

“Or perhaps you’ll prove you’re not yet worn out,” the woman said, looking at him.

“Freedom?” the man chuckled. “She was always meant to be the freest child—if only you all hadn’t brought her here.”

“I’ve already decided what to do. Maybe when she returns, everything will be settled.”

“Xinghe!” the woman nearly shouted his name. “Why do you always act on impulse!”

“Because that’s who I am,” the man replied calmly.

He pointed upward. “Your visiting time is up. You can go.”

“This will be the last time I ever see you,” the woman said, her voice trembling.

With that, she left.

Only Xinghe remained, sitting alone in the quiet room.

“I could really use a drink,” he said.