Chapter Twenty-One: Bees
Mu Ye's intelligence assessment and training were like an endless winter. Every day, for Zhong Si, was a difficult trek across an information ice field.
The massive amount of data he was required to memorize was like a biting cold wind, Mu Ye's emotionless silver-gray eyes were like frozen soil that would never melt, and the mental challenges that pushed him to his limits were like a solo dance on the edge of a cliff, where a slight misstep would plunge him into the abyss of mental collapse.
He dragged his exhausted body and nearly numb mind out of Mu Ye's intelligence analysis room, which was filled with cold white light and the low hum of instruments.
The dim wall lamps in the corridor swayed into blurry spots of light in his eyes, and he seemed to still hear the monotonous clicking of the encrypted telegraph machine and Mu Ye's flat, unchanging commands.
He habitually lowered his head and hunched his shoulders, like a frightened little animal trying to hide itself, and followed the familiar route to his small, simple room on the edge of headquarters, which at least provided a moment of physical isolation.
This deep-seated weariness and sense of isolation had haunted him since the moment he stepped into the Xuyue organization. Yes, Xiya had rescued him from the ruins, given him shelter, and saved him from freezing and starving to death.
The Xuyue organization is large and tightly controlled, providing a distorted sense of "order" and "security." But the price of this "security" is constant scrutiny, the need to constantly prove one's "worth," and relationships between members based on efficiency and loyalty rather than warmth.
West Asia's protection was clumsy and heavy, carrying unspeakable guilt and empathy; Ram's scrutiny was calm and detached; Mu Ye's training stripped away all "human" emotions, treating him as a tool that needed to be polished.
This place is like a highly efficient and sophisticated machine, and he is a new part that has just been forcibly installed and is still out of place.
He was grateful to West Asia and dependent on it, but this dependence was mixed with immense pressure and the fear of losing this protection. He longed to be accepted, yet he constantly felt like an "outsider," a "burden" that needed to be carefully guarded to avoid being abandoned.
However, the "chance encounter" on that rainy day a few days ago, like a pebble thrown into the stagnant lake of his heart, stirred up unprecedented ripples.
That girl named Qianxu Wuyun...
Her image was so vividly imprinted in his mind, forming a cruel yet captivating contrast with everything else within the organization. She wasn't as cold and precise as Mu Ye, as majestic and distant as Xu Yue, as violent and protective as Xi Ya, nor did she possess the varying degrees of wariness and aloofness of the other members.
She is...warm.
Zhong Si curled up on his cold bed in his room, the sky outside the window a typical London gloom. He closed his eyes, trying hard to recall every detail.
The color of her hair was so incredible, as if the softest part of the sunset had been crushed and dyed on it, with pink, yellow and orange intertwined, full of the warmth of life.
Her eyes were a bright yellow, clear as the early spring sunshine. When she looked at people, there was no assessment or calculation, only pure curiosity and... a kind of simple kindness he had almost never experienced. Her smile was unguarded and powerfully infectious, capable of brightening even the gloomy air around her.
Most importantly, it was the way she spoke and the way she treated him. She showed no awe or fear because he was in the organization, nor did she show pity or contempt because of his thin and pale appearance.
She treated him like an ordinary peer she'd met by chance on a rainy day, with a touch of natural apology and playful concern.
She would notice that he wasn't using an umbrella, and would naturally share hers with him. She would care whether he would catch a cold, and would even interpret his name in a naive yet apt way—"Does it mean quiet night?"
This interaction was so normal, so easy.
Within the Moonlit Organization, every conversation can have hidden meanings, and every action can be evaluated. He must always be on edge, trying to decipher the intentions of others and worrying about his own performance.
But in front of Qianxu Wuyun, for the first time he felt that he could temporarily let down all his guard and be treated simply as "Zhong Si" himself.
There was no need to prove his worth, no need to fear betrayal, no need to dread assessment. This feeling was both terrifyingly unfamiliar to him and so precious that it brought tears to his eyes.
"Next time you come to 'Rye,' I'll treat you to a cup of hot milk as an apology!"
These words had echoed in his mind countless times over the past few days. A cup of hot milk… such a simple, ordinary thing. But in his experience, it symbolized a kind of peaceful and mundane everyday warmth that he could hardly imagine. This was completely different from the food brought by organizations he was familiar with, such as those from West Asia, which carried the weight of compensation and responsibility; it was more like a casual, selfless sharing between friends.
A strong, almost instinctive longing grew wildly within him. He longed to see those bright yellow, vibrant eyes again, to hear that clear, melodious voice once more, and to feel that pure warmth without any conditions attached. This longing even temporarily overshadowed his fear of Mu Ye's training and his unease about potentially violating the organization's rules.
He began to consciously or unconsciously change his route. When returning to his residence from the training ground, he would deliberately take a longer route, choosing the alleyway that led past the "Rye Tavern".
He would slow his pace, his heart racing involuntarily, his gaze darting between the back door of the tavern and the quiet alley, hoping that familiar figure would suddenly appear.
Once, twice… he didn’t encounter her every time. But the anticipation itself, like a flickering candle in the darkness, gave him the strength to keep going.
He even started to pay attention to his appearance, and when passing through puddles, he would subconsciously tidy up the black hair on his forehead that was damp with cold sweat from Mu Ye's intense training, even though this action seemed futile and pathetic on his pale and tired face.
Finally, one evening, when the setting sun gilded the dirty streets with a false golden edge, his expectations were not in vain.
He had just finished a particularly grueling memory maze test, his head throbbing and his face paler than usual. He walked towards the path almost instinctively, without much hope.
However, just as he approached the alley entrance, that warm figure happened to walk out of the back door of the tavern, carrying a bag that seemed to be garbage from the kitchen.
"Zhong Si?"
The crisp sound, carrying a hint of surprise, rang in his ears like a wind chime.
Zhong Si suddenly stopped and looked up. A hint of panic flashed in his violet eyes, which was then replaced by a light that he himself did not realize.
Qianxu Wuyun stood a few steps away, the afterglow of the setting sun outlining the contours of her radiant hair, her face bearing an undisguised and genuine smile.
"It really is you! What a coincidence!" She walked over quickly, placed the trash bag in the designated corner, and clapped her hands. "You look...very tired today?" Her gaze fell on his pale face and tired, bloodshot eyes, and her bright yellow eyes revealed natural concern.
"I'm...I'm alright." Zhong Si subconsciously avoided her gaze, his voice a little hoarse. He didn't want her to see him in such a disheveled state.
"What do you mean you're alright? Your face is so pale." Qianxu Wuyun frowned slightly, her tone carrying a hint of unquestionable reproach, but more like concern. "Wait for me!" After saying that, she turned and ran back to the tavern.
Zhong Si stood frozen in place, his heart pounding. He didn't know whether he should leave or stay.
A few minutes later, Qianxu Wuyun ran out again, holding a rough ceramic cup in her hand, with warm white steam rising from the rim.
"Here, drink it while it's hot." She shoved the cup into Zhong Si's hand. "It's freshly boiled milk. I secretly added a little bit of honey. Mr. John won't notice. It'll make you feel better."
The warmth traveled through the cup to Zhong Si's cold fingers, and a rich milky aroma mixed with a faint sweetness entered his nostrils.
He looked down at the milky white liquid in his glass, and his eyes suddenly welled up with tears. He had never been cared for so meticulously before. In the organization, survival and efficiency came first, and this kind of small act of kindness was almost a luxury.
"Th...thank you," he whispered, his voice slightly choked. He took a small sip, the warm, sweet liquid sliding down his throat, instantly warming his cold limbs. This simple taste was better than any delicacy to him.
"You're welcome." Qianxu Wuyun smiled, her eyes curving into crescents. "Do you pass by here every day? Training must be tough." She leaned naturally against the wall next to her, assuming a posture ready to chat.
Perhaps it was the warmth of the milk, or perhaps it was her relaxed attitude, that eased Zhong Si's tense nerves. He nodded, then shook his head, unsure how to describe Mu Ye's inhuman training, and finally just vaguely said, "...Yeah, it's a bit difficult."
"Then if you get tired in the future, just come and find me!" Qianxu Wuyun's voice was light and cheerful. "Although I can't help you train, I can still pour you a glass of hot milk! Just think of it as... well, just think of it as a recharging station between friends!" She used the word "friend" so naturally and so matter-of-factly.
friend.
This word was like a ray of light, suddenly illuminating Zhong Si's gloomy heart. Within the organization, he was a refugee, an object of evaluation, a responsibility that Xiya needed to protect, and a tool that Mu Ye needed to hone. He had never imagined that he could have a relationship like "friends."
Looking at Qianxu Wuyun's radiant smile, and feeling the lingering warmth of the ceramic cup in his hand, a complex mix of immense gratitude, deep longing, and a touch of unease surged within him. He knew the organization had rules, he knew Xiya might be worried, and he knew that too much contact with outsiders could pose risks.
But at this moment, this sudden, seemingly "normal" care from another world held an irresistible attraction for his long-starved soul.
Does this ray of sunlight also conceal shadows he cannot see? Is the bee's approach out of pure goodwill, or is there another purpose? These doubts, like tiny ice spikes, occasionally prick his nerves as he basks in warmth.
But the instinct for warmth far outweighed the fear of unknown dangers. He desperately needed this light, even if it might ultimately burn him.
"Okay...okay." He heard himself reply in an almost inaudible voice, his purple eyes gleaming with a fragile yet sincere light.
At this moment, for Zhong Si, the "little bee" that had accidentally flown into his world, carrying the scent of honey, was no longer just a stranger he had encountered by chance. She became a symbol, a window to the "normal" world and "unconditional care" that he had desperately longed for but never received deep in his heart.
This attraction stemmed from the most fundamental lack in his life, making it all the more intense, and... more dangerous.
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