Chapter Thirty: Poisoning
The ultimatum from the Dream Snake was like a cold shackle, tightly binding Qianxu Wuyun's neck, making every breath she took filled with a burning fear.
The rain from that night in the abandoned church had long since dried, but the bone-chilling cold lingered. She felt like a flying insect caught in a spider's web; the more she struggled, the tighter the sticky threads entangled her, until she suffocated.
On the periphery of the Xuyue organization, she must continue to play the role of that sunny, cheerful, diligent, and clever "little bee."
She continued to work at the "Rye Tavern," her face bearing an impeccable smile as she dealt with all sorts of customers, and even occasionally cracked a few harmless jokes with old John.
But only she knew that beneath this sweet shell lay a core of torment, on the verge of collapse.
Her gaze would occasionally drift off-focus, and deep within her bright yellow eyes, the once vibrant life force, like that of a sunflower, was gradually being eroded by a heavy, bleak shadow.
Every meeting with Zhong Si, which was once a source of comfort, turned into torture.
She would still appear in that quiet back alley or that corner of the courtyard piled with clutter after he finished his arduous training. When Zhong Si saw her, his violet eyes would always light up instantly, filled with unreserved joy and dependence.
He would eagerly share with her the day's fatigue and small achievements—perhaps it was because Miss Muye, for the first time today, did not completely refute his analysis, perhaps it was because Sia, though still cold-faced, secretly left him a bowl of hot soup, or perhaps it was because Mr. Ram, while checking for safety, pointed out a small hidden danger in his room that could trip someone up.
These small, warm sharings were once a ray of light in my otherwise dull and dark life.
But now, every ordinary word, falling into her ears,
They all became intelligence fragments that needed to be carefully dismantled, analyzed, and potentially used as lethal weapons.
She listened, trying to maintain a gentle smile on her face, nodding in agreement, but her heart ached as if it were being stabbed.
The snake's demands clung to her like a leech: "West Asian combat habits... patterns of action... weaknesses..."
How should she begin? How could she steer the conversation in that sensitive and dangerous direction without arousing Zhong Si's suspicion? Every time she tried to rehearse the conversation in her mind, she felt a strong wave of nausea and dizziness.
An opportunity quietly arrived one evening, but it carried with it a deeper cruelty.
Zhong Si looked more tired than usual, his face was pale, there were obvious dark circles under his eyes, and even his soft black hair seemed to have lost its luster, lying limply on his forehead.
He leaned against the cold brick wall, tilted his head slightly upward to look at the gray sky, which was cut into narrow strips by the eaves, and sighed softly.
"What's wrong? Was training particularly tiring today?" Qianxu Wuyun suppressed the turmoil in her heart and tried her best to make her voice sound full of concern as she handed him a glass of warm water.
Zhong Si took the cup, his fingertips icy cold. He was silent for a few seconds before saying in a low voice, "Miss Mu Ye... today we simulated a contingency plan for a targeted ambush of core members under extreme circumstances."
He paused, his voice trembling with lingering fear, "The scenario is... Mr. Xiya was out on an operation when the enemy had prior knowledge of his route and... and possible reaction patterns, and he was surrounded."
Qianxu Wuyun's heart sank suddenly, almost leaping out of her throat.
She forced herself to remain calm, and even gently grasped Zhong Si's slightly trembling hand that wasn't holding the cup, trying to convey a little warmth—even though her own hand was just as cold.
"How could such a terrifying scenario be set up?" She steered the conversation, lowering her voice even further, as if afraid of startling something.
"Miss Mu said, 'Be prepared for danger even in times of peace.'"
Zhong Si closed his eyes, seemingly trying to dispel the images in his mind. "She said... Mr. Xiya is very strong, but precisely because he is strong, his fighting style could become a vulnerability if his opponents study it in depth."
For example... when encountering long-range sniping, he instinctively dodges to the left, using the angle of cover; in close combat, if the enemy uses a curved blade with a specific arc, he will experience a very brief pause due to an old injury; also... when protecting important targets, he sometimes pushes too far forward, easily becoming separated from the rear..."
Zhong Si rambled on and on, these details being knowledge points that he needed to remember and think about how to make up for or utilize during training, and part of Mu Ye's cold analysis.
He trusted Qianxu Wuyun, regarding these as another side of "Mr. Xia," whom he revered and relied on, that he could share, even with a slight sense of boasting and seeking validation, as if to say, "Look, I know a lot about him."
But with each additional word he spoke, Qianxu Wuyun's face paled further. She gripped the hem of her dress tightly, her nails almost digging into her palms.
This information, vague and fragmented, is enough, when put together, to sketch a profile of a top-tier combat expert, exposing his potential risks! This is exactly what Dream Serpent wants!
A tremendous sense of guilt overwhelmed her like a raging tide. She felt like a despicable thief, taking advantage of the boy's unsuspecting trust to steal a deadly dagger, the blade of which would be pointed at the person he respected and relied on most.
"Don't...don't say anymore..." she interrupted him almost in a whisper, her voice trembling uncontrollably.
Zhong Si was stunned for a moment, opened his eyes, and looked at her in confusion. Only then did he notice her unusually pale face and the intense pain swirling in her eyes.
"Qianxu? What's wrong? Did... I scared you by talking about all this fighting and killing?" He immediately felt remorseful, quickly put down his water glass, and held her cold hands in his own, apologizing urgently, "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have told you all that! It's all my fault!"
Seeing the genuine worry and self-reproach in his eyes, Qianxu Wuyun felt as if her heart was being torn apart. No, I'm the one who should apologize! I took advantage of your naivety! I pushed you into the abyss!
She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him the truth, wanting him to stay away from her, this jinx. But the image of the Dream Serpent's cold, venomous green eyes instantly appeared before her, along with that cruel threat: "If a butterfly's wings are torn off..."
Fear, like a cold hand, gripped her throat, choking back every confession that was about to spill from her lips. She couldn't. She couldn't gamble with Zhong Si's safety.
She knew Meng She's methods better than anyone else.
She forced a smile that looked worse than a grimace, shook her head, and gripped his hand tightly, her fingertips still trembling uncontrollably: "No... I wasn't scared."
"It's just...it sounds too dangerous, I'm worried about you...and about Mr. Xia." She lowered her head, avoiding his clear gaze, afraid that it would reveal the filth in her soul. "Promise me, from now on...from now on you'll be careful, okay? No matter what you hear or see, protect yourself first."
These words were half genuine concern, half a desperate reminder. She hoped he would be safe and sound, yet also secretly hoped he would sense the danger from these subtle clues and distance himself from her to protect himself.
Zhong Si, however, took her words as deep concern. A warm feeling welled up in his heart, and he nodded vigorously: "Yes! I will! You too, be careful in the tavern, it seems like things aren't very peaceful anywhere lately."
This difficult meeting ended in an atmosphere that seemed warm and friendly, but was actually fraught with undercurrents.
Qianxu Wuyun returned to the small, cold storage room and collapsed to the ground as if she were completely exhausted.
In the darkness, she covered her mouth tightly, and suppressed sobs broke out of her throat, tears streaming down her face and soaking the cold ground.
Her brain, however, was like a machine out of control, replaying every detail Zhong Si had said repeatedly and uncontrollably—dodge to the left, stagnation from old injuries, sudden disorientation… These words were like red-hot branding irons, searing into her memory.
She knew she had to organize this information and pass it on to Dream Serpent. Delay would only lead to more terrible consequences.
With trembling hands, she lit a small candle and, in the dim light, found a crumpled piece of paper and a short pencil.
She gritted her teeth and, using extremely messy abbreviations and symbols that only she could fully understand, recorded those fragmented pieces of information. Each word she wrote felt like writing a charge of guilt with her own soul.
After writing the last sentence, she seemed to have exhausted all her strength, collapsing into the corner. The candle flame flickered in her empty pupils, like her conscience that was about to be extinguished.
The next day, she took advantage of a shopping trip to slip the folded note, about the size of a fingernail, into the crevice of a designated dead mail box in the dock area.
The moment she completed that action, she felt a part of herself die with it. Looking at the murky river, she felt for the first time the urge to jump in.
She betrayed Zhong Si's trust by handing a potentially deadly weapon to the enemy.
Although the information she conveyed was vague and unverified, she knew that in the eyes of a master like Meng She, these fragments were enough to piece together valuable clues.
Sweet words were laced with deadly poison. And she became the one who handed over the poisoned cup.
This guilt will gnaw at her soul day and night like a wound that never heals. From this moment on, the pure feelings between her and Zhong Si are completely tainted with indelible filth and despair.
Because of her betrayal, the gears of fate turned another cruel step toward an irreversible abyss.
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