Chapter 131: Like You, Yue

Yuki Asahi’s confusion lasted less than half a second.

Jiang Jian Yue’s figure shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bow, wrapped in wind and snow, lunging fiercely!

She curled her fingers into claws, the sound of them slicing through the air aiming straight for his throat—clearly not holding back at all!

Yuki Asahi’s pupils shrank.

Driven by instinct, his body snapped back, narrowly dodging the deadly swipe.

The collar of his yukata fluttered wildly from the sharp wind at her fingertips.

“What are you dodging for?”

Her eyes held no tears now—only a nearly uncontrollable, icy fighting spirit and… embarrassment.

The impact of admitting her feelings was far greater than she expected.

At this moment, only the outburst of physical instinct could let her escape the surge of unfamiliar emotions.

Yuki Asahi was forced to the very edge of the terrace, his back pressed against the cold railing, nowhere left to retreat.

A flash of cold light passed through Jiang Jian Yue’s eyes.

A sharp hand chop, carrying the momentum to cleave steel, tore through the falling snow, slicing down toward his neck!

No way to dodge!

Yuki Asahi stopped evading.

Instead, he moved forward.

His right arm tensed instantly, the yukata fabric stretched taut with a groan as he forcefully blocked the deadly chop.

The pain of impact made him grunt, but his movements didn’t slow.

At the same time, his left hand shot out, precisely seizing Jiang Jian Yue’s wrist, exposed from the momentum of her attack!

No longer defense, but a firm intent to subdue the opponent.

He had to make her stop!

“Ugh!”

The pain of her wrist being caught in an iron grip made the girl groan, her movements stalling.

Her other arm instinctively bent to counterattack, slamming toward Yuki Asahi’s ribs, but was similarly caught and held firmly by his other hand.

In an instant, the two were locked in a struggle!

Bodies pressed together on the perilous, narrow edge of the terrace.

They could feel each other’s rapid, burning breath—whether from intense movement… or something else—blowing against their faces, heartbeats pounding through the thin yukata.

Jiang Jian Yue struggled fiercely.

In the heated contest, her yukata’s sash came undone, the collar slipping to reveal a large expanse of snow-white skin.

Gasping, she glared at the boy in front of her with cold, unwavering eyes.

Their noses were almost touching, the lingering sensation of lips and warm breath magnified by the closeness, mixing with the chill of killing intent and shame.

She paid no attention to the fallen yukata.

Seizing Yuki Asahi’s moment of distraction, she tripped him.

Yuki Asahi crashed to the ground.

The girl immediately followed, sitting forcefully on his stomach—even with her slight weight, it nearly made him cough up his dinner.

“You lost.”

Jiang Jian Yue sat atop him, breathing lightly.

This amount of exertion shouldn’t have left her so disheveled, but…

Embarrassment clung to her heart, making every movement feel exhausting.

“Alright. I admit defeat.”

Yuki Asahi smiled wryly.

His yukata had been pulled up, the thin fabric straining to the point of tearing.

“Don’t laugh… idiot…”

***

Outside the door, the hallway.

A flurry of urgent, chaotic footsteps approached, accompanied by Koji Hattori’s breathless shouts and pounding on the door:

“Yuki-kun! Yuki-kun! Missy! Open up! Calm down! Don’t fight!”

“Egami! Yuki-kun! Hurry and open the door!”

Saori Saiyonji’s anxious voice followed closely.

Inside the room, near the terrace door.

The two, tightly entwined, froze simultaneously.

Jiang Jian Yue hiccupped, abruptly lifting her head from Yuki Asahi’s embrace.

Tear stains still streaked her face, red eyes flickering with panic.

Pressing the yukata—or more accurately, the tattered fabric—against herself, she hurriedly stood and dashed into the room.

With a leap, she landed on the bed, tightly wrapping herself in the bedding.

Yuki Asahi climbed up from the floor, taking a deep breath to steady his own chaotic heartbeat and ragged breathing, and quickly walked to the entrance.

His hand touched the doorknob, then paused.

In a low voice, he spoke to the cocoon on the bed:

“Predecessor… I’ll open the door and explain. You… don’t worry.”

There was no response from within the bedding.

Yuki Asahi sighed helplessly, wiped his face, tried to make his expression look “normal,” and gently opened the door.

“Yuki-kun! Are you alrig—huh?”

Koji Hattori, who had been about to kick the door, quickly lowered his foot as it opened.

His anxious question caught in his throat.

His gaze swept instantly over Yuki Asahi’s disheveled yukata, the exposed collarbone beneath the open neck, and a fresh red mark on his neck—like it had been scratched by fingernails.

Saori Saiyonji’s eyes were especially sharp.

She spotted a light purple sash lying on the floor by the open glass terrace door.

“It’s fine! You can go back and rest!”

Yuki Asahi had no idea how they found out about the fight and didn’t want to know.

He hurriedly waved them off.

“Missy… wasn’t hurt, was she?”

Koji Hattori’s gaze was a bit odd.

“She wasn’t hurt!”

Yuki Asahi quickly denied it.

“Just… a minor scuffle. It’s resolved.”

“The Predecessor is… not to be disturbed right now.”

Saori Saiyonji tugged on Koji Hattori’s sleeve, lowering her voice:

“Hattori-san, I think we might have… interrupted a certain ‘resolution process.'”

Koji Hattori coughed twice, his tone growing complicated.

“Remember, a shotgun marriage is also an option.”

Yuki Asahi’s face turned crimson.

He frantically waved his hands.

“It’s not what you think! We’re just… just…”

“Alright, alright. I understand, young people’s business. Saiyonji-kun, let’s go!”

The two “fled,” and before leaving, Saori Saiyonji glanced back and secretly gave a thumbs-up.

What the heck! You’re all misunderstanding!

Yuki Asahi closed the door with a stiff expression.

Silence fell again, broken only by the rustle of wind through the glass.

He stood in place for a long moment before straightening up, returning to the terrace, picking up the sash from the floor, and closing the door.

He approached the bed, stepping lightly.

Looking at the tightly wrapped bundle of blankets, he spoke softly:

“Predecessor, are you going to sleep?”

The bundle shrank tighter.

Yuki Asahi looked helplessly at the “fortress.”

He hesitated, didn’t try to uncover it, nor did he sit on the bed.

Instead, he dragged a sofa over to a spot a step away from the bedside and sat down.

“I’ll stand guard for Predecessor tonight.”

“…Are you an idiot?”

A muffled voice finally emerged from the bedding.

The girl’s head peeked out, lips biting down as she looked at him, her voice squeezed out between her teeth:

“Come in.”

Yuki Asahi’s cautious heart finally relaxed, knowing Jiang Jian Predecessor was fine.

Obediently, he climbed into the bedding.

The bed was large—compared to the small one at the Amuro Residence, there was plenty of space for two without being crowded.

“About the girlfriend thing…”

Yuki Asahi gazed at Jiang Jian Yue’s smooth back, watching the vivid scarlet veins, and asked softly.

“Before you beat me…”

Jiang Jian Yue’s voice was stubborn, almost grinding her teeth:

“No. Not even in the next life!”

Though rejected, Yuki Asahi strangely didn’t feel disappointed.

He caught a faint hint of wavering—not entirely denial—in her flustered tone.

And a touch of irrepressible shyness.

Compared to her earlier vague answer of “will try to like,” this seemed like… progress?

At least it was no longer a dodged response, but one laced with strong personal emotion.

“Oh… okay.”

He replied, but a smile crept into his voice.

“Then… before the next life, can I still call you ‘Yue’?”

Jiang Jian Yue didn’t respond at first.

Just when Yuki Asahi thought she was going to play dead, an almost inaudible reply floated out:

“Suit yourself.”

“Yue, like.”

The ‘Yue’ in Jiang Jian Yue and the word ‘like’ are homophones.

“Like, Yue.”

“Get lost!”

***

“Alert lifted.”

A fiber-optic drone rose to the seventh-floor height.

The woman nodded at the image transmitted to her tablet.

On the yacht, everyone let out a sigh of relief.

Just now, Missy had suddenly attacked that Yuki kid—though no one knew why, there must have been a deeper reason.

Whoever Missy attacked was the enemy!

The woman recalled the drone, then stood and stretched, her bodysuit hugging her curvaceous figure as her indigo ponytail swayed.

Suddenly, a soft thud came from the yacht’s railing.

Crimson light flickered, outlining a figure—a man clad in streamlined armor.

The armor was a matte black that absorbed all light, as if forged from solidified shadow.

It wasn’t the bulky full plate of tradition, but fit to the wearer’s body like a second skin, defining every muscular line with a sense of power and agility.

Buzz—

The only color was the hellish red glow burning at several points—the collar rising to mask the lower face, and at the center of the chest, a slowly pulsing circular energy core.

From his waist down, a war skirt fluttered in the night wind like unfurling wings of death.

Standing there, he was like a death god from a dark future.

Click—

The armor split open.

The man in the bodysuit tumbled out, collapsing to his knees on the deck.

A foreign man with western features, pain etched deep in his green eyes.

“Hiss… ah! fvck!”

Sweat poured onto the deck in an instant, pooling around him.

“Don’t push yourself, White Falcon.”

The burly black man beside the woman quickly helped the man to his feet.

“I’m fine!”

White Falcon’s face still twitched.

He turned to the woman.

“Maria, what happened?”

“Just… a lover’s quarrel.”

Maria’s gaze wavered.

Calling people over for something like this felt unfair to White Falcon’s physical state.

“……….”

White Falcon lowered his head and gave a bitter laugh.

“As long as Missy is safe, that’s all that matters.”

“How’s Sapporo?”

Maria asked casually.

“Tokushu Jishou Taiou Honbu and the Seventh Division are acting as usual. Also, we’ve observed signs of… Russians.”

“Russians?”