By the time Yang Xueyi clumsily gathered all ten, she realized that apart from her, the study room was already empty.
The entire library had instantly become deserted, with only faint voices from distant corners, as if separated by different spaces—far away from Yang Xueyi.
Her first reaction was to call Ying Yun.
He was at home and could come quickly.
With this belief supporting her, she finally found her dropped phone.
But the screen was shattered, the device ruined from being stepped on repeatedly, and it had shut down.
The unknown darkness and emptiness made the space even scarier.
With power completely lost, not only was there no light, but all sound seemed to vanish.
Only pale moonlight shone through the tall office building’s back window, casting long shadows on the bookshelves and desks, which looked distorted and unreal.
The unlit areas seemed like empty black holes, hiding terrifying unknown creatures.
Old memories resurfaced, and Yang Xueyi’s fear surged to a peak.
She was afraid of the dark.
Her trauma around darkness was like a lurking monster.
At the most vulnerable moment, it attacked fiercely.
Panic and anxiety suddenly flared, her fear became uncontrollable.
Even though she kept telling herself she had grown up, and this time was different, her inner self still felt like a helpless child trapped in a dark cabinet.
As a left-behind child, her grandmother often had to work late and was frequently late to pick her up from school.
The teacher, forced to supervise her overtime, often complained.
Whenever dissatisfied, the teacher would punish Yang Xueyi by locking her inside the school’s storage cabinet.
So Yang Xueyi never had good experiences with darkness.
One deeply etched memory was a night not long after her fifteenth birthday.
Mr. Ying and Mrs. Ying had gone to a banquet, and Yang Meiying was assigned to clean another vacant property of the Ying family villa.
Only Ying Yun and Yang Xueyi were home.
The power outage happened in an instant.
Overcome by fear, Yang Xueyi instinctively clung to Ying Yun, just like she used to cling to her grandmother.
Then, the next second, in the dark, Ying Yun violently pushed her away.
His loud reprimand followed: “Yang Xueyi! What are you doing?”
Eighteen-year-old Ying Yun’s voice was as cold and arrogant as now.
“Stay away from me!”
No one knew why.
Usually, Ying Yun was just cold, but once, he seemed unbearably panicked.
In the dark, Yang Xueyi couldn’t see his expression but could feel the disbelief and gritted teeth in his voice, even a trembling, as if he’d discovered something terrifying.
The darkness seemed to cast a spell on him, causing a reaction he couldn’t accept, turning his panic into anger.
As if Yang Xueyi were a disease, Ying Yun fled quickly, with an unnatural, urgent tone: “Don’t touch me! You killed my dog; now you want to kill me?”
The blackout lasted only five minutes, but to Yang Xueyi, it felt like five days and nights.
Ying Yun’s words shattered her fear of the dark but replaced it with humiliation, shame, and endless grievance.
Her memory of when the power came back was already blurry, but Ying Yun’s scolding in the dark still replayed vividly as if it were yesterday.
Even if her phone were intact, what good would calling Ying Yun do?
He probably wouldn’t come.
No one would come to save her.
Yang Xueyi clutched her translation papers tightly, shrinking into a corner of the library.
“Yang Xueyi!”
“Yang Xueyi, where are you?”
The distant voice sounded like it came from another dimension, carrying panic and urgency unlike before.
Had she hallucinated? Even hearing Ying Yun’s voice?
But as she doubted herself, the voice came closer until it was right above her head—real and certain.
Following the beam of Ying Yun’s flashlight, Yang Xueyi looked up and saw his expression—a mix of anxious worry and an awkward panic.
His chest rose and fell rapidly as if he’d just run over.
When Ying Yun crouched down, his face was calm and indifferent again.
The earlier panic was probably just her illusion caused by shifting light.
He furrowed his brows: “Why didn’t you leave?”
Saying “afraid of the dark” would have taken only two words, but inexplicably, Yang Xueyi felt embarrassed.
At twenty-five, she still got weak in the knees from fear of the dark.
She panicked and stammered, “I—I twisted my ankle. Someone pushed and stepped on it just now. I don’t know if it’s broken…”
Ying Yun bit his phone in his mouth to free both hands and immediately rolled up the leg of her pants.
His cold fingers briefly touched Yang Xueyi’s left ankle with professional precision.
After checking carefully, he raised her right foot.
In fact, after she spoke, Yang Xueyi immediately regretted it.
Ying Yun was an orthopedic doctor—what kind of lie was that?
He had probably already seen through her.
His fingers still rested on her right ankle, his eyelids slightly raised, looking at her in the dim light with an unreadable expression.
Yang Xueyi suddenly felt like a clumsy rookie fox spirit, foolishly thinking Ying Yun was a naïve scholar.
Facing this expert, she had shown off her ignorance…
She didn’t know how he would mock her.
Her face burned red with shame, wishing she could erase herself from the world.
Might as well die!
After a moment of silence, Ying Yun turned off his phone, and darkness fell again.
Did he think she was faking it and was going to abandon her?
But soon, Ying Yun’s actions gave her the answer—
The next second, her body felt weightless as warm, strong arms slid under her shoulders and crossed to hold her tightly.
Ying Yun said nothing.
Calm, natural, his movements smooth and effortless.
Yang Xueyi, heart pounding wildly, cried out: “Ying Yun!”
Though carrying such a large person, Ying Yun walked confidently as if on flat ground.
Soon, he had carried her outside the library.
Outside on the flat ground, a few people waited for rides home.
Ying Yun, holding Yang Xueyi, ignored the curious gazes, acting openly and naturally.
In the end, it was Yang Xueyi who became embarrassed and said, “Ying Yun, why are you carrying me?”
“Didn’t you say you broke your ankle?”
That was a lie!
Ying Yun looked at her coolly.
“I just checked. It is broken.”
Yang Xueyi was stunned. Was this the ability of an attending doctor in a top-tier hospital’s orthopedics department?
Ying Yun, oblivious to the insult, said, “This is a large-area blackout. Many people are stranded, and it’s a mess to drive or take a taxi. You’re hurt; I’ll carry you.”
“No, no!”
At this moment, Yang Xueyi’s fear of the dark had completely vanished.
The warmth from Ying Yun’s body made her restless, her heartbeat accelerating, making her want to leap away from him.
“You forgot? You said I killed your dog, and that I might kill you too. After thinking it over, better to be safe than sorry—I’ll keep my distance from you!”
I heard doctors are also superstitious.
The words “bad luck” definitely made Ying Yun hesitate.
But moments later, she heard him speak coldly: “I’m sorry about what happened before. I didn’t know then.”
His voice sounded a little uneasy.
“I only found out about what you went through as a child from Aunt Yang several years later.”
“I never found the chance to apologize before.”
“When I was eighteen, something happened. I was in a bad mood, a terrible person, and said a lot of hurtful things. Sorry, Yang Xueyi.”
Yang Xueyi was stunned.
After ten years, she actually heard an apology from Ying Yun.
Ten years had passed, and had Ying Yun finally grown into a reflective adult?
Had the disgraced young master finally realized that the superstition about killing dogs was nonsense?
Just as Yang Xueyi was about to magnanimously say she no longer cared, Ying Yun continued—
“Go ahead and ‘kill’ me. I’m not afraid anymore.”
Ying Yun looked at her expressionlessly. “I even buy Nike now.”
Fortunately, after saying this, Ying Yun seemed to realize it sounded off and quickly amended, “There’s no such thing as killing or not killing.”
His tone was uneasy: “Back then, I couldn’t control my emotions well. I was rebellious in my terrible youth and had some experiences. You were completely innocent. It’s right that you hated me—it was my problem.”
Ying Yun apologized again, his tone much more serious: “Yang Xueyi, I’m sorry.”
Just as Yang Xueyi was at a loss for words, Ying Yun’s voice rang out once more—
“Next time you’re afraid of the dark, you can hold onto me. I won’t be such a jerk again.”