Tokyo Marunouchi, the heart of Chiyoda Ward, sat on the most expensive stretch of land between the Imperial Palace Outer Garden and Tokyo Station.
Neon shattered into countless points of light on the glass curtain walls.
The office workers in suits moved like ants—hurried, numb, never stopping.
People always said this was “Mitsubishi’s stronghold.”
But they didn’t know that, in the cold, reflective gaps between these buildings, the Mizumuro family had already, like blood vessels, silently coiled around half the empire.
The entire street, this city, even this country—it all pulsed slowly within their invisible network.
“We’ve arrived, Miss.”
Minazuki Shiro’s voice came from the front seat, carrying an inexplicable sharpness like a samurai’s blade.
In Minazuki Shiro’s own words, she was a retainer in a maid’s uniform.
The black Toyota Century slid silently into the dedicated rear alley entrance.
Himuro Mio pushed open the door.
The wide sleeves of her light blue kimono fluttered gently in the night breeze, and her long hair lifted with it.
She looked up.
Tonight’s moon was very clean.
Cold, white light spilled down, making her face appear almost translucent.
Donghai City…
Could she see the same moon there?
Was Xiaobai looking up at it right now?
Or was he burying his face in that red-haired girl’s neck, greedily inhaling her scent, yet at some unconscious moment, remembering the snow maiden cosplay photo she’d sent him?
Thinking of this, her fingertips curled unconsciously.
Her heartbeat was a little chaotic.
She wanted to know Xiaobai’s name.
Maybe she already knew his face.
“Let’s go, Shiro.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Shiro followed half a step behind her, always at her side.
Even though Himuro Mio was just a high school girl in a kimono, her hair disheveled, her face utterly expressionless, she was enveloped in a nearly tangible pressure that only a true superior could possess.
When the building security guards saw her, their spines snapped straight, and they bowed their heads in unison.
They arrived at the private elevator accessible only to Mizumuro family insiders.
The mirrored walls reflected her image countless times.
The girl in the mirror looked so small, so harmless, with drooping eyelashes like snow that could be blown away at any moment.
But that was just the surface.
Himuro Mio had never been what she appeared to be.
The elevator stopped at the Hidden Snow Floor, the top level of this 70-story building.
Pushing open the door, they were greeted by antique wooden screens, the faint scent of agarwood, and warm yellow light from recessed lighting strips…
This was the family’s core decision-making center, also a hub for intelligence.
The antique décor did not mean the Mizumuro family truly respected tradition.
It was merely camouflage.
The Mizumuro family was a contradictory one—when traditional, it could be extremely traditional; when radical, it could be extremely radical.
Just like someone wearing a kimono might not necessarily pull out a katana—it could also be a silenced pistol.
“Pull up all surveillance footage from Donghai H.M. Baihui Hospital tonight.”
Himuro Mio’s voice was soft, carrying an unquestionable command, like a queen.
“Also, there is a red-haired female patient. Compile all information on her, all her direct relatives, and the boy who had close contact with her.”
“The more detailed, the better.”
Minazuki Shiro did not let her mistress say another word.
She turned, her gaze sweeping over the staff in the room.
“Execute immediately. Use the highest authority channel. No written request needed.”
No one questioned it.
No one brought up the “Personal Information Protection Law” or “Right to Privacy”—words that weighed heavily in the minds of ordinary people.
Everyone standing on the Hidden Snow Floor knew too well—a family that truly kept a behemoth standing in this world had to tread some gray areas that others dared not, or could not, step on.
They were only responsible for efficiency.
Everything else had nothing to do with them.
Contact Donghai H.M. Baihui Hospital.
Access cloud permissions.
Share real-time surveillance.
The entire process took less than three minutes.
During the waiting gap, Himuro Mio suddenly felt her heartbeat was off.
Thump, thump, thump.
It wasn’t the usual cold, rhythmic beat.
She wasn’t an emotional person.
She was always very calm.
Sometimes she even imagined her own death, and she would face that calmly too.
But not anymore.
Who exactly was holding her heart in their palm?
Slowly, forcefully, with a touch of cruel tenderness, kneading it time and time again.
‘What a cruel person.’
She lowered her eyes, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the fine snowflake embroidery on her kimono sleeve.
The fabric was cold, but the embroidery thread felt alive, lightly pricking her fingertip.
‘Ah… I’m really, so nervous.’
‘I want to see him right now.’
‘I want to know if, at this moment, he still carries the scent of that red-haired girl.’
“The patient’s name has been confirmed as Gao Hongyi.”
The staff member reported in a low voice, as flat as background noise.
Himuro Mio slowly raised her eyes.
Deep in her pupils, that faint, icy-blue flame flickered once more.
‘Yi’s real name is Gao Hongyi.’
But Himuro Mio wasn’t interested.
“Her family members are father Gao Hongzhi, mother Ya Xinyao. The Gao family is precisely the one behind the Horizon Core Technology Group—”
“Skip that.”
Himuro Mio interrupted.
The staff immediately fell silent.
“And… the boy who was close to the patient?”
Himuro Mio’s fingertips stopped on her sleeve.
Her voice grew even softer, almost like a whisper to herself.
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Gu Yebai. We just obtained his name from tonight’s family care personnel. He seems to be in a romantic relationship with the patient. We are now using our authority to search for his relevant information…”
The staff continued their report at a steady pace, as if reading an ordinary file.
But Himuro Mio could no longer hear them.
Her world suddenly went quiet, leaving only three words echoing in her mind, over and over, over and over.
Gu Yebai…
Gu Yebai…
Gu Yebai…
His name and his pen name were truly… a match made in heaven.
Baiye Duxing.
Gu Yebai.
Heh.
How fitting.
How beautiful.
A faint, very faint smile slowly crept onto the corners of her mouth.
It was an expression that was extremely rare, almost never meant to appear on her face.
Like in the bitter cold of the apocalypse, a crack suddenly tore open in the ground, and a tender, pale sprout emerged.
Fragile, yet carrying a chilling, almost cruel vitality.
‘What a… nice name.’
‘Isn’t it?’
She murmured softly.
“Photo?”
“Is there a photo?”
“Yes, Miss, there is.”
The staff quickly extracted a captured image from the surveillance footage.
This wasn’t ordinary surveillance—it was a very high-definition facial image.
That boy’s face appeared before Himuro Mio’s eyes.
He looked somewhat undernourished, with heavy dark circles, but his eyes were clear and pure.
His features weren’t stunning, yet they had an inexplicable appeal.
Not the kind of idol face, but a subtle, cool handsomeness that grew on you the more you looked.
The kind that, the more you looked, the more it stirred a desire to protect.
‘So you’re Xiaobai…’
‘Somehow, you’re exactly the Xiaobai I imagined.’
‘Hehe…’
‘I’m really so happy, Xiaobai.’
‘Will we have a day when we meet in the future?’
He was thin, pale, with tired dark circles under his eyes.
The corners of his eyes drooped slightly, yet his smile was unexpectedly gentle—like a white flower blooming reluctantly under a gray sky.
Beautiful enough to make one’s heart ache.
Fragile enough to make one want to lock him in a glass case and slowly dye him into one’s preferred color.
But…
It was still too far.
He was in Huaxia Nation, and Himuro Mio was in Sakura Country.
Moreover, he had his life, and she had hers…
But if, someday in the future, they were to meet by chance somewhere, Himuro Mio believed she would never mistake him.
She would surely be able to identify Gu Yebai at a single glance among the crowd.