Zina slowly crawled, her tentacle hooking a tissue from the table, then climbed onto Ye Kui’s shoulder to wipe his mouth.
It was meticulous, full of patience.
Ye Kui watched.
“Mm, probably not.”
“Zina, let’s go.”
Ye Kui picked up Zina, paid, and left.
The black-silk-clad waitress saw this scene, her expression a little subtle, but she didn’t overthink it.
After all, society was open now, and people kept all sorts of things.
She’d even seen a Little Loli bring her own cloth doll to eat, feeding it at the table.
She understood the mental state of people these days.
—
Ye Kui suddenly stopped, staring at one of the Nameplates on a nearby street stall, glinting with metallic light.
It was pink, with a hint of macho.
“Boss, how much is this?”
The boss was a Little Loli, looked about seven, dressed in a pretty little skirt, white silk stockings over her legs, cheeks rosy like a ripe little apple.
She took a deep breath, nervously clenched her pale hands, then looked up at Ye Kui, meeting his inky black eyes.
Her face reddened even more as she shyly said, “Handsome big brother, only… only five yuan.”
Suddenly, the Little Loli shivered.
Confusion flickered in her moist eyes—she suddenly felt as if she were being stared at by the vicious dog that bit her leg as a child.
“Mm, I’ll take it.”
Ye Kui said.
The Little Loli took Ye Kui’s bill, their hands touching, and shivered again.
She watched Ye Kui walk away, biting her tender lip as she pondered the situation.
“My little darling is amazing, made a sale.”
“Mom, you’re back! It’s chilly in the park, put on your coat or you’ll catch a cold!”
“Yes, yes!”
The young and beautiful woman squatted down, her eyes full of affection as she gently held the Little Loli’s hand.
Her thumb traced the dense pinprick scars on the back, tinged with heartache.
Sensing something, the Little Loli drew her hand back and smiled sweetly.
“Don’t worry, mom, I’m fine.”
“Besides… I feel really good right now.”
She raised her right hand and flexed her biceps, but her small face turned red—her arm was still flat and smooth, no bulge at all—still, it was adorable.
Seeing this, the woman gave up.
She wasn’t lying—she did feel a lot better.
Her mind wandered as she stared at the money in her hand, then looked in the direction Ye Kui had gone.
—
Ye Kui toyed with the Nameplate in his hand, his gaze flickering.
Alchemical Activation!
Immediately, two words appeared on it: [Zina].
Ye Kui looked and nodded in satisfaction, pulling Zina from his pocket.
Zina curled into a ball, refusing to look at him.
Ye Kui was puzzled.
Was Zina angry?
But why?
He couldn’t figure it out.
Gently prying open her small tentacle, he spoke softly.
“All right, Zina, I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
Zina snorted inwardly—he wasn’t sincere at all, didn’t even know what he’d done wrong…
But still, Zina slowly opened her tentacles.
Ye Kui immediately handed her the Nameplate.
Zina took the Nameplate, staring at the words [Zina], stunned.
Three of her tentacles wrapped around it, and one waved lightly—asking, was it for her?
Ye Kui smiled and nodded.
A sweetness bubbled in Zina’s heart, and her anger melted away.
Since… since it was for Zina…
Then she’d forgive her master.
Zina hurriedly put the Nameplate on herself.
Ye Kui also Alchemically created a small string that could automatically adjust to her size.
Looking at the Nameplate on her body, Zina grew happier and happier, wishing she could tell everyone around that she belonged to her master.
—
Ye Kui discovered that ever since the little octopus started wearing the Nameplate he’d given her, she’d been in a strange state of excitement.
Her tentacles danced, trying to stop every passerby to show off her Nameplate.
How do you even know the Nameplate I’m wearing was given by my master?
Ye Kui had no choice but to shove Zina back into his pocket to calm her down.
After all, the way people around him were looking was getting stranger.
Ah, octopus or whatever, it was a bit too much of a curiosity.
Ye Kui felt a cold sweat, but he didn’t explain, knowing that the more he tried, the worse it would get.
He just sped up, leaving the area and heading home.
Not long after, Ye Kui stopped, looking ahead.
It was bustling up front, with crowds gathered at the base of a building.
His ears twitched as he heard a sharp voice.
“Hurry up and jump!”
Ye Kui: ???
Well, since he was already here.
Might as well see what the fuss was about.
He walked closer, curiosity rising as he glanced up, his gaze moving floor by floor until it reached the Thirteen-story Rooftop.
Ye Kui had excellent vision.
The clouds parted, revealing the moon above.
Its silvery light spilled onto silver hair, fluttering in the night wind, sparkling—
Wait, silver hair?!
—
“Don’t… don’t come closer!”
“Stay away!!”
On the rooftop, the cement walls were covered in tiny cracks and moss grew in the corners.
The railing was rusted, heavily corroded, and less than half a meter high.
At the edge stood a short-haired girl, her face pale.
Dark circles ringed her wide, frightened eyes, her whole body tense, breathing in short, rapid bursts—she looked ready to leap at the slightest provocation.
A silver-haired girl pushing a wheelchair froze, not daring to move closer.
Luo Xixue waved her pale, slender hand, quickly saying,
“Okay, okay, I won’t move. You don’t move, either!”
“Move in a little! Don’t fall off!”
“This is the Thirteen-story Rooftop, you know—falling would hurt a lot.”
Luo Xixue racked her brain, desperate to save the mentally unstable girl.
She had just been passing by when she spotted the jumper by chance, and came up.
Now, only the two of them stood on the rooftop.
Tears began to stream down the short-haired girl’s face, her eyes hollow.
“Big sis, why do people live?”
Luo Xixue blinked—she knew this one.
“We’re all trying our best to live, aren’t we?”
The short-haired girl froze, as if she hadn’t expected Luo Xixue to answer like that.
How was this different from any other nonsense?
She pouted—she hadn’t expected someone to reply with garbage at a time like this.
Instantly, a wave of grievance surged up from her chest, unstoppable.
Her eyes stung as she burst into tears.
“A gambling dad, a sick mom, a sister in school, and a broken me… Big sis, isn’t this world just wonderful!”
Luo Xixue: “Ah, well…”
“Every day I work so hard for a bit of money, but my drunk scumbag father always steals it—and if I don’t earn enough, he beats me!”
The short-haired girl spoke, lifting her washed-out shirt to reveal her stomach, covered in scars—burns, cuts, and more.
“Big sis, I’m too tired. Really, too tired!”
Luo Xixue fell silent.
For a long time.
“Mm, then go ahead and jump.”
The short-haired girl was stunned.
“I won’t stop you.”
Luo Xixue slowly raised her head, smiling easily.
“But before that, do you want to hear my story?”
She said, tapping her own thigh.
No response.
Her eyes fell, her expression desolate, her voice calm, as if telling someone else’s tale.
“You know… how can sisters be so different?”
“The big sister—dazzling, perfect, strong—everyone’s focus.”
“But the younger sister—weak, ordinary, even… crippled, not a tenth as good as her sister…”
“Under the big sister’s radiance, the little sister found it hard to even breathe.”
“To her, she was just a stain in her sister’s perfect life.”
“She once wished her sister wasn’t so perfect… But it was just a thought.”
“After all, she was still her sister.”
“But lately, the perfect big sister started acting strangely—developing bad habits, as if she sensed her sister’s inferiority…”
“And the little sister tried to be brave, to reach out and connect with her sister…”
Luo Xixue’s tone lightened, her gaze gentle.
“So, don’t give up on life so easily. There’s nothing scarier than death. Maybe hope will come tomorrow?”
The short-haired girl was silent.
Luo Xixue’s eyes flickered.
At that moment, while the girl was distracted, she crept closer—
Close enough!
Luo Xixue lunged, grabbing hold!
The short-haired girl’s expression changed.
She turned, leaping off.
Luo Xixue’s frail body was yanked, wheelchair tipping—she was pulled over the rooftop edge!
But just in time, her hands clung to the railing.
Red rust dug deep into her palms.
Luo Xixue dangled in midair, white skirt fluttering, like a Windbell.
Her legs felt heavy.
Looking down, she saw the girl who should’ve jumped, now clinging desperately to her ankle.
Luo Xixue gritted her teeth.
Her strength was fading, hands trembling.
“Let go! Weren’t you going to jump?!”
The short-haired girl sobbed, her voice choked.
“The wind… it’s too cold.”
Luo Xixue:……