Seeing that Xie Qiaoqiao had already started focusing on her meal, vigorously spreading wasabi on the white fish—Hua Lingyue closed her tablet, deciding not to discuss work during mealtime.
After the sashimi came the fried food, and after the fried food came the main course.
Before it even got to the main course, Hua Lingyue was already full and set down her chopsticks, watching the girl across from her eat with her head down.
The meal ended with a yuzu-flavored ice cream for dessert. Xie Qiaoqiao, tired of sitting cross-legged, changed to a posture with her legs spread open, eating the ice cream one bite at a time.
Hua Lingyue said, “According to the information we’ve gathered, aside from being a genius in his studies, the Victim hasn’t shown any unusual behavior in other areas.”
“But as a rare individual who survived a monster incident, the higher-ups think he’s got some dangerous instability—he’s the one you rescued, so I’m entrusting the observation task to you~”
Hua Lingyue placed a set of keys and a thin folder on the table, smiling, “The Victim is currently living alone off campus. I rented the empty apartment next to his for you. This folder contains his class schedule and basic info. The observation period is six months.”
“If he shows no abnormal reactions in half a year, you can hand him over to Logistics!”
Xie Qiaoqiao unzipped her backpack and stuffed both the keys and the folder inside, her dark pupils fixed on Hua Lingyue. “Are you going to finish your udon? If not, can you pack it up for me?”
Hua Lingyue: …Should I give you my dessert too?
Xie Qiaoqiao: “Sure, thank you.”
Back in her dorm, Xie Qiaoqiao read through all the densely printed pages in the folder, front and back.
They listed the Victim’s basic information, family relationships, academic trajectory, and so on—Xie Qiaoqiao skimmed over the competition awards and extracurricular activities, keeping only the class schedule.
She blotted out the key info on the rest of the papers and used them to fold little Trash Baskets for garbage.
Saturday evening.
The sun hung low in the sky, not quite setting, with dark red and purple colors spreading across the clouds.
The sky, caught between day and night, looked like an upside-down sea.
The air was still filled with the day’s leftover warmth, stuffy and slightly hot.
Xie Qiaoqiao stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down from the twenty-seventh floor.
She saw the well-landscaped courtyard below—it looked tiny from up high.
Hua Lingyue was directing the movers to bring in boxes when the elevator suddenly dinged and opened. Out stepped a young man wearing a sleeveless knit top and light-colored athletic pants.
Hua Lingyue instinctively looked up at him, her gaze lingering for a moment: her first impression was that he was tall—very evenly proportioned, a beautiful adult male build, neither skinny nor overly muscular.
The second impression was freshness; just seeing his face made the summer heat seem to dissipate.
It felt like you could taste a cool mint-honey water just by looking at his face.
His face looked ageless—he wouldn’t look out of place among high schoolers.
Maybe he knew this himself, so he wore square, clear glasses to add a touch of mature, adult charm.
Their eyes met.
The young man, not wanting to socialize, quickly looked away, bypassed the boxes in the corridor, and headed for his door.
The apartment had three units per floor, but the two rooms next to Zhang Xueji’s had been vacant for a long time.
He didn’t expect to run into new neighbors moving in today.
He had no intention of greeting the new neighbors—he was just here to grab a U Disk, then head back to the Discussion Group.
“Still not done moving?”
A strange female voice, with a hint of inquiry, sounded not far behind Zhang Xueji.
He had already decided not to engage in unnecessary socializing, his hand halfway through entering the code on his door.
But for some reason, Zhang Xueji paused and turned to look at the girl who spoke.
From the moment he heard that voice to the moment he turned around, Zhang Xueji’s mind was a total blank.
All the formulas and calculations that usually filled his head were wiped clean, as if someone had pressed the reset button.
The speaker was a petite girl.
Because of their height difference, Zhang Xueji couldn’t see her face at first—only the top of her crow-black hair.
Her hair was tied in two low ponytails that hung over her shoulders. She wore an ordinary light-colored crewneck tee and shorts, and her exposed skin was very fair.
Zhang Xueji looked at her for less than a second before the girl suddenly looked up at him—Zhang Xueji wasn’t sure if she noticed his gaze, but for some reason, he felt a little nervous.
Because she raised her face, Zhang Xueji finally got a clear look at her features: her face had sharp, defined lines, with distinct brows and eyes.
It was as if when Nuwa molded her, she’d poured half a cup more ink into the clay, making her features stand out as if outlined in bold.
But there was no expression on that face, making her seem aloof and distant.
Zhang Xueji didn’t look away, and Xie Qiaoqiao tilted her face up, staring at him without blinking—Hua Lingyue saw this as a good opportunity and quickly stepped in, “Do you two know each other?”
Xie Qiaoqiao: “No.”
Zhang Xueji: “Have we met somewhere before?”
They spoke almost at the same time.
After the words slipped out, Zhang Xueji realized it sounded off and his whole body stiffened.
Xie Qiaoqiao, after a brief silence, glanced subtly at Hua Lingyue: Didn’t you say you wiped all his monster-related memories?
Hua Lingyue wiped nonexistent sweat from her brow, her eyes signaling: I did! Heaven knows! We even gave him a Survey after he woke up, made sure he remembered nothing, then let him go!
The look in her eyes was a little complicated, and Xie Qiaoqiao didn’t quite understand.
Hua Lingyue coughed and tried to smooth things over, “Bro, that pickup line is kind of old-fashioned, you know.”
She didn’t know why Zhang Xueji still remembered her, but it was better to push the blame away first.
Zhang Xueji’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t get any words out. He also realized what he said sounded like a cheesy pickup line—one with a very obvious intention.
Luckily, the movers interrupted, “Everything’s moved in—Miss, do you want to pay by WeChat or Alipay?”
Hua Lingyue gratefully seized the chance to change the subject, quickly pulling out her phone, “WeChat, WeChat.”
The conversation fizzled out, and Zhang Xueji, snapping back to himself, hurriedly finished entering his code and rushed into his apartment, his retreat looking almost panicked.
Just in case, Hua Lingyue went to confirm with Logistics again.
Logistics assured her repeatedly that the Victim’s memories had been completely erased, that there was absolutely no way he could remember anything about what happened at the Abandoned Water Park.
“Even though Logistics says so,” Hua Lingyue said, not sounding convinced, “they’re always messing things up, so it’s possible they didn’t erase Zhang Xueji’s memory properly.”
Xie Qiaoqiao gave a noncommittal “Mm” and kept packing her things, her face still expressionless.
Hua Lingyue went over to help, sneaking a look at her eyes; Xie Qiaoqiao’s pupils were an unusually pure black, but not in a deep or mysterious way—if anything, their stark blackness just made her look even colder and more detached.
It was hard to tell if Xie Qiaoqiao was even listening.
The information said Zhang Xueji went out for a run every morning at 5:30.
Xie Qiaoqiao set her alarm ahead of time, got up to wash, and sat on a low stool at the door, eating toast with jam and fresh green pepper slices while she waited.
A little after 5:30, she heard the electronic door of the next apartment open.
Already wearing her shoes, Xie Qiaoqiao stepped out, still holding half of her homemade green pepper sandwich.
Sure enough, she ran right into Zhang Xueji coming out of his apartment—he locked his door, turned around, and was clearly startled to see her.
“Good morning?” Zhang Xueji blinked and was the first to break the silence.
His eyes swept over Xie Qiaoqiao’s sandwich, his mood turning complicated.
Bread—the jam looked like strawberry, but the green pepper slices inside looked so fresh that Zhang Xueji suspected she’d just sliced them and stuffed them in.
Xie Qiaoqiao nodded, “Morning.”
The two entered the elevator together.
It was Sunday, and still only 5:40 in the morning—the elevator didn’t stop at any other floors, going straight to the ground level.
Xie Qiaoqiao finished her vitamin-rich homemade sandwich in the elevator, tossed the plastic wrap in a trash can when they got out, and glanced sidelong at Zhang Xueji.
There was no trace of yesterday’s awkwardness on his face now.
After warming up on the community track, he started his morning run.
Xie Qiaoqiao’s assessment: strong mental fortitude.
The community was well landscaped, with a rubber track lined with plane trees, stretching all the way out of the complex.
Xie Qiaoqiao jogged after him, but didn’t catch up completely, always keeping about two meters between them for easier observation.
The sun hadn’t fully risen, but the sky was no longer the inky black of night.
The surrounding buildings were bathed in a misty blue, the air matching the color—cool, with a hint of dampness from the nearby river.
Xie Qiaoqiao watched Zhang Xueji run for three kilometers—she didn’t notice anything supernatural about him, just that his stamina and energy seemed a little over the top.
Endurance wasn’t Xie Qiaoqiao’s strong suit. She stopped at four kilometers, moved to the sidewalk, and strolled along, admiring the river view.
The sun had risen a bit more, and the warm morning light sparkled on the water.
The willows planted along the river were in full leaf, forming a dense, rain-like green.
That color reminded Xie Qiaoqiao of the green pepper skin she’d sliced open that morning.
Suddenly, footsteps approached.
Xie Qiaoqiao turned her head and saw Zhang Xueji jogging back—he stopped in front of her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a restrained but bright smile, and handed her his bottle of mineral water.
“Want some water? My treat—about what I said yesterday, sorry, that was rude.”