“What?!”
The forced, light smile on Su Yuqing’s face instantly froze and shattered.
Her eyes widened as she stared at Bai Wanxue in disbelief, thinking she must have misheard.
“You… what did you say? Died? Who died? You… you’re standing right here perfectly fine, aren’t you?!”
Bai Wanxue’s expression held not a hint of joking.
She even took a step forward, closing the distance between them once more.
Her pale red eyes stared fixedly at Su Yuqing, and with a voice clear to the point of cruelty, she repeated and explained:
“Please, Master, consider that ungrateful, foolish little white-eyed wolf who only knew how to hurt you with coldness and claws—’Mantou’—as having completely and utterly… died in that rain-filled night of cold, pain, and endless regret, right there in that thorny thicket.”
“She died in her own stupidity and arrogance, died in the regret of failing to grasp warmth. That ‘Mantou’ who only brought Master trouble and disappointment no longer exists. Meow.”
Each word was like an ice spike, piercing Su Yuqing’s ears and freezing her thoughts.
She watched as Bai Wanxue calmly, without a ripple, pronounced the death of “herself.”
A tremendous sense of absurdity and panic seized her.
“B-but…”
Her voice trembled, her rebuttal incoherent, as if trying to grasp a fading ghost.
“You didn’t… didn’t actually die in the end, right?! You’re right here now! You’re alive! You’re Wanxue, but you’re also Mantou! How can you say… she’s dead?!”
This was too cruel.
What was happening now was far too cruel, whether to her or to that little white shadow that existed in her memories!
“That’s right.”
Bai Wanxue suddenly gave a soft laugh.
The smile was pure, yet it sent a chill down Su Yuqing’s spine.
“Wanxue, in the end, did not die. Not only did she not die, she even transformed into what she is now and returned before Master. Isn’t all of this… rather incredible? Meow.”
The word she used was “incredible,” not “lucky” or “miracle.”
Su Yuqing’s heart pounded wildly at her smile and rhetorical question.
She nodded subconsciously, her voice dry.
“Uh… yes, it really is… incredible.”
Incredible was an understatement.
This was a supernatural event that completely overturned all her understanding!
“Since.”
Bai Wanxue retracted her smile, her expression becoming extremely solemn once more, even carrying a religious-like piety and determination.
“Since some indescribable power, or perhaps the ‘Heavens’ that many humans like Master believe in, has so mercifully granted Wanxue a precious chance… to turn back, to start anew.”
At this point, she took a deep breath, as if wanting to deeply inhale this “favor” into her lungs, to fuse it into her very bones and blood.
“Then, Wanxue will definitely, with her entire being, cherish this absolutely, absolutely hard-won favor. Cherish this second life, cherish this chance to stand before Master once more, cherish this… possibility to make amends, to rewrite everything, under the identity of ‘Bai Wanxue’.”
Her gaze was blazing, burning with an unwavering flame of determination—pure, persistent, and even carrying a hint of disquieting obsession.
“Wanxue will accomplish everything that ‘Mantou’ failed to do. She will give Master the warmth and loyalty that ‘Mantou’ never gave. She will become… better than ‘Mantou,’ more worthy of being kept by Master’s side.”
She leaned forward slightly, bringing her eyes level with Su Yuqing’s, and with that ethereal yet weighty voice, slowly uttered the final, core message she truly wished to convey:
“This, is the meaning of Wanxue’s existence, and the path she has chosen.”
“This point…”
She paused, her pale red eyes gazing deeply into Su Yuqing’s shocked and confused ones.
Her tone was gentle, yet carried an irresistible force, as if making a solemn delivery, or perhaps a gentle warning:
“…Wanxue hopes that Master, in the days to come as we live together, will also come to understand, slowly.”
“Let the past be completely past. Let the dead rest in peace. And as for the one who survived… Wanxue, together with ‘Mantou’s’ share of regret and remorse, will live on in a brand new way, and stay by your side.”
“This, is my ‘logic.’ It is also the entire reason why I can stand here, possessing the identity of ‘Bai Wanxue.’ It’s not complicated, it just… requires a little time to accept. Meow.”
As her words fell, the office returned to silence.
Only Su Yuqing’s ragged breathing and the roaring tempest in her mind remained.
Dead, then alive.
The same soul, a different existence.
Cast aside the past, start anew.
Cherish the favor, stay by her side…
These simple words, when combined, formed a vast proposition about death, rebirth, obsession, and new beginnings that made her very soul tremble.
She looked at the girl before her, both familiar and unfamiliar, at the heavy, oath-like emotion in her eyes.
For the first time, she realized so clearly—
What she had brought home that day was perhaps not merely a “cat,” nor merely a “lost and found former pet.”
What she had brought home was a brand new “existence,” one bearing fresh, dripping old scars, a fervent newborn desire, and a certain “incredible” power that Su Yuqing still could not fully comprehend—an existence determined to take root in her life.
And this “existence’s” declaration of “the past is dead, only the new life remains”—was it a promise of gentle salvation, or a more complex and difficult spell that would draw her in even deeper?
Su Yuqing gazed into Bai Wanxue’s pale red eyes, which seemed capable of swallowing all doubt.
For the first time, she suddenly lost the strength and direction to continue questioning.
***
The suffocating silence in the office was broken by Su Yuqing’s deliberately lighthearted tone after she took a deep breath.
She stood up, walked around to face Bai Wanxue, and tried to use concrete tasks to dispel the heavy fog of life, death, and existence that hung between them.
“Alright, let’s not think about those things for now.”
She reached out, as if out of habit wanting to pat the other’s head, but her fingers paused mid-air.
In the end, they landed lightly on Bai Wanxue’s shoulder, with a cautiousness she herself hadn’t noticed.
“We… should go find that pink-haired Big Sister first. Xiao Ying and the others must be getting impatient.”
She tried to make her smile look natural, describing the busy, “real-world” scene they were about to face.
“After all, she’s gathered the elite of our Small Paw Makeup and Costume Department over there. Many people are eagerly waiting, just looking forward to tailoring the first stage ‘War Robe’ for you—our future new star, Bai Wanxue!”
She spoke with a slightly exaggerated tone, attempting to pull the conversation between them back onto a safe track.
Bai Wanxue raised her pale red eyes, quietly looking at the forced brightness on Su Yuqing’s face.
She seemed to receive Su Yuqing’s signal to divert attention.
The emotion in her eyes, which seemed to carry endless past events, receded like a tide, quickly switching to the near-pure obedience of her usual demeanor.
She even took half a step forward on her own, moving closer to Su Yuqing’s hand, and leaned her cheek against the palm that hadn’t completely withdrawn in a dependent, nuzzling manner, just like a cat truly acting spoiled.
Immediately after, a bright, cloudless smile bloomed on her face, and she agreed cheerfully in her soft, sticky voice, “Okay! Meow!”
She even took the initiative, extending her slightly cool little hand to gently grasp Su Yuqing’s wrist, which hadn’t been pulled back yet.
The grip was soft but carried an undeniable pull, as if eager to rush toward a new beginning.
“Then let’s hurry up and go, Master.”
She looked up, her eyes sparkling, filled with simple anticipation for “new clothes” and “many people’s expectations.”
It was as if the profound existence who had just spoken of death and rebirth, pronouncing the demise of the old self, had merely been Su Yuqing’s错觉.
“We mustn’t keep Big Sister and the others waiting too long.”