novelraw Chapter 88
Chapter 88
Chapter 88
"Mmph. For someone like you this stuff should be child's play. Why sneak it home?"
Monday night, Luoqiao District, An Le's apartment.
On the desk Xiao Muzi flicked his tongue, tail curling around a page of Pleasure Purgatory, then glanced at An Le drying her hair.
An Le blinked, cheeks pink. "Because... this book is a story I co-created with a teacher I met on a forum. Seeing it again is—well—embarrassing."
"Oh?"
Xiao Muzi tilted his head toward the glossy cover:
Illustration: Ice-cream Jelly
Script: Ping Xi
His gaze slid to the coin charm dangling from her schoolbag—four coins strung together, each engraved with a single character: Safe, Peace, Joy, Delight.
He flicked his tongue again and muttered, "No wonder. The wicked queen herself acting all innocent. Turns out it's your own 'produce'."
With relish he flipped to the first page and began rereading.
"Stop, please. Nobody knew it was me back then, but... with Xiao Huan around I still feel mortified."
An Le hid her face, peeking through her fingers at the little snake.
"I used to frequent a forum called 'Changgan Lane.' Everyone there loved 'childhood-sweetheart' stories—short comics, novellas, you name it. I wrote a lot and got fairly popular. Then this illustrator asked if I wanted to collaborate on a book for the Linmen Expo."
Xiao Muzi blinked. "Huh. I don't see their contact in your Plane."
"I didn't even have Plane back then; we talked through the forum. We lost touch after she found out how old I was—freaked out, afraid she'd corrupted a minor and the police would come knocking. She's gone legit now, a well-known artist. Goes by something like 'Sweet Parfait'."
Xiao Muzi couldn't care less about the details; he simply suspected the illustrator was as addicted to childhood-sweetheart tropes as An Le.
"Xiao Muzi, hand me the comb—mirror side."
A quick glance, a shimmer, and the snake vanished. He reappeared on the vanity, coiled the comb in his tail, and zipped back to her shoulder.
"Here."
An Le's eyes went round. "Xiao Muzi, you can teleport?!"
"Seriously? Only took you this long to notice? As long as I stay within about fifteen meters of you I can move wherever I like—and decide who sees me."
"O-oh."
Xiao Muzi puffed up. "Hmph. I'm the smartest Xiao Muzi around; that skill is all mine."
"Amazing," An Le praised without thinking.
The little snake preened inside but kept a cool face.
He hummed, leafing through the book. "Ugh, this plot's wild—kid goes all-out for her guy's affection. Quite the imagination."
"Stop narrating it out loud!"
The story: a big-city pharmacist, burned out, returns to her hometown and meets her childhood friend. Just as she's ready to start over—and maybe fall for him—she sees another girl confessing to him. Panicked, she brews a "pleasure potion" to keep him close, and the two of them spiral into an inescapable paradise of bliss.
Xiao Muzi closed the final page like a storyteller ending his tale and glanced at An Le.
She had buried her scarlet face in her pillow, only glistening eyes visible.
"Nnn... don't read anymore."
Xiao Muzi flicked his tail. "Girl, you know exactly how to land Yan Huan. Just copy-paste the playbook and you'd be living the dream."
"What are you saying? It's fiction! You're turning into Spencer—can't tell fantasy from reality."
Xiao Muzi rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wish you were more like Spencer. No brains, sure, but guts for days. One sentence from her in the student-council office beats two months of your dithering."
An Le's eyes lit up. "Then Spencer did say she'd help me."
"Please. Better to rely on yourself. And be honest—since you two 'reunited,' Yan Huan hasn't shown any special feelings. Friends at best."
He clicked his tongue. "Meanwhile Sakuramiya Hitomi sings in perfect harmony with him—like husband and wife. Today another fair-skinned idol pops up. Everyone outclasses you; how do you compete?"
Ordinary girls were one thing; the real terror was Ye Shiyu with her Index.
Against Ye Shiyu, Xiao Muzi had no winning strategy.
Yet advising An Le to pick another crush was useless.
He had to admit Yan Huan's aura was absurdly enticing—stand still and a whole anthology unfolds. No wonder Index was circling.
Still, just because Index was formidable didn't mean Xiao Muzi was a pushover.
An Le fell silent.
Xiao Huan was as kind as ever—dropping by her classroom, texting on Plane.
An Le sensed he was deliberately letting the "childhood-sweetheart" story leak.
That was why no one mocked her for founding the Doujin Club with the "infamous" Spencer—at least on the surface.
It all hinged on the label "childhood sweethearts," and nothing more.
Closer than friends, yet far from lovers.
She had once sworn that simply reuniting with Xiao Huan would be enough; whether he loved her back was his choice.
Now that it had come true, her heart wanted more.
She...
actually wanted...
to have Xiao Huan, didn't she?
Knock-knock-knock.
An Le pressed her lips together, and Xiao Muzi instantly sensed the shift in her desire.
Thick shadows rippled; the pink heart-shaped marking on his back flared.
He flicked his tongue, pretending not to notice.
"Well, whatever. I'll stop nagging. Just do your best.
Actually, this book gave me an idea. Got any black tea? I want to experiment."
An Le blinked. "Black tea? We only have pu-erh."
"Any liquid works; black tea is just better."
"Okay."
She brought a cup of hot water.
Xiao Muzi opened his fangs and bit the rim.
A drop of pink, phantom liquid fell in and vanished.
He eyed the cup. "Huh. Success."
"What does it do?"
He gave a theatrical glance. "Nothing much. Give it to your parents and their marriage improves—might even grant you a baby brother or sister."
"That's... exactly what happened in the—"
Xiao Muzi yawned, nodded as if drowsy, and said, "It's just an experiment anyway. As long as it works, that's fine. I'm sleepy—gonna nap. You handle this yourself."
"Huh? Oh..."
In an instant, Xiao Muzi vanished, as if he had never existed at all.
An Le was left staring at the cup of warm water that looked perfectly normal. After a long silence, she picked it up and walked toward the bathroom outside her room, apparently intending to pour it out.
Click—
The bedroom door opened. The gecko in its box watched its owner leave with wide, innocent eyes.
But not long after, the owner hesitated, then tiptoed back in and placed the cup on the desk beside her sketchbook.
The clear liquid inside barely rippled—neither more nor less than before.
In the light filtering through the window, the title on the sketchbook—"Pleasure Purgatory"—seemed to swell a full size larger.
---
Jinghe District, inside a certain mansion.
"Nara, do we have a basement in our house?"
"Huh?"
Nara paused in unwrapping the new security camera and turned to look at Sakuramiya Hitomi, who was curled up on the big bed in her nightgown. She blinked.
"Why ask that all of a sudden, Young Lady?"
"Just curious."
Hitomi lay on her side, devouring something in the lamplight. It definitely didn't look like homework. Nara's curiosity spiked.
She set the camera down and walked to the bedside.
One glance at the cover and Nara's face darkened.
"What are you even reading?!"
"Huh?"
Hitomi sat up, glanced at the book in her hand, and replied calmly, "Isn't it obvious? It's doujinshi."
"Only you could say that so shamelessly, Young Lady."
Hitomi gave a scornful laugh, hiding her mouth behind her hand as she looked at Nara like a cousin who'd just said something stupid.
"Nara, we're both adults. Do I look like some sheltered princess who can't tell fantasy from reality? You're overreacting."
Nara rubbed her temples and sighed. "So, why ask about the basement?"
"Mmm... I was thinking, if I locked the President in the basement, it'd be so much simpler. I'd know everything about him and keep him safe—two birds with one stone."
"You *are* mixing fantasy with reality, you idiot!"
"Eh?"
Nara snatched the book away. Hitomi lunged to grab it back, but Nara pressed one finger to her forehead and pinned her back onto the bed.
"Hey! What are you doing, Nara?!"
"If your parents or older siblings find this, they'll kick everyone in this villa out long before they ever learn I swapped the real heir with a raccoon dog!"
Hitomi opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn't reach for the book again—she'd already memorized every line and panel.
"Is it really that serious? I only think some of the ideas have... reference value."
"Reference value? In a doujin?"
Hitomi tapped her chin thoughtfully. "My goals are simple: know everything about the President and protect him. But our lives barely overlap, so chasing either goal costs a fortune."
She lowered her voice, almost to herself. "At this rate, I'll end up protecting nothing at all."
Then, louder: "Locking the President up would achieve both goals at minimal cost."
Nara opened her mouth, ready to crack open the girl's skull and see what was inside.
"You think Yan Huan—or any normal person—would agree to that? Don't you understand the value of freedom?"
Hitomi shook her head. "Freedom is just an illusion cooked up by the human brain. If absolute freedom doesn't exist, then its limits are man-made."
She raised her fingers one by one.
"To you, a basement is just a cramped, hidden room. To me, the *concept* of 'basement' can stretch infinitely. As long as it's enclosed and controllable, it's still a basement no matter how large it is."
She stopped at her middle finger.
"If I can create a place that feels exactly like the outside world to the President, yet is completely sealed and under my control, then I've achieved my goal without ever touching an actual basement."
Nara squinted, then exhaled. "That's the kind of twisted social experiment that *could* work, but the cost of building your virtual basement would be astronomical. You'd also have to raise your beloved Yan Huan from infancy so you could reshape his entire worldview. Only sci-fi movies do that. Even the Sakuramiya family isn't that rich—or that crazy. Your job right now is to sleep. Stop dreaming."
Hitomi fell silent for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Who said I'd use the family's resources?"
Nara froze, then buried her face in her hands. "You're really sleepy and starting to hallucinate. Go to bed. We have an early morning."
"Fine, fine. Good night, Nara."
Hitomi sounded oddly cheerful, as if she'd just solved a puzzle.
Nara sighed, switched off the light, and headed for the door. At the threshold she paused.
"Oh, your cousin Ryou wants to visit this Friday."
"Let her. Middle schoolers don't have class Fridays. She'll arrive early—make the arrangements."
"Understood, Young Lady."
Nara nodded, then let the shadows swallow the wide bed where Hitomi lay quietly in the center.
---
Tap-tap-tap.
Soft light from a tablet illuminated an MV storyboard that had been scribbled on and revised countless times. On a split screen, a freshly exported PDF had just been sent to a user labeled "Golden Lion Group Supervisor."
Yes, the company distributing Bai Yi's new single was a subsidiary of the Golden Lion Group—familiar partners from several past collaborations. Milos, the Linmen liaison, had once extended an olive branch to Bai Yi, and with Golden Lion's enormous reach, cooperation was a no-brainer.
"New storyboard received. Pre-production starts in the next few days. Filming location:"
Location: Golden Lion Tower
"Contact us when you arrive. Don't wander around—mind the rules. The top floor houses very important residents; stay away or face the consequences."
The secretary from Golden Lion Entertainment was clearly still sore about Bai Yi's last-minute script changes, hence the repeated warnings.
Bai Yi simply replied, "Got it," then ended the conversation.
At that moment, she lay on her bed, cheeks flushed, rereading the girls'-love doujin she'd snuck home that afternoon.
"Why did I even bring this back..."
She buried her face in her pillow, ears burning.
Muffled voices drifted in from the hallway.
"So Yan Huan is going to be in the MV too?"
"Yep. They've already worked it out."
Left Jiangqin was talking to Jiang Xiong.
"That won't do. A boy her age in the MV? Even if they don't act affectionate, viewers will read into it."
"Doesn't matter. Yi-yi's chosen singing as her path. Talent sells records; private life is secondary."
"You really think her voice alone will make her a star?"
"The professionals at Golden Lion seem to think so."
"Who cares? You know exactly what I mean."
Bai Yi, sprawled across her bed, pressed her lips together, brow furrowed as she glanced toward the door.
Fuming, she pushed herself up and reached for the handle, ready to march out and confront her mother head-on.
But the moment her fingers closed around the knob, courage failed her. She couldn't—no, didn't want—another bitter clash.
Every time she tried, she walked away with nothing except fresh wounds and an even bigger mess.
Talk? They couldn't. Fight? Society still expected her to apologize.
So she'd learned to dodge conflict, sidestep judgment, escape the hurt.
Beyond that, she had no idea how to face her mother.
Bai Yi clenched her teeth, one hand tightening around the pocket watch in her palm, the other locking onto her phone.
On the screen glowed her Plane chat with Yan Huan.
She'd just sent him the new MV script; his thumbs-up still blinked back at her.
The two objects felt like the only shields she had left.
Beep... tap...
Knock-knock-knock~
"Ah-choo!!"
A thick shadow swept in on the chilliest wind of early Linmen spring, and the handsome boy standing outside sneezed.
"Meow?"
The black cat on his shoulder tilted its head, worried.
"What's wrong, meow?"
"Nothing. Just a bad feeling—like dozens of eyes are watching me, but I can't see a single one."
Yan Huan sipped the protein shake in his cup, wiped his mouth, and shrugged.
Xiao Muzi flattened his ears. "Who told you to come to Jinghe this late? The whole district's probably wired with cameras. Couldn't you wait till tomorrow and see her at school?"
Yan Huan only smiled. "Sure, but if tomorrow scores a one, showing up tonight scores a ten."
"Meow?"
He turned his gaze forward.
There, rising from the darkness, stood the Western-style mansion belonging to the Ye family in Jinghe.
After his workout, he'd rattled along on the metro for ages just to reach it.
He studied the shadow-shrouded house, then lowered his head and opened Plane.
Ye Shiyu's chat window stared back at him.
His fingers flew across the screen. First, a cute cat sticker.
"Sis Shiyu, you there? I need to talk."
...
Silence.
The kind of silence that feels like a block even when you haven't been blocked.
He wasn't worried; she'd seen it.
So he waited a few more minutes before typing again.
"Not here—let's talk face-to-face.
I'm right under your window, Sis Shiyu."
The moment he hit send, a cold gust howled past.
He didn't hear the sudden clatter something made when it hit the floor at the far end of the third-floor room.
(End of chapter.)