Xuan Xingli's hand remained on her chest, where her heartbeat pulsed steadily yet felt foreign. It wasn't fear that unsettled her—it was the undeniable feeling that something within her had changed, something intangible yet irrefutable.
She clenched her fingers slightly, fragmented memories drifting through her mind like shards of glass reflecting scattered light. The distorted darkness, the deep voice echoing in her consciousness, the cold touch upon her heart… all of it lingered, despite reality having settled back into the quiet stillness of her familiar room.
The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, mingling with the rhythm of her own breathing. The curtains swayed gently as the night breeze slipped in, and pale moonlight cast dappled patterns on the wooden floor. The silence was so deep that she could hear her own heartbeat—steady, deliberate.
But it was no longer the same.
She sat up, running her fingers over the fabric of her blanket before pressing them against her throat. Her skin was warm, her pulse was stable. But why… why did she feel as if she had crossed an invisible threshold? As if she was no longer the same person she had been just moments ago?
A breeze swept through the room, rustling the strands of her long black hair. For an instant, she sensed an unfamiliar presence in the shadows of the room's corner. Nothing distinct, no definite form—yet an insidious whisper of something that remained from the world beyond.
She turned her head. The corner of the room was unchanged—the old shelves, the familiar objects. But hidden within the shifting shadows, something seemed to linger, something she wouldn't have noticed had she not been paying attention.
Was it an illusion? Or...
She raised a hand to her eyes, attempting to dispel the lingering unease. But the moment she closed them, an image surfaced in her mind—that hand, cold and firm, pressing against her heart.
"Return, Xuan Xingli."
The words still echoed in her mind, an unbroken spell she could not escape.
She took a slow breath, forcing herself to anchor in the present. She couldn't allow those remnants to control her thoughts. Yet she knew, deep down, that what she had experienced was no mere dream. It was too vivid, too sharp to be a figment of imagination.
Outside, a faint noise stirred in the hallway.
Xuan Xingli turned, her cold, sharp gaze flickering toward the door.
"You're awake?"
A familiar voice broke the silence. Luo Chenxi stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. Her amethyst eyes shimmered, reflecting the depths of the night. The moonlight outlined her figure, casting an ethereal glow across her flawless features.
Xuan Xingli didn't reply. She knew Luo Chenxi had been there for a while.
"Where did you just return from?" Luo Chenxi tilted her head, her voice calm but laced with an unmistakable sharpness.
"I don't know." Xuan Xingli answered honestly. "But something… came back with me."
A cold draft swept through the room.
Luo Chenxi's brows knitted slightly. "Is that so?"
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. As she approached, she halted just inches away from Xuan Xingli, studying her face with quiet intensity. Then, without warning, she leaned down and placed her hand over Xuan Xingli's chest—right where her heart was.
Xuan Xingli did not flinch.
A flicker of something unreadable crossed Luo Chenxi's eyes. "Your heartbeat…"
"It's different, isn't it?"
Luo Chenxi didn't respond immediately. Her hand remained pressed against Xuan Xingli's chest, feeling each steady yet unfamiliar beat. Finally, she withdrew her touch, her gaze darkening with a dangerous glint.
"What did you bring back from the darkness?"
Xuan Xingli remained silent. She was still asking herself the same question.
Beyond the window, the city remained shrouded in the stillness of night, quiet yet brimming with countless mysteries. And within her, an unseen shadow was beginning to spread…