"Are you really sure he's still the same person?"
Before Liuying left the ship, Silver Wolf had asked her this with clear skepticism.
Logically speaking, the resurrection of an ancient who'd been dead for who-knows-how-many Amber Eras had to involve shady dealings. No way it was clean. There had to be hidden forces pulling strings behind the scenes.
But Anming was too clean. Suspiciously so—like a newborn baby. As a top-tier hacker from Punklorde, Silver Wolf could trace anyone's digital footprints, no matter how thoroughly erased. Yet Anming had none. His earliest records appeared just a hundred days ago at Herta Space Station. It was as if he'd materialized out of thin air.
In this universe, even Aeons left traces. But Anming? Nothing.
To Silver Wolf, this reeked of an elaborate trap—maybe even one meant for an Aeon.
"Memories aren't reliable. People change. Nothing lasts forever—not even the future."
"You're right," Liuying hadn't argued. She knew Silver Wolf wasn't wrong.
But she'd still walked to the airlock, gazing at the starry expanse with sunset-lit eyes.
"Then why go?!" Silver Wolf groaned. What was the point if she knew it might be a trap?
"Because he gave me a second life." Liuying smiled softly at the transformation device in her palm. "Even if it kills me, I have to see him again."
Waiting without hope was worse than death.
Silver Wolf sighed dramatically, crossing her legs. "Fine, fine. Just don't come crying when you get scammed."
"I won't cry—"
Liuying puffed her cheeks. She was strong now. No more tears.
Silver Wolf smirked. "I bet you'll start bawling the moment you see him. No—the second you spot his silhouette."
"W-Well…" Liuying looked away, her shimmering hair swaying in the light. "It's like… when you see a sequel to your favorite game. Of course you'd get emotional!"
"Games are games!"
"And Anming is Anming!"
Neither could convince the other. In the end, they'd just laughed.
Now, Liuying rested her chin on her hand, watching the Administrative District through the window with tender affection.
Not far away, Anming was being dragged by March 7th and Stelle to treat everyone to dinner. Dan Heng quietly typed notes for tomorrow's meeting.
And Qingque?
Qingque was sweating bullets, staring at her phone—specifically, at Fu Xuan's unread message:
[Qingque, any updates on your end?]
This was harder than slacking off at work!
She hadn't replied because… well, accusing her grandmaster without proof was bad, right?
Unless Anming kissed another girl right in front of her, it wasn't conclusive evidence!
But then—
A terrifying thought struck her.
What if Fu Xuan already knew?
What if… this was all a test?!
Oh no.
OH NO.
That's why Fu Xuan hadn't come herself! She was testing Qingque's loyalty!
If Qingque stayed silent, she'd look super suspicious in Fu Xuan's eyes. Execution-worthy, even!
"Miss Qingque… why are you sweating so much?" March 7th blinked.
It was freezing in Belobog. How was Qingque acting like she was on a tropical beach?
"Heh… just… heatstroke." Qingque avoided Anming's questioning gaze.
Stelle raised an eyebrow and handed her a popsicle. "Congratulations. You've made medical history as Belobog's first heatstroke patient."
"..." Qingque's eye twitched. "Do all Nameless have… this level of sarcasm?"
March coughed and nudged Anming. Change the subject before we become the Path of Roasts!
"Qingque, what do you want to eat?" Anming slid the menu toward her—
—and immediately spotted Fu Xuan's chat window before the screen dimmed.
Instant cold sweat.
"Anming, you too?!" March stared. Since when was Belobog a desert?
Stelle narrowed her eyes at her last popsicle. "Are you two scamming me for ice cream?"
"I-I'm fine!" Anming gripped Qingque's shoulders with a strained smile. "Qingque, my dear disciple… haven't I treated you well?"
Qingque gulped. "Grandmaster, how about this? I'll report to Lady Fu Xuan right in front of you. That way, it's not backstabbing."
It's stabbing you openly*!*
Sorry, Grandmaster! A girl's gotta survive the workplace!
"Ah, I've just had a sudden swordsmanship breakthrough! Let me teach you—"
"Grandmaster, this isn't right!" Qingque ducked behind Stelle and pointed at the menu. "I'll take this one!"
"Don't worry, Anming's royalties can cover it." March dragged him toward the counter, ignoring his dead-fish expression.
Oh no. Ohhh no.
Anming could already see it—Fu Xuan descending upon Belobog with the Great Divination Engine, sealing him underground for eternity.
"Quit moping. It's just a meal." March sighed and pulled out her wallet. "Fine. My treat this time."