Seeing Huaiyin's expression, Dòu Táng actually panicked a little.
He hurried to the dining table, sat across from her, and asked, "What's wrong? Why are you
acting like this all of a sudden?"
In truth, Huaiyin wasn't angry at anything specific.
She just felt… unseen.
Dòu Táng was gentle, yes, but always like a guardian—deciding, commanding, protecting.
If he said she couldn't leave the house, she couldn't.
If he said she had to go to school, she had to.
Huaiyin knew he meant well, but some small, aching part of her resisted.
Because lately she had realized just how much of her life revolved around him—
and how fragile that dependence truly was.
When the day came that she was no longer needed—when she became useless—
would this man, who kept correcting her every move and telling her not to call him Brother,
simply disappear without a word?
He was a stranger now, wasn't he?
Otherwise, why did he seem so mechanical—
protecting her, maintaining her life, doing everything a brother should…
but without warmth, without want, without choice?
It wasn't love.
Not even affection in any ordinary sense.
It was something twisted, tangled somewhere between devotion and obligation.
She glanced at him.
He was simply waiting—quiet, patient, composed—as though expecting her to speak first.
Maybe to him, that was how communication worked: listen, then respond.
But with girls, that wasn't how it worked.
Sometimes you had to reach out first.
Yet, as always, her courage failed her.
She lowered her head and whispered, "Forget it… it's nothing."
Huaiyin and Lu Zizhen were like two ends of a scale.
Lu Zizhen—bold, loud, unashamed; emotions like fire spilling from her hands.
Huaiyin—silent, inward, a locked chest of secrets that burned her from within.
One woman could stand before a crowd shouting Hell yeah!
The other couldn't even reach for comfort in the dark.
Dòu Táng scratched his head, completely lost.
In his mind, love was simple: protect, provide, keep safe.
He never realized that silence could wound just as much as neglect.
"All right," he said gently. "If you really don't want to go to school, can you at least tell me why?"
Huaiyin said nothing.
She left the table, sat cross-legged on the futon, picked up her controller, and let the rapid taps
of her game fill the silence.
Pixels chattered where words failed.
Dòu Táng sighed.
He was never good with words—and so, once again, he mistook care for connection.
Night deepened over the Kiryu household.
Even with the faint hum of the console, the apartment felt heavy—two people separated by a
wall neither could name.
They waited for something, anything, to break it.
But Huaiyin feared what else might shatter when that wall finally fell.
A memory—no, a dream—flickered through her mind:
a rain-soaked night, her brother carrying her on his back.
The rain kept falling, indifferent to both of them.
Ikebukuro
A chic apartment tower.
Lu Zizhen's home.
But she hadn't come back to rest.
When she stepped inside, the wooden floor was littered with the clothes she'd worn at the
Kiryus' house.
The space was neat yet chaotic—especially around the computer setup.
Twin server towers hummed, fans whirring like a restless heartbeat, cables coiling beneath
them in perfect disorder.
Before the monitors stood a woman dressed in black, sharp and deliberate.
Tonight, she had changed into full combat gear.
High socks tucked into high-tops.
Samurai-style pants with dangling ribbons, every pocket heavy with folded talisman papers.
A sleeveless turtleneck layered with compression sleeves and bracers.
Fingered gloves designed for precision.
Over it all, a sleeveless hooded coat—knee-length, asymmetric, functional, fierce.
Her aesthetic was her armor: tactical, sporty, unapologetically stylish.
She looked like a cyberpunk heroine reborn in Taoist gold instead of neon.
Two collapsible swords slid into hidden slots inside her coat.
No Dòu Táng tonight.
No Tang Dou Ren.
Only Lu Zizhen—the modern Taoist hunter chasing truth.
At the door, she caught her reflection in the mirror, pulled on a black mesh mask, then powered
down her servers one by one until darkness swallowed the room.
Dòu Táng might lose track of things once they slipped beyond his range,
but Lu Zizhen was different.
Her swords, packed with layered talismans, could mark anything they cut.
For the next eight hours—sixteen by old reckoning—she could trace any entity she'd struck.
She hadn't forgotten the words that spirit woman had spoken.
Why was Huaiyin born with such a spiritual constitution?
Why could Dòu Táng transform into that absurd, powerful creature?
She'd been curious from the start, but restraint had held her back.
Now, that restraint was gone.
The spirit's final whisper had opened a door she could no longer ignore.
Pulling up her hood, she stepped out into Ikebukuro's sleepless streets.
Neon light shimmered against puddles, and heads turned as she passed—
a tall figure moving like purpose given form.
The crowd parted instinctively, sensing danger.
She moved through them like a shadow among lambs—
a hunter among prey.
Following that faint, wet scent of the deep sea,
Lu Zizhen slipped into a narrow alleyway,
and the city swallowed her whole.
◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 10 reviews. comment
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ You can read 50 chapter ahead on P@treon if you're interested: patreon.com/FicBridge