Chapter 279: Caring

She didn’t know how long it had been—maybe several hours, maybe longer.

Just as Mu Xi felt she was about to be consumed by hunger and cold, and her consciousness began to blur, a faint sound of metal scraping broke the dead silence. It was the sound of a lock turning.

Mu Xi’s head snapped up. Though everything was still pitch black in front of her, her body instantly tensed, like a bow pulled taut.

The heavy metal door was pulled open a crack. Dim light struggled in, dispelling a small patch of the thick darkness and stinging Mu Xi’s eyes, which had adapted to the dark.

A tall figure stood in the doorway against the light, their silhouette blurred by the glow, yet carrying an undeniable sense of pressure. It was Ye Lan.

She walked in, casually pulling the door half-closed behind her, not fully shutting it, leaving that narrow sliver of light just enough to barely illuminate the small area where Mu Xi was. Her footsteps were very light, landing on the dusty floor, almost inaudible.

Mu Xi squinted, trying to adjust to the light, and saw the newcomer clearly.

Ye Lan had changed into a clean, sharp black combat suit, her long hair tied back. Her face still showed no expression, as calm as a windless deep pool. In her hand was something that glinted with a cold, hard metallic sheen in the dim light. A revolver.

Mu Xi’s heart suddenly tightened.

Ye Lan stopped a few steps in front of Mu Xi, looking down at her. Her deep, phoenix-like eyes were unreadable in the gloom.

She didn’t speak. She just raised her hand and showed the revolver to Mu Xi. The gun was well-maintained, pitch black and shiny, exuding a dangerous aura.

She took a shiny yellow bullet out of her pocket, loaded it into one of the chambers, then closed the cylinder and gave it a light spin. Click.

The crisp sound was especially piercing in the silent storage room.

“Six chambers, one bullet.”

Ye Lan’s voice was flat and calm, as if stating something utterly ordinary.

“Little Xi, want something to eat? Want a drink? Simple. Play a game.”

As if she didn’t see her hatred, Ye Lan continued.

“Aim the gun at your own head and pull the trigger once. If it doesn’t fire, I’ll give you water or food—your choice.”

Ye Lan paused, then added, “One chance for one item. If you want to eat your fill and drink your fill, figure out how many times you need to pull the trigger.”

The cruelty in her words coiled around Mu Xi’s heart like a cold viper. This was Ye Lan’s style of “training”: using the threat of death to trade for basic survival needs. She was certain that Mu Xi would feel fear, hesitate, struggle on the edge of life and death, and eventually yield for the sake of survival.

Mu Xi looked at the pistol being offered to her, then raised her eyes to Ye Lan’s calm, expressionless face. Hunger and thirst screamed madly. Every cell in her body craved energy and water. The primal fear of death made her fingertips cold. But stronger than that was the hatred and defiance born of being cornered.

Ye Lan wanted to see her fear, her struggle, her begging for mercy to survive?

Mu Xi extended her bound hands. Because of the prolonged twisting and cold, her fingers were stiff, but she still took the heavy revolver steadily. The cold touch of metal spread through her body instantly.

She didn’t look at Ye Lan. She didn’t hesitate at all.

Her slender fingers found the trigger, and she pressed the cold muzzle against her own temple.

Ye Lan’s breath seemed to stall for a moment.

Mu Xi closed her eyes, then pulled the trigger.

Click.

The sound of the firing pin striking empty echoed like thunder in the dead silence. Empty chamber.

Mu Xi opened her eyes and looked at Ye Lan with no expression.

For the first time, a crack appeared on Ye Lan’s face. She seemed surprised by Mu Xi’s decisiveness.

But Mu Xi didn’t stop.

She raised her hand again, the muzzle still pointed at her temple.

Click. Second click. Empty.

Click. Third. Empty.

Click. Fourth. Empty.

Click. Fifth. Empty.

Five times in a row, clean and sharp, without a single pause or hesitation. Each sound of the firing pin hitting nothing was like a slap, landing hard on Ye Lan’s self-righteous desire for control.

In the storage room, only Mu Xi’s slightly rapid breathing and the faint rustling of her movements remained.

Ye Lan was completely stunned. She had imagined Mu Xi might cry out, might refuse, might tremble in fear as she pulled the trigger once before begging for mercy. The one thing she hadn’t expected was for Mu Xi to be so… crazy. This wasn’t playing a game. This was actively embracing death! Was she really not afraid to die?

Mu Xi saw the rare, undeniable shock on Ye Lan’s face, and a cold smile finally crept onto her lips. Her voice was hoarse from weakness and thirst, but carried a mocking insight that saw through everything.

“Ye Lan,” she said softly, each word like an ice pick, “I’m afraid of death.”

She paused, meeting Ye Lan’s complicated gaze, and continued word by word: “But you, more than me, are afraid of my death.”

Having said that, before Ye Lan could react, Mu Xi raised the gun again. The muzzle still pressed firmly against her own temple. This time, her movements even carried a hint of provocation.

Ye Lan’s pupils contracted sharply.

Click. Sixth. Still an empty chamber.

All six chambers were empty. That bullet was nothing but a decoy. Or rather, Ye Lan never intended to actually use a bullet to play this game from the start. This was just another psychological pressure tactic, another attempt to break Mu Xi’s mental defenses. But she miscalculated.

Mu Xi bet and won. She wasn’t betting on that one-in-six chance of survival, but on Ye Lan’s “care”—that she didn’t dare let her die.

Mu Xi lowered the gun and tossed it casually onto the floor, producing a loud clang.

Ye Lan stood there, her face dark enough to drip water. Mu Xi lifted her pale face, chin raised slightly. Even in such a wretched state, her eyes held the defiant pride of a victor. She had been completely seen through by this little one whom she thought she could easily manipulate. This feeling of losing control made her very unhappy.

But the words she said, she always kept.

Ye Lan was silent for a few seconds, then finally turned and walked out without a word.

Soon, she returned. In her hands was a tray. On the tray were a bowl of steaming meat porridge, a glass of water, and a small piece of bread that looked very soft. It wasn’t a feast, but for Mu Xi at this moment, it was nothing less than life-saving manna.

Ye Lan placed the tray on the floor in front of Mu Xi. She didn’t speak, nor did she immediately untie her restraints.

Mu Xi looked at the food before her. Her stomach convulsed violently from the smell. She didn’t stand on ceremony, nor could she afford to care about appearances. She lowered her head, struggling to get closer to the tray. First, she drank the water in small sips from the bowl’s edge, soothing the burning pain in her throat.

Then, she clumsily used her chin and shoulders together to reach the bowl of meat porridge. The posture was awkward and pathetic. Her hands, bound behind her back, could exert no force. She could only like a small animal, lick and swallow bit by bit. The hot meat porridge warmed her cold stomach. Energy slowly flowed through her esophagus to her limbs and bones, dispelling some of the cold and weakness.