In the end, I didn’t tail Zhu Shi with a “firefly.”

  Even setting aside Alice, who could leave at any moment, once I’d decided to build a relationship with Zhu Shi and Luoshan, following her like that would only ruin everything. Zhu Shi isn’t Chang’an—as a demon hunter, she might very well detect my fireflies. She didn’t seem to notice them back at the hospital when we were together, but there’s always the chance.

  On the walk home, I kept replaying our earlier conversation in my head.

  This was the first time I’d ever openly revealed to anyone—especially someone I knew—that I was a superhuman. I’d always kept my true power hidden, yet deep down I’d secretly longed for the day I could show it off in front of others.

  Wealth means nothing if you don’t return home in glory; it’s like wearing brocade robes at night. Gaining immense power and never letting anyone close to you see it is the same kind of pointless secrecy.

  Back in high school, I used to lie in bed at night and fantasize: there would be someone with extraordinary observation and reasoning skills who would notice tiny suspicious details about me. Through a chain of fantastical deductions and self-doubt, they would painfully reconstruct their worldview, follow the clues straight to my door, and—trembling with shock and disbelief—finally blurt it out: “Z… are you really a superhuman?”

  And then I would calmly admit it in front of them, demonstrating my power with effortless grace. Yes. I am.

  Who could have guessed that when it finally happened, I did reveal the truth to my friend’s little sister—only for her to transform right in front of me into a demon hunter from a mysterious organization?

  It felt nothing like the scene I’d imagined…

  Just as I was brooding over the difference, my phone chimed with a text notification. I pulled it out—Zhu Shi.

  A single message:

  “Right, Senior Zhuang—no sneaking back to investigate the cave in the fifteenth-floor room tonight! Just in case, I’ve already asked Agent Kong to keep watch there! (<ゝω·)☆”

  What a stark contrast from one moment to the next.

  When we first met, she called me “Senior” because she already planned to enroll at Saltwater University. Now that she’d actually started her first year there, I suppose the title was finally legitimate.

  “Got it, Junior Zhu,” I texted back.

  A while later, I reached home. I’d stopped on the way to pick up some late-night snacks, now carried in two plastic bags.

  The fireflies had returned ahead of me and confirmed Alice’s status. She was still inside, exactly where I’d left her—curled up on the living-room sofa.

  She looked exhausted now, huddled into a tight ball. The suspense novel I’d recommended lay open halfway beside her head. Some old magazines I’d bought out of curiosity were scattered on the coffee table, clearly flipped through.

  She was still wearing the gray top and pants I’d given her. Apparently she’d taken my “use anything in the house” comment to heart—she’d found some rubber bands somewhere and tied the rolled-up sleeves and pant legs neatly at her wrists and ankles.

  I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and walked over to her. Her sleep looked restless—eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, little meaningless whimpers escaping her throat like a small animal. Even unconscious, her whole body stayed tense, strung like a bow.

  I’d told myself earlier that once I connected with Luoshan, maybe I wouldn’t need Alice anymore. But seeing her again now, those thoughts evaporated instantly.

  It wasn’t just because my supposed “repulsion” from supernatural events still needed her jinx-like aura to balance things out. Honestly, that didn’t even cross my mind at first. Sometimes I have to admit I’m shortsighted—drawn to what’s right in front of me—and easily swayed by emotion, still immature in that way. Her presence stirred up all the unanswered mysteries I’d buried about her, pulling me back in helplessly.

  I set the plastic bags on the coffee table. To keep better watch over her, I wanted to carry her to the bedroom again and take the sofa myself. But the moment my fingers brushed the back of her knee, she jolted awake. Her eyes snapped open. In an instant she sprang up—agile and fluid—one hand clamping my arm, the other darting toward my throat.

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  This felt eerily familiar—like something from earlier today. Was I about to get locked in another joint hold?

  The thought flashed through me reflexively. I knew I wasn’t in real danger, but it’s the same as someone jumping out from around a corner to scare you—anyone would flinch. So I flinched a little.

  Then, the next instant, her swift, lethal motion froze like a paused video. The hand that had been about to choke me braked hard, shifting from “strangle” to “touch.”

  “Z?” she asked uncertainly.

  “It’s me.” I steadied my breathing. “I’m back.”

  She stared blankly for two or three seconds, then slowly relaxed, sitting cross-legged on the sofa.

  “What did you think was happening?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down.

  “I’m not mad.” I placed one of the plastic bags on her lap. “Look what I brought you.”

  She glanced down, nose twitching, eyes lighting up. “This is…”

  I pulled out a steaming cheese-filled chicken cutlet and offered it with a friendly tone. “Figured you’d be hungry around now, so I got you some late-night food.”

  “I’m not that greedy,” she protested, though her gaze never left the fried golden goodness in my hand.

  “So you don’t want it?”

  “…I do,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Go ahead.” I placed it in her hands, then reached into the second bag. “There’s ice cream too. You can have this after the cutlet.”

  “Ice cream? I read about it in text files—it’s supposed to be really good…” Her eyes widened at the chocolate bar in my hand.

  Yes, eat. Eat as much as you want. Stuff yourself until your stomach rebels and you can’t possibly leave… I hid the wicked thought and kept encouraging her. She looked more and more tempted.

  Suddenly she looked up, suspicious. “You’re not eating?”

  “I am.”

  Apparently if I just watched her eat, she wouldn’t touch anything. Good thing I’d bought two portions.

  We finished everything in comfortable silence. She seemed at least temporarily satisfied, unconsciously letting that happy little smile slip out again.

  Maybe she was already exhausted—after eating, she grew even sleepier, eyelids drooping heavily. I suggested she take the bed in the bedroom; she insisted on staying on the sofa.

  “There’s only one bed, right? This is your house—you should sleep in it.” She sounded much more relaxed now. “You’re really weird. Are there actually people like you in this era—total softies? In an apocalypse, someone like you would die fast.”

  “Not necessarily. There are plenty of bad people even now.” I shamelessly accepted the “softie” label, then asked, “From what you said earlier, it sounds like you’ve read materials about this era. What did they say?”

  “Not much—and a lot of it was written by people from the apocalypse based on their own memories and impressions. They said in the civilized era, people’s moral character was incredibly high.” She spoke with dead seriousness. “Anyone raised in the apocalypse couldn’t believe it—everyone just lied and hurt each other, always thinking only of personal gain. But people raised in civilization were honest, united, rational, hardworking, and always ready to help others…”

  She paused, then added, “And they took their work extremely seriously—even scrubbing toilets until they were so clean you could drink the water inside…”

  “Wait, wait, hold on…” The further she went, the more off it sounded. “Who wrote that last part, based on what memory?”

  She picked up one of the old magazines from the coffee table, flipped to a page, and pointed. “See? It says right here.”

  I delivered the verdict: “That’s fabricated urban legend. It’s fake.”

  “I didn’t really believe it either. But after meeting you, I started wondering if all those legends about the civilized era might actually be true.” She couldn’t hold back a yawn.

  “Just so you know, I’m not drinking toilet water,” I said.

  “How could I ever ask that? You’ve been so kind to me—I still don’t know how to repay you…” Her voice grew drowsier; her body swayed.

  After a while, she finally gave in and fell asleep again.

  Falling asleep so easily—could that be part of the soul damage she mentioned? I tried picking her up in a bridal carry once more. She’d insisted on the sofa, but to monitor her properly while she slept, she needed the bed and I’d take the couch. This wasn’t sentimentality—it was rational. This time she didn’t wake. I carried her to the bedroom, laid her down, and tucked the blanket over her.

  Whether from another nightmare or not, her brows slowly furrowed again, body tensing.

  I reached out and gently smoothed the crease between her brows with my fingertip, quietly channeling warmth into the bedding until it felt cozy. Her expression gradually eased; her whole body relaxed.

  In my mind I saw again the blissful smile she’d worn while eating, the childish little sway of her knees, and now this peaceful, softened face.

  I slowly withdrew my hand and reflected on everything that had happened.

  There were still some things I couldn’t be certain of, but from my own observations and experiences, I no longer needed qualifiers like “maybe,” “possibly,” or “perhaps” when it came to Alice’s jinx-like aura.

  The cave, the ritual circle, Luoshan, Zhu Shi, Agent Kong, the fallen demon hunter… ever since Alice arrived, one mysterious event after another had crashed into my life—things I’d never touched in all my previous years.

  Just like the protagonist of a fantasy story: before the tale begins, their life is dull and uneventful. Once it starts, misfortune rains down in waves—one crisis barely over before the next arrives.

  I’d tried so hard in the past and never once reached anything supernatural. Now those things seemed to seek me out on their own—as though every step I took from here might lead to a new adventure.

  If this wasn’t Alice looking out for me, how else could it be explained?

  At the very least, I was willing to believe that was the truth.

  And that meant I had to treat her jinx aura as something that could affect “the people around the people around me”—and decide how to handle our relationship going forward.

  I had to choose—

  Either give up on further contact with Alice, kick her out right now, and return to a safe, dull, uneventful life that wouldn’t drag anyone else down;

  Or cut ties with all ordinary relationships—family, friends, classmates… sever myself from normal society and choose the path of staying with Alice.

  …

  What a terrifying poison flower.

  Perfect. Just my taste.

  I love poison flowers—the deadlier, the more delicious.

  I chose the path of staying with Alice.