Chapter 41: Confluence

The rooftop wind was sharp, flinging dust and debris into their faces.

Jiang Yuxin stared where the “angel” vanished, the gray sky mocking their failure.
Anger burned in her—rare, raw, and visceral.
The prey had escaped, and it stung like bile.

Yin Qingle, collapsed on the ground, exhaled shakily, drained to her core.
She looked at Jiang Yuxin’s taut profile and whispered, “Will it… come back?”

“I don’t know,” Jiang Yuxin said coldly.
“But it’s badly wounded. It won’t show up soon.”

Her tone was flat, but her mind was already on the next hunt.
This wasn’t over—just a missed shot.
Next time, she’d leave no room for escape.

She glanced at Yin Qingle, still on the ground, and frowned.
“Can you walk?”

Yin Qingle tried to stand, but her legs buckled.
She shook her head, embarrassed.
“Sorry… no strength left…”

“Trouble,” Jiang Yuxin muttered, scanning the wrecked rooftop, her irritation growing.

Her phone buzzed.
Seeing “Yin Xiran” on the screen, she answered.

“Hello.”

“Jiang? Where are you and Qingle? We handled things here. Where are you?” Yin Xiran’s voice was bright but laced with quick breaths.

“Eastern Suburbs, Nanjiang International Education City, main administrative building rooftop,” Jiang Yuxin replied.

A pause, then Yin Xiran’s surprise: “That far? Okay, we’ll come to you. Stay put, and don’t let Qingle use her powers recklessly…”

“We’ll meet at the café,” Jiang Yuxin cut in, hanging up.

She pocketed her phone and looked at Yin Qingle’s helpless expression.
Sighing, she extended a hand.
“Get up.”

Yin Qingle blinked at the pale, almost translucent hand, hesitating before taking it.
Jiang Yuxin’s grip was cold but firm, pulling her up with ease.

—

Half an hour later, Afternoon Iris Café

Yin Xiran and Chen Dongyang sat with cold drinks, waiting.
Chen Dongyang fidgeted, glancing at the door.
Yin Xiran stirred her ice, her casual demeanor betrayed by her restless hands.

When Jiang Yuxin and Yin Qingle entered, Yin Xiran exhaled, her playful smile returning as she waved.

The four sat, the air heavy with tension.

Yin Xiran broke the silence, placing the chipped music box on the table.
“We had a good haul,” she said, eyeing Jiang Yuxin and Yin Qingle’s weary faces.
“Looks like you didn’t.”

“We met a monster,” Yin Qingle murmured, paling at the memory of the deformed angel.
“It was… strange…”

Jiang Yuxin set her phone down, showing photos of the angel.
In her calm, precise voice, she recounted the encounter: the white cocoon, the battle, her takeover of Yin Qingle’s body, and the angel’s escape.

Yin Xiran’s face darkened at “borrowing a body,” her grip tightening on her glass.
She shot a complex look at her sister.

Yin Qingle shrank under her gaze, stammering, “Xiran, don’t… Jiang was saving me…”

“Hmph,” Yin Xiran scoffed, turning to Jiang Yuxin.
“Don’t do that again. Her power isn’t your toy.”

“Then teach her to control her emotions instead of freezing like a scared rabbit,” Jiang Yuxin shot back.

“You—”

“Enough,” Chen Dongyang interjected, calming the tension.
“They’re safe. Let’s share what we found.”

Yin Xiran exhaled, loosening her grip, and slid the music box forward.
She recounted the archive room: Chen Dongyang’s capture, the shadow monster trapped in the mirror, and his talk-down of the vengeful spirit.

Jiang Yuxin raised an eyebrow at “mouth persuasion.”
“Resentment?” she said, picking up the music box, her eyes thoughtful.