Chapter 15: Temptation
Chen Dongyang leaned back against the infirmary bed, the antiseptic scent clinging to the air. His bandaged arm rested awkwardly at his side, the dull throb a constant reminder of the playground chaos. His head ached too, the familiar aftermath of rewinding time. He closed his eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of the day.
Yin Qingle’s crimson energy—wild, uncontrollable, tied to her fear.
Yin Xiran’s telekinesis—precise, deliberate, a shield for her sister.
Jiang Yuxin’s mind control—powerful, yet useless against him.
And his own power—time manipulation, each use carving a deeper toll.
He thought of Jiang Yuxin’s probing gaze in the infirmary, Yin Xiran’s cryptic smile. They were circling him, drawn to his anomaly like predators to prey. But he wasn’t prey. Not yet.
The door creaked, and he opened his eyes, expecting Sister Wang. Instead, Jiang Yuxin stood there, alone, her silhouette framed by the hallway light. She stepped inside, her movements deliberate, her eyes locking onto his.
“You’re still here,” she said, her voice calm but edged with purpose.
“Didn’t feel like limping back to class,” he replied, forcing a casual tone despite the tension in his chest. “What do you want?”
She didn’t answer immediately, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room felt smaller, her presence filling the space like a gathering storm.
“You’re reckless,” she said, stepping closer. “Rushing in to save Yin Qingle, getting yourself burned. Why?”
He shrugged, wincing as the movement tugged at his wound. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he felt the familiar brush of her power against his mind—cold, probing, but sliding off like water on glass. She frowned, the faintest crack in her composure.
“You’re not telling me everything,” she said, her voice low. “You knew that basketball would explode. How?”
His heart raced, the image of the rooftop flashing in his mind—Jiang Yuxin at the edge, a shadow pushing her. He couldn’t tell her about the loops, not yet. Not until he understood why they’d started, why he was immune to her.
“Just a hunch,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Got lucky.”
Her lips twitched, a faint smirk forming. “You’re a terrible liar, Chen Dongyang.”
He grinned, defiance sparking in his chest. “Maybe you’re just bad at reading me.”
For a moment, her eyes flickered with something—amusement, irritation, curiosity. Then she stepped back, her expression smoothing over.
“Keep your secrets,” she said. “For now. But don’t think I’ll stop digging.”
She turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Tomorrow. Lunch. Don’t forget.”
As the door clicked shut, Chen Dongyang let out a breath, his body sagging. She was relentless, and he was running out of deflections.
Outside, Yin Xiran and Yin Qingle sat on a bench near the school gate, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Yin Qingle’s hands were folded in her lap, her expression still tinged with guilt. Yin Xiran leaned back, her arms crossed, her eyes scanning the courtyard.
“You’re too soft, Qingle,” Yin Xiran said, her tone light but firm. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”
Yin Qingle bit her lip, her voice small. “But I hurt him, Xiran. If I’d controlled it—”
“You didn’t mean to,” Yin Xiran interrupted, her voice softening. “And he’s fine. Stop torturing yourself.”
Yin Qingle nodded, but her eyes were distant. “What he said… about power, about stars… it made sense.”
Yin Xiran’s smile faded, her gaze sharpening. “He’s cleverer than he looks. And more dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Yin Qingle frowned. “He saved me.”
Yin Xiran sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her sister’s face. “He’s not normal, Qingle. You saw how he moved. He knew what was coming. That’s not just instinct.”
Yin Qingle’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t argue. She trusted her sister’s judgment, even if it unsettled her.
“What about Jiang Yuxin?” Yin Qingle asked quietly. “She’s… intense.”
Yin Xiran’s lips curved into a sly smile. “She’s a puzzle. But I like puzzles.”
She thought of their conversation, Jiang Yuxin’s offer of cooperation, her fixation on Chen Dongyang. Yin Xiran wasn’t naive—she knew Jiang Yuxin’s help came with strings. But if it meant protecting Qingle, she’d play along.
For now.
That night, Chen Dongyang sat at his desk, the digital clock glowing: 22:15. His bandaged arm rested on a pillow, the pain dulled but persistent. The ballpoint pen sat in its holder, mocking him with its stillness.
He’d pushed his power too far today—fifteen seconds in his last rewind, the image of Jiang Yuxin and the shadow on the rooftop burned into his mind. Each attempt left him weaker, the pain sharper, like his body was warning him to stop.
But he couldn’t.
Not when the loops, the powers, the anomalies were all converging.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the rooftop: Jiang Yuxin at the edge, the shadow behind her. He pushed, willing time to bend, to show him more.
The pain hit like a lightning bolt, his skull splitting, his vision blurring. He gasped, clutching the desk, images flashing—Jiang Yuxin’s fall, Yin Qingle’s crimson energy, Yin Xiran’s telekinesis.
And something new: a figure in the shadows, their face obscured, but their presence heavy, deliberate.
He collapsed forward, sweat soaking his shirt, his breath ragged.
The clock read: 22:14:55.
Twenty seconds.
He’d done it, but the pain was excruciating, like his mind was fraying at the edges.
He groaned, his hands trembling.
‘I’m running out of time,’ he thought, fear and determination warring in his chest.
The figure on the rooftop—who were they? Why did they want Jiang Yuxin dead?
And why was he the one caught in the loops?
In her room, Jiang Yuxin sat at her desk, her notebook open. She added a new line: Chen Dongyang—time manipulation confirmed?*
She tapped her pen, her mind racing. The playground incident, Yin Xiran’s agreement, Chen Dongyang’s impossible actions—it was all coming together.
She thought of the park meeting tomorrow. Yin Xiran would talk, but Jiang Yuxin needed to be ready. The other girl was sharp, her telekinesis a wildcard.
And Chen Dongyang… he was the center of it all.
She closed her notebook, her eyes narrowing.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered. “I’ll get my answers.”
The game was escalating, and she was ready to make her next move.