Chapter 16: Night Talk

March 24, 2024, late evening, Ting’an University Spiritual Academy.

Before the underground archive vault of the school library, Bing Shi Nagi pulled a white magnetic card from his pocket and swiped it across the tempered glass gate flashing “No Entry.”

The card wasn’t always pure white.

Four years ago, both sides were doodled with quirky Q-version silver-haired anime girl emoji patterns.

Now, the colors had faded—first to a mottled gray, then to plain white.

Beyond the glass door, rows of archive cabinets held countless manila envelopes like the one in his hand, neatly arranged.

At the vault’s center was a circular counter, where the pale blue hologram of the AI “Chang Yi” flickered—a short, bespectacled girl with triple braids.

It was running its second-to-last backup of the day.

If someone were here, they’d probably tease him, saying a flat loli like this had nothing on a tall, curvy onee-san, Bing Shi Nagi thought.

By the counter, two people stood—one in front, one behind.

“Little Nagi, visiting the vault this late?” said the white-haired old man.

Beside him stood a striking girl with a graceful figure, dressed in the Academy’s staff uniform.

Her waist-length emerald-green hair cascaded down her back, her gaze as cold as ice.

“The library sent me to retrieve a file. Good evening, Professor Chen,” Bing Shi Nagi said, placing the manila envelope on the counter.

With a whoosh, the document vanished, whisked back to its cabinet by Chang Yi.

“These files have high clearance. The one you retrieved is likely an operation record,” Professor Chen paused.

“It would typically require A-level clearance or above to access.”

“Your student Xia Yin borrowed it,” Bing Shi Nagi said, bowing to the old man.

He had no intention of lingering.

“Little Xia? Then I know which file it is,” Professor Chen said with a wry smile.

“You must’ve crossed paths with him and met our new student.”

Bing Shi Nagi nodded.

He recognized the green-haired girl beside the professor—Zena Volmer, the principal’s assistant, now standing silently behind the old man.

“Don’t you think the new student seems familiar?” Professor Chen asked, turning away slowly, as if ready to end the conversation.

“She kept her head down, wore a hood,” Bing Shi Nagi said, pausing at the professor’s words.

“Objectively, her eyes did seem a bit like…”

Like who? His words hung unfinished, deliberately avoiding the name he nearly spoke.

“The file Xia Yin borrowed was ‘Death of Qingtan,’” Professor Chen said, his hunched back making him look like a man in his eighties, though he was only fifty-five in the real world.

“Yes, Professor. File SS20210516, a special operation in Qingtan City three years ago. It ended in failure,” Bing Shi Nagi said.

His fluent Chinese stiffened slightly on the word “failure.”

Professor Chen fell silent, glancing at Zena, who stood respectfully, showing no intent to join the conversation.

“You and Xia Yin’s senior, Wuyue Liuli,” the professor sighed heavily after a moment’s thought.

“Her death report is likely in that file too.”

Room 620, the dorm’s lights had long been off.

An hour ago, Xueqiu had climbed into the cleared bed, pulling a thick cotton blanket over herself.

In the real world, March 24 was spring.

Ting’an’s spring was mild, but in this “Youdu” space, the temperature swung wildly.

Nights were so cold that turning on the heater wouldn’t be excessive.

Even now, Xueqiu couldn’t sleep.

She knew people stayed alert in unfamiliar places.

She also knew sharing a room with Xia Yin, given her new gender, might add psychological strain.

Xueqiu wasn’t overly sensitive.

In the past few hours, she’d showered and done laundry naturally, nearly unpacking her entire suitcase into the wardrobe.

But today, her mind was too full, crowding out any room for sleepiness.

Coming here—does it mean I’ve said goodbye to the real world forever?

Shadow Ghosts, Contracts, Youdu—she couldn’t forget these things.

The first were the monsters she’d seen at home and on the highway.

The last was Xia Yin’s name for this space.

The middle term felt like a superpower.

Xueqiu felt like she was spinning through genres—yesterday in a coming-of-age story, today stumbling into Harry Potter’s world, tomorrow facing a monster-filled nightmare.

Her body and mind were a mess.

“Still awake, huh, Little Xueqiu?” Xia Yin’s cheeky voice came from below.

The dorm’s bedroom had two single beds, but they weren’t level.

From a third-person view, they formed a staggered, staircase-like shape, with Xueqiu on the higher one.

“Wanna chat?” Xueqiu asked softly, as if steeling herself.

“You don’t strike me as the type to start a conversation. That’s supposed to be my line—spin some epic tales to lull our homesick, parent-missing freshman to sleep, then drag you to the professor tomorrow for the entrance exam. Follow the script, right?”

“My parents died five years ago. I don’t have a home,” Xueqiu corrected.

“I know, it’s in your file. You lived alone, with your grandma in the old district as your only family… Just a figure of speech. Sorry, sorry,” Xia Yin said quietly.

“Anyway, I’m not much different. Been here over five years—freshman for one, sophomore for four. This is year five.”

Xueqiu didn’t respond, and the conversation lapsed into silence.

“Oh? Thought you wanted to hear my story. No biggie if you don’t. I could ramble for a month, but pulling an all-nighter right after arriving probably isn’t great for you,” Xia Yin said with a dry laugh, ready to drop it.

Xueqiu thought for a moment, then sat up, leaning against the cold metal railing.

“Why… did you come to this place, Xia Yin?”

She avoided calling it a school.

Even now, a faint sense of unreality lingered, though she couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong.

“No more ‘Senior,’ huh? Just Xia Yin’s fine. Simple, nice, rolls off the tongue.”

The curtains were half-drawn, moonlight spilling silently onto the girl.

To Xia Yin, her snow-white hair shimmered like silk, her flawless face pale in the glow, like a figure from countless dreams.

“I was thirteen, probably in eighth grade. My parents had just divorced. Mom didn’t want me, and Dad was a deadbeat.”

“I never even thought they’d split, you know? Like in Second Life*, mashing the ‘Next Year’ button, then at 13, boom—you’re suddenly nobody’s kid.”