Chapter 32: Separate Actions

“Enough daydreaming,” Yin Xiran said, snapping back to focus.
She stood, downing her lukewarm lemonade, a confident smile on her face.
“Plan’s unchanged. Let’s move.”
She clapped her hands briskly.
“Destination: Nanjiang City Library.”

The library, a Soviet-style relic with gray brick walls and tall arched windows, stood solemn amid modern high-rises.
Today, it was quieter than usual, the weekend calm tainted by the recent murder.
A police car sat outside, officers questioning staff, the air heavy with unease.

The four gathered at a bus stop across the street, observing calmly.

“The police are still investigating,” Chen Dongyang whispered.
“Won’t we stand out if we go in now?”

Nanjiang City wasn’t large, but two eerily similar suicides in two days would make even the police suspicious of deeper connections.

“We want to stir things up,” Yin Xiran said, her sly smile returning as she scanned the library’s comings and goings.
“But not as a group. We split up.”

She raised two fingers, outlining her plan.
“Chen and I are one team, Jiang and Qingle another. We’ll hit the archives and surveillance room for the librarian’s recent borrowing records and movements. Jiang, Qingle, you target his colleagues, especially older ones who knew him well. Jiang, use your abilities to dig into their memories for things the police would miss.”

Chen Dongyang frowned.
“Wait, isn’t this grouping a bit…”

He wanted to say “unfair” but hesitated.

“Classmate Chen, you’re misunderstanding your role,” Yin Xiran said, arms crossed, her tone laced with blunt mockery.
“Combat-wise, Qingle’s ability is pure destruction, Jiang’s can dismantle minds, and I control environments. You?”

Chen Dongyang realized his few seconds of rewind, followed by crippling headaches, offered little in a fight.

“Your time travel is a trump card for desperate moments, not combat,” Yin Xiran continued.
“You’re the least able to protect yourself and the most likely to die first.”

Her words stung, and Chen Dongyang’s face flushed, but he couldn’t argue.

“Jiang’s abilities pair with Qingle’s to stabilize her if her powers spiral,” she went on.
“That leaves us. I’m best at controlling situations, so I’ll protect you, our weakest link, to keep you from getting quietly taken out. Clear?”

Chen Dongyang opened his mouth but nodded, defeated by her flawless logic.

“Settled,” Jiang Yuxin said coolly, unbothered by the debate.
Her glance at Chen Dongyang said, Stop wasting time.

She took Yin Qingle, still uneasy, and crossed the street, blending in like two students seeking books.

Chen Dongyang sighed and followed Yin Xiran.

The mission began.

—

Jiang Yuxin and Yin Qingle moved smoothly.
For Jiang Yuxin, reading an unsuspecting mind was as easy as pulling a book from a shelf.
She targeted a female administrator in her forties sorting books.

Under the guise of asking about an obscure book, Jiang Yuxin engaged her briefly.
In those ten seconds, her mental tendrils slipped into the woman’s consciousness.

A flood of mundane memories poured in.
Jiang Yuxin filtered the noise, zeroing in on fragments tied to the deceased.

She withdrew her power, thanked the woman politely, and led Yin Qingle away, as if they’d only asked for directions.

In a quiet second-floor corner, Yin Qingle whispered, “Anything, Jiang?”

“Yes,” Jiang Yuxin replied, her eyes sharp.

—

Meanwhile, Chen Dongyang and Yin Xiran hit a snag.

The archive room in the basement was closed to the public due to old wiring and safety issues.
Access required appointments and escorts.

“Now what?” Chen Dongyang asked, worried.

“Create our own opportunity,” Yin Xiran said, smirking.

She led him to a side ramp for cargo deliveries, ending at a locked iron door marked Staff Passage, No Entry Without Permission.

After checking for witnesses, she snapped her fingers at the lock.

A soft click, and the door opened.

They slipped inside, greeted by a dim corridor reeking of damp mold.

“Stay close,” Yin Xiran whispered, moving like a cat.
“No noise.”

The hallway’s faint emergency lights cast long shadows on mottled walls.
An acrid smell lingered.

Following signs, they reached the Library Archives door—also locked.

Yin Xiran prepared to unlock it when footsteps and muffled male voices echoed from the corridor’s end—likely staff.

“Hurry!” Yin Xiran’s face tightened.
She grabbed Chen Dongyang’s wrist, pulling him into a cramped corner piled with old bookshelves and junk.

The space barely fit one person.
Yin Xiran shoved him in and squeezed in after, their bodies pressed close.

Chen Dongyang froze, feeling her soft frame against his back, her steady breaths, her heartbeat.
A sharp lemon scent mixed with her fragrance overwhelmed his senses.

The staff’s footsteps grew closer.
He held his breath.

A warm whisper brushed his ear, Yin Xiran’s teasing voice low.
“Classmate Chen, your heart’s racing.”