Chapter 65: Sanity
The winter wind was bleak, the sun distant and cold, casting a pale, translucent filter over everything.
Xiang Er put down her phone, a subtle melancholy settling over her. Shen Yuhe wasn’t smiling, and her own excitement faded.
What had happened?
She didn’t know, but she was determined to make Shen Yuhe happy. No matter what happened in the world, she and Shen Yuhe had to be happy, that was one of her few remaining beliefs.
Xiang Er looked around and, seeing the coffee shop, smiled.
She walked towards Shen Yuhe, her voice soft:
“Do you remember this place?”
Shen Yuhe looked at the coffee shop, now crowded, even the outdoor tables occupied despite the cold weather. Many couples were huddled together, sipping coffee, the cafe apparently a popular date spot.
A few strands of Shen Yuhe’s soft hair, caught by the breeze, fell across her eyelashes, obscuring her beautiful eyes, giving her a strangely vulnerable look.
She said:
“It’s where we had coffee together.”
Xiang Er smiled, walked closer to Shen Yuhe, and, taking her arm, linked their arms together.
She rarely, or perhaps never, acted so boldly.
Shen Yuhe looked at her, surprised, and saw Xiang Er’s bright smile, her gentle, peaceful expression, the look of a girl in love, her cheeks permanently flushed, the most beautiful sight in the world.
So lovely, more so than a fully bloomed camellia, delicate and fragile, needing protection, needing the sweet, pink bubble of lies to shield her from the harsh realities… she didn’t need to face the truth.
It had the power to protect her with lies for a lifetime, even if it wasn’t what It wanted… It could compromise, weave an elaborate web of illusions, create and maintain a perfect mask, all for her.
Shen Yuhe smiled faintly, leaning closer to Xiang Er.
“What do you want to eat?”
Shen Yuhe asked.
“Hmm… anything is fine, just not spicy.”
Xiang Er said, then, remembering someone behind them, she turned around.
An Yue was silently following them, her gaze fixed on them, her expression unreadable.
Xiang Er, uncomfortable under her scrutiny, still managed to ask politely:
“Officer An, is there anything you’d like to eat?”
An Yue shook her head:
“Whatever you choose is fine.”
Xiang Er pursed her lips. It seemed the decision was hers. She glanced at the surrounding restaurants, considering the quality and price…
Shen Yuhe whispered in her ear:
“Choose the most expensive one.”
Xiang Er:
“Hmm? But I don’t want you to spend your money…”
Although it seemed inappropriate, Xiang Er now felt a sense of responsibility for Shen Yuhe’s finances. Even if Shen Yuhe was wealthy, it was still hard-earned money, she didn’t want to be wasteful!
Shen Yuhe smiled:
“We can just let her pay, she can expense it.”
Xiang Er:
“…”
You’re quite clever.
In the end, she chose a slightly upscale, but not outrageously expensive, restaurant. They were led to a private room, and Xiang Er, once again, took charge of ordering, choosing only non-spicy dishes.
After the waiter left, only the three of them remained in the elegant room.
They sat around a circular table, Xiang Er and Shen Yuhe together, An Yue opposite them. The arrangement reminded Xiang Er of interrogation scenes in TV dramas, and she frowned slightly.
Officer An seemed nice enough, but her presence always made her feel slightly uncomfortable.
And the unfinished sentence in the elevator, An Yue’s coughing fit interrupting her… “And you’re covered in…” covered in what? She still hadn’t explained.
Xiang Er disliked cryptic pronouncements, it reminded her of the Evil God’s way of communicating, always withholding information, always testing and observing, making her anxious.
She poured tea for herself and Shen Yuhe, placing the teapot in the center of the table, ignoring An Yue.
An Yue’s gaze fixed on the table, she suddenly spoke:
“Ms. Shen, I’d like to ask, what level of confidentiality are you operating under? Why couldn’t I find any information about you in the system?”
Xiang Er, surprised, turned to look at Shen Yuhe.
Shen Yuhe also glanced at her, then, as if flustered, coughed slightly and turned away, her gaze fixed on An Yue:
“I don’t need to report to you. If you couldn’t find my information in the system, it means your clearance level is insufficient, I don’t think I need to explain that to you.”
Xiang Er immediately accepted this explanation. It made sense, all those spy dramas she had watched, they never revealed the identities of important figures, secrecy was paramount! An Yue’s clearance level must be too low!
She looked at Shen Yuhe, a proud smile on her lips. As expected of the woman she admired, she must be a high-ranking member of the organization!
But then a wave of worry washed over her. Such a high rank, such powerful abilities, it meant more dangerous missions, greater risks…
It was a difficult choice. Choosing between personal happiness and the greater good, it was too difficult. Xiang Er, feeling a sense of absurdity, couldn’t help but worry, her gaze shifting between admiration and concern as she looked at Shen Yuhe.
Shen Yuhe reached out and gently squeezed Xiang Er’s hand, turning to smile at her:
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
Xiang Er:
“How did you know I was worried about you…”
They held hands, whispering to each other, while An Yue, across the table, observed them, her expression unreadable, having clearly heard Shen Yuhe’s words.
An Yue was silent for a moment, then said softly:
“You’re right, I only have the highest clearance level for this region, not the national level. It seems you’re not a local investigator, but a special agent from headquarters. In that case, may I request to see your identification?”
Shen Yuhe turned away, her posture languid, her gaze commanding:
“I don’t recall needing to report to you. You already know who I am, why do you need proof? Don’t you understand? The most reliable person is always yourself.”
Xiang Er’s heart stirred, and she looked at An Yue, seeing a clear flicker of confusion in her eyes.
That confusion, she was familiar with. Every time her perception was distorted, her memories fragmented, she would see the same confusion reflected in her own eyes in the mirror.
So… was An Yue experiencing the same thing? Was her memory being affected by the pollution?
Xiang Er felt a surge of worry, her fingers curling, completely enveloped by Shen Yuhe’s hand.
An Yue’s confusion was fleeting, and she quickly regained her composure:
“Of course I know the most reliable person is myself, but I also know that memories can be altered and implanted. Even humans have that technology, so it’s not impossible for the entities we’re dealing with to have it as well. I haven’t heard of any such cases, but it’s always best to be cautious. So… if you can’t provide any identification, I’ll have to contact my superiors and request backup.”
She held out her wrist, a sleek, electronic watch strapped to it, its red light flashing.
Xiang Er asked:
“What’s that?”
An Yue:
“It’s my communicator, and a pollution detector. It’s telling me that my SAN value has dropped to a critical level, and I can’t trust myself when my SAN value is this low.”
She extended her arm, showing Xiang Er the watch screen, and Xiang Er leaned closer, curious.
The screen was divided into several sections, displaying various data, the largest section flashing red, with the words “SAN Value: 68.” The number was steadily decreasing, dropping with each flash.
Xiang Er was puzzled:
“What’s a SAN value?”
An Yue:
“It’s your sanity level. Below 60, you’re considered half-insane, and when it reaches zero, you turn into one of those monsters you’ve seen.”
Xiang Er, staring at the alarming red display, felt her own heart pounding. A sense of dread, a premonition of doom, rose within her, and she asked, her voice barely a whisper:
“What’s… what’s my SAN value?”
The moment she asked, the atmosphere in the room plummeted.
It was as if a block of ice had been dropped onto the table, a solid, impenetrable barrier, distorting their view of the world beyond, like a melting landscape.
Xiang Er’s back went cold, and she turned to look at Shen Yuhe, the only beacon of hope in her life…
But Shen Yuhe just looked at her sadly, her dark eyes like a frozen lake, reflecting Xiang Er’s bewildered face, as if she, too, was confused, unsure how to deal with this.
Something was about to shatter, and Xiang Er opened her mouth, wanting to call out “Little Fish,” but a soft, warm, and slightly metallic taste filled her mouth, choking her words.
Her vision blurred, and a strange, ancient legend suddenly surfaced in her chaotic mind.
It was said that in ancient times, if a person died, but their soul didn’t realize it, they would continue living their normal life, day after day, only their world… would be different.
Until something, someone, or some event, reminded them that they were already dead, only then would they truly die, their soul finally moving on.
What would it feel like, that moment of realization?
“Little Ears!”
Xiang Er felt blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and she looked up weakly, Shen Yuhe’s face, filled with panic and concern, looming over her, her arms pulling her into a tight embrace.
At the same time, Xiang Er saw An Yue’s electronic watch blare a loud, insistent alarm!
Xiang Er buried her face in Shen Yuhe’s embrace, thinking, my SAN value… has it already reached zero?
When she regained consciousness, she was lying in Shen Yuhe’s arms, her body stretched out on a chair.
The aroma of food filled the room, it seemed their meal had arrived. Xiang Er opened her eyes, her vision split between the golden ceiling and the ornate chandelier above, and Shen Yuhe’s beautiful face, backlit, before her.
Xiang Er looked at Shen Yuhe, her mouth open slightly, her throat dry and salty, something blocking her airway, making it difficult to speak.
Shen Yuhe brought a glass of water to her lips, and the warm liquid, slowly flowing down her throat, soothed her parched throat. Xiang Er finally found her voice, and clutching Shen Yuhe’s collar, she asked:
“What’s my SAN value?”
Shen Yuhe hesitated, gently placing the glass down, and helped Xiang Er sit up.
The table was now covered with food, but Xiang Er didn’t care. She looked at An Yue across the table.
An Yue sat calmly, looking at her with concern:
“Miss Xiang, are you alright? If you’re not feeling well, you should go to the hospital.”
Xiang Er stared at An Yue in disbelief.
An Yue was calmly and methodically arranging the tableware, her demeanor perfectly normal, the red light on her electronic watch no longer flashing, everything peaceful and calm.
This was strange… Xiang Er clearly remembered the alarm blaring from An Yue’s watch before she fainted… She asked:
“Wasn’t your watch going off earlier?”
An Yue glanced at her watch and said casually:
“Oh, it was just a small malfunction, it’s fixed now.”
Xiang Er narrowed her eyes and looked at Shen Yuhe, who smiled and nodded:
“It’s fixed now.”
Fixed? Fixed what? How? Was it the problem that was fixed, or… the person? Or the soul?
A torrent of questions flooded Xiang Er’s mind.
She reached out a trembling hand towards An Yue and shouted:
“Give me the watch!”
An Yue was startled:
“Why are you shouting…”
But Shen Yuhe’s voice, firm and commanding, said:
“Give her the watch!”
An Yue immediately removed the watch, walked around the table, and handed it to… Shen Yuhe.
Shen Yuhe gently fastened the watch around Xiang Er’s wrist.
Xiang Er’s slender, pale wrist, its blue veins prominent, like turbulent rivers flowing beneath her skin, disappearing beneath the black watch strap.
Xiang Er stared at the watch screen, her heart pounding, her thin wrist trembling under its weight!
The numbers on the screen flickered, the SAN value in the center also fluctuating, then finally settling, the flashing stopping.
SAN Value: 90.
A safe, stable green number.
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