Chapter 15

*Her Tail*
In the white nutrient factory, cold machines ran in order. The administrator walked past, hands behind her back. Behind her, trained youths exchanged a look and veered from professional talk.
“Gap tolerance within three percent… Don’t you think Zhu Yu’s been weird lately?”
“Everyone gets like that after working here a while. She was weirder when she started.”
“No—she looks really down. Didn’t even eat the free premium lunch gummies. Suspicious! Dumped by a bar client?”
Shan lifted her eyes at the cat’s dramatic tone, glanced at Zhu Yu slumped like soft slime, and analyzed calmly. “She keeps touching that vintage-shop fake ring. Secondhand stuff can carry bad energy—maybe she’s haunted.”
They were on different frequencies. Cat rubbed goosebumps on her arm. “We’re a scientific society—quit those weird forums! Romance is more likely than ghosts!”
“No—fifty-fifty each. Both can happen. Like—she’s in love with the ring’s previous owner. At midnight the soul ring appears—”
Shan’s tone went eerie. Cat nearly blew her fur up.
Zhu Yu lifted her head weakly. “Secret—I can hear you.”
Shan frowned. “Why so weak? Didn’t you eat?”
Cat leaned in. “Heartbreak? Tell us—we’ll help!”
“I’ve been… running on empty lately.” Zhu Yu breathed low.
Lately she tired easily—home meant doing nothing—even massaging Bai Shuzhou, hard to gather mental power.
No calls at Paradis. Manager haunted her like a ghost. Bai Shuzhou smiled at Nan Gong—only cold face for her—
“You’re just tired.” Shan patted sympathetically. “Take a few days off.”
Zhu Yu thought of those ice eyes and shook her head. Staying home felt less likable; at work she could escape a while.
Empty house—lonely.
Work slacking was a free amusement park.
She comforted herself with a bleak smile.
Night—she drifted to Paradis. Another rich sister opened a champagne tower for Nan Gong.
Everyone really loved Nan Gong.
Second-floor golden dome opened—money snowed down. Zhu Yu stripped her coat like revenge and scooped bills like an inverted jellyfish.
Facing money, the girl showed rare wildness. The manager’s eyes lit; he ran off and soon pulled her aside.
Cough—he handed a treasured folder, earnest. “If you want real money—one big score—study this persona. A little resemblance is your blessing. Charisma. Competitiveness!”
Zhu Yu looked down—wanted posters.
Empire’s number-one fugitive: Zhu Yu.
“…”
Vision darkened. She swallowed hard, feet edging toward the door. “You sure this isn’t the wrong file?”
On the poster the girl stood one hand in pocket, arrogant smile—plain white shirt, black pants, broad shoulders narrow waist, sharp eyes like a sword about to leave its sheath.
Charges: illegal arms, kidnapping royalty.
The poster avoided her military honors—but flipping back, Zhu Yu gaped.
“Why is there a glamour shoot?! Isn’t this a wanted person?!”
“Green. You’re a college student—don’t judge by surface.”
The manager was disappointed. “‘People’s Star’ is a joke? Nobles monopolize everything—she carved a path, broke bloodline-only rule—a D-rank Alpha won the princess! What a terrifying woman!”
—
“This wanted thing’s a setup—I have inside news—the emperor’s conspiracy—the young consort and princess eloped on honeymoon! Who wants elders watching? Emperor used an excuse to crush disobedient nobles! Read the news—North Sector power shifted—”
The eloped “young consort” herself: …Smugglers’ gossip. Paradis was complicated.
The manager sprayed passion; Zhu Yu looked like a quail. He slammed her shoulder, face fierce:
“Know the biggest difference between you and her?”
Zhu Yu shook her head fast—eager student.
“Presence! Eyes! Carnivores beat herbivores—attack! You’re too restrained—what’s two fewer buttons? People’s Star—she seduced the princess early—look at this uniform, these eyes—”
“Samoyed and wolf. One’s only a dog. The other’s cool. Get it?”
Zhu Yu thought: Samoyeds aren’t herbivores—they eat dog food, meat and veg, someone combs them—nice.
She still pretended enlightenment for the manager.
A low laugh at the door.
Eavesdropping trade secrets? The manager turned annoyed—saw Nan Gong—beamed, pointed. “See—that’s the wolf. You know how popular she is?”
Zhu Yu knew too well. No one—more than her—how—annoying—
Who laughed in that voice every day? So fake. Tired? Zhu Yu lowered her voice and copied Nan Gong’s tone in a creepy cold laugh.
Nan Gong was delighted, came close, big hand mussing Zhu Yu’s hair. “You’re not cut out for this. Quit soon.”
Her nail tapped the wanted poster in Zhu Yu’s hand—crisp—meaningful. “Go Federation—full-time repair? Empire’s backward swamp—why should a commoner drown in it—”
She focused—wrist tense in pocket—expecting a fight.
Zhu Yu: “Oh. Makes sense. Federation’s nice too.”
Punch on cotton.
Zhu Yu drifted away—no call-ins, hid in a corner, grabbed fluffy coworkers for face-rubs—went home very late.
No sultry sax on the road—lonelier.
A small drink—head messy—bounty on the poster—Bai Shuzhou and Nan Gong’s silent duel—she sniffed, furious.
She fixed their arcade machines! Bought the cartridges! No more games for Nan Gong—or reverse the buttons… too much?
Does Bai Shuzhou like wolves?
Silent street. Zhu Yu paused—howled a few times.
Awwooo—
She had talent—very lifelike—very satisfied.
Hmph. Can Nan Gong do that? Could the original?
A lazy howl answered from distant wasteland.
Zhu Yu’s eyes bulged—sober—wrapped coat—sprinted home.
Real wolves?! Terrifying!!!
Wolffolk woken at midnight: weird accent—lost kid?
Zhu Yu used to sleep well. Tonight she tossed. On break she checked tickets to nearest Federation sector—cheaper than imperial capital.
Alone she could buy freight standing room—save more—Paradis smuggled—coworkers might know discounts.
She was not that People’s Star Zhu Yu—no ambition, no charm.
If nobles had cornered the original, maybe escape with the princess wouldn’t have been such a mess?
She would not hurt her—could not shield her. In the end—just ordinary.
Exhaustion dragged mood down. Zhu Yu touched the ring—red gleam in dark like fresh blood, crystal clear.
Eyelids heavy—mind sharp—soul and body split—long winter—no far shore.
Blank—she heard soft moans.
Vines surged wild, brightest flowers—silver hair paler against snow—hands folded like a martyr in scripture—almost buried in pain.
A vine reached her side—branch hooked her pinky—coiled silent—help or invitation.
Summer night—room freezing.
Warm gold mental light scattered like fireflies. Zhu Yu climbed up dazed, drew gauze—Bai Shuzhou shaking, lip bitten through—blood blooming a rotting rose on her neck, wilting quiet.
So cold. So cold.
In endless cold Zhu Yu crawled into the quilt. They clung—thoughts stiff—healing power would not gather. Stubborn, she pressed her face to Bai Shuzhou’s, foreheads together, sharing warmth.
…
In white snow, pale hair lifted pale blue eyes.
A girl stood alone at the world’s center—flew—fell—again until broken—blood beneath blooming roses, burning.
“Again!” she said.
Sparks spread. Vines held the frail body upright. Weak light pierced dark—she saw overhead—
One eye.
The sky blinked slow and heavy.
All her strength—only an iceberg’s tip.
Then ten million eyes opened—world bright as noon—staring at the girl.
A silver scalpel touched skin fine as thread.
What are you doing? Let her go!
Remembering Bai Shuzhou’s surgical scars, Zhu Yu watched in horror—mouth opened closed—could not reach running.
“This is your fate.” Thunder rolled.
“You will fight for humanity’s destiny.”
No chains. No straps. The girl waited for fate.
Why don’t you run?!
Zhu Yu pinched her wrist—nothing—dream. Bai Shuzhou’s dream.
Blade opened skin—ten thousand red petals with pain.
This time—not fear. Anger.
“She doesn’t want this fate!”
Zhu Yu lifted her face. “If humanity’s fate needs a child to carry it—let it burn!”
She ran forward, pulled little Bai Shuzhou away.
She was best at running.
If it hurts—run. No big deal!
Coward or selfish—you should live and fight for yourself—that’s instinct!
The girl looked at their clasped hands—confused at first—red mole on wrist swaying—after such cruelty those blue eyes still without joy or sorrow.
Calm analysis—as always—deconstruct, weigh, optimal path.
Then—very lightly—she squeezed back.
Sweat, gasping, darkness swallowing behind—eyes chasing—
Zhu Yu slower—almost caught—silver wings spread, sky-blocking, shielding her.
Rose—woman’s scent—even dark again—warm, safe.
Cold faded. Moon poured. Cicadas in the tin window frame.
The woman in the tight embrace opened her eyes.
A furry head close—tipsy breath—girl curled like a sled dog warming humans in a blizzard—or melting sun—skin between them damp.
This one… so hot…
Bai Shuzhou pushed—pulled closer—soft breath on her neck—itch.
Brows knit. Bai Shuzhou flicked her tail, hooked the girl’s waist—large pillow—adjusted comfortable.
Asleep, Zhu Yu felt vines heavier—pushed the cold one off—put back—repeat—vine impatient, light slap.
Hiss… Zhu Yu behaved—slept deep.
Next morning.
Blurry eyes—face stunning up close—flawless.
Bai Shuzhou slept peaceful—rare smile on lips—silver hair soft snow—breath light.
Zhu Yu’s heart softened.
Tail around her waist—unhappy at her secret smile—nuzzled. Zhu Yu laughed, patted soothing.
—
Cold. Smooth.
Such a cute clingy tail.
Such a good dream.
She looked at the pretty silver tail—liked it—would sleep more.
Habit—pinch wrist—tail coiled, pushed fingers away one by one.
Smile froze.
Wait—sensation. Not a dream.
Tail—where—
She grabbed without thinking—eyes met the owner’s.
Red at the cold eye corners—hair hiding sharp light—voice clear, no guilt caught:
“Let go.”