Chapter 1244 Returning to the Human World
The sound of the door closing softly was like a pebble thrown into a still pond, creating extremely faint ripples in Xiong Yuting's empty heart.
Jia Daiquan is gone.
The only person who allowed her to vaguely sense a "familiar" feeling amidst the unfamiliar torrent, and who repeatedly assured her with clumsy words and actions that she should "go find him," has left.
Now, she is all alone.
Xiong Yuting sat stiffly on the large, soft leather sofa, her body still in the same straight posture she had when she was led into the car, completely out of place in this luxurious and comfortable suite, which was meticulously crafted in every way.
Her purple eyes slowly and somewhat hesitantly moved, surveying her surroundings.
Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the night was deep, and the vague outlines of distant mountains and scattered lights could be vaguely seen.
The curtains were made of thick velvet with a strong drape, and the edges were inlaid with delicate metal tassels. The sofa beneath her was so soft that it almost enveloped her, and the touch was unfamiliar and strange, completely different from the cold and hard floors, shelves, or bathtub edges she remembered.
There was a faint, fresh fragrance in the air, like some kind of plant, mixed with the smell of fabric and leather, so clean that it made her feel a little uncomfortable.
Her gaze swept over the gleaming dark solid wood coffee table, on which sat a crystal fruit bowl filled with brightly colored and perfectly shaped fruits—she didn't recognize them, but found the colors somewhat dazzling under the light. Next to it was a set of white porcelain teaware, with gold trim on the rims of the cups.
A brass floor lamp stands in the corner, its shade made of milky white frosted glass, emitting a soft, non-glaring halo that illuminates every corner of the room clearly, yet without the intrusive light of the lights on the platform or in the carriages outside.
Everything was unfamiliar.
But there's also a vague, fragmented, and elusive sense of "familiarity"? It's not familiarity with specific objects, but rather with this "neat," "orderly," and "artificially comfortable" atmosphere—a vague, fragmented impression, as if seen through countless layers of frosted glass.
This feeling confused her even more, and a deeper layer of bewilderment clouded her purple eyes.
However, what she found even more unbearable than the unfamiliar environment was the growing anxiety brought about by Jia Daiquan's departure.
He said he would go find "him".
I've said it repeatedly.
He spoke with such urgency and certainty, pointing to the photograph.
She remembered the shape of his lips when he spoke, and the almost overflowing solemnity in his eyes.
She could even vaguely understand the meaning of the action of "searching"—like wandering among the dark shelves of Yonghui Supermarket, her eyes scanning every corner, trying to find... what was she looking for? She wasn't quite sure, but it was an instinct that drove her.
But he left.
Leaving her alone in this overly bright, overly soft, overly quiet space.
Anxiety, like a subtle electric current, began to coursing through her cold, stiff limbs and bones.
Her fingers, resting on her knees, curled unconsciously. With just a little force, her fingertips pierced through the soft yet resilient fabric of the sofa, as if breaking through a thin layer of paper.
She doesn't like this...
As her gaze returned to the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, the boundless darkness outside seemed to weep silently, like subjects pleading for their queen's return...
The urge within her to move, to leave, to "find" something on her own, surged like a suppressed tide, crashing against her confused and disoriented consciousness.
She remained seated stiffly, like a beautiful yet fragile crystal sculpture, but deep within her purple eyes, beneath a hazy mist of confusion, a cold and impatient glimmer belonging to an apex predator was slowly gathering.
"click"
A soft sound—the sound of the key card being swiped through the sensor.
Immediately afterwards, the heavy door was pushed open a crack, and a figure silently slipped in before quickly and gently closing the door again.
It is Song Yu.
She wore an impeccable, reassuring, gentle smile, and carried a new silver tray with several items on it:
A glass of water at the right temperature, a small dish of delicate-looking, easy-to-digest pastries, and a neatly stacked hot towel that exudes a faint lavender scent.
However, the moment she stepped into the suite, the smile on her face froze almost imperceptibly.
cold.
An inexplicable, chilling cold, completely inconsistent with the readings on the air conditioner thermometer, quietly enveloped the air in the room like an invisible veil.
This chill wasn't a physical low temperature, but rather more like a... warning stemming from a life instinct, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end slightly.
Her gaze immediately fell upon Xiong Yuting, who was sitting on the sofa.
The girl remained sitting upright, as if she hadn't moved an inch since she left.
But Song Yu keenly noticed that the girl's fingers, resting on her knees, seemed to be... sinking into the seemingly extremely tough sofa fabric.
Although it was only a very slight indentation, it was enough to make Song Yu's heart skip a beat.
What made her heart tremble even more was Xiong Yuting's purple eyes that slowly turned around.
The previous confusion still lingered, but deep within this confusion, Song Yu caught a faint, gathering... chilling impatience? Like an undercurrent beginning to stir beneath the calm surface of a lake.
Without time to delve into the source of the chilling aura or the subtle changes in the girl's eyes, Song Yu immediately mobilized all the professional skills honed over twenty years of her career.
She knew that when dealing with guests in such special and potentially unstable situations, the first step of communication and establishing initial trust was crucial.
A gentler, more soothing smile bloomed on her face, and her voice became soft and gentle, as if she were coaxing a frightened child.
"Good evening, guest. I was worried you might be thirsty, so I prepared some warm water for you. There are also some snacks; you can try them if you're hungry."
As she spoke, she carried the tray and walked slowly to the coffee table with a measured pace that would never arouse suspicion, gently placing the items down.
She didn't immediately get too close, but maintained a polite and comfortable distance, observing Xiong Yuting's reaction.
"You must be tired after such a long drive."
Song Yu continued speaking in that gentle tone, while gesturing "rest" and "relax" with his hands, which were much more elegant and natural than Jia Daiquan's clumsy gestures:
"This sofa is very comfortable, you can lean back for a bit, or if you'd like to wash up first and change into some clean, comfortable clothes?"
