As they got in the car, Mu Bai's slightly dazed mind recovered and the system's cautious words suddenly made her sober up a little.
She also started having doubts about the sudden appearance of Shen Ming.
After all, this part of the garage is usually not accessible to most people and she also didn't even see a shadow of a man in a baseball cap or mask.
Also the way Shen Ming just happened to be in front of her car is also far too coincidental.
Just as Mu Bai was still stuck in that loop of overthinking, Shen Ming slipped into the passenger seat beside her. The soft click of the door closing echoed weirdly loud in the enclosed car, and for a second, it pulled Mu Bai's focus back to reality. Shen Ming fumbled with the seatbelt, fingers hesitating on the buckle, but the strap wouldn't catch. Her hands were trembling too much, and the tiny shake made the whole action look strangely fragile.
Mu Bai's eyes drifted over almost automatically. And then she noticed—the faint redness lingering around Shen Ming's eyes, like she'd been holding back tears. The way her head stayed tilted down, bangs falling just enough to shield her face, almost like she didn't want to be seen. The slight tremor in her shoulders.
The whole scene just… hit different. There was this quiet, sad aura radiating from Shen Ming, something so raw that it instantly drowned out all of Mu Bai's earlier suspicions. It wasn't calculated or suspicious anymore—it was just human. Suddenly, Mu Bai felt this pang of guilt for doubting her in the first place. Like, here she was dissecting coincidences and plotting theories, when right next to her, Shen Ming was sitting there looking like someone barely holding it together.
And against her will, Mu Bai's chest tightened a little. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in her throat.
001, who had been quietly watching this whole emotional shift unfold, just fell into stunned silence. For a few long seconds, it didn't even know how to respond. Finally, it let out what could only be described as a digital sigh.
"…Forget it," it muttered, voice laced with exasperation. "The host has officially lost it."
From its perspective, the whole thing was absurd—Mu Bai had gone from suspicious detective mode to guilty, soft-hearted mess in literally under a minute. One second she was piecing together garage conspiracies like some wannabe Sherlock, and the next she was practically ready to apologize just because Shen Ming looked pitiful with watery eyes and shaky hands.
If 001 had a human body, it would've been rubbing its temples by now, because honestly? The host's emotional whiplash in front of this woman was something else. The system swore this wasn't a novel anymore—it was a college rom-com meltdown unfolding in real time.
Mu Bai, still oblivious to the system's running commentary in the background, instinctively leaned closer. Her arms slipped around Shen Ming in a surprisingly natural motion, steadying the trembling hands and guiding the seatbelt across her. The click of it locking in place felt louder than it should have, like the sound had weight.
Halfway through, she glanced up—just a casual check—but her gaze collided head-on with Shen Ming's. For a heartbeat, neither of them looked away. Their eyes locked, and something intangible sparked in the narrow space between them, like static that refused to discharge. The cramped car, the silence, the closeness—it all blurred together until even the faintest detail felt amplified.
And then came the scent. Subtle, clean, with a softness Mu Bai couldn't even name, but in that enclosed space it wrapped around her like fog, enough to make her head spin. For a split second, dizziness washed over her again, tugging her off balance, but she forced herself to steady. She swallowed, pulled her voice together, and said softly, "Don't be afraid. I'm here."
Shen Ming's response wasn't verbal—not right away. Instead, she stared back with this intensity that made Mu Bai's pulse trip over itself. Suddenly hyper-aware of their closeness, Mu Bai retreated, leaning back against her seat a little too quickly. Her ears felt hot, but she distracted herself by jamming the key and starting the car, pretending to focus.
Just as she was about to step on the accelerator, a whisper broke through the quiet. Fragile. Barely audible.
"Thank you. I… I'm not afraid anymore."
The words lingered in the air longer than they should have, curling around Mu Bai's chest and refusing to let go. For a moment, the engine's low hum was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Mu Bai felt it instantly—that rush of warmth, like her chest had just been lit up from the inside. The soft little thank you shouldn't have carried that much weight, but somehow it did, and before she realized it, her lips were tugging upward in the faintest smile. Happiness bloomed quietly, uninvited but impossible to suppress.
What she didn't notice, though, was Shen Ming's reaction. The way the corners of her mouth curved ever so slightly, like she was hiding a secret only she knew. The faint blush creeping up her ears, glowing red against the cool tone of her skin, gave her away completely.
Mu Bai, still caught up in the moment, let out a small laugh to ease the air and waved off the gratitude as if it were nothing. "No need to thank me for everything," she said, trying to sound casual. Her tone was light, almost teasing, but under the words was something gentler, something that said you don't owe me anything—I just want to be here for you.
It was the kind of line a college student might throw out like it's no big deal, but the sincerity behind it stuck, hanging in the quiet space between them like the aftertaste of something sweet.
..
..
The car glided steadily through the evening traffic, headlights weaving in and out like fireflies along the streets. Mu Bai kept her hands on the wheel, eyes forward, but after a beat of silence she tilted her head slightly and asked, "Ming lives in Rosefield Apartments, right?" Her tone was light, like she was just making conversation, but there was a quiet attentiveness beneath it.
Shen Ming turned to look at her, the motion small but noticeable, like she was surprised Mu Bai even remembered. "Yes," she answered softly. "When I signed the contract with the company, Sister Liu helped me apply for a dormitory there."
She hesitated a little, as if deciding how much to add, then continued, "It's not that far from the studio, and the environment's… nice. Quiet, too."
Housing prices in a true metropolis like this? Honestly ridiculous. Sky-high to the point where even people with stable jobs hesitate to even think about buying. For newcomers in the entertainment industry, it's basically a fantasy—something you talk about in group chats, but laugh off because everyone knows you'd need years of steady projects, careful saving, and maybe a little miracle just to scrape together enough for a down payment.
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Thanks for reading.
Stay tuned for more.