Yu Zhibai's neck wouldn't stop bleeding. Several boys helped escort him to the infirmary to get it stanched.

Shang Nan wanted to follow, but Zhang Xueli called out to him. Her expression was stern. "You and Lu Yang—come to my office."

[14: Here's the thing—the classroom security camera was broken by Lu Yang. You don't have evidence of him pouring ink on Yu Zhibai's desk. But I can help you restore part of the surveillance data. It'll cost five hundred thousand points.]

Shang Nan: "I don't have five hundred thousand."

[14: You can put it on credit.]

Shang Nan used the five hundred thousand points Fourteen lent him on credit to redeem one minute of surveillance footage. He figured it would definitely come in handy.

Zhang Xueli was livid. The other teachers in the office all looked over, not yet knowing what had happened.

"Shang Nan, why did you pour ink on Lu Yang's head? Do you think you're in third grade?"

"He poured ink on Yu Zhibai's desk first," Shang Nan said evenly. "I returned the favor. We're even."

Zhang Xueli hadn't known Lu Yang started it. Whoever had come to report to her hadn't mentioned that part. Once she learned, she frowned at Lu Yang. "You started it?"

Lu Yang's face was covered in ink, his uniform completely ruined. He shrugged. "I did no such thing. If you're claiming I poured ink on Yu Zhibai's desk first, you'll need to show me proof."

In the end, it all came down to checking the surveillance footage.

Lu Yang seized the opportunity to steal a glance at Shang Nan, the smugness in his eyes impossible to hide. But Shang Nan couldn't even be bothered to look at him. Eyelids drooping, he answered Zhang Xueli's questions with an air of utter indifference.

Before this, Shang Nan had kept a very low profile in class. Apart from his widely known pursuit of Yu Zhibai, other things about him—even the fact that he was a rich kid—only became common knowledge because of a lunatic named Zhang Gou.

Shang Nan's feelings for Yu Zhibai had nothing to do with Lu Yang either, as long as Lu Yang didn't meddle in things between him and Yu Zhibai.

But Lu Yang hadn't expected that the young heir of the Shang Family had genuinely set his heart on Yu Zhibai—enough to actually get into it with him over that piece of trash?

"I'll verify the surveillance shortly. Shang Nan, if you started this unprovoked, I'm giving you a disciplinary mark," Zhang Xueli rapped on her desk, then turned to Lu Yang. "Lu Yang, if it turns out you were bullying Yu Zhibai first—parent conference and probation."

"Can you both accept that?" Zhang Xueli asked.

"Yes." It was Shang Nan who answered, with virtually no hesitation.

Seeing how decisively Shang Nan responded, Lu Yang stared at him with a suspicious, probing look. It wasn't until Zhang Xueli urged him that he finally curled his lips into a roguish smirk. "No problem here."

Zhang Xueli looked at Lu Yang, her brows furrowing sternly. "School regulations explicitly prohibit bringing knives or clubs. Who told you to bring that? I'll be asking Mr. Lu to come to the school."

Lu Yang's relationship with his father wasn't great. That was also why he didn't want to openly antagonize Shang Nan—his father would defend him publicly, but once they were home, nine times out of ten, the man would beat him half to death.

He'd been impulsive today. But he couldn't very well beg Zhang Xueli in front of Shang Nan, so he stiffened his neck and said: "Go ahead and call him."

"You go back to the classroom first. Shang Nan, go check on Yu Zhibai—see if he needs to be taken to a hospital. If anything comes up, come find me directly." Zhang Xueli let out a weary sigh. She had children of her own and was also managing a class of twelfth-graders—none of whom made her life easy. She was truly exhausted.

Shang Nan turned and left first. Lu Yang followed right behind.

Once they were outside the office door, Lu Yang wiped his face—black smears everywhere, his hand equally ink-stained. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and called out to Shang Nan. "Shang Nan, do you really have to go against me?"

Shang Nan slowly turned around. Compared to the disheveled Lu Yang, he was immaculate—not a speck of dust on him. His peach-blossom eyes held no trace of their usual romantic charm; instead, they were cold as a sharpened hook.

"Yes."

"All for Yu Zhibai?" Lu Yang let out a derisive laugh. "His mother was trash. Got knocked up before she was even married, and after having the kid she still couldn't behave herself—singing and dancing, seducing men on purpose. If she hadn't had so many skeletons in her closet, why would she have died young? My mother died because of his mother. So why should he get to walk around all clean and innocent?" By the end, his emotions were surging. His ink-smeared face looked like a twisted demon mask.

Shang Nan simply watched Lu Yang in silence. After a long pause, he spoke. "Mm. Got it."

"You 'got it'? And then what? You're still going to help him?"

"Shang Nan, do you even know what our relationship is?" Lu Yang seethed at Shang Nan's imperviousness. "Our families do business together. We're in the same circle!"

Things that seemed not to exist had in fact always existed. Everyone was strictly sorted into tiers.

Shang Nan, Lu Yang, and certain other students at this high school—they were all in the same circle. A flock of young lords and ladies born with silver spoons in their mouths.

"Lu Yang," Shang Nan's tone was flat, "your father is the one truly responsible for your mother's death. Why don't you blame him? Is it that you don't want to—or that you don't dare?"

Shang Nan wasn't expecting an answer from Lu Yang. The fact that Lu Yang only ever went after Yu Zhibai already said everything.

On his way to the infirmary, Shang Nan kept thinking: Yu Zhibai was a Paper Person—so why was he bleeding so much?

Beyond the obligations of his mission, a faint thread of genuine worry had surfaced in Shang Nan's heart. He hadn't sensed any malice from this Paper Person, yet the Paper Person bore the brunt of malice from the outside world that should never have been directed at it.

In fact, the human Yu Zhibai had long since been killed by all that malice.

The school doctor's surname was Wu. At this moment, Doctor Wu was facing one of the most confounding problems of his medical career—Yu Zhibai's wound would not stop bleeding.

Watching the color drain from Yu Zhibai's face bit by bit, Doctor Wu changed the gauze faster and faster, beads of hot sweat forming on his brow.

A click sounded behind him. The door opened. It was Shang Nan.

Doctor Wu had been concentrating intently on stopping the bleeding. The sudden sound startled him so badly his arm jerked and the tweezers slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

"Shang Nan? You're here to see Yu Zhibai?" he said, then hurriedly bent down to retrieve the tweezers. In those mere ten-odd seconds, the wounds—which weren't even that deep—began oozing blood again, streaming downward. The blood soaked through Yu Zhibai's collar. He'd taken off his uniform jacket when he arrived; his white sweater now bloomed with an entire field of vivid red flowers.

Yu Zhibai had been keeping his head down. Only at the sound of Shang Nan's name did he look up, offering Shang Nan a strained smile. "You came."

Shang Nan stood beside the doctor, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking at the large tray of used, blood-soaked gauze. "What's going on?"

Doctor Wu sighed. "I have no idea—the bleeding won't stop. The wounds aren't even that deep..."

"Maybe..." Shang Nan hesitated. "I should take him to the hospital?"

"Yes, yes—get him to a hospital, quickly." Doctor Wu had been waiting for someone to say exactly that. Yu Zhibai was a sealed jar of silence; from the moment he'd been brought in until now, they'd gone through mountains of gauze, and despite Doctor Wu repeating "this bleeding just won't stop" and "it's really not working" over and over, Yu Zhibai hadn't offered a single word in response.

Shang Nan, at least, had the sense to read the room. Sharp kid—impressive.

"I'll go get an excuse slip from our homeroom teacher first."

Shang Nan said this and hurried out. Yu Zhibai's gaze followed his retreating figure the entire time, until it vanished completely down the corridor.

Only a few minutes later, Shang Nan returned with the slip. Doctor Wu breathed a sigh of relief. For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, being alone in a room with this particular student made him feel deeply unsettled. Yu Zhibai said nothing, didn't furrow his brow, didn't cry out in pain—just watched you in silence. It made your skin crawl.

On their way out, Doctor Wu gave Yu Zhibai a thick wad of gauze and told him to press it against the wound.

Yu Zhibai held his neck and walked beside Shang Nan, unable to resist the urge to reach out with his free hand and hold onto Shang Nan—his human friend.

But Shang Nan shot him a look. "Nice acting."

Yu Zhibai withdrew the hand he'd already extended, pressing his lips together in a smile. "Thank you for the compliment."

"Going to the hospital?" In the elevator, Shang Nan looked at the white gauze in Yu Zhibai's hand, which was gradually reddening again, and asked in a low voice. He knew Yu Zhibai certainly didn't need a hospital.

Yu Zhibai shook his head. "No need. I just have to go home."

"Mm. Then I'll go with you."

Happiness Community really was impossibly old. The iron gate teetered on the verge of collapse, mottled with rust. The landscaping below had been sculpted by wind, rain, thunder, and lightning alone—trees and plants grew wild and unchecked. Vines from the lower balconies tangled endlessly with nearby tree trunks, merging with the weeds outside into one unbroken mass.

The air was damp and cold. Each breath felt like swallowing a knife. But the sun was warm and gentle, heating the tops of their heads and the slopes of their shoulders.

"Come in." Yu Zhibai led Shang Nan through the entrance of Building 11. A gust of wind blew in, and several flakes of wall plaster fell from the door frame, landing right on Shang Nan's shoulder.

Shang Nan stood with the light behind him. The contours of his face and body were traced in a dazzling halo of pale gold. He tilted his head slightly, not a hint of distaste on his face, and brushed the white dust from his shoulder. Even his neck and half his face seemed to glow.

Yu Zhibai's hand tightened over his neck wound. A beautiful work of art like Classmate Shang Nan had no business being in a slum.

The hallway was narrow. Light entered through small square windows set into the walls, falling on the stairs to form small bright patches. The dust motes drifting through the beams of light looked like scattered gold powder.

The key went halfway into the lock and the door opened. Yu Zhibai leaned against it, inviting Shang Nan inside. "This is my home."

Shang Nan stepped in. Before he could take in anything else, the first thing he noticed was a pair of Paper People standing in the corner against the wall. Their genders were vaguely discernible—one male, one female, both dressed as children. The boy had no facial features. The girl's, however, were all present.

The girl wore a short green jacket in a traditional Chinese style with knotted toggles and wide sleeves. She stood about 1.45 meters tall, with two pigtail buns. Two bright red circles of rouge were painted on her cheeks. She faced the doorway, her mouth split into a wide grin.

Perhaps sensing a stranger's arrival, Granny Yu stirred in her reclining chair on the balcony. Her voice was hoarse. "Xiao Bai, we have a guest?"

Yu Zhibai introduced her to Shang Nan in a low voice. "That's my grandmother. She's almost dead."

Granny Yu, hearing this introduction of herself, coughed hard several times, then fell silent.

Yu Zhibai brought Shang Nan to his room and casually shut the door.

His room was dim. Having just come from the bright living room, Shang Nan needed a moment to adjust. Once his eyes adapted, he saw that Yu Zhibai had switched on a small desk lamp that cast a warm yellow glow. With his back to Shang Nan, Yu Zhibai took a stack of white paper from the bedside table drawer, then walked over and sat down at the desk.

"Grandma's getting old. She gets the room with the good light."

Shang Nan looked out the window and found it completely blocked by an enormous pagoda tree. Its leaves had all fallen, leaving nothing but bare, spindly branches stabbing bluntly at the sky.

Yu Zhibai had already lowered his head and begun cutting paper. The sound of scissors slicing through paper was especially crisp in the quiet room. The wound on his neck was still seeping blood.

Shang Nan walked over and looked around. The only thing he saw was a small stool. He sat down on it, instantly finding himself much shorter than Yu Zhibai.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

Yu Zhibai lowered his eyes, his lashes long and dense. "Aren't you afraid?"

"No." Rather than frightening, Shang Nan found Yu Zhibai more... fragile.

"There's nothing you need to help with. Just sitting here keeping me company is enough." Yu Zhibai had finished cutting several strips of paper to match the length and width of his wounds, but he didn't use them right away.

Shang Nan watched attentively.

A bottle of red liquid had been sitting on the desk the entire time—an intensely deep, heavy red. When swirled, the liquid clung to the glass walls and slid down slowly. Yu Zhibai picked it up and pulled out the stopper.

Right in front of Shang Nan, he pried the wound open with his bare fingers, positioned the bottle's mouth over the gaping cut, and tilted it to pour the liquid in. Glug, glug... Shang Nan stared, transfixed, hearing his own heartbeat synchronize with the sound of liquid draining from the bottle.

Throughout the entire process, Yu Zhibai's gaze never left Shang Nan. Shang Nan went from composed to visibly startled—his gentle, light-brown pupils dilating slightly, his lips parting. Yu Zhibai caught another glimpse of Shang Nan's tongue—small, pink, and soft-looking.

I want to...

[14: Nannan, his corruption level dropped by 3—down to 45! But my readings show he's actually developed an affection value toward you. Nannan! Step back! Put distance between yourself and the monster!]

But it was already too late. By the time Shang Nan registered what was happening, Yu Zhibai had already reached toward him. Fingers darted into Shang Nan's mouth, the cold pad of an index finger pressing down firmly on the tip of Shang Nan's tongue. The soft, warm sensation enveloped Yu Zhibai's finger.

The Paper Person tilted its head. Its face turned snow-white, its lips blood-red. In the dim light, it no longer looked much like a human.

And the red liquid that had just been poured into the Paper Person's body was now surging back out in a frenzy.

No matter how convincingly it masqueraded as human, a monster was still a monster. Get close to a monster, and you had to be prepared for the monster to strike—and invade.

The author has something to say:

Nannan: Mmph—