Doomsday Spiritual Artifact Master

Chapter 18.2 – Rainy Night in Hua City (10)
◎You won’t leave me, will you?◎

 

Song Ke stared at him, not saying a word.

Their gazes clashed, neither of them looking away first. As seconds ticked by, Zhuang Qingyan gradually subdued his smile.

“Just kidding,” he leaned back against the wheelchair, returning to his lazy state. Those sharp edges of his presence seemed to have been but a fleeting illusion, concealed away. “I just didn’t expect you to be so unwelcome.”

This person’s mood swings were too rapid. Song Ke couldn’t be sure whether he had truly harbored murderous intent in that instant. Standing still for several seconds and seeing no abnormality, Song Ke pulled out a new blanket from her bag and covered his legs.

“Your leg, I will, I will heal it.”

Zhuang Qingyan lowered his gaze and glanced at her, allowing her actions. “It’s not that simple. Healing-type ability users are rare to begin with. Given my current condition, even having an A-level ability might not necessarily guarantee success.”

He wasn’t intentionally making things difficult for Song Ke. To truly achieve a complete recovery, to be able to run and jump like a regular person, his dislocated bones and tendons would have to be shattered again, using spiritual energy to reposition them correctly. The precision of this process was comparable to a top-tier surgical procedure, something beyond the capabilities of an ordinary healing-type ability user.

“I will, heal it.”

Song Ke stubbornly repeated herself. She rarely made promises, but once spoken, she was determined to fulfill them.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

Around them, there were the echoes of noisy voices, the patter of raindrops, but in their corner, silence reigned.

Song Ke felt a sense of guilt, as well as a deeper sadness. She had taken this person in, earnestly vowed to take responsibility for him, yet she had messed up. Not only had she failed to heal Zhuang Qingyan’s leg, but she had also burdened him with the need to follow her around again.

“I’m sorry.”

She hugged her backpack tightly, curling up in disappointment.

After a while, Zhuang Qingyan spoke in a faint voice, “No need to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

Song Ke shook her head, her mood still low. “You’re wrong. They all, they all dislike me.”

At her words, Zhuang Qingyan’s gaze shifted to the corner. Song Ke was crouched there, looking like a frost-bitten cabbage, her head covered by the continuous drizzle. She appeared wilted, bereft of her usual vitality.

“All of them? What did you do? Did you offend so many people in one go?” He shifted into a more comfortable position, a hint of interest in his eyes. “I remember D Disctrict implements… collective education, right? Did you blow up the school? Or burn down the dormitories? Based on your personality, you can’t possibly have beaten up everyone, right?”

Song Ke’s eyes widened. “!” How?! How did he guess it right again?

Feebly, she tried to defend herself, “No, not all of them, just… just a few dozen.”

“Just—” Zhuang Qingyan drawled, emphasizing it slowly, “a few dozen.”

“…”

“You’re pretty good at fighting.”

“Just, just alright?”

“…”

“…?”

In the midst of the prolonged silence, Zhuang Qingyan’s light laughter broke through the awkward atmosphere. He turned his wheelchair and leisurely gazed at Song Ke. “So, why did you beat up those few dozen people?”

Song Ke clenched the strap of her backpack with her fingers. “Because… because…”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller, and she trailed off mid-sentence.

After waiting for a response for a while, Zhuang Qingyan’s patience remained, his slender fingers tapping the wheelchair in succession. Lowering and then lifting his gaze, in the blink of an eye, his expression had shifted to a different one. “Let me guess, our Classmate Song here is so kind-hearted that it must be those people’s fault, right?”

Song Ke abruptly raised her head, revealing two round, gleaming eyes from behind her backpack. She stared directly at him.

With a smile in his eyes and an air of certainty, Zhuang Qingyan said nothing. He seemed to completely trust her. The taut strings in Song Ke’s heart loosened inexplicably. After carefully considering it, she realized there wasn’t much she couldn’t say. Slowly, she began to speak, “I used to go, go to school in Hua City.”

This was the first time she had proactively shared that part of her past with someone. Perhaps enough time had passed, and the feelings associated with that time had become distant. As she spoke, Song Ke unexpectedly felt a sense of calm.

…

Three years ago.

The Alliance introduced a new compulsory education law, merging the junior and senior high school systems into a five-year program and reallocating teaching resources across different regions. At that time, Song Zhiyuan was already critically ill, yet he clung to life and, with the help of Old Cheng’s connections, secured a spot for Song Ke to enroll in school. This gave Song Ke, who had always been confined at home, the opportunity to attend school.

For Song Ke, who had been isolated from society since childhood, “going to school” was a completely novel experience. And so, with great excitement, she came to Hua City.

Hua City (D99 District) was a D-grade renowned city, and No.1 Middle School was the school with the highest enrollment in the newly established educational system within the district. Song Ke, the “country bumpkin” from F177 District, was like a drop of water in the ocean, attracting no one’s attention.

She was an inconspicuous figure in her class, her test scores consistently falling in the bottom five. Because of her natural stutter, slow speech, and poor expression, she didn’t have much interaction with her classmates. However, Song Ke was content with this life. She attended school in Hua City during the week and traveled to Yue Mountain (E166 District) for martial arts practice on the weekends. Unlike between F and D District, transportation between D and E Districts was relatively normal, and the costs weren’t high.

And so, just like that, by the end of the first semester, Song Ke’s peaceful life was disrupted.

At the end of June, during the scorching summer afternoon, after finishing her meal, Song Ke passed by the outdoor basketball court. The deafening cheers and shouts from the court attracted her attention, prompting her to turn her head.

Right at that moment, a nimble figure flashed by her. Running, turning, skillfully dribbling the ball, followed by a high jump—dunk! The young man wore an oversized white basketball jersey, like a soaring white seagull, his single hand gripping the rim for several seconds before landing gracefully, exuding confidence.

“…Ah.” Song Ke opened her mouth and muttered to herself.

She couldn’t fathom the point of this activity where a group of people fought over a ball. However, a sudden realization dawned on her as she observed the young man’s footwork.

This fancy footwork must be what her master often referred to as “chickens die from too many moves.” It looked good but was riddled with flaws. Placed in an actual combat situation, she could swiftly find a hundred ways to counter it.

Unconsciously, she stopped in her tracks, her gaze fixed on the basketball court.

A basketball rolled to her feet, and the youth in white stood in backlighting beneath the hoop. He called out to her from a distance, “Hey! Classmate, can you throw the ball back?”

Song Ke cradled the basketball in both hands, looking at the young man and then at the hoop above his head. She thought he meant for her to do the same thing as he had just done, to throw the ball into the hoop. So, she responded with a slow, “Oh,” and from a distance of almost thirty meters, she lightly pushed her wrist forward.

The basketball traced a perfect parabola in the air and landed directly in the center of the net.

The boys on the court, who had been chatting away and adjusting their wristbands, were left dumbfounded. Some even sprayed their mouthful of mineral water in astonishment, “What the…?”

The youth in white also froze for a moment but quickly jogged over and tossed the other basketball to Song Ke. “Classmate, want to try another throw?”

Perplexed, Song Ke threw the ball again right in front of him, and the basketball once more swished through the net, drawing exclaims of amazement.

A second successful throw, and it was evident she excelled at this.

With a piercing gaze, the youth spoke up, invitingly, “You have a good aim. We’re a player short. How about joining us?”

Song Ke shook her head rapidly. “No, I, I can’t.”

Seemingly amused by her baffled expression, the youth’s eyebrows relaxed, and a radiant smile bloomed from the corners of his eyes, revealing his pearly white teeth. “It’s alright, I can teach you. I’m Jiang Rui.”

Leading Song Ke back onto the court, Jiang Rui organized a game of 3v3. Although Song Ke’s shooting was precise, she was clueless about the other rules, making her play utterly awkward. Patiently, Jiang Rui explained the rules repeatedly, continuously fed her the ball as he backpedaled and ran, and the warm sunlight generously embraced him, even favoring him with its sweat.

When the game ended, Song Ke had transformed from a mere rookie into a long-range marksmanship wizard who could hit her target accurately from half the court away. Their opponents lay scattered on the ground, gasping for breath and begging for mercy. Jiang Rui stood at the heart of the crowd, shining radiantly. He spun the ball in one hand, his sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes exuding a triumphant and carefree smile.

Idle on the sidelines, Song Ke hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Not enjoyable, she evaluated inwardly.

She thought this would be the end of it. She didn’t even remember Jiang Rui’s name. However, the next day during the break, as the teacher walked out of the classroom, someone boldly tapped on her desk from outside the window.

Song Ke looked up, and Jiang Rui had both hands resting on the windowsill, his expressive eyebrows arched. “Little junior, want to play basketball together this weekend?”

Song Ke shook her head. “No, I, I have something to do.”

“Alright then. Let’s make plans for next time,” Jiang Rui didn’t dwell on it, waved casually at her, and before leaving, reached in and placed a bottle of chilled milk on her desk. “Here, have this.”

“You’re so short, you can’t even reach the rim.”

Song Ke wiped off her test paper where the moisture had smudged her name, furrowing her brows in displeasure, not noticing that in the back of the classroom, all the girls who had been fervently discussing cosmetics had fallen silent.

…

Zhuang Qingyan, who had been quietly listening all along, seemed to sense something. He frowned and scoffed, “Tsk, troublesome.”

Song Ke halted in her speech, looking at him with a bewildered expression.

Zhuang Qingyan lifted his chin slightly, indicating for her to look to the other side. The sun had just broken through the dawn, people bustling about. Jiang Rui, wielding a trenching tool, was demonstrating its use. His tall figure was almost swallowed up by his enthusiastic fans. The lively scene made their corner appear even more desolate and ignored.

“You and him are not on the same path. The closer you get, the more troublesome it’ll be.”

Jiang Rui was like a luminous and scorching star, with all celestial bodies within his gravitational pull orbiting around him. Those lonely wandering stars, used to being adrift, would find themselves burnt badly if they accidentally fell into his orbit.

Thinking of the unfortunate incidents that occurred later, Song Ke nodded in agreement. “Yeah! Troublesome.”

……