Crazed Whisperer

Chapter 10: What a fucking Dolphin

Xuan Jing’s eyes narrowed as the familiar voice slithered into his ears, the faintest shift in his gaze the only tell that he recognized the intruder. Lian Shé. The name tasted like ash on his tongue, and yet, even now, staring into those annoyingly wide, innocent-looking dark blue doe eyes, his face remained devoid of emotion. Lian Shé stood there, smug in his tailored blue robes, the Lian clan’s snake insignia gleaming on his breast pocket as if it were something to be proud of.

“Friend?” Xuan Jing’s voice was cold, razor-sharp. “What is that foreign word you speak of?” He let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, watching with a growing sense of contempt as Lian Shé smiled, almost too brightly.

Xuan Jing tilted his head slightly, studying the snake in front of him. Lian Shé, the shining son of the Lian clan, stood with his perfect posture, shoulder-length dark blue hair gleaming under the dim light of the hallway. He was always pristine, wasn’t he? Always well-put-together, like he was playing some role in a drama no one else was auditioning for. The sharp contrast between his appearance and the rot he carried inside was a sickening joke.

Xuan Jing said nothing for a long beat, his eyes dipping to the snake insignia on Lian Shé’s chest, the very symbol that had once haunted his nightmares. His mother's death was intricately tied to this house of serpents. Yě Shèng had been defiant, the only woman to keep her Surname, rebellious—everything the Lian clan despised. And now her son stood face-to-face with her murderer’s kin.

“I think this is a god-sent gift,” Xuan Jing finally muttered, his voice devoid of life, flat. His face, as always, was an unreadable mask, but something flickered in his eyes. Something dark.

Lian Shé tilted his head with a smile too sharp to be friendly. “Gift? I wasn’t aware I was delivering presents today,” he said, voice dripping with false sweetness.

Xuan Jing’s gaze swept over him like he was looking at an insect. Fucking dolphin. He didn’t say it, but anyone could see the disdain in his posture. The way his fingers flexed at his side, as if they were itching to do something other than hang idle.

-such as: snapping this bastard's neck.

Lian Shé laughed softly, his hand brushing his hair back, the casual motion pissing Xuan Jing off more than it should’ve. “Oh, come on, Xuan Jing,” Lian Shé purred, “I thought by now we’d have moved past these... trivial grudges.”

“Trivial?” Xuan Jing echoed, voice dropping lower, colder. His expression didn’t change, but his presence—his aura—shifted. A quiet storm brewing.

“You killed her,” Xuan Jing stated plainly, voice calm, but with an edge so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. He stepped forward, the soft glow from his teal lamp casting long shadows in the darkened hallway. “You—no, your entire fucking family—took part in her death, and you dare stand in front of me, breathing the same air?”

Lian Shé’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments, but he recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t personal, you know how politics work—"

“Oh, spare me,” Xuan Jing cut him off, the smallest flicker of a sneer on his lips now. “Don’t act like you’re here for anything other than to satisfy that disgusting need for dominance. What is it, Lian Shé? Does your house not feel as powerful without kicking my family when they’re down?”

The Lian heir’s smile faded, replaced with something darker, more malicious. He stepped closer, his blue eyes locking with Xuan Jing’s. “It was never about your family, Xuan Jing,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “It was about power. It always is.”

There it was. The truth wrapped in pretty words, as always.

Xuan Jing’s eyes held no emotion, no outward sign of the fury simmering beneath the surface. His hand twitched slightly at his side, fingers itching to make Lian Shé feel what burning truly meant. He wasn’t one to lose control—ever. But with Lian Shé standing here, smug and untouchable, it tested every shred of restraint he had.

“So what now, Lian Shé?” Xuan Jing asked, his voice mockingly casual. “Are you here to gloat? Or do you need something from me? Maybe another soul to add to your collection?”

Lian Shé chuckled, stepping even closer, too close for comfort, his breath almost brushing against Xuan Jing’s cheek. “I need you to remember your place, Xuan Jing. You’re not untouchable just because your last name carries weight. And maybe, just maybe,” his voice dropped into a venomous whisper, “you’re not the only one who misses your dear mother.”

Xuan Jing's head tilted slightly. No outward reaction. But the air around him chilled, the temperature in the room dropping noticeably. He didn’t need to say anything, because the silence that followed was deafening. The way his gaze pierced into Lian Shé was more than enough to convey what he was thinking.

Lian Shé’s smug grin remained, but he stepped back slightly, sensing the shift. “Oh, don’t be so cold, Xuan Jing,” he said lightly, though his eyes held a warning. “You’ll get your chance for revenge one day, but today isn’t that day.”

Xuan Jing let the silence stretch, his expression returning to its usual indifference. He blinked slowly, then finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You think I care enough to want revenge?” He raised an eyebrow. “You overestimate your importance.”

That made Lian Shé pause. His smile wavered for the first time. He didn’t expect that response, but Xuan Jing had never been predictable, had he?

Without waiting for a response, Xuan Jing turned on his heel, walking back into his mother’s room. “Do me a favor,” he said over his shoulder, “next time you feel the urge to drop by unannounced, remind yourself how much I don’t care about your family or their petty little games.”

As Xuan Jing continued walking he couldn't help but give him another jab so his lips parted. "Xià cì jì dé xǐ zǎo, nǐ tā mā chòu sǐ le. (下次记得洗澡，你他妈臭死了)" Xuan Jing chuckled to himself and the stray followed behind him.

(Translation: "And remember to take a shower next time, you fucking stink.")

Lian Shé’s expression darkened, but before he could say anything, the door slammed shut in his face, the sound reverberating through the empty halls.

Xuan Jing stood there, his back to the door, taking a slow breath. His black tears had long since dried, leaving streaks down his face, but his heart had hardened again. There was no room for sentiment here.

But that scent lingered—the same foul stench he had smelled before. It clung to the room now, and though Lian Shé had gone, it left an eerie residue.

"Fucking dolphin," Xuan Jing muttered under his breath, staring at the portrait of his mother again.

And yet, despite his dismissive attitude, something in the pit of his stomach churned. Something dark, and primal.