1631: Whirlpool

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Dong Luorong's talk about "investing in posthumans" was probably just an excuse.

As Xie Feng descended the stairs, her thoughts drifted in a haze.

Back when she was still in school, she had to squeeze into the subway or bus every day. After spending so much time on public transportation, unpleasant encounters became inevitable. She remembered one time in middle school, still looking like a child. One day, while leaning against the handrail by the subway door and reading a book, a girl wearing a nearby high school's uniform frowned and called out to her.

"Stand here with me," the older girl said, grabbing Xie Feng's elbow and pulling her over without explanation.

Confused, Xie Feng glanced back to see what the girl had noticed. But nothing stood out—every man in the crowd looked perfectly ordinary.

"Don't go back over there," the unfamiliar girl said.

It was like an unspoken code between them, exchanged without words. Two girls—one about thirteen, the other seventeen or eighteen—shared everything they needed to know in silence.

From then on, whenever Xie Feng took public transportation, she stayed close to other female passengers.

There was really no need to ask why Dong Luorong had saved her; the answer was just that simple.

Watching the numbers on the elevator display count down, Xie Feng thought about Dong Luorong's suspicion toward the warning film. She couldn't understand why evolution would inevitably lead people to destroy the world. Did their nature change along with their powers? Did they all become monsters?

If she herself ever evolved—gaining power beyond ordinary human resistance but staying true to herself—she swore she'd be the best investment Dong Luorong had ever made. She would return to this hotel, knock on Dong Luorong's door, and put an end to her days of being used as an object forever.

'If only I could evolve,' Xie Feng thought, recalling the makeshift baton she carried—a broken and humble dining chair leg. Even holding that simple object gave her a sense of power. If she really evolved, what a free and fearless life would that be?

"Do you think I'm dirty?" Dong Luorong had asked offhandedly before leaving.

Lucky charm or not, personality flaws or not, at the end of the day, Dong Luorong was still a woman—a woman with beauty like hers. That wouldn't stop Qiu Chantian from using her however he pleased.

The thought of what she might have endured felt like a blow to Xie Feng herself. She had always dreaded seeing news about women being assaulted, abused, or killed. It was as if, on some level, those horrors also happened to her—some experiences were simply too easy for women to relate to.

In a low voice, Xie Feng had answered, "If someone doesn't bathe, brush their teeth, and is covered in filth, then sure, I'd think they're dirty. But other than that, I don't know what would make me see a living, breathing person as dirty."

Dong Luorong pressed her red lips together slightly, as if she wanted to smile.

She had only told Xie Feng a very small part of her story, and Xie Feng didn't dare ask more. A woman as clear-minded as Dong Luorong couldn't have arrived at such a fate without pain.

As Dong Luorong turned to leave, Xie Feng suddenly rushed forward and grabbed her arm. When Dong Luorong turned back, Xie Feng gently embraced her.

"I never got the chance to say thank you," Xie Feng murmured, burying her face in Dong Luorong's black hair, inhaling her scent. "I hope we'll meet again."

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