Chapter 217: Kill Me

She clicked open the other files one by one to read them, seeming to find it quite interesting to see others' psychological and behavioral analyses of her.

These dissections of her psychology, predictions of her behavioral patterns, and targeted operation manuals did not make her feel angry, nor did they provoke the fury of being seen through.

She was merely surprised that there actually existed someone in this world who understood her better than she understood herself.

Although the motive was impure, and indeed the entire thing was a conspiracy from start to finish, she felt herself to be "seen" and understood.

Perhaps for her, pure understanding—even if tainted by dirty motives—was more attractive than hypocritical care.

The feeling was indeed strange: an analysis report born of manipulation achieved the deepest understanding; a performance full of conspiracy triggered the most genuine emotions.

Her hand paused as she flipped to the appendix titled "Emergency Plan After Exposure." Item one: Show this manual, admit everything. Her moral fastidiousness and obsession with absolute truth would make her pay strange respect to honesty. Her desire for understanding would outweigh her anger at betrayal. Calculations showed the probability of forgiveness exceeded 68%.

She froze, staring motionless at those few lines.

So even her current "surprise" and "possible forgiveness" had been calculated in advance. She was not just reading a manipulation guide, but reading the instruction manual for her own emotional reactions, both present and future.

A sense of absurdity suddenly rose in her heart: what was real, and what was fake? Were her actions driven by her own will, or were they guided by others, intentionally or unintentionally?

Did everyone around her, their attitudes toward him, stem from themselves, or were they guided by an "operation manual" like the one before her eyes?

Just how many people wanted to influence her through language, emotions, behavior, and environment in order to achieve manipulation?

She suddenly let out a light laugh, not from happiness, but from realizing the absurdity of the world she inhabited; the rare emotional connections in her life that she had thought were real were merely a chapter with a marked page number in someone else's script.

She looked at Chris; there was no hatred in her eyes, only the scrutiny of a researcher examining a subject, and deep exhaustion.

"The person who wrote this report understands me better than I do. Moreover, you executed it well; your performance was perfect." Her tone was ethereal as she spoke softly: "You all performed well..."

Chris's heart suddenly ached, as if squeezed hard by an invisible hand, yet a triumphant smile appeared on his face: "I think I performed well too. For this role, I did a lot of homework, expended more effort than ever in my life; it was almost the most invested I have ever been, more serious than any movie role."

"Pity there's no Oscar statuette to award you," Yang Yi said lightly.

Chris felt ice cold all over. He opened his mouth, only to find his throat seemed blocked. His throat trembled violently, but when he spoke again, it was no different from usual:

"I have already received the greatest reward—God of Humanity. This is the brightest medal on my life's resume; I should be proud, shouldn't I?" He raised an eyebrow, displaying a rare playboy demeanor.

"Yes, a great achievement," Yang Yi said indifferently. "I heard the CIA has a wall of honor; only the most outstanding agents and spies of all generations can go up there. Your portrait should hang right in the center."

Chris said nothing, merely smiling, but the smile was hollow, as if his soul had already scattered, leaving only a shell sitting there.

"Then, let's return to the main topic! What messages did you pass to them?" Yang Yi asked next, her gaze returning to scrutiny.

Chris shook his head. "I don't know. In the first few times, they would ask for detailed accounts of our dates; they would extract the information themselves... They believed that giving me specific tasks would make exposure likely... Later, I stopped giving them any information..."

"Why?" Yang Yi's gaze remained calm.

"I don't like being threatened," Chris said, raising his head to look back at her, a strange smile appearing on his face. "I told them you had completely fallen in love with me. If they forced me again, or used my family to coerce me, I would confess everything to you. With your ability, you could destroy the entire Ark Country in an instant. Since then, they have stopped contacting me."

"When?"

"The first time you came to my house."

Yang Yi fell silent for a while.

Chris stared at her unblinkingly, as if she were the last sliver of light before death.

"The DNA I left in your house, how did you handle it?" Yang Yi asked again.

"I cleaned it all carefully."

Yang Yi tugged at the corner of her mouth. "How did you clean it?"

Chris stood up, went to the cabinet, took out a laboratory-grade DNA cleaner, and tossed it onto the table.

She leaned back against the sofa, arms crossed, looking at Chris opposite her with a blank expression, as if considering something.

Chris remained silent as well.

He hated her silence at this moment; he would rather she questioned him angrily, hit him, cruelly abused him, or—killed him—than this silence.

He also hated her abnormal calmness at this moment.

Suddenly, everything around them began to shake. In an instant, the computer, the table, the vase, the walls, even the entire villa were vibrating at a bizarre frequency.

Yang Yi's expression was cold; those eyes that had once seemed to hold shyness now held only ice.

Kill me... Chris thought, and instead felt a sudden lightness all over; his soul, which had scattered like mist, suddenly returned to his body, and he felt alive again.

He gazed greedily at her eyes, her face, even her cold expression.

The vibration finally reached its peak. In an instant, the computer, the table, the floor, and the entire villa before them suddenly exploded into dust with a boom, leaving only the lounge chairs they sat on unchanged.

Chris looked around and saw only a fine powder slowly falling to the ground.

"Do you know? I once had a dream where you looked deeply affectionate, but in the blink of an eye, you turned into a venomous snake," Yang Yi said, looking at him. "Later, I deliberately ignored that dream..."

The corner of Chris's mouth twitched, his voice hoarse: "Darling, kill me..."

"You are not worth it. Rest assured, I will not kill you; a mere you is not worth breaking that boundary for." Yang Yi extended her right hand to gently stroke his face, as if touching the most precious and fragile treasure in the world.

"What a perfect face, what perfect acting," she sighed. "... I respect you, so at the time of the breakup, I wanted to let you go..."

She stood up, looking down at that face, which was more dazzling than any collection, and said, "But now, I have changed my mind."