Chapter 118

Nest

Just stepping out of the white nest, I saw at the doorway standing waiting, wearing solemn and dignified white uniforms, the members of the Execution Team.

Hearing the door open, the Execution Team member lifted their gaze; behind the mask, the revealed eyes were cold, exuding the Execution Team's demeanor from top to bottom.

At a glance one could tell they were definitely Execution Team members; their cold eyes were also a sign Fu Guang used to recognize them—cold, restraining, looking down on everyone.

"Fu Guang Guide, Chief." The sentinel waiting at the door gave a simple greeting, then looked straight at the woman out of place with the Execution Bureau and asked, "May I ask if Guide has come to receive Lord Xiguang?"

Fu Guang felt the sentinel before her was quite familiar, like the woman she had seen on the Starship when she first arrived at the Capital Star, though she remembered this was a newcomer.

"Yes." She answered, her probing gaze sweeping over the eyebrows and eyes above the woman's mask.

"Please follow me, Guide." She first said to Fu Guang, then looked toward

Ting Zhu said, "Chief, the Captain is looking for you; he's waiting in the reception room."

Ting Zhu heard this and smiled knowingly; it was merely criticism of his recent actions. After a moment's thought, he admitted he had indeed been a bit heavy-handed with some sentinels—nothing more than making them rest an extra two months. Does the Execution Bureau really need to quibble over the cost of such medicine?

He first glanced at Fu Guang, seeing the usually clever woman show no reaction; his eyes flickered, and he directly said, "Guide, do you still need me to keep you company?"

Fu Guang only then realized the sentinel wanted her to speak up to keep him; she lifted her gaze to the unfamiliar surroundings, then looked at Ting Zhu, whose narrowed eyes gave no hint of joy or anger, her lips parting slightly—but it was not what the sentinel hoped to hear.

"Go on ahead and get busy."

The tall man stood where he was, brows slightly raised, idly thinking, "Use and discard—what a bad habit." But who made her the Guide? And she's the "teammate" he wants; after all, he needs a little patience.

He smiled, looked at her and said, "Good." Then, without further ado, he turned and left.

The Execution Bureau's corridors were paved with a special material; even the most agile sentinel stepping on it would be amplified.

Fu Guang listened as the footsteps faded away, until she could no longer tell the direction.

The sentinel who had come to guide her also walked a distance, tilting her head slightly as if questioning the stationary Guide; Fu Guang then followed the sentinel's steps, looking at the similarly frail back ahead and said.

"Have I seen you before?"

"Guide truly has an unforgettable memory," the female sentinel said calmly, though the words sounded loaded with tension.

"There are too many barriers here, Guide; please keep close to my steps."

Although it looked like a flat, straight path to the naked eye, they had passed through five or six doors of different colors; the mental power Fu Guang had left at the entrance told her that, from the starting point, they had already advanced far toward the upper right.

"Is the place where each aberrant sentinel is housed different?"

The advancing sentinel's originally neat uniform twitched at the shoulder; she wondered why the Guide behind her would pose such a question that seemed to contain its own answer—truly befitting the possessor of the "Insight" talent.

"Yes, Lord Xiguang is naturally different from those sentinels."

"Where does he differ?" the female Guide behind her asked gently; hearing this was like a thin rope tied around one's neck—usually unnoticed, but when it suddenly tightens, one realizes it's coiled around a vital spot, gripping one's lifeline.

"Because he has a Guide, unlike that lot of aberrant sentinels who don't know whether they'll live or die from day to day."

The female sentinel turned her head to stare at Fu Guang for a while; her expression remained cold, but behind her once-bright eyes lay a sinking darkness.

Her voice icy, she said, "Are you satisfied now?" Upon hearing that reply,

"Guide, sentinel—mutual support, mutual reliance, mutual growth—what a huge joke!"

Fu Guang's lips curled in a smile, her expression still gentle, but her voice sounded like a bewitching sea demon from the deep sea; yet her tone was firm as she said, "You resent."

If Fu Guang were truly a sea demon, her next line ought to be, "What do you resent? Dare you face it head-on?"

Face your dissatisfaction with the Guide, face your unwillingness as a sentinel......

Perhaps such questioning would be enough to break open the sentinel's heart, plunging her into confusion.

But she is not, so Fu Guang merely watched as the sentinel ahead quickened her pace, leading her to what should be a door, yet the wall there blended seamlessly with the surrounding white walls; she turned without saying a word, never glancing back, and hurried away.

Fu Guang watched the sentinel disappear from sight, then observed the white east-wind wall for a moment, curled her finger, and lightly tapped it.

Clang, clang, clang.

After three sounds, before she could react, the wall identical to its neighbor suddenly split open; an arm reached out, seizing the prey at the doorway and dragging it into its nest.

Fu Guang recognized the familiar mental power emanating from beyond the door, so she did not dodge and was obediently brought inside.

Before she could see clearly, with a "puff," she fell into a soft nest.

As she fell into the "nest," the soft golden feathers lifted by the breeze drifted down lightly onto her wrist.

In an instant, a scorching hand gripped her wrist, a shadow loomed before her, and a heavy body pressed down.

Dark-gold eyes fixed on her, like a beast spotting prey, locked tight, while the ear feathers, still altered, trembled.

Scorching breath sprayed onto her collarbone; Fu Guang suppressed the urge to fight back, yet could not hide the tiny goosebumps rising on her skin.

"Xiguang, what are you doing?" Fu Guang asked, the hand gripping her wrist slowly tightening into a fist, her smile still bright.

"What are you doing?"—at this moment the question seemed unnecessary, but Fu Guang always insisted on having justification; she wanted to see how the person before her would answer her question.

Whether reason had been lost, or still remained, whether he was clearly aware of what he was doing.

Xiguang gazed at the woman's eyes for a moment, then conceded; his dark-gold eyes shifted, he lowered his head, and released his restraints with both hands.

Yet he then wrapped his arms around her slender waist, as if embracing a large doll, rested his head against her chest, slowly closed his eyes, concealing the instant he heard her scent, while his heart pounded violently like a tolling bell, accompanied by the rising, shameful, deep desires.

Fu Guang lifted her free hand, stroked Xiguang's soft ear feathers, and only then had the chance to raise her gaze toward this "nest."

"Nest" is the perfect word for where she now is, resembling a bird's nest.

The nest resembled a rocking chair's half‑round, layers of light feathers stacked orderly and tightly inlaid, like a fluffy cloud; lying on it felt like lying on a sun‑warmed cloud just about to flow—warm and reassuring.

Fu Guang glanced with her eyes, and the feathers in the nest already numbered in the thousands; she couldn't help wondering: Xiguang, will he go bald?

(End of chapter)