Chapter 473: Two Girls

A Xing shuffled along the street.

It was called walking, but it was more like floating.

The ash‑haired girl's steps were airy, her eyes hollow, her whole body like a shell stripped of its soul, with only her legs moving mechanically.

She searched all night yesterday.

Huo Huo, that little fox, where on earth did it run off to?

Black Curtain Lady gave A Xing a Task that was clear: find Huo Huo and take it away.

But the problem is—Dongmu City is so big, and A Xing, a lone outsider unfamiliar with the place, can't even read a map; how could she possibly find a little girl?

A Xing searched all night, rummaging through dozens of trash cans (don't ask why she rummages through trash cans, it's a habit), and besides finding a half‑moldy piece of bread and a stray cat's scorn, she found nothing else.

She was tired, hungry, and didn't want to keep searching.

She looked up at the familiar red sign by the street—

"Chinese Cuisine Mapo Tofu Specialty Shop"

Free all‑you‑can‑eat.

If you don't eat, it's wasted.

A Xing made a slight turn with her foot and shuffled toward the shop entrance.

"Ding—"

The doorbell rang.

A Xing stepped inside, and then—

stopped.

The interior was not quite what she had expected.

Behind the counter there was no one; Yan Feng Qili had vanished.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was that beside the table by the window, two people were lying prone.

Two girls.

One had pink hair, her face buried in a huge sea‑bowl, completely still, like a sculpture stripped of its soul.

From her hanging hair and outstretched arms, it seemed she had held that pose for a while.

The other had black twin‑tails, also lying in the bowl, also motionless, also with life or death unknown.

In the sea‑bowl before the two, the reddish broth was still faintly steaming, indicating the unconscious time wasn't very long—yet it was certainly not short.

A Xing glanced at them.

Then she looked away.

She walked toward her own reserved seat—a corner at the back, about two tables away from the two.

On the counter, a steaming bowl of Mapo Tofu ramen sat quietly, red oil floating on top, crushed chilies sprinkled over, generous in portion and just the right temperature.

A Xing sat down.

She picked up the chopsticks.

And began to eat.

"Slurp—"

The smooth sound of noodles entering the mouth rang especially clear in the quiet shop.

The spiciness exploded in the mouth, the burning sensation shooting straight to the nasal cavity.

A Xing chewed expressionlessly, swallowed, and lifted a second pair of chopsticks.

One bite, two bites, three bites…

When she reached the fifth bite, her chopsticks paused.

Her golden eyes flicked slightly, glancing at the two people lying in the bowl beside her.

(Pink hair…)

She chewed two more bites.

(Somewhat familiar…)

Another bite.

(Like San Yue Qi.)

She kept eating.

Halfway through, she finally set down her chopsticks, stood up, and shuffled over to the two people.

First she looked at the pink‑haired one.

She extended both hands, pressed down on the head buried in the bowl, and gently lifted it upward—

"Pop"—the face was pulled out of the red‑oil broth.

Noodles clung to the forehead, crushed chilies stuck to the cheeks, and red oil dripped from the chin.

The face was closed‑eyed, brows slightly furrowed, a half‑eaten noodle still at the corner of the mouth, exuding a serene aura of "what have I been through."

But the outline remained.

The features were still there.

That pink hair, that delicate face—

A Xing turned her head aside, examining carefully.

Hmm.

She turned again, changing the angle.

Hmm.

That's right.

It's San Yue Qi.

A Xing stared expressionlessly at the face smeared with chili oil, silent for about three seconds.

Then she released both hands.

Pop.

San Yue Qi's face was placed back into the bowl, and the red oil splashed into a tiny ripple.

A Xing turned around and staggered back to her seat.

She sat down.

She continued eating.

Slurp—

When she took the sixth bite, she stopped again.

She turned her head to look at the black twin‑tail girl beside her.

(That person…)

She stood up again, walked over, and, following the same method, lifted that head.

Black hair fell loose, the face also smeared with red oil and chilies, eyes closed, brows tightly knit, yet the features were still discernible—

Unrecognizable.

Completely unrecognizable.

A Xing stared at that face for three seconds, and just as she was about to release, a corner of her eye caught the other's right hand.

The back of the hand faced upward, resting on the table.

Three vivid red lines were clearly etched there.

Command Spell.

A Xing's movement halted.

She looked at the Command Spell on the black‑haired girl's back of hand, then at San Yue Qi.

Master.

Servant.

I see.

A Xing released her grip, letting the black‑haired girl's face be placed back into the bowl.

She stayed where she was, glanced at the Fen Mao Servant lying on the left, at the black‑haired Master lying on the right, and then at the two bowls of ramen on the table that had only been touched a few bites.

None of my business.

She turned and walked back to her seat.

She continued eating.

Slurp—slurp—slurp—

The bowl of noodles was quickly emptied. A Xing lifted the bowl, drank the last mouthful of red oil broth clean, set the bowl down, and let out a silent belch.

Then she looked at the two people.

Still lying.

Motionless.

A Xing was silent for three seconds.

(Could… die?)

A baffling thought surfaced.

She furrowed her brows—this was her first facial change today.

Logically, she was neither a warm‑hearted person nor a Justice Messenger.

But—

A Xing lowered her head to glance at the empty bowl before her.

She then looked at the two bowls of noodles that the two people had barely moved.

A strange feeling rose in her heart.

It wasn't guilt.

It wasn't sympathy.

It was a… inexplicable sense of mission not to waste food.

She sighed.

She stood up and walked again to the side of the two people.

She did not hesitate this time.

She reached out, pressing one hand on San Yue Qi's occiput and the other on the black‑haired girl's occiput, then lifted both with force—

"Pop", "pop", two sounds, and the two heads were pulled out of the bowls simultaneously.

Noodles, chilies, and red oil slid off their faces, dripping back into the bowls, splashing tiny oil droplets.

A Xing pushed the two bodies backward, letting them lean against the chair backs to avoid suffocation.

Then she tore two cloths from the shelf beside her and slapped them onto the two faces in a hasty wipe.

The action was simple and brutal, devoid of any tenderness.

After wiping, she tossed the cloth aside, leaned close to San Yue Qi's face and examined it carefully.

Hmm, indeed it is San Yue Qi.

She then leaned close to the black‑haired girl's face and examined it carefully.

Hmm, still don't recognize them.

But it doesn't matter.

A Xing straightened up, looked at the two girls slumped in the chairs, unconscious, and then glanced at the two bowls of ramen on the table that had barely been touched.

Then she made a decision.

She carried the two bowls of noodles back to her seat and set them in front of herself.

She picked up her chopsticks.

She began to eat.

"Slurp—"

The bowl belonging to San Yue Qi.

"Slurp—"

The bowl belonging to the black‑haired girl.

The three large bowls of mapo tofu ramen all went down A Xing's throat.

She set down her chopsticks, patted her stomach—felt nothing at all, as if she hadn't eaten anything.

(Beautiful girl flavor.)