Chapter 656: Brother

Gudazi's laughter sounded like exploding firecrackers—sharp and crisp—bouncing around this shabby room, shaking the torn strips on the wall into a brief shudder.

"Hahaha—damn it!"

The laughter suddenly stopped, as if someone had yanked the power cord.

The smile on that round face changed flavor—from "overjoyed" to "you'd better give me an explanation."

"You're playing me."

Those two words were almost spat out between clenched teeth, carrying a chilling ferocity.

Gudazi stamped a foot on the ground.

Just one stomp, and the floor cracked like a cookie stepped on by a giant; fissures spread wildly from her sole, weaving a gray‑white spiderweb that in an instant crawled over the entire floor.

A black current of air erupted from her, as dense as spilled ink in the air, wrapping her whole body in a moving black mist.

A red ripple burst from beneath her feet, a red not like firelight but like the color splashed when something shatters, like a bomb dropped into a calm water surface, turning the whole water upside down.

Robin watched all this.

Its hand twitched slightly, then relaxed.

Robin inhaled deeply, the muscles in its legs quietly tensed.

It's about to go big!

At that moment, Gudazi's movement suddenly halted.

Not the kind of stop caused by someone blocking her, but a self‑initiated pause.

Her foot was already lifted, her body already leaning forward, her hand already outstretched, but at the last instant she retracted every motion.

She stood there, tilting her head, looking at Robin with those golden eyes, like a cat that just caught a mouse, thinking there's no escape anyway, not minding a little play first.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

The voice mixed mockery with a bizarre "magnanimity," making Robin's mouth twitch.

Its lips moved, and finally opened.

"One final question."

The voice was low, but each word was bitten clearly.

Robin stared at Gudazi's unnaturally bright eyes, at the smile that clung to that ash‑stained round face and wouldn't fade.

"Why are you chasing us? We have no grudges."

Gudazi tilted her head the other way, the smile shifting from the earlier "about to explode" tone to a more relaxed expression.

"Do I need to explain?"

The tone was as self‑justified as answering "what's rice for"—obviously to be eaten with the mouth.

She lifted a hand from her side, drawing a big circle in the air, enclosing Robin, the shabby room, and the still‑smoking ashes within.

"Beautiful girls are meant to be chased."

Her eyes brightened, the corners of her mouth lifted, her body swayed slightly, as if savoring something wonderful.

"Not to mention lolis!"

When those four words sprang out, the excitement was as thick as a child who's just seen a birthday present but hasn't opened it yet, already overjoyed.

Robin's mouth twitched hard.

It was a wordless sigh rising from the depths of the soul.

Its mouth opened a bit, then closed again.

Not that it didn't know what to say, but feeling that whatever it said, that round orange thing across would never listen, would keep chasing, would keep calling it "beautiful girl" and "loli."

Speaking would be pointless.

Gudazi's foot slammed heavily onto the ground.

This stomp was more than twice as heavy as before; the floor was punched into a large pit, with shards of stone and dust flying high.

Her body shot out from the crack like a lit cannonball, lunging toward Robin.

Fast.

Fast enough to be terrifying.

Robin's pupils suddenly contracted, its body instinctively tried to dodge sideways, but before the foot could move, Gudazi was already mid‑air, those golden eyes shining like two spotlights, that round face still bearing the smile, both hands stretched forward, five fingers splayed like tiny claws.

Robin didn't dodge.

It just stood there, watching the ever‑approaching little figure, watching the ever‑brighter golden eyes.

Expression calm as if not about to be knocked down.

Lips moved lightly.

The voice was small, so small it seemed spoken to oneself, so small Gudazi might not even hear.

"Help."

As those two words floated from its mouth, Gudazi's hand had already reached in front of it.

"Brother."

The moment the words hit the ground, Gudazi's fingertips brushed the fabric on its shoulder.

Perspective shift.

Pinokanni.

That alley was absurdly inconspicuous; the sign on the dark‑brown wooden door had faded beyond readability.

But once the door was pushed open, the interior was far brighter than outside, a few warm‑yellow lamps hanging from the ceiling lighting the room like a twilight sky—dull yet somehow oddly comforting.

Along the wall, a row of booths held several people; some were drinking, some chatting, some just staring blankly, their faces wearing an expression of "I have no idea why I'm here."

Behind the bar, shelves displayed all kinds of liquor bottles, their dull sheen under the warm yellow light like rows of silent soldiers, ready for the bartender's inspection.

At the innermost seat, a man sat there.

The silvery-white shoulder-length hair glowed softly under the light, and the fringe brushed to the left covered half of the forehead, revealing the pale skin beneath.

The golden eyes stared at the glass of wine in front of them; the wine had been sitting for a long time, its foam long gone, leaving only a layer of clear liquid that faintly shimmered amber under the light.

Behind each ear hung a matching wing-shaped ornament, and the two gold ear studs on the left wing glimmered dimly in the light.

The spot on the head where a halo should be was now empty, like a smudge that had been wiped away.

A two‑toned coat, half white and half blue, was worn—white on the right, deep blue on the left—with sleeves ending at the elbows, exposing the arm beneath, which was clad in black long gloves.

White straps crossed over the chest, securing the coat, and the two straps glowed faintly in the light.

The lining was blue and white, echoing the coat's colors, and a delicate bow tie was visible at the collar.

The hand wearing black long gloves rested on the bar, and the gold ring on the left index finger flickered dimly in the light.

The gold armband on the arm also glowed, its light mingling with the ring's, making it impossible to tell which was which.

The glass of wine in front of them was already completely cold.

Xing Qi Ri stared at the glass, having stared for a long while.

In the golden eyes reflected the amber hue of the wine, the transparent outline of the glass, and the vague shadows of bottles behind the bar—all mirrored there, yet it seemed nothing was truly seen.

The door was pushed open.

Walther entered wearing dark casual clothes, his glasses perched on his nose, and the eyes behind the lenses were steady and gentle.

He walked at an even pace from the doorway to the bar and took a seat beside Xing Qi Ri.

He glanced at the ice‑cold drink before Xing Qi Ri, then at Xing Qi Ri's expressionless face, and raised his hand in a gesture toward the bartender behind the bar.

"One exactly like that,"

His voice was soft, but the composure that radiated from his bones made the bartender skip any confirmation and turn directly to mixing the drink.

Walther withdrew his gaze, fixing it on Xing Qi Ri.

He stared at the profile.

He did not rush to speak.

Music played in the bar, a very slow piece, like a song one hums while walking alone late at night.

The melody drifted from the speaker in the corner, floating in the warm yellow light like an invisible river, flowing from one end to the other and back again, softening the heart.