After the Black Moonlight’s "Death Escape" Failed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 31.2

Chapter 31.2: The Wolf and the Whip-Wielder

In the end, Al took a step back first. “Just one question. After you answer me, I won’t ask anything else.”

Jiao Qingyin blinked in the darkness. After a moment, she replied: “Ask.”

Having obtained her permission, Al’s breathing immediately quickened. She took a deep breath and asked: “In the future… will the one in control of this body still be you?”

Recalling the embarrassment of being seen through by her earlier, Jiao Qingyin let out a soft huff. “You can guess that for yourself.”

Al’s side remained silent for a long time—so long that Jiao Qingyin thought she didn’t intend to answer—before an inhibited, low response drifted out: “I will recognize you.”

Amidst the rustle of the blankets, Al softly repeated: “I will recognize you, no matter what you become.”

Jiao Qingyin’s throat felt dry; she gave no response. But Al didn’t seem to care, as if she were merely talking to herself.

“I feel… a bit unreal.” Al’s voice was tiny. Jiao Qingyin heard her but didn’t move. “It feels like this period of time was stolen… once day breaks, it’ll have to be returned.”

Jiao Qingyin maintained her silence, but when Al reached out and tentatively took her hand, she slowly squeezed back.

No, it won’t, she mouthed silently, unsure if she was saying it to herself or to the person behind her.

Jiao Qingyin hadn’t fully fallen asleep before she was jolted awake by the System’s mechanical voice.

‘System, sometimes you are really too loud.’ Jiao Qingyin kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep while conversing internally.

Since the System returned from its virus self-check, it seemed even more glitchy—at least, it hadn’t previously emitted such long, meaningless bursts of static.

Jiao Qingyin’s internal complaint drew a “warm” reminder: “Host, the System can hear what you are thinking.”

Jiao Qingyin had let the System hear that on purpose. The System processed data linearly; when she intentionally allowed it to read surface-level mental activity, her deeper thoughts remained obscured. As long as she didn’t specifically recall the conversation with Al from two hours ago, the System wouldn’t find a clue.

—Though she had been an “Outstanding Employee” for years, she had learned plenty of tricks for fooling the management. She never had anything to hide before, but now… she would likely be practicing “surface compliance, secret defiance” quite often.

‘I was too tired last night. Applying to sleep a bit longer…’

Before she could finish, the System emitted more static, followed by a strangely human-like question: “Host, did you sleep with the protagonist?”

Jiao Qingyin hadn’t expected its first question to be this. For a moment, she lost her composure and nearly started coughing.

“What are you talki—”

“Your Highness, you… are you awake?”

Al’s voice interrupted the dialogue. For some reason, as she slept, she had drifted closer and closer to Jiao Qingyin—so close that now, as she spoke, Jiao Qingyin felt her warm breath brush against her ear.

“Yes.” Jiao Qingyin responded to Al first without turning over, then asked the System: “Are the results of the virus self-check out?”

This was precisely why the System was glitching so frequently today. it pulled up the report and read the final clinical recommendation in its mechanical drone:

[After inspection, the protagonist (Al) of Small World S3202 is in a normal state with no signs of virus infection. The Host is advised to observe closely during the mission. If any abnormalities are found, report immediately.]

Jiao Qingyin felt a weight lift from her heart. Listening to the System read the report made her feel like a nervous family member pacing outside an operating room.

“Understood”, Jiao Qingyin replied calmly. “I will keep an eye out.”

With that, she sat up and looked at the person on the pillow in the faint morning light. Al was also staring at her intently, as if trying to discern something. Her silver hair, caught in the sunlight, looked like it was infused with gold dust—breathtakingly beautiful.

Jiao Qingyin met her gaze for a moment, then spoke coldly: “What are you looking at? Waiting for me to serve you?”

Her tone was harsh, but upon hearing it, Al actually broke into a radiant smile. Looking at that smile, Jiao Qingyin suddenly had a strong urge to pet her hair. However, her hand, which had twitched atop the blanket, reached instead for the bell on the nightstand.

Half an hour later, dressed and returning from the adjacent room, she saw Al back in her wheelchair, sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window combing her hair. The long locks fell so smoothly it didn’t look like she was combing hair, but rather carding moonlight.

Sensing the gaze behind her, Al tilted her head slightly. In the reflection of the window pane, she saw the figure in a magnificent riding habit. Though it was a riding outfit, every place that could be decorated—from collar to cuffs—was encrusted with pearls and gemstones. With every movement, Jiao Qingyin reflected dazzling flashes of light.

Such “jewelry-heavy” clothing would look tacky on almost anyone else, but she simply stood there, her natural elegance completely overshadowing the gems. Beneath her arrogant and nonchalant expression, even the most priceless treasures seemed like trivial trinkets she could discard at will.

How could I not recognize you? Al thought, tracing the silhouette in the reflection with her eyes.

She was too special, too dazzling. She was like the sun; as long as morning came, she would unapologetically illuminate every corner. Al was deeply attracted to the sun, yet darkly wished she were merely a lamp. She couldn’t cage the sun, but she could hide a lamp—that way, the light would only shine for her.

And now, the sun had walked up behind her. Al turned her wheelchair and gave Jiao Qingyin a submissive, bright smile: “Your Highness, are you going out?”

Jiao Qingyin stared at the veil Al had donned at some point. “Did the maid give that to you?”

Al’s clothes were, as usual, chosen by Jiao Qingyin—if left to the maids, Al would likely be wearing more “revealing” than “clothing.” Considering the mission required the collar to stay on, Jiao Qingyin had provided a thick cloak to cover it and provide warmth.

—But she hadn’t prepared a veil.

Al touched the gold chains on the veil; they hung like tassels, clinking softly against each other. “Yes,” she nodded. That maid was quite young; after delivering the veil, she had kindly reminded Al to keep her face covered, noting that the Prince loved beauty and couldn’t tolerate anyone with facial injuries hovering nearby.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.”

As Jiao Qingyin said this, Al’s fingers were tangled in one of the gold chains. For some reason, it had snagged on another; the more she tried to untangle them, the more they clinked together in stubborn union.

“I…” Al looked up to answer, but Jiao Qingyin walked over and hooked one of the tangled chains with her finger.

Al held the other, her body stiffening, watching Jiao Qingyin’s pale, slender fingers weave in and out. The Prince’s nails were neatly trimmed, smooth and pink. Moreover… having her “groom” her felt wonderful. For the umpteenth time, Al suppressed the urge to nuzzle her head against those hands.

“No,” Jiao Qingyin let go, frowning slightly. “I can’t undo it.”

Al slowly snapped out of it, taking several seconds to process the words. “Then forget it…”

“Do you want to wear it?” Jiao Qingyin’s emotionless voice sounded.

Al paused, then answered: “It’s better to wear it.”

“So you don’t want to wear it.”

Hearing this, Al instinctively wanted to cover her face, but before she could move, a flash of cold light appeared before her eyes.

With a series of metallic clangs, Jiao Qingyin gracefully twirled her sword and sheathed it. She leaned down and picked up the two gold chains from the floor. Several of the polished gold beads had fallen off, but the chains were still knotted. She flicked them casually. “Untangled.”

Jiao Qingyin opened her palm and offered the chains to Al. With both hands occupied taking the chains, Al couldn’t cover her face.

“I recall you didn’t care about your appearance before,” Jiao Qingyin remarked.

“…” Al controlled her expression, pulling her lips into a perfect arc. “I don’t care, but others might…”

“Is that so?” Jiao Qingyin said. “It’s just a few scars. Deep pink ones look like flowers, don’t they?”

Al’s eyes widened. But Jiao Qingyin didn’t seem to think she had said anything special. She looked down to straighten her ruffled sash and said offhandedly: “If anyone treats you differently because of them, just hit them.”

Why change yourself?

Having said her piece, she adjusted her hat and prepared to leave. Though she didn’t say it, Jiao Qingyin had already added “find a healing spell for scars in the Royal Library” to her afternoon to-do list. She had previously thought the scars didn’t hurt and would eventually fade, so she hadn’t bothered. But if Al wanted them gone, she didn’t mind helping out.

Al reached out and tugged Jiao Qingyin’s sleeve. This movement sent a signal to Jiao Qingyin, who immediately turned and glared at her. “What?”

I’m warning you—no matter what you want, acting cute won’t work.

Her glare was somewhat effective. Al’s movements faltered; she swallowed what she truly wanted to say and changed it to: “Your Highness, where are you going? Can I come with you?”

Because Al had been clingy for a while, the System didn’t find this suspicious.

Jiao Qingyin was headed to a meeting with the 11th and 13th Princesses. Every time they returned to the palace, they would go hunting in the Royal Gardens. “Hunting” was a generous term; in reality, knights drove beasts into a fenced area to ensure the royals could hit something even if they fired blindly. The original owner’s archery skill was effectively zero, but these “hunts” gave her a false sense of immense confidence.

Jiao Qingyin told her the truth, with no intention of taking Al along. Al was immobile; she would just have to sit in the back doing nothing, and she might even be targeted by the other royals.

Jiao Qingyin didn’t say it aloud, but Al was sharp and understood immediately. She let go of the sleeve, nodded obediently, and gave a “please rest assured” smile. “I understand. I hope you have a pleasant time.”

Jiao Qingyin’s scalp tingled. For some reason, she saw a “troublemaking” intent in that smile, which made her even more uneasy. Before leaving, she emphasized several times that Al was not to leave the room or cause trouble before she finally managed to tear herself away.

Once in the carriage, the System’s voice echoed: “Congratulations Host, during the System’s 12-hour absence, your relationship with the protagonist has grown even closer.”

Inexplicably, Jiao Qingyin sensed a hint of sarcasm in the System’s flat voice. One trip for repairs and it’s come back with more problems. Maybe the technicians at headquarters are cutting corners and pocketed a few parts…

[Warning: Host is strictly forbidden from slandering the System and the Bureau.]

Jiao Qingyin was indignant: “Why wasn’t there a rule about this before?”

“Because the Host had never engaged in slander before, so the System had not introduced the relevant regulations.”

Jiao Qingyin didn’t want to bicker further. She ended the argument unilaterally, adjusted her position, and tried to catch up on sleep. However, she didn’t get much rest. Between the lack of sleep over the past two days and the jarring carriage ride, Jiao Qingyin arrived at the hunting grounds with faint dark circles under her eyes.

Given the original owner’s reputation, the other royals were very “understanding,” teasing her about her “romantic exhaustion.” Only the 11th and 13th Princesses trailed behind, looking at her with a hint of fear.

After the hunt had been going for a while, Jiao Qingyin looked back to see the two still following at a distance. She pulled her horse to a halt. Liz, who was leading the horse, stopped. Seeing this, the 11th and 13th turned pale but stopped as well.

Jiao Qingyin gave them a “kind” smile. “The moment you two went back, gossip about me reached the outside of the palace. You’ve worked hard.”

Both froze and waved their hands in frantic denial.

“Is that so?”

Jiao Qingyin’s expression was gentle as she notched an arrow and aimed it directly at the 11th Princess’s head.

W-What?! The sudden turn of events froze the 11th Princess where she sat. The sharp, cold glint of the arrowhead was reflected as a tiny dot in her pupils.

“O-Odelia… stop playing such jokes…”

Jiao Qingyin repeated in confusion: “Who said I was joking?”

Before the words fully landed, the white-feathered arrow whistled through the air.

Whoosh—

The arrow grazed the 11th’s cheek, leaving a thin bloody line and shearing off a lock of hair by her temple before thudding into the wooden fence behind her. Every arrow of Jiao Qingyin’s was marked with a gemstone chain; the golden-green gem was now vibrating along with the tail of the arrow.

“Oh dear, I missed,” Jiao Qingyin lowered her bow with feigned regret and tilted her head with a smile. “It seems I’ll need you to teach me more, Sister.”

Jiao Qingyin’s smile was bright and simple, but it acted like a winding key on the 11th’s frozen body. She let out a hideous croak before toppling sideways off her horse.

Knights and servants rushed forward to surround her. Jiao Qingyin only gave a cursory glance before turning to the petrified 13th Princess. Her smile remained, and she even showed a bit of sisterly concern: “The 11th is truly out of shape. Don’t go following her example.”

The 13th’s lips trembled; she didn’t dare say a word. In that moment, she had felt the clear approach of death. It wasn’t until Jiao Qingyin tugged her reins and strolled away that she finally managed a heavy breath, her back completely soaked in sweat. After this, even if a thousand people told her the Prince was a brainless fool, she would never believe it.

That evening, after the hunting activity ended, the royal youth gathered to drink and brag about their spoils. As a Prince, Jiao Qingyin was usually the center of attention, and today was no different.

She was surrounded by prey—hunted by Meg and Liz. She was surrounded by sisters praising her—the 11th and 13th competing to be the loudest. She was followed by several beauties—blonde and blue-eyed, sent by a noble in charge of the grounds.

The atmosphere was set. Jiao Qingyin heard the notification for a side mission completion, curved her lips, and took a sip of golden wine.

As the moon rose, the decadent royals began to have other thoughts. The attendants here were all exceptionally beautiful and knew how to please. Before long, an ambiguous, sensual atmosphere began to rise in the tent.

Jiao Qingyin frowned. She pushed away a beauty trying to feed her grapes and was thinking of a way to leave when a commotion broke out at the front of the tent.

“W-What’s going on!!” a royal shouted, his speech slurred with wine. The others joined in the protest.

The noise gave Jiao Qingyin a headache; she felt like she was in a crowd of babbling zombies. However, strangely, despite the royals’ shouting, the commotion didn’t stop. It grew louder and began to approach their group.

Jiao Qingyin suddenly had a very bad feeling. That feeling was immediately validated—a white blur shot into the tent like a bolt of lightning, pursued by a group of guards with drawn swords.

The royals’ complaints turned into panicked screams. Jiao Qingyin stood up. The white shadow lunged straight for her.

“Your Highness, watch out—!!!”

Jiao Qingyin’s brow twitched. She stopped the panicked guards and the two knights at her side who were drawing their swords.

“She’s my pet.”

With that, Jiao Qingyin stepped forward toward the little wolf cub who, having reached her, had stopped running and sat down obediently. She grabbed the cub by the scruff of the neck and hoisted the whole wolf up.

With a dark expression, she held the cub’s paws up to the light to inspect them one by one. The pink pads were covered in grass and mud, and the edges of the paws were even raw and bleeding in places—proof of a very long run.

How far she had run was obvious—the journey from the Prince’s manor to the Royal Gardens took nearly a day even by the fastest carriage.

For the first time, Jiao Qingyin felt the urge to hit a dog. Most people say if you don’t hit them for a day, they’ll pull the roof tiles off; if she didn’t see Al for a day, Al would dare to tear down the whole house.

“You…”

“Whimper.”

Sensing danger, the cub being held by the scruff tucked her paws in, curled her big tail against her belly, and stuck out a pink tongue, letting out a pitiful, aggrieved whimper.