WWML 01

chapter 01

City A.

Early April.
The air was clear, and the wind carried no dust.

Deep in a quiet forest, the pungent smell of paint hung thickly in the air.

“Zhou Yao, I think she’s stopped breathing. Maybe… we should just leave?”
A trembling female voice broke the silence, tinged with fear.

The girl called Zhou Yao frowned, glaring at the speaker in irritation.

“It’s just a mute. What’s there to be scared of?”

“But—”

Before she could finish, another girl standing on Zhou Yao’s left snapped, her tone full of disdain.

“Zhao Xiaoxiu, if you’re scared, then scram. Stop whining here and getting in our way.”

The three were too busy talking to notice that the figure on the ground had stirred slightly.

The first thing Gu Qingning felt as consciousness returned was pain—deep, searing pain all over her body.
Her eyes flew open. Light burst into her pupils, glinting coldly.

Then, suddenly—
that sharp, chemical scent invaded her nose.

Smell?

She could smell?

Gu Qingning froze. Waves of shock surged through her heart.
But before she could sort out her thoughts, a killing intent swept toward her.

“Gu Qingning, trying to play dead in front of me? You’re still too naïve.”
The sharp, venomous voice belonged to Zhou Yao.

She reached out toward the girl on the ground, crimson nails gleaming as her hand went for the girl’s tangled hair.

But before her fingers even touched a strand, they grabbed at empty air.

Zhou Yao blinked in surprise. The two girls behind her were equally stunned.
The figure that had been curled on the ground suddenly rolled aside and, bracing with one hand, rose slowly to her feet.

Fang Yiyi sneered.

“Told you—no way she’d die that easily.”

Ignoring their mockery, Gu Qingning lowered her gaze, taking in her own filthy, disheveled state.
She flicked her wrist, splattering a mix of paint and dirt to the ground.

It was real. The texture, the sensation—real.

She was no longer a drifting spirit.

A soft laugh escaped her lips—cold and clear, laced with an odd sense of satisfaction.

Zhao Xiaoxiu stared, startled.

“She’s… she’s laughing? Is she crazy?”

“Crazy or not, we’ll find out soon enough,” Zhou Yao spat, striding toward her again.

That same killing intent pressed down.

Gu Qingning lifted her mud-streaked face. Her expression was unreadable.
Her lips, pale as frost, moved slightly.

“You… are courting death.”

The words were quiet and hoarse, but the chill in her tone made Zhou Yao stop dead.

Her eyes went wide.

“You—Gu Qingning—how can you talk?”

Everyone at A City No.1 High School knew the new transfer student, Gu Qingning, was mute.
Since she’d arrived, no one had ever heard her speak. She’d only ever communicated through sign language.

“You weren’t mute? You were pretending?” Zhou Yao’s voice rose, face twisting in rage.
“You lied to us?”

Gu Qingning glanced at her indifferently and uttered a single word, her tone like ice.

“Noisy.”

The moment the word fell, Zhou Yao’s back went cold. Before she could react, an unseen force clamped around her neck.

“Gu—” she gasped, eyes filling with terror as she met Gu Qingning’s dark, chilling gaze. Her voice shattered in her throat.

In the next instant, Gu Qingning seized her by the collar and, as though tossing out a rag, flung her away.

Those who deceive her—deserve to die.

The sight struck Fang Yiyi and Zhao Xiaoxiu like lightning. Terror flooded their eyes.

Was that really the Gu Qingning they knew?

A loud bang broke the silence as Zhou Yao hit the ground hard. She passed out before she could even scream.

The forest fell utterly still.

Then—a faint flash of light reflected in someone’s eyes.
Gu Qingning’s cold gaze swung toward the remaining two girls. The moment they met those icy black pupils, their breathing hitched.

Just as they thought she would attack them next, the girl suddenly turned and bolted into the depths of the forest.

Her steps were swift and light. Within moments, she vanished from sight.

Zhao Xiaoxiu stared blankly.

“She… ran?”

Just seconds ago she’d looked like a god of death—so why run now?
Had she suddenly grown merciful?

“If she hadn’t run, we’d be the ones in trouble,” Fang Yiyi snapped.
“What, you want to stay here and wait for her to beat you up?”

With that, she hurried over to check on Zhou Yao.

Zhao Xiaoxiu cast one last dazed look toward the direction Gu Qingning had disappeared.
Something about all this felt wrong—unnatural.

Had Gu Qingning truly gone mad?

The wind whispered through the trees, sunlight flickering like gold dust between the leaves.

Wounded and exhausted, the girl’s pace faltered.
Her last bit of strength drained away, and darkness closed over her vision. Her foot slipped—she tumbled down a slope.

The narrow mountain path twisted endlessly. Her thin body rolled all the way down, finally crashing into a thick patch of grass.

The rustling noise startled two men nearby.

“Who’s there?”

The one who spoke wore dark-blue clothing, with sharp brows and a sturdy build.
This was Yun Zheng, one of Fu Juncheng’s most trusted men.

He glanced toward the source of the sound, then turned respectfully to the man beside him.

Backlit by sunlight, the man’s profile was pale and cold. His features were sharp as frost—neither spring blossoms nor autumn moon could compare. Aloof and restrained, yet carrying an air of innate pride.

“Master, I’ll go check—”

Before Yun Zheng could finish, the man was already walking toward the sound.

Yun Zheng fell silent and followed behind.

Through the dense but low brush, a slim figure was faintly visible.

Yun Zheng frowned.

“Master, looks like… a person.”

From the long hair and slender frame—it seemed to be a woman.

Could it be that the old master back home had already learned of their location and sent another woman over?
But that didn’t make sense.
The old man’s beard had just been cut off by the young master himself; surely he’d be lying low for a few days, not scheming again so soon.

Then who was this woman?

While he puzzled over it, Fu Juncheng had already stepped forward.

As he neared, the heavy smell of paint and blood filled the air.

His expression remained calm as his gaze swept over the girl’s battered figure.
Red paint and blood had mixed together; her clothes were so stained that their original color was unrecognizable.
Her face was hidden beneath a curtain of tangled hair—her features impossible to discern.

At his side, Yun Zheng clicked his tongue, unable to hide his astonishment.

“What on earth…?”

Had she been hunted down by enemies? How else could she end up in such a state?

Fu Juncheng crouched down, his long, elegant fingers reaching out toward the girl’s head—