In the five days before the review, The Curio House fell into a grim, almost militarized bustle.
Pei Yan barely slept as she repeatedly ran through the plan from her friend in the R&D department, refining the rough concept bit by bit until it became an almost meticulously precise sequence of operations.
The overlap in pheromone readings had to stay within an incredibly narrow range. A second too early or too late could make the machine identify it as an abnormal fluctuation and trigger the alarm outright. She covered page after page with dense curves of numerical data, keeping watch at her desk for several nights in a row. The dark circles beneath her eyes grew heavier by the day.
Xie Qingqiu saw it all. The emotions she had forced down during their cold war began to gather another layer of inexplicable irritation.
Two nights before the review, she finally couldn't hold back. Her voice carried a hint of softening she hadn't even noticed herself. “You don't have to go this far. At worst, I can leave here ahead of time on the day of the review. You can just say I left without telling you.”
Pei Yan didn't even look up. The tip of her pen continued racing across the paper.
“Easy for you to say.” Her tone was flat, but edged with unquestionable resolve. “That body of yours hasn't healed, and your pheromone levels are unstable. If you leave alone, you'll be caught and dragged back within three days. Ms. Xie, I went to all this trouble to protect you. It wasn't so I could watch you walk your own life back into the tiger's mouth at the very last moment.”
Xie Qingqiu was momentarily speechless. As she watched Pei Yan's profile bent over the desk, she suddenly remembered the grievance and resentment she had chewed over again and again during those days of silence. Now, those feelings strangely overlapped with the scene before her. She could no longer tell whether what she felt was gratitude—or something deeper, something she still refused to admit.
Standing behind Pei Yan, she looked over the densely packed calculations and couldn't help asking, “What if there's a flaw in the plan itself?”
The tip of Pei Yan's pen paused, but she didn't turn around.
“Then I'll find a way when the time comes.” Her voice was calm, as though she were stating a fact she had weighed countless times. “For the past seventeen years, I've never relied on foolproof plans. I've relied on being able to keep the situation under control even when a plan fails.”
Xie Qingqiu watched her straight back and suddenly felt that this near-all-or-nothing certainty brought more reassurance than any comforting words could have—while also frightening her more.
She couldn't say whether she should feel fortunate that someone like this was willing to risk herself for her, or uneasy that she had dragged someone who should have remained uninvolved into such a grave crisis.
On the day of the review, the sky was so dark and heavy that it looked ready to unleash a downpour at any moment.
Pei Yan brought Xie Qingqiu out of the glass room early, then redid her makeup and hair.
The plain-colored dress was still the same outfit “Xie Zhi” had worn the last time she appeared. This time, however, Pei Yan's expression was even more solemn, and every movement carried the caution of someone laying out a battle formation before the fight began.
“In a moment,” she murmured as she smoothed Xie Qingqiu's hair, “no matter how long the machine's collection process lasts, you can't show the slightest sign of resistance. Even unconsciously taking half a step back could be judged a pheromone rejection response and trigger the alarm.”
Xie Qingqiu nodded, but her heart began beating faster against her will.
She remembered that night, when her toxin had spiraled out of control and Pei Yan had held her tightly. The slow, sinking calm, almost like drowning, now carried an unspoken flutter that made the tips of her ears burn.
“And one more thing.” Pei Yan paused, her gaze falling on Xie Qingqiu's flushed neck. A rare hesitation entered her voice. “The machine's collection probe will be placed directly against the scent gland. That means I need to—”
“Just say it.” Xie Qingqiu cut her off, her tone deliberately brisk, as though she could use that briskness to conceal the small panic stirring inside her.
“I need to place my scent gland against yours.” Pei Yan finally said it, her voice carrying a restrained frankness. “Only close-range pheromone resonance can make the readings overlap enough to meet the machine's standard for ‘natural partners.’”
Xie Qingqiu abruptly held her breath.
She naturally understood what that meant. The most intimate and symbolically significant posture in a marking was about to be staged early, all for the sake of a lie meant to fool a machine.
She stared into Pei Yan's eyes, trying to find a trace of joking or probing in those deep eyes. All she saw was pure, almost cruelly calm seriousness.
“…I understand.” She struggled to recover her voice, turning her face away so she wouldn't see the complicated emotion that flashed across Pei Yan's eyes and vanished.
As expected, the doorbell rang in the afternoon.
Xie Qingqiu could hear her own heartbeat clearly, pounding deep against her eardrums, more violently than during any previous encounter with her pursuers.
She stood beside Pei Yan, doing her best to maintain a calm expression as the familiar man and his female subordinate stepped into the shop again. This time, the man was carrying a precision-built, silver-gray machine.
“Ms. Pei, Ms. Xie, sorry to trouble you.” The man's smile remained as courteous as ever, but his gaze was sharper than last time. “According to regulations, the collection requires both parties to maintain close contact for at least thirty seconds. Please relax as much as possible during the process to avoid affecting the accuracy of the readings.”
Xie Qingqiu's back went rigid.
Pei Yan turned sideways and gently supported her chin with one hand, her touch so tender it hardly seemed part of a performance fraught with danger.
She lowered her head, slowly bringing her temple against the side of Xie Qingqiu's neck. The cool sandalwood spread without restraint, quietly mingling with the faint traces of icy scent remaining in Xie Qingqiu's body, suppressed almost completely by the pheromone suppressor ring.
Xie Qingqiu shuddered. She almost instinctively tried to retreat, but in the next instant she remembered Pei Yan's warning and clenched her teeth, forcing herself to maintain the suffocating closeness.
She could feel the warmth of Pei Yan's breath brushing her burning ear. Those usually steady arms now carried the faintest tremor, so slight it was almost impossible to detect.
Thirty seconds was the longest span of time Xie Qingqiu had ever experienced.
The machine gave a soft chime. The readings flickering across the screen finally settled into an almost perfect matching range amid the pheromones mingling between them.
“The readings are normal.” The female subordinate studied the screen, her voice carrying the routine satisfaction of a job completed. “Ninety-six percent compatibility. This is indeed pheromone compatibility at the natural-partner level.”
It was only when she heard those words that Xie Qingqiu belatedly found her breath again.
Pei Yan slowly straightened and stepped back half a pace, her expression returning to its usual composure. Only the hand gripping Xie Qingqiu's waist tightened ever so slightly before releasing her.
“The registration process can officially be completed today.” The man closed his folder, all scrutiny having vanished from his voice. “There'll be no need for another review going forward. Congratulations, Ms. Pei, Ms. Xie.”
After the two of them left, the shop door shut once more. Xie Qingqiu's legs nearly gave out, and she collapsed onto the stool in front of the counter, finally releasing the breath she had been holding.
She looked up at Pei Yan, only to see a rare trace of lingering, post-crisis exhaustion on her face. A thin sheen of sweat had even gathered at her temple.
“We did it.” Pei Yan spoke softly, relief at having survived the ordeal in her voice.
Looking at her, Xie Qingqiu suddenly remembered that suffocating closeness and Pei Yan's faintly trembling arms. The emotions she had forced down with reason surged up again.
“Were you afraid just now?” she asked hoarsely.
Pei Yan froze for a moment, then lowered her eyes. A rare honesty entered her voice.
“Afraid we'd fail,” she said. “And afraid…”
She stopped without finishing. Instead, she raised a hand and gently brushed away a loose strand of hair at Xie Qingqiu's temple. Her movement held a careful tenderness so instinctive that even she seemed unaware of it.
Watching Pei Yan's expression as she hesitated between speaking and silence, Xie Qingqiu suddenly had an absurd premonition. In those thirty suffocating seconds of resonance, the boundary they had deliberately maintained had been torn open—leaving a rift that could never be completely mended.
She turned her face away, afraid to investigate what irretrievable thing might be hidden behind that premonition.
Outside the window, the long-brewing storm finally broke. Rain hammered against the frosted glass in a dense rhythm, like the equally disordered heartbeats of the two women.
Xie Qingqiu was the first to recover some of her reason. When she stood, her steps were still a little unsteady.
She walked to the window and watched the curtain of rain blur the outline of the entire alley. Her voice carried a deliberately reclaimed calm. “Well, the Joint Defense Bureau's registration system now has another record that's too fake to be any faker.”
“Whether it's fake doesn't matter.” Pei Yan came to stand beside her, her voice returning to its usual flatness. “What matters is that it works.”
“You certainly take it well.” Xie Qingqiu turned her head toward her, a note of inquiry in her voice. “Your hands were shaking during those thirty seconds.”
Pei Yan's expression stiffened slightly. She clearly hadn't expected Xie Qingqiu to notice that lapse so clearly.
“The machine's recognition accuracy is extremely high. The slightest mistake would have ruined everything.” Her explanation sounded a little forced. “Anyone doing something as dangerous as walking a tightrope would have trouble keeping their hands from shaking.”
“Is that so?” Xie Qingqiu wore a faintly mocking smile, enjoying a rare advantage. “How come I feel like that excuse from shopkeeper Pei is exactly the same as your ‘improvisation under pressure’ explanation from the day we changed the medication?”
Pei Yan turned her face away without arguing. That rare silence looked more like a guilty admission than any defense could have.
Seeing her like that, Xie Qingqiu's chaotic emotions, born from their suffocating closeness, were quietly diluted by the small pleasure of having gained the upper hand.
“But…” She dropped the teasing tone, lowering her voice. “Thank you for today.”
Pei Yan glanced at her, seemingly surprised that she would offer such a direct thanks.
“Didn't you say there was no need to thank me?” she asked softly, a hint of probing in her voice.
“This time is different.” Xie Qingqiu lowered her eyes, her voice carrying a serious sincerity. “In those thirty seconds, you risked more than being exposed by the machine. If I truly lost control of my pheromones, you would have been the one to suffer the backlash.”
Pei Yan was silent for a moment before slowly answering, “It was worth it.”
The two words were spoken so softly, yet Xie Qingqiu's heart jolted.
She looked up at Pei Yan. Her expression remained calm, but the deep light in her eyes concealed a firmness even she had never put into words.
“Will there be more of this ‘resonance’ in the future?” Xie Qingqiu changed the subject, trying to use reason to suppress the emotions churning inside her.
“According to regulations,” Pei Yan replied with the steady, businesslike calm she had regained, “the Joint Defense Bureau won't come to conduct another review without cause once the registration is complete. It's just that…”
She paused, her gaze falling on Xie Qingqiu's still-flushed neck. Her voice took on a difficult-to-describe complexity.
“It's just that from now on, I'm afraid you and I can never return to the clearly defined distance we kept at the beginning.”
Xie Qingqiu stared at her blankly. Outside, the rain grew heavier, pounding against the frosted glass so loudly it nearly drowned out her disordered, almost chaotic heartbeat.
She looked down at her faintly trembling hands and suddenly understood. Those thirty suffocating seconds of pheromone resonance had torn open more than an irreparable breach. They had opened an entrance to some unknown abyss, an entrance she could never turn back from. And she couldn't find a reason firm enough to refuse to step through it.
Pei Yan seemed to sense the increasingly dense ambiguity in the silence and spoke first, breaking the stalemate. “Your injuries haven't healed. Go back and rest. Don't stand here in the draft.”
Xie Qingqiu didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked at Pei Yan for another two seconds, as though trying to find more traces of her earlier lapse on that usually composed face. Pei Yan grew a little uncomfortable under her stare and, unusually, looked away. A hint of barely perceptible awkwardness entered her voice. “Done looking?”
“Not yet.” Xie Qingqiu rarely teased her, the corners of her lips lifting into the faintest smile. She turned toward the secret room. “But since you're kicking me out, fine.”
Pei Yan watched her back recede. The deep emotion in her eyes churned for a moment before finally becoming a soft, nearly inaudible sigh.
She turned toward the counter and picked up the half-repaired doll again, but her fingertips hovered for a long time without touching it.
That nearly uncontrolled closeness of thirty seconds had clearly left a mark that would not be easily erased—not only in Xie Qingqiu's heart.
The rain grew heavier. The lamp on the second floor of The Curio House burned through the night once more. But tonight, the person sitting alone beneath its light found it harder than ever to quiet her thoughts.
After returning to the glass room, Xie Qingqiu remained unable to fall asleep for a long time. She lay in bed listening to the rain strike the ventilation shaft, replaying again and again the faint tremor in Pei Yan's arms when she drew close, along with the unfinished words: “And afraid…”
She closed her eyes and forced herself not to guess what answer was hidden in the rest of that sentence. She knew that whatever the answer was, she had no way back anymore. She could only let this ever-deepening entanglement push her step by step toward an ending even she couldn't foresee.
She looked at the silver suppressor ring around her wrist and suddenly felt that the ring had long since stopped trapping only the restless toxin inside her. It was also trapping her heart—a heart that had quietly begun to waver at some unknown point, yet stubbornly refused to admit it.