Chapter 107: Water Moon

“‘The Waste Land,’” Luo Hanya recited the poem that Xiao Feng had been softly murmuring.

“The Waste Land... cough, cough! Already... cough, cough,” Xiao Feng seemed to want to say something, but fierce coughing fits made it impossible for him to utter a single word.

Luo Hanya sighed, quietly crouching by Xiao Feng’s bedside, clasping the small, icy hand in his own. Xiao Feng’s hand was chillingly cold—like a shard of black ice—devoid of any sign of life.

“Cough, cough! Cough, cough!” Suddenly, Xiao Feng sat up on the bed, every coughing fit scattering droplets of blood onto Luo Hanya.

Xiao Feng’s already pale face turned even more ghostly white. He withdrew his hand from Luo Hanya’s grasp, seized Luo Hanya’s clothes, and with great effort pushed him away.

“Go! Cough, cough, cough...” Xiao Feng’s eyes were bloodshot as he forced out a word from his throat before being overwhelmed again by relentless coughing.

Luo Hanya cast a deep glance at Xiao Feng, then turned and walked out of the room without looking back. He slowly closed the door behind him, stood with his head bowed for a moment, shook his head, and headed toward the glow of light not far away—an open door leading to his Room 13.

As he stepped inside, the system notification appeared.

[Main storyline character updated: Night at the Mist Inn]

Luo Hanya shrugged, clearly indifferent to the task update. He collapsed onto the bed with a sense of relief, greedily inhaling the lingering scent of decay in the room.

The air was thick with moist sea breezes; white mist continuously flowed in from outside the window, dissipating shortly thereafter. The musty smell was nearly gone.

Lying there for a while, Luo Hanya rose to close the window, but still detected a faint, lingering staleness. A heavy drowsiness washed over him. He removed his soaked shirt, hesitated briefly, then finally switched off the light. Darkness swallowed him whole again. He lay on the bed, wrapped in a blanket. Outside, wind and rain persisted—inviting sleep, gently pulling him into a haze of confusion and oblivion.

How long passed, he could not say. Like a diver surfacing from deep water, he gasped sharply, as if a massive stone had shattered the placid pool of his mind.

“Again?” Luo Hanya tried to open his eyes, but it was futile; his eyelids felt unbearably heavy, immovable by even the slightest effort.

Strange sounds crept into his ears like swarming ants, making every hair on his body stand on end. Yet he remained trapped in darkness, unable to see a thing. Only a faint, whimpering cry wrapped around his ears.

“The same trick again?”

At first, it sounded like a child’s sob, drifting like air. But listening closer, it was not; it seemed more like a woman’s voice—melodious, lingering, haunting the heart.

“Another ghost? This place really is a haunt of spirits.”

“Ouch! That hurts!” With the woman’s sudden cry, all sounds abruptly ceased.

Nothing was visible, nothing audible—his senses had shut down completely. Yet deep within, Luo Hanya felt a peculiar sensation, as if something momentous was about to happen.

He could only wait in the darkness—wait for her arrival.

Minutes later, she came.

Suddenly, Luo Hanya felt something gently collide with his face. The touch was soft yet resilient, like a small wild creature finding refuge in a hunter’s arms. A tender breath blew directly into his nostrils.

Instinctively, Luo Hanya grabbed a pair of supple shoulders, startled to find his body moving again. A figure rose and fell within his embrace, accompanied by light, rhythmic breaths.

A person—a young woman, to be precise.

Luo Hanya’s mind felt as if it had turned to mush, incapable of coherent thought. His heart pounded wildly, threatening to burst through his throat. Yet his hands clung tightly to her shoulders, as if afraid she might slip away. In that instant, an image of the woman formed vividly in his heart.

She seemed to struggle, like a trapped little beast. In the pitch black, Luo Hanya glimpsed eyes—nocturnal, animal-like eyes.

Bright, beautiful eyes.

Though no light pierced the darkness, Luo Hanya inexplicably saw those enchanting eyes—eyes hauntingly familiar—and they shattered his will. No longer cold or indifferent, only a hazy daze remained.

Slowly, Luo Hanya relaxed his grip, but she did not flee. She remained pressed against him, her entire body leaning heavily on his.

Trembling, Luo Hanya wrapped his arms gently around her shoulders, drawing her completely into his embrace. He even faintly sensed her eyes upon him, filled with confusion and a silent plea for help.

Lowering his head, Luo Hanya asked in a voice as soft as a whisper, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

Though barely audible, the words rang clear in the still, dark room.

After a moment, he heard her answer: “Shuiyue.”

Her voice was ethereal, almost otherworldly—delicate and pure, like a fairy’s song.

“Shuiyue, is that your name?”

A sudden, overwhelming desire surged within Luo Hanya—to see her face, to behold her true self.

He fumbled for the switch and turned on the light. The dim glow illuminated the room, causing his eyes to squint. After a few seconds, he finally made out her features.

“So beautiful...” Luo Hanya murmured, unable to find any other words to describe the young woman before him.

Indeed, she was exquisite—youthful and radiant, naturally enchanting. Her lively, elegant face etched deeply into his vision. Her slender brows neither long nor short, eyes like a beauty painted on an ancient scroll—full of expression and mystery, a blend of languid ease, playful mischief, and subtle fear. A delicate, petite nose, lips tightly pressed together, and a softly trembling jawline completed her visage. A white dress enhanced her sacred, simple grace.

Luo Hanya gazed at her in a daze. At some unknown moment, his eyes burned painfully, and his heart ached fiercely—as though pierced countless times by a dagger, tearing through his soul. Trembling, he released his hold. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Shuiyue stepped back, leaning against the wall and tilting her head upward. Her eyes, vacant and distant, fixed on Luo Hanya as she uttered a puzzling question: “Your tears... why?”