A Quiet Contest of Wills

He pressed closer with every step, and she had nowhere left to retreat. Her back stiff against the tree trunk, she nearly fell.

Damn it! I didn't do anything wrong! Why am I acting so guilty?!

"Don't dare admit it... heh!" Hill's whole aura of a creepy, deranged yandere reeking of the sewers hit her in the face. He gripped Song Zhi's chin, forcing her to look up and meet his eyes. "Then you must have a guilty conscience. You're always playing your little tricks... or do you like this kind of game, cat and mouse? Are you the cat? Or the mouse?"

Song Zhi wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face.

Seriously! Who on earth likes creepy guys like this?!

"You're always so sure of yourself, as if you know me better than anyone else in the world." Song Zhi finally couldn't hold back a retort. Her voice was low, but it carried a barely perceptible tremor. She had to admit she was still a little afraid of him.

"So sure of myself?" Hill chuckled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're no less sure of yourself than I am! Do you think other people can't see through those little schemes of yours?"

He paused, then continued mockingly, "Why are you so stupid? Can't you even hide your little schemes? Or are you letting them show on purpose?"

Song Zhi clenched her back teeth, a fierce and complicated emotion flashing through her eyes: anger, but also resentment. She raised her voice and shouted, "My business is none of your concern! Who I like and who I hate-why should I hide it?!"

She regretted it as soon as she finished shouting. She saw Hill's face visibly darken, and his already chilling eyes became terrifying.

Hill narrowed his eyes and stared at her, leaning forward and bending down until he was eye level with Song Zhi. They were so close they could almost feel each other's breath.

"Who you like? Who you hate? Heh... do you hate me?" His tone was icy to the bone, each word striking Song Zhi's heart like a heavy hammer.

Song Zhi's breath caught slightly. His gaze seemed to pin her in place, leaving her unable to move. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the hem of her clothes. She tried to force a retort from her throat, only to find she couldn't make a sound.

She didn't hate him; she just didn't like how he was so sarcastic and unpredictable. But she didn't want to explain, either. She didn't want to be the one to back down again. That would only make him push his luck further.

Song Zhi bit down hard on her lip, refusing to say a word.

Hill remained bent over, waiting for Song Zhi to speak.

The air seemed to freeze as they remained locked in a standoff, neither willing to yield an inch, as though an invisible tension were pulling at them.

"Heh heh..."

In the end, Hill gave a low chuckle. A spark flashed through his icy eyes, then quickly went out. He slammed a fist into the tree trunk beside him and spat out coldly, "Very well!" Then he turned and left.

With Hill's departure, the cold, suffocating oppression dissipated as well. Song Zhi gasped for breath, her back already soaked in cold sweat. Yet what unsettled her most was that, as she watched Hill walk away, she felt inexplicably panicked.

After that, neither of them took the initiative to say another word to the other. It was like a cold war, but far more serious.

Only when Lai'en and Wilk came out carrying buckets filled with fresh water did the two move their feet and gather around them, though they still kept a distant, almost stranger-like space between them.

Lai'en quickly picked up on the tense, oppressive chill in the air. He asked no questions, glancing at Hill out of the corner of his eye before briefly looking over at Song Zhi. "Come on, let's go back," he said gently.

Lai'en led the way, followed by Wilk, then Song Zhi, with Hill walking last, his gun in his arms.

Song Zhi felt as though needles were prickling her back as she walked anxiously along the way back. In truth, her body was walking ahead, but her soul was flying behind.

When Song Zhi returned from swimming at the shoal, she saw Hill leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. He neither moved aside nor spoke, just stood there blocking the doorway like a kindergarten troublemaker, looking childish, wicked, and cocky!

Song Zhi wiped her soaking wet hair as she pretended not to see Hill and squeezed straight past him, splashing water all over him as she went.

That felt good!

Hill glanced sideways at her and gave a cold snort, the hint of a smile on his face as he continued leaning against the doorframe with a cigarette between his lips. Only after Song Zhi had squeezed past did he take a lighter from his pocket and light it. He also drew the faint fragrance of coconut oil that Song Zhi had left lingering in the air deep into his lungs, then breathed it out through his nose along with the mint-flavored nicotine.

Having flung water all over Hill, Song Zhi felt secretly satisfied. She went inside and headed straight back to her little bedroom. Only when the door closed did she lean against it and hurriedly let out a breath, as though she had won some great victory.

She leaned against the door, her heartbeat not yet fully settled. There was always something about Hill's half-smile that made her feel inexplicably pressured. The feeling was like a tiny thorn lodged in her skin—not deadly, but enough to leave her restless.

The others sat in the main room and noticed the awkward way the two were behaving toward each other. Yet no one said anything; they merely glanced over before returning to their own tasks, as though no one cared about the little interlude.

The atmosphere in the main room remained as calm as ever.

Lai'en looked down at the documents in his hands, occasionally jotting something down on the paper. Wilk fiddled with his toolbox, seemingly absorbed by a particular part. Kelante was sorting through the medical kit, then preparing to go up to the lighthouse attic to relieve Lu Yu.

Only the ashtray in the corner silently testified to Hill's presence—he was still standing in the doorway, a nearly burned-out cigarette between his fingers, gazing thoughtfully at Song Zhi's tightly shut door.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, but the silence was soon broken by the sounds of everyday activity. Song Zhi strained her ears, listening carefully to the noises outside. Only after she was sure everything had quieted down did she slowly straighten up, walk over to the bed, and sit down.

A faint set of footsteps came from outside the door, followed by the rustle of clothing. Then a slow, rhythmic knock sounded at the door.

Song Zhi's heart had only just settled, but the baffling knock set it stirring again. Unable to guess who was outside, she could only silently pray it wasn't Hill.

"Song, open the door."

Lai'en's voice came from outside, and Song Zhi finally breathed a sigh of relief.

She hesitated, but got up and walked to the door anyway. Her hand had just touched the handle when she stopped again. She took a deep breath before slowly turning the lock.

When the door opened, Lai'en stood there with a medical bag in his hand, his expression as cool and calm as ever. He raised the bag and said, "It's time for your shot."

Song Zhi hesitated a little, but quickly realized which shot Lai'en meant. She nodded without speaking and stepped aside, leaving a gap to show he could come in.

"Go sit on the bed." Lai'en's gaze swept over the walls before finally settling on her face. Amused by her sudden awkwardness, he chuckled and said, "Weren't you pretty bold before? What are you afraid of now?"

Lai'en came in carrying the medical bag, making the tiny bedroom feel cramped. He closed the door and locked it behind him.

The click of the lock was especially distinct in the tiny bedroom.

Locking the door again? Does your squad have a thing for locking doors or something?