When the person ahead of her came out, Wen Ya looked at the short-haired girl, who was squirming back and forth from holding it in, and said, “You go ahead first. I’ll go after you.”
“Thank you!”
The girl practically bolted inside. Watching her, Wen Ya couldn’t help thinking she had some serious stamina—if she had waited even a minute longer, she probably would have wet her pants.
After a short while, the girl emerged with a flushed face, and Wen Ya finally stepped inside. The moment she entered, she was almost knocked unconscious by the “moving” aroma wafting through the air. She quickly ducked into her spatial dimension, took care of business in the fresh air of her own space, and then stepped back out to wash her hands before heading back.
Some people didn’t even bother washing their hands before returning to their seats, which she supposed made her a bit finicky; if she didn’t wash up, she would keep imagining the lingering scent on her skin.
Back in her seat, she pulled out a towel to dry her hands and went right back to reading her Little Red Book.
As soon as the short-haired girl returned, the little boy immediately turned to look at his grandmother.
“Grandma, she came back from having diarrhea!”
“Mm-hm. See? That’s why we don’t eat meat buns. Otherwise, you’d end up like her and have diarrhea too.”
The short-haired girl’s face, which had just cooled down, turned crimson all over again. But she was far too introverted to fight back, even when she was fuming inside.
By dinner time, Wen Ya brought out her leftover rice balls. The short-haired girl, however, opted for a hard-boiled egg; she had officially developed a mild phobia of meat buns and wanted nothing to do with them.
The icy-faced man was still eating his dumplings, while the “refined scoundrel” produced a meat bun. Since his chive-and-egg flatbread wouldn’t hold up until morning without spoiling, he had to eat it now.
Seeing him eat a meat bun, the little boy turned his head to his grandmother. “Grandma, eating meat buns gives you diarrhea. Why are they still eating them?”
“They’re just disobedient and greedy. My grandson is the most obedient one of all.”
“Mm, I’m obedient. I’m not greedy.”
The refined scoundrel looked like he wanted to say something, but after casting a quick glance at the ancient grandmother and the obnoxious kid, he wisely kept his mouth shut.
As for the icy man, he was eating his dumplings, but the grandmother and grandson acted as though he didn’t even exist—neither of them dared to look at him or comment on his food. Because Wen Ya’s rice balls didn’t emit any strong smells, nobody stared at her meals either.
She wouldn’t be able to eat rice balls tomorrow morning anyway; they wouldn’t keep overnight, so she’d have to switch to something else.
Outside the window, pitch-black night hid the scenery completely. Figuring there was nothing else to do—and knowing her current physical body was still rather delicate—Wen Ya decided it was time to turn in. She made one last trip to the restroom so she wouldn’t have to brave the aisle in the middle of the night, then returned to her seat and prepared for sleep.
Although all her valuable belongings were safely stored in her spatial dimension, she still pulled a long woolen trench coat out of her bag to use as a blanket. Since it was summer, her clothing was light, and she knew she would catch a cold if she slept without anything over her.
She noticed some passengers simply curled up to sleep with nothing at all, dozing off soundly, but she decided she couldn’t compare herself to them.
The short-haired girl watched her drape the heavy coat over herself and asked curiously, “Aren’t you roasting in that?”
“My constitution is weak; I’m afraid of the cold. Better safe than sorry,” Wen Ya replied.
“Oh.”
Before closing her eyes, Wen Ya briefly sent her consciousness into her spiritual space to check on things, and only then drifted off to sleep.
The moment her consciousness vanished into her space, the icy-faced man opened his eyes, glanced at her once, and then closed his eyes again. The short-haired girl and the rest of the passengers simply closed their eyes and fell asleep uncovered.
Wen Ya was sleeping deeply and feeling wonderfully warm when, in the dead of night, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air, echoing from one of the forward carriages.
Ling Hao’s eyes snapped open the instant the sound rang out. Wen Ya, still half-asleep, groggily stirred, feeling disoriented.
As the noise grew louder and rapidly drew closer toward their carriage, Wen Ya snapped fully awake. She jerked her head up to look toward the source of the commotion.
To her horror, two men brandishing knives were backing into their carriage, holding a terrified woman hostage. A train conductor and several male passengers were trying to reason with them, but the criminals were shouting their demands: they wanted a fully refueled locomotive, and nobody was allowed to follow them.
Panic instantly erupted through the carriage. Chaos broke out as passengers scrambled to flee toward the rear.
Wen Ya was terrified. Why am I this unlucky? she thought wildly. How do you run into a hostage situation just by taking a train?!
The people around them began bolting toward the next carriage, and the four passengers in their group stood up to survey the situation. Wen Ya considered scrambling backward to safety—after all, the blade on that man’s knife was literally dripping with blood. What if she didn’t run, caught someone’s bad side, and got slashed?
More than anything, she was paralyzed by fear. The short-haired girl was rushing out into the aisle, with Wen Ya standing right behind her. The refined scoundrel was nearby, while the icy-faced man had merely stood up to take a look and then sat right back down.
Just as the short-haired girl tried to step out, she was violently shoved aside by the old woman, who was charging forward while clutching her grandchild.
Tripping backward, the short-haired girl grabbed frantically at the small table by the window to steady herself. She managed to recover her balance, but Wen Ya bore the full brunt of the collision. Sent hurtling backward, she landed squarely on her backside—right onto something surprisingly soft.
Lowering her head in a panic, she realized in horror that this was no floor. It was the icy-faced man’s thigh! She was sitting smack in the middle of his lap.
Wen Ya’s face flamed bright red. She scrambled to stand up, but the moment she lifted her hips off his lap, a fresh wave of panic-stricken passengers surged down the aisle. The short-haired girl stumbled backward again, crashing into the space, and Wen Ya—just as she tried to rise—was forced right back down.
This time, she couldn’t get up at all. The crowd flooding from the front blocked all escape routes, pressing the short-haired girl and the refined scoundrel inward while completely trapping Wen Ya in place.
She was pressed tightly against the icy-faced man, her entire body nestled in his arms. Even in the midst of this terrifying crisis, Wen Ya didn’t forget to tilt her head back in a panic and whisper an apology to him.
As for Ling Hao, he had originally intended to mind his own business. In his past life, he had witnessed so much bloodshed that even if someone died right in front of him, he wouldn’t have spared them a second glance.
He hadn’t expected the girl sitting opposite him to tumble directly into his lap.
Even more surprisingly, he felt not a shred of repulsion. Normally, if anyone dared to get this close, he would have kicked them out of sight without a second thought.
Yet today, he had already found himself intrigued by this girl, and deep down, he felt she was somehow of the same kind as him.
When she first fell onto his lap, he had hesitated for a split second, wondering whether to steady her. But before he could move, she tried to stand up—only to be forced right back down into his arms by the surging crowd.
Looking down at her small head and listening to her flustered apology, Ling Hao watched the frantic, chaotic crowd pushing against her. Instead of pushing her away, he suddenly found himself hoping the commotion would last a little longer so she wouldn’t be able to get up.
Inhaling the delicate, clean fragrance radiating from her, he could feel how soft her body was against his. While taking full advantage of the situation to hold her close, he casually extended an arm to wrap protectively around her waist—ensuring her slender, soft waist remained unhurt and shielding her from the shoving bodies and wandering hands of other men.