Chapter Sixty-Three: The Purple Bellflower

The sky had already sunk into a silent darkness, only punctuated by the scattered lights of distant buildings against the night. In the pale moonlight, Chunxia Munan knelt on the ground, retching. Tianxing Zhao deftly produced half a bottle of water from his backpack, as if by magic—the same mineral water they had bought while wandering the streets together.

Tianxing Zhao was not some privileged youth with a limitless black card; he had always lived frugally, and so the half-full bottle had remained in his backpack. After drinking, it dawned on Chunxia Munan why there was only half left, but she merely blushed and said nothing.

Tianxing Zhao took her handbag and the longsword she had retrieved from the airport, which she’d been carrying ever since, as naturally as if it were his own. He glanced up at the distant highway where cars occasionally sped by and said, “Miss Munan, can you check where we are?”

Chunxia Munan caught her breath before pulling out her phone. “We’re in Edogawa Ward,” she replied.

Tianxing Zhao nodded. “Then let’s go. Otherwise, the police will soon be tracing the car to us.”

“Can we rest a bit longer?” Chunxia Munan pleaded, waving her hand.

He paused, then crouched down, turning his back to her. “Come on, I’ll carry you.”

His tone was calm, but the near-command left her no room to refuse. Blushing, she draped herself over his back. The unfamiliar yet pleasant scent of him made her regret the decision in an instant; it was the primal instinct the Creator had hidden deep in the human soul—young men's pheromones were a temptation to young women, as if the very devil called.

Perhaps because the area was filled with shuttered factories, the night here was exceptionally quiet—a secluded haven within Tokyo, untouched by others. The sound of two heartbeats echoed like the rising tide beneath the moon, until the roar of a distant motorcycle pulled Chunxia Munan from her reverie.

“Skyline?” she murmured.

“Yes?”

“Nothing, really. I just think people like you are strange.”

“Oh?”

She continued softly, “You don’t know me, and there were so many easier ways to take the seal. Why bother protecting me? I thought someone like you would be cold and indifferent.”

Tianxing Zhao kept his pace unhurried. “Maybe I’m just a good person.”

“You’re unexpectedly cute, Skyline.” Chunxia Munan couldn’t help but laugh. Who would so openly declare themselves a good person?

But just then, her stomach grumbled—perhaps she’d laughed too hard, or maybe it was just that she hadn’t had dinner. Her face turned crimson with embarrassment.

Perhaps the night’s mad rush had left Tianxing Zhao particularly at ease. “There should be an izakaya up ahead. We’ll get something to eat there, so don’t rush me,” he said quietly. Chunxia Munan could not see his face, but she imagined he wore a faint, teasing smile. The thought made her bashfully thump his back with her small fist.

“A seafood tempura, and grilled sea bass, please.” Chunxia Munan sat at the table, her face full of anticipation, eager to say, “Let’s eat.”

“And for you, sir?” The server, wearing a cap with the izakaya’s name, glanced at them and smiled, adding, “We also offer a couple’s set; ordering the same meal comes with a discount.”

Tianxing Zhao recalled someone saying something similar not long ago. Back then, he hadn’t denied it, and soon after, a yakuza member had chased him so fiercely he hadn’t even managed to eat. Though the two things were unrelated, he decided to avoid trouble and quietly eat his meal.

“That’s right, we’ll have two of the same couple’s set,” Chunxia Munan said on his behalf.

After the server left, she looked at him serenely. “It’s much cheaper this way, isn’t it?”

Half an hour later.

“Let’s find a place to sleep.” After dinner, Tianxing Zhao decided they should find a place for the night. As soon as he said it, he sensed the girl beside him was suddenly ill at ease, so he added, “I have enough money for two rooms.”

Before his car had even come to a complete stop, Chunxia Munan tossed the empty water bottle into a trash can without looking back and headed for the hotel. Tianxing Zhao sighed. Had he done something wrong? He was certain that if he’d suggested sharing a room, the embarrassed girl would have made the bottle crash even louder.

Chiyo Kitagawa was already in her forties. Her job was to watch TV dramas at the front desk, collect payments, and check in guests. With her hotel near a university, she had seen thousands of young couples. So when Chunxia Munan stormed in and asked for a room, Chiyo’s face remained impassive as she collected the payment and handed over the key. She paused her show, knowing that, sure enough, a minute later, Tianxing Zhao also came in alone for a room. When he asked after the girl’s room, she smiled and placed him next door, chuckling as he headed upstairs. The most amusing thing in the world, she thought, was a clueless young man.

Tianxing Zhao hesitated, then knocked on the door. Girls could be willful, but he had to ensure her safety. “It’s Skyline,” he called.

Chunxia Munan opened the door before he finished. Though her face was composed, she stepped aside to let him in. He hesitated, but entered.

“I’m right next door.”

He broke the silence, but the moment hung awkwardly in the air until Chunxia Munan, blushing furiously, couldn’t hold back. “Those people are after me,” she whispered.

He understood—both the cult and the gang were targeting her. It was dangerous for her to sleep alone tonight. He had knocked to install some security measures.

He looked up to find her gazing at him resentfully. The light was dim, and from his angle, she resembled the girl who’d once forgotten to say goodbye. Munan tugged at his heart’s tenderest place. Was she still afraid? Almost despite himself, he nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

In the cramped space, the midnight silence was palpable; they could hear each other’s heartbeats. As Tianxing Zhao took out an extra blanket and made his bed on the floor, Chunxia Munan grew flustered. She had only wanted to exchange contact information, so she could call him if anything happened. She wasn’t sure how to respond to his bold suggestion. Just as she mustered the courage to speak, the sound of a door opening from upstairs broke her resolve. The thin walls let in the noise—showers, laughter, the thud of something heavy hitting a bed, and then sounds not fit for the ear.

Tianxing Zhao was a gentleman, but not naïve. He was embarrassed.

Chunxia Munan wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, but the woman upstairs must have been a soprano—the sounds were powerful, piercing, and endless.

After ten minutes, someone finally shouted, “Show some decency! Keep it down, will you? There are other guests here!” The soprano was silenced.

Only then did Chunxia Munan peek out for fresh air, curious if Tianxing Zhao was asleep. She turned slightly, glancing toward the floor—only for their eyes to meet in another moment of awkwardness.

Tianxing Zhao quickly looked away. He had only turned because he thought there was movement on the bed.

Munan wished she could bury herself in her pillow. She wanted to say something to break the tension, but the walls failed again; the soprano resumed her performance.

The night passed without further words.

The next morning, Chunxia Munan, dark circles under her eyes, was fuming. She wanted to storm upstairs and ask that woman if she’d swallowed an entire bottle of throat lozenges. Even the Sydney Opera House rarely saw a soprano sustain a concert through the night.

Tianxing Zhao hadn’t slept well either, but he managed to nod a greeting and began his morning routine.

Despite her exhaustion, Munan splashed her face with cold water and gathered her things.

“Skyline, what should we do now?” Ever since the events two days ago, Munan had felt lost, so she turned to him for guidance.

“I need to find out why you’re being hunted and by whom. But first, I need you to confirm something for me.” He was genuinely curious why so many people were after her—beyond the cult and the gang, perhaps others, too. Aside from her striking face, he could find nothing unusual about her, but he had decided to protect her. The cult’s people were never up to any good.

“Let’s rent a car. Odds are, I’m already being tracked by the police,” he said, waving his hand. A foreigner forcing his way through a highway toll booth wasn’t a serious crime, but it was enough to keep the Japanese police busy for a while.

Later, when Chunxia Munan drove a black Infiniti into the parking lot, Tianxing Zhao, masked and capped, slipped into the passenger seat.

He stopped the car across from the hotel where he and his companions had been staying. “What kind of hat do you like?” he asked.

An hour later, Chunxia Munan entered the hotel lobby, masked and wearing a white sunhat, her outfit completely transformed.

Tianxing Zhao knew that surveillance had already captured him entering with the group. If anything had happened to them, the people behind it would have checked the footage and know his face. Most importantly, Chunxia Munan couldn’t drive, so he had her go instead, to probe for information.

On the fifth floor, the group, including Chaoyan Chu, sat on the sofa.

“You’ve lost contact with a team member?” Chu was stern, having come early to continue preparations.

“We haven’t heard from him since last night. We last saw him the afternoon before in Ginza,” Katherine said, frowning. Zhao Tianxing, their strongest solo operative, had vanished without a trace. She could hardly imagine what had happened.

“His communicator lost signal around 8 p.m. in Setagaya Ward,” Qin Mo said, turning her laptop to show the pinpointed location on a map.

“This morning, Aphra and I canvassed the area. No one saw anything unusual around eight,” Jining said, both she and Aphra looking worried.

“Based on what we know, the cult is preparing some kind of ritual, and Tianxing Zhao may have run into them,” Chu sighed inwardly; it seemed another victim had been claimed.

A knock sounded at the door. Everyone tensed, unmoving, until Chunxia Munan identified herself through the intercom at the door. Aphra, delighted, opened up. “Senior—wait, it’s you?”

When Munan removed her mask and hat, even the ever-alert Chu relaxed—no cult member would have eyes so pure.

The truth was, Munan had reached the fifth floor three minutes before, but hesitated a long time upon hearing the voices inside.

In that moment she raised her hand, many thoughts flickered through her mind, but in the end, she knocked.

“Tianxing Zhao sent me. His communicator is broken,” she stated, omitting the most crucial reason.

Katherine was skeptical. “Then why didn’t he come himself?”

“He was attacked, so he can’t come here right now. He sent me to inform you.” Also true.

“Where is he now?” Jining pressed.

“He’s driving somewhere. I don’t know when I’ll see him next.” Also not a lie—she needed time to think before reporting back to him.

“Did he say anything else?” Qin Mo was more concerned about whether he needed help.

“No.” Munan shook her head. He had indeed said nothing more; he doubted Katherine and the others were even in the hotel.

Not wanting to reveal too much about the world’s secrets to an outsider, Katherine handed her a new communicator. “If he finds you, give him this.” She preferred to hear from Tianxing Zhao directly.

Munan nodded, took the device, and left. Only when the door closed behind her did she let out a long breath.

Qin Mo, trained in reading body language for signs of lying, confirmed that Munan was telling the truth. The group concluded that Tianxing Zhao was likely safe and resumed discussing their plans against the cult.

Chu, too, sensed no deception, though her instincts whispered something amiss. Yet she set those doubts aside; defeating the cult was more important than one person.

In the elevator, Munan stared at the communicator in her hand, her heart sinking like the numbers on the display. When the doors opened, she gripped it tightly, then tossed it into a nearby trash can.

Tianxing Zhao was not surprised she returned so quickly. If she’d taken too long, he would have executed Plan B.

“What did you see?” He started the car and asked quietly.

“Nothing. I never even entered the room you mentioned,” she replied.

“Why not?”

“Because the rooms you mentioned were already occupied. I didn’t go in.” She turned away, avoiding his gaze.

He didn’t pick up on the detail. Considering the hotel’s high turnover, he reasoned that if anything had happened to the others, the hotel could not have reused the rooms so quickly. “Did you take photos as I asked?”

She nodded and handed him her phone.

He glanced at the images and drove on. She had been thorough—empty corridors, tightly shut doors, not a scratch in sight. It suggested there had been no struggle. He relaxed a little; if something truly dangerous had happened, there would be evidence. If their lives were in peril, as their adviser, he would have sensed it through their arcane contract.

Munan didn’t know why she did what she did, as if lured by a devil. Every word she’d spoken was true, yet all had been drawn into a lie.

Aimlessly, she wandered Tokyo’s streets with Tianxing Zhao in the old Infiniti—a man who shouldn’t have entered her life, but whose sudden arrival felt less an intrusion and more like a fish finding its way to the sea. For the first time since coming to Tokyo, she faced her own heart.

She stole a glance at him, intent on the road. The black car threaded through crowded streets, past balconies where strangers watered their flowers. A beam of sunlight pierced the clouds, warming her heart. She clutched her chest, feeling an irrepressible surge—a cluster of sunward purple bellflowers blooming there.

Twenty-year-old girls are like clouds in the sky—their moods change with the breeze, as quick to come as they are to go.

Seated in a KFC, Chunxia Munan devoured her meal, while Tianxing Zhao—after half a year with Jining’s group—no longer regarded fast food as a treat. He ate two burgers, then grew lost in thought, but solitude was not an option.

“Why did you stop eating?” she asked, mouth full of chicken.

“I’m full.”

She snorted. “No way. Two burgers and you’re full? With all the exercise you do?”

He glanced at the pile of chicken bones on her tray. By her standards, two burgers were but a trifle.

Reading his look, she blushed. “I don’t always eat this much. When I get emotional, my appetite skyrockets.”

Emotional? He nodded. She’d been through a lot in just a couple of days; some emotional volatility was perfectly normal.

She returned to her chicken, thinking, “It’s not a lie, really. He didn’t ask what made me emotional. Actually, just seeing food gets me excited.”

Because she measured his appetite by her own, there was still plenty left when her belly was round and full. She looked at the food with regret.

“You don’t like wings?” he asked, noting all the untouched ones.

She blinked and said nothing. He took the hint and, true to his principle of not wasting food, polished them off. The two left the restaurant, sunlight on their backs.

“Where to now?” she finally asked.

Just as she was about to say more, her face drained of color. She ducked her head, but the person behind had already seen her.

“Well, if it isn’t Chunxia Munan?” Junko Koizumi called, eyes alight, boyfriend Tsushita Kitano on her arm. She stepped right up.

Tianxing Zhao did not turn away. The timing was awkward, but he didn’t mind waiting until Munan finished her greetings.

He noticed how pale she had become, and was about to ask, when she bit her lip, on the verge of tears, clutching his sleeve as she hurried away.

Junko Koizumi was not surprised. She turned to her boyfriend and said, “That’s the girl I told you about—Munan. She’s got skills, but I hear she’s being kept by some rich old man, doesn’t even bother with school anymore, and owns an apartment in Setagaya...”

Her voice was not loud, but trailed just far enough to reach the two disappearing down the street.

Munan flinched as if struck, then bolted like a wounded animal.

Tianxing Zhao calmly packed two large bags of clothes into the trunk, then returned to the café, where Munan kept her head down.

“It’s all true,” she said lightly, stirring milk into her coffee.

He was momentarily confused, then realized what she meant. Unsure how to respond, he kept silent.

“I know you must look down on me, maybe even think I’m a woman who sold herself for vanity,” she continued, as if speaking of a stranger.

“And you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It was money that brought me here.” She stirred her coffee, gaze adrift.

“You tracked me down for the seal, but your information was clearly incomplete. You don’t even know the basics about me. You should consider switching sources,” she teased, though the light played across her face so that he couldn’t read her expression.

Tianxing Zhao thought of Katherine’s solemn face and shook his head. She was one of the few reliable people in the group—Jining and Aphra, naturally, were in a league of their own, but if they were the source, he’d have to double-check every detail. Qin Mo was diligent, but no match for Katherine in technical skills.

“Care to hear a short story?” she asked, not waiting for his response before taking a sip and continuing.

“My father abandoned my mother and me when I was very young, but I don’t hate him. My mother’s love was more than enough. She grew up in the countryside, and you know—you can’t live on love alone in the city. A woman with no education, no skills, and a child to raise could only rely on her looks. She worked as a hostess at a nightclub. Even as a child, I knew the way men looked at her was not kind, but I couldn’t blame her. She gave me everything she could, and I could ask for nothing more.” Her voice was calm, but the calm made the tale all the more cruel.

“As I grew, I realized what she’d relied on to raise me. Once, she was so shy she’d buy a kite in spring and have a child fly it for her in the square.” Munan lowered her head, stubbornly hiding her tears. The timid, tearful girl she’d once been was left behind on Yakushima.

Tianxing Zhao rose and offered her a napkin. She did not take it, nor did he withdraw his hand—he simply set the tissue gently on the table.

He was no fool; he would not offer trite words about the need for self-love in the absence of others’ care. If she was hungry, he fed her; if she cried, he gave her tissues. Yet he did not know how to comfort a wounded soul.

After some hesitation, he knelt beside her, gently wiping her face with the napkin.

Munan wanted to embrace him, but she resisted. She knew he might not refuse, but he would not embrace her in return.

“Thank you.” She looked up, red-eyed, managing a smile.

He said nothing, returning to his seat.

“There’s no escaping gossip in this world, especially when it’s true. One day, I was called a prostitute’s child. I came home in tears. My mother cried with me for a long, long time. She never knew I lay awake that night, watching her on the balcony. I knew what she was thinking—she didn’t even notice she’d knocked over her flowerpot, the only thing she’d ever bought for herself. She stood on the sixth floor, looking down, just a step away. But she looked back at me, and she could not do it. She stood there until dawn. The next day, she moved us to a new home, a new school.”

“Fate is the greatest whore,” Munan said, her tone flat, devoid of feeling. “She fell ill—chronic lymphocytic leukemia. It happened in an instant, and by the time we realized, it was too late.”

“I had no money. The cost of treatment was far beyond anything I could earn from odd jobs.” Her calm held a hopeless cruelty. Suffering is inexpressible, only ever approached by inching closer in words; empathy is ultimately a lie.

“I sold myself, just as she once did for me. But she raised me for nineteen years, and all I could do was watch her fade, using everything I had to make her last days less painful. That’s my story. Not a pleasant one—a story only fit for ridicule.”

Tianxing Zhao saw her, bathed in the fractured glow of sunset, as if cloaked in snow. She should have been light, but seemed so far away.

He did not speak. Silence rose between them like bubbles underwater—rising, bursting, gone. He knew he had no right to pity her, yet could not help himself.

He rose and went to the counter for a hot cocoa. Setting the steaming drink before her, he said, “I think I forgot to order a drink. I heard that sweet things can lift a girl’s spirits.”

Chunxia Munan looked up, tears glittering like crystal flowers in the sunlight. Such a clumsy comfort, and yet so warm it felt years overdue.

No one chooses depravity; everything in this world has its price. All things are exchanges of value, and she was just a child powerless before her mother’s death.

She accepted the cocoa, striving for a smile. “Thank you,” she murmured.

The moving car became a private world—small enough for two, busier than solitude, quieter than a crowd, without escape from the words spoken within.

Munan kept her face turned to the window. Her mother always told her to cherish all kindness in the world, so she cradled the cocoa, savoring it sip by sip, treasuring every bit of sweetness. With this small warmth, she found the courage to glance at her own faint reflection in the window.

Tianxing Zhao drove the car into an underground garage, lost in thought. Munan herself had no apparent link to the cult—could it be someone around her? Targeting a person's relationships to achieve an end was despicable, but effective, and the cult was nothing if not pragmatic.

“Have you ever received help from any organization, or has your mother—after she got sick, in order to pay for treatment…” He trailed off, for Munan was glaring at him.

“My mother is gone. If you think she’s the reason for our current trouble, you can let me out. I’ll handle whatever she left behind,” she snapped.

He dropped the subject. Sometimes, one must factor emotion into logic. Everything her mother did was for her—love would not have placed her in danger.

Munan rolled down the window and tossed out her empty cup. There was always trash somewhere, but garbage bins were rare on Tokyo streets. After years obeying the rules, her petulant act brought a strange satisfaction. She hated Tokyo—hated this factory of a city that reshaped everyone to fit its needs.

Tianxing Zhao apologized softly, then pulled over. Munan watched him in the rearview mirror as he picked up the discarded cup.

“Take me home,” she demanded, resenting his silence. She did not want his near-pitying patience. Did he think she was pitiful? The very thought dimmed her eyes.

“If you go back, they’ll find you within ten minutes,” he replied. Was this stubbornness normal for girls her age?

“That’s not my home, just where I live.” She lifted her chin. From his clear eyes, she was relieved not to see pity, but rather a gentle affection—though she knew it might be only for her face. Still, she had no right to ask for more.

“Where is your home?”

“Kagoshima.”

She didn’t actually live in Kagoshima city, but saying so made it sound closer and less troublesome. She felt a twinge of guilt for this minor deceit, but quickly justified it—did it matter if it was Kagoshima or even farther, Yakushima? As long as he promised, he always kept his word. She believed that without doubt.

Tianxing Zhao checked the map on his phone, then shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The moment you buy a plane or train ticket, you’ll be tracked.”

She was silent for a while. “You could drive me.”

“My companions are missing. I don’t have the time.” His tone was cool, reminding her of his responsibilities.

“But I really want to go home.” At that moment, she was like a child begging for a piece of candy, her clear eyes filled with an indescribable longing.

“You can wait a little, and when it’s safe, return. In the meantime, you can stay with me—I’ll keep you safe.”

“I don’t want to stay in Tokyo anymore.” Her voice was faint, but he heard it, and fell silent.

She said no more. She knew she was being unreasonable, but somehow felt she was the wronged party. From her bag she took a small, unusual seal—the ill-intentioned deer carved upon it had become a familiar sight in his life. She walked away, heading toward the back of the car. In her mind, leaving without goodbye was the best farewell.

Five minutes later, their positions had reversed: Munan outside the car, Tianxing Zhao watching her recede in the rearview mirror. He thought of “Tokyo Love Story,” of Akana Rika walking alone to the station. Only this girl was younger, prouder—the kind of thing all young women do, insisting on choices within their own options, but such unreasonableness is reserved for those they care about.

The best decision now would be to drive off, search for his missing companions. Munan was not his responsibility; his mission was the seal, and that was done.

He turned the key. The old Infiniti hesitated, then started—just old enough to match him in years. The engine’s breath pushed the car forward.

He had long known he was no god. So much in this world lay beyond his reach; often, the best choice was to do nothing.

But he could not remain unmoved.

At the first intersection, he turned the wheel, intending to leave. But halfway through, the car stalled, as if in protest at his driving. He paused, then, without hesitation, restarted the engine and turned the car around, heading after the direction Munan had gone.

In that stalled moment, a thought leapt into his mind—was the girl he’d searched for all this time as lonely as Munan, somewhere in this world? He had many reasons to just keep driving, but seeing that familiar, time-traversing figure, only one thought remained. He had missed too much in the past, spent too many days and nights in regret. Even if he was repeating the same mistake, even if all he could do was a little, he wanted to do something—just something, at least.