Reborn As A Doomsday Villainess
Chapter 237

Chapter 237: 237

They met in the middle, biting the pill at the same time, then pulling it back with a faint snap.

She chewed and swallowed, glaring at the ceiling as if trying to banish the awkwardness with sheer will.

Ruihuang’s face was turned carefully to the side, but his ears, oh, his ears were bright red now.

"Don’t get turned on.." Qingran warned flatly.

"I’m won’t!" he snapped, too fast.

"You smell like hormones."

"You’re imagining things!"

Lingquan practically howled with laughter now. "You two should kiss just to get it over with. We’d all feel better."

"Lingquan, I will throw you out the window."

"I can land on my feet, sweetheart. But go on. Try!."

Qingran bit the edge of the next pill. "Let’s just finish this."

Ruihuang sighed, biting the next pill’s edge with a grimace. "Let’s just not talk."

They repeated the awkward little ritual eight more times.

By the seventh, Qingran had stopped flinching, and Ruihuang had stopped pretending he wasn’t staring at her lips.

By the tenth, their faces were way too close, their breath mingling.

Qingran didn’t get the luxury of cringing at the awkwardness anymore.

Because the moment the tenth pill settled in her stomach, her body seized.

Her breath hitched sharply, like she’d been punched straight in the chest and she instinctively doubled over, her hand slapping against the floor for balance.

Then came the burn.

Not on her skin, but inside. Like acid being poured into her lungs.

Like someone had taken tiny blades and was slicing her organs, bit by bit.

Her ribs felt like they were splintering from within, every heartbeat a brutal hammerstrike against her spine.

She gritted her teeth hard enough that her jaw ached and her vision blurred.

But she didn’t scream.

She wouldn’t.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she bowed her head further, fingers trembling as they gripped at her own hair, yanking the strands at the scalp just to anchor herself to force her mind to focus on something else.

Anything else.

Her shoulders were heaving now, drenched in sweat. The jacket stuck to her skin like a second, suffocating layer.

Lingquan had gone quiet. All humor drained from his face, replaced by a grim, unreadable stillness. He didn’t move toward her, not yet. He knew she wouldn’t want that.

Ruihuang didn’t speak either.

He watched, jaw clenched tight, fists balled so hard that the veins in his arms stood out.

Qingran stayed curled forward, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

Blood welled against her tongue, but she welcomed it, anything to distract her.

Qingran didn’t scream.

But Ruihuang heard everything in the way her body shuddered, in the way her breath broke halfway through her lungs like something sharp had been lodged in her chest.

He didn’t move at first not because he didn’t want to but because Lingquan had raised a hand without looking at him.

Let her fight it, that motion had said.

Let her endure.

But when her knuckles went white from gripping her own hair, when her lips cracked from the pressure she was biting down, Ruihuang couldn’t watch anymore.

He moved.

Quietly and carefully.

He crouched in front of her, not close enough to touch, but close enough to steady her if she collapsed.

Close enough that he could see the sweat trailing down her temples, could hear the sharp, tight wheeze she tried to disguise as a breath.

"Qingran..." he said, low and even, but not cold. "You don’t have to prove anything."

Her head jerked slightly at the sound of his voice. Her eyes didn’t meet his, but he saw the glimmer in them, the fight, the fury, the stubborn refusal to let weakness show.

She was still trembling. Her fingers still had a death grip on her hair.

But she hadn’t let out a single sound of pain.

That... that made something in Ruihuang ache.

"Don’t talk to me like I’m broken," she whispered, her voice cracking with each word. "I can handle it.."

"You shouldn’t have to be in this much pain alone."

"I’m not alone..." she said. "You’re fucking staring aren’t ya?"

His lips twitched. It wasn’t a smile.

"...Yeah.." he admitted. "Because it’s killing me to watch you hurt like this."

Her breathing hitched.

And this time not from the pills.

Ruihuang didn’t look away. "You can drop for a minute, you know. You don’t always have to be steel."

"I am steel.." she bit out, but her tone faltered as another wave hit her spine.

And then her legs buckled.

She didn’t fall, not fully Ruihuang caught her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders before she could even hit the bedframe.

He guided her down slowly, gently, like handling something precious.

She should’ve shoved him off.

She should’ve snarled at him and told him to back away.

But instead... she leaned, just for a second, against his chest.

Just to breathe.

Just to stop shaking.

"...This doesn’t mean anything..." she mumbled, head buried near his collarbone.

"Sure..." he murmured back, pulling the towel Lingquan left and patting her damp hair. "Whatever you say."

But his hands were careful.

The pain dulled gradually, not in a gentle way but like a fire running out of oxygen—still smoldering, still hot, but no longer consuming her from the inside out. Qingran’s grip on her own hair slackened, and her breathing, though shallow, began to steady.

She blinked slowly, disoriented for a heartbeat, and then realized exactly where she was—leaning against Ruihuang’s chest, his hand still resting on her back, the towel in his other hand damp from her sweat.

Her body tensed.

And with sudden urgency, she pushed herself upright, slipping out of his hold without meeting his eyes. Ruihuang’s arms lowered slowly, fingers curling with hesitation at the empty space she left behind.

He didn’t say anything, but the shift in him was obvious. Like something had been handed to him and snatched away in the same breath.

Qingran coughed hard, clearing her throat. "Thanks," she said curtly. "For the help."

Ruihuang just nodded, face unreadable.

But Lingquan, sitting on the kitchen counter, narrowed his eyes slightly and said nothing.

Qingran straightened further, brushing damp strands of hair off her face. Her voice, when she spoke again, was sharper—focused. No more shaking.

"Listen up," she said. "What we’re going up against isn’t just some random cultist."

Her gaze flicked between both of them.

"She’s a member of the elite team. High-ranking. A system user. That means she’s not only powerful, she’s backed."

Lingquan’s eyes sharpened. Ruihuang stood a bit straighter.

"She’s not alone. Her cult has grown, spread like a virus. If we go about this the long way, taking down her people one by one, clearing out zones then I die before we ever reach her."

There was no hesitation in her tone.

"I’m not doing that."

Ruihuang’s brows furrowed. "You want to go straight to her?"

Qingran nodded once. "I don’t want to rescue or fight her pawns. I want the source. I want to stand in front of her and make her remove this poison."

Her hand clenched over her shoulder where the black veins had receded slightly but were still visible under the skin.

"I want her to see me still alive."

Lingquan tilted his head. "And then?"

"I kill her..." Qingran said coldly. "Slowly. Loudly. So everyone else watching knows exactly what happens when they come for me."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

No one questioned the fire in her voice.

Ruihuang was the first to speak. "...Then we need a plan. Fast travel. Disguises. Distraction maybe."

"I’ll draw her out..." Qingran said. "She’ll come to me. She thinks I’m weak. Let her believe it. Let her walk right into the kill zone."

Lingquan hopped off the counter, finally cracking a smirk. "Now that’s the Qingran I know."

"Shut up and start mapping the fastest route.." she muttered. "We leave before dawn."

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the pale-glow panels embedded into the stone walls.

The air inside was cold, unnaturally so, the kind that made breath fog even when no one was breathing hard.

At the center of the chamber, on an elevated seat carved into the wall like a throne, sat Fengya.

Her white hair flowed like water over her shoulders, an eerie contrast to her ink-dark robes. Her eyes, pure white, without pupil, glowed faintly, as if reflecting something only she could see.

This was her true form.

Her fingers tapped the armrest once, then twice. Then stopped.

Below her, kneeling in uneven formation, were her subordinates, cloaked cultists, all draped in her sigil, faces hidden behind masks of bone and silver.

A slender man at the front bowed low. "We’ve swept Zones Two and Three. There’s no trace of her. The last energy spike we detected was a false lead.."