The train hung silently amidst the river of stars. Jiang Liang gazed out the window. The universe outside was ink-black. The nearest planet was a blurry, hazy white mass. The warm yellow carriage lights effectively insulated them from the external loneliness and cold. A radio on the table, capable of projecting virtual images, had been turned on before they boarded, its announcer's voice feeling comfortingly familiar.
"One, two, three... Me, Stelle, Dan Heng! Okay, everyone's back safely!"
The three had just returned to the Express, with Stelle bringing along the invisible Jiang Liang. After March 7th finished her headcount, she cheered and threw herself backward, landing squarely on the sofa.
Dan Heng had already returned to the Archives. The other passengers on the train seemed to have just missed them. Counting the unseen Jiang Liang, only the three of them were currently in the Parlor Car.
"I'm dead tired! I don't even want to move right now!"
March 7th hummed lazily, turning onto her side. Her clear, translucent pink-blue eyes happened to meet Jiang Liang's.
Stelle looked at March 7th staring at the ceiling, then at Jiang Liang having a staring contest with March 7th. Suddenly, she saw Jiang Liang stroke his chin and speak softly, "Say, when you need it, couldn't I perhaps go do some... sneaky business?"
While staring at March 7th, Jiang Liang only now realized his current state was pretty much like a ghost's.
Things a ghost could do, he could do too: phasing through walls, peeping... omnipotent, except he couldn't stray too far from Stelle.
"I think even when I don't need it, you can go do some sneaky business," Stelle whispered back, slightly exasperated.
Doing sneaky things when unseen is whatever. But doing it while being watched is no different from publicly displaying your chat history in front of friends.
"Speaking of which," Jiang Liang glanced towards the carriage door, "someone's coming."
Just as he said, the carriage door slid open. A red-haired woman with the air of a sophisticated lady strode out quickly on high heels.
A vibrant splash of red entered their vision. Her red hair was like burning flames. Against the deep red, her fair skin resembled fine, smooth suet jade. As she walked, her skirt swayed gracefully, hinting at the slender, well-proportioned legs beneath. Her red hair was meticulously styled, with a few slightly curled strands falling casually by her ears and neck, adding a touch of languid charm. Subtle makeup adorned her golden eyes, the corners slightly upturned with an imperceptible hint of amusement and anticipation.
"You're back!"
"Himeko!" March 7th shot up from her seat like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, launching herself like a cannonball into the red-haired woman's embrace, rubbing her cheek messily against Himeko's chest. "We almost didn't make it! If it weren't for Stelle at the last moment..."
"So dangerous, so dangerous! If Stelle hadn't been there, we would have been goners!"
"Alright, alright. You've all worked hard. Well done."
March 7th looked up. Though her clothes were covered in dust, Himeko didn't seem to mind, gently patting March 7th's back as if comforting a child, until the girl in her arms gradually calmed down.
While the two were still talking, Stelle, sitting on the sofa, quietly nudged Jiang Liang. "Want to come out for a bit later?"
"...Okay."
Jiang Liang paused for a second.
He did want to go out. Although he now existed independently of Stelle's consciousness, he was essentially just an invisible ghost – no temperature, no sense of touch, unable even to smell the aroma of coffee on the Astral Express. Unless he temporarily returned to Stelle's body, the world felt like it was viewed through frosted glass.
He had planned to bring this up after they had spent more time together.
"What, do I look like some kind of demon who'd imprison people?" Stelle tilted her head, unconsciously fiddling with the silver zipper on her jacket.
Although only born three days ago, she had devoured books on reading people, dark psychology, and even social maneuvering from the Express's bookshelf. Of course, most of the content collided and vanished in her brain like Antimatter Legion annihilating matter, but she had at least grasped the core idea that interpersonal relationships are a two-way street.
Just like Pom-Pom always said: you can't just wait for others to feed you energy drinks; you have to put coins into the vending machine yourself.
Emotional intelligence.
The books said that when dealing with friends, you naturally can't always be the 'go go go go go' big dog barking, nor can you be the 'come come come come come' repressed type.
[You have received permission. You no longer require permission to initiate control. You may exit at any time when not involved in an event.]
It works just like that?
Jiang Liang and Stelle exchanged a glance. The next second, their existences silently swapped.
A cold sensation suddenly pressed against his cheek. Jiang Liang whipped his head around to find March 7th holding a can of juice against his face. Condensation from the can was already sliding down his jawline to his collarbone.
He subconsciously took the can.
"Nuh-uh, this one's for you." The pink-haired girl sat down next to him, her own juice can already gurgling as she drank. She squinted her eyes, resembling two crescent moons reflecting the galaxy. "Just snuck these from the cold storage. Don't tell Pom-Pom, okay? Freshly squeezed juice takes too long!"
Jiang Liang glanced at Stelle, only to see her give him a thumbs-up, a subtle "good luck with that" smile playing on her lips. It was obvious she was getting back at him without even trying to hide it.
Damn it, isn't this girl afraid I'll immediately turn into some kind of account-stealing creep after swapping bodies?
"Aren't you thirsty? Himeko said Uncle Yang will be here soon, so I'll keep you company here, then go shower and rest. How about that? Grateful?"
"Such great kindness... truly unrepayable."
"It's me who owes you an unrepayable debt of gratitude!"
"Really owe you my life," March 7th mumbled, biting her straw.
The warm yellow light coated her slightly dazed face like melted butter. Condensation dripped from the can, sliding down her fingertips and pooling on the table.
"Back there, fighting Cocolia... if it wasn't for you, we probably would've all kicked the bucket." She swirled the can, ice clinking. "Not the normal kind, either. The kind where you don't even get the option to restart."
Jiang Liang remained silent, just sitting there quietly, like a block of wood or a tombstone – definitely not the reaction a living person should have.
Now wasn't the time for high-EQ interjections. The first time he died, he couldn't say anything either.
March 7th stared at the ceiling and suddenly laughed. "Right after I got on the train, I looked up what 'death' means in the Archives... Ha! No wonder I'm always goofing around happily. Turns out I just didn't understand."
She crushed the can in her hand, the metal groaning under the pressure.
"Now I get it. Being dead means... never being able to flash a peace sign for the camera again... never sneaking drinks from Himeko's hidden juice stash in the fridge... never hearing Pom-Pom nag about messing up the carriage..."
She suddenly turned her head, her nose almost bumping against Jiang Liang's cheek.
"So..." The sweet smell of orange juice mingled with her breath. "...being able to drink this juice is really great. Thank you."
Under the light, her eyelashes cast fine, fragmented shadows on her cheeks, like something fragile and transparent.
Clang!
The can sailed through the air in an arc, landing precisely in the trash bin. March 7th rubbed her cheeks vigorously, as if trying to knead away her previous expression, reverting to her usual carefree smile.
"Wow, suddenly saying such cool stuff," she shivered exaggeratedly. "So unlike me! See ya later!"
With that, she dashed towards the carriage door.
Just as March 7th entered the next carriage, another carriage door opened.
"Finished chatting?"
A man stepped out from the doorway. His short brown hair was neatly groomed, without a stray strand, glowing softly under the light.
Around his neck was a darker-colored scarf, neatly tucked into the standing collar of his windbreaker, only a small edge showing. His meticulous way of dressing somehow felt reassuring.
"You were eavesdropping."
Jiang Liang suddenly spoke.
Stelle, beside him, had already reminded him: this was that Uncle Yang, Welt Yang.
"Ahem, cough cough cough! No, I... I mean, I just happened to arrive."
Welt coughed a few times, looking slightly guilty, but quickly composed himself and sat down opposite Jiang Liang.
"Can you... perform that again? You know... that thing?"
He faltered, a rare occurrence. He opened his mouth, then fell silent again, unsure what to say. Finally, he simply took out his phone and showed it to Jiang Liang.
On the phone screen was the photo of him wielding the Judgment of Shamash.