Transmigrating Into a Book, the Villain Becomes the White Moonlight!

159: Chapter 159 The Truth About Ran ShuRan Shu’s hands began to tremble.

She looked down at her hands—she had long since lost count of how many people they had killed.

With every blade stroke and every mission, she told herself she was repaying a debt, that the Dragon King Hall had given her a second life.

But now someone was telling her that the so-called ”life-saving grace” might not even exist?

Then what did these ten years mean?

What did all that blood, those sleepless nights, and the lives lost at her hands—what did they mean?

”Do... do you have evidence?”

She looked up, her voice shaking violently, her eyes rimmed with red, but she forced herself to keep the tears from falling.

Su Bai looked at her, stood up straight, pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped it a few times, and handed it over.

On the screen was a yellowed photograph—a remittance slip showing the date, amount, and recipient. She didn’t recognize the recipient’s name, but she knew that string of dates. It was the day before her parents’ accident.

Below the slip was a line of handwritten remarks, the handwriting bold and powerful: ”Paid on behalf of the Young Master; no need to inform him.”

Young Master.

Su Bai.

Ran Shu stared at that line of text for a long, long time.

So long that the phone screen automatically timed out and went dark, reflecting her own pale face.

She handed the phone back to Su Bai, her movements slow, as if the strength in her hands had been drained away.

Then she took a step back and slumped onto the edge of the bed, her head lowered and her shoulders trembling slightly.

Su Bai didn’t speak; he just put the phone away and stood there, watching her.

After a long while, Ran Shu spoke, her voice very soft, like a speck of dust falling to the ground.

”My parents... how did they die?”

Su Bai didn’t answer immediately.

He glanced at Uncle Fu standing outside the door. Uncle Fu shook his head slightly, meaning ”not yet fully investigated.”

”It’s still being investigated,” Su Bai said, ”but some things, you might have to figure out for yourself.”

Ran Shu kept her head down, her shoulders shaking even harder.

She remembered many things. She remembered the timing when Brother Bufan’s master appeared before her—it was exactly when she was most desperate, exactly after that debt had been cleared.

She remembered when she was training desperately in the camp, the looks the instructors gave her sometimes held an indescribable meaning.

She remembered how, after every mission, Brother Bufan would say, ”This is for your own good, it’s to help you repay the debt of gratitude.”

Repay the debt of gratitude.

Whose gratitude?

If that debt wasn’t paid by them, what right did they have to collect her gratitude?

She looked up at Su Bai, her eyes incredibly red, but she didn’t cry.

”Do you know what this means?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Su Bai looked at her and nodded.

”I know,” he said.

Ran Shu stared at him, her lips moving as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Su Bai stood there, looking at Ran Shu’s pale face.

With her head down and shoulders shaking violently, she looked like a tree battered by a storm—teetering on the edge, yet stubbornly refusing to fall.

That bowl of rice was still sitting by the door, chopsticks neatly placed on the rim, long since cold.

Uncle Fu walked in from outside. His footsteps were light, but in this quiet cubicle, they were clearly audible.

He came to a stop beside Su Bai, his gaze falling on Ran Shu. On that face that had remained expressionless for decades, a rare look of complexity appeared.

”Young Master,” Uncle Fu spoke, his voice kept very low, ”Something... was just found.”

Su Bai turned his head to look at him.

Uncle Fu said no more, simply handing over his phone. On the screen was a newly received investigation report; the text was concise, but the information was heavy enough to stun anyone.

Su Bai looked down, his brow slowly furrowing.

Then he looked up at Ran Shu.

”Little Fullness,” he called her.

Ran Shu didn’t move.

”There’s something I have to tell you,” Su Bai’s voice was a bit deeper than before, losing its lazy tone. ”Listen carefully.”

Ran Shu slowly raised her head, her eyes very red, but she didn’t cry. She just looked at him like a trapped beast driven into a corner, waiting for the final sentence.

”Your parents’ deaths,” Su Bai paused, ”were not an accident.”

Ran Shu’s eyes widened slightly.

”It was Brother Bufan’s master who did it.”

These words fell into the cubicle like a stone dropped into stagnant water; what splashed up wasn’t water, but a deathly silence.

Ran Shu froze there.

She looked at Su Bai, her gaze moving from his face to the phone, then from the phone back to his face. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t make a sound.

Su Bai handed the phone over. She took it and looked down.

The text on the screen was very brief: Upon investigation, Ran Shu’s parents did not die from enemy retaliation; it was personally planned and executed by the founder of the Dragon King Hall. Motive unknown.

Afterward, Brother Bufan stepped in to take in the orphan, fabricating a debt of gratitude.

She read it three times.

The first time, she didn’t understand.

The second time, she understood, but felt it was fake.

The third time, she recognized every word and understood the meaning when they were put together, but her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton; she couldn’t react to anything.

The phone slipped from her hand, fell onto the bed, then rolled to the floor, screen down, making a dull thud.

”Impossible...”

Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking in her sleep.

”He... he saved me... his master saved me...” She looked up at Su Bai, her eyes terrifyingly hollow. ”They were the ones who appeared on that rainy night... they were the ones who took me away... they were...”

Su Bai didn’t speak.

Uncle Fu, standing to the side, suddenly spoke, his voice old and steady: ”After that debt was cleared back then, your parents were supposed to be safe. But the next night, the incident occurred.”

Ran Shu turned to look at him.

”I went to inquire afterward,” Uncle Fu said. ”There were signs of a struggle at the scene; it wasn’t an ordinary vendetta. But at the time, it wasn’t convenient for the Su Family to intervene too deeply, so I could only let it go for the time being. Later, you were taken away and your whereabouts were unknown, so the matter was left aside.”

As Ran Shu listened, the color drained from her face bit by bit.

She remembered many things.

She remembered that rainy night, hiding in the cupboard, hearing the chaos outside. She remembered the door being opened later, and Brother Bufan’s master standing at the threshold, reaching out to her and saying, ’Come with me, I’ll help you.’

She thought that was a life-saving grace.

She thought that was the only light in the darkness.

She thought that the people she killed, the blood she spilled, and the nights she endured over these ten years were all to repay this gratitude.

But now someone was telling her that the beam of light was a murderer in disguise.

The person who reached out was the very hand that pushed her parents into the abyss.

”Ah...”

She let out an extremely soft sound, as if her throat were being squeezed.

Then she doubled over, clutching her head with both hands, curling into a ball.

There was no sound of crying.

Only her shoulders shook violently, over and over, as if to shake out ten years of grievance and absurdity. But she gritted her teeth, stubbornly refusing to let any sound escape her mouth.

Su Bai watched her, but didn’t step forward.

Uncle Fu also stood in place, unmoving.

Only the sound of suppressed, intermittent breathing remained in the cubicle.

After a long time, Ran Shu slowly straightened up.

Her eyes were completely red, and tears hung on her lashes but didn’t fall. She looked at Su Bai, her lips moving, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

”Why?”

Su Bai knew she wasn’t asking ”Why kill my parents,” but ”Why tell me.”

He looked into those eyes—they were the eyes of Little Fullness, and also the eyes of Dragon Two. They had seen too much blood and hidden too many secrets. Now they just looked at him, waiting for an answer.

”Because you need to know the truth,” Su Bai said, ”and then you decide for yourself what to do next.”

Ran Shu looked at him without speaking.

”It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not.”

Su Bai’s voice rang out in the quiet cubicle, not loud, but as clear as a pebble hitting the water’s surface.

He looked at Ran Shu curled up by the bed; there wasn’t much expression on that face, but deep in her eyes, there was a tiny glimmer—not light, but something else, something even he couldn’t quite name.

”I’ve already found Brother Bufan’s location.” He paused. ”I’m telling you this not to make you believe me, nor to have you tell me anything.”

Ran Shu slowly raised her head.

Her eyes were red through and through, and tear tracks hung on her face, though they had already dried. She just looked at him, waiting.

Su Bai stood there, sunlight shining in from behind him, outlining a backlit silhouette.

He was silent for a few seconds, as if words were stuck in his throat and required effort to speak.

”After all...”

He paused again.

”After all, we were friends back then.”

When he said this, his voice was a bit lower and slower than before.

It wasn’t his habitual laziness, but something more real—a bit hesitant, a bit unfamiliar, like a word long unused that felt strange to pick up again.

Ran Shu’s eyelashes fluttered.

Friends.

She hadn’t heard that word in a long time.

There were no friends in the training camp, only competition and survival. There were no friends on missions, only targets and tools.

It had been ten years; she thought she had long since forgotten what that word meant.

But Su Bai just said it. He said it so naturally, yet so unnaturally.

She looked at him.

”This matter,” Su Bai took half a step back, his gaze moving from her face to the phone on the floor, ”take your time to process it. No rush.”

He said nothing more and turned toward the door.

Uncle Fu stepped aside to clear the way, his gaze lingering on Ran Shu’s face for a moment before following Su Bai out.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud.

Ran Shu still sat there, staring at the door.

She lowered her head and looked at her hands.

The next day, at noon.

Sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a crooked line of light on the floor.

When Mu Xue came out of the bedroom, Lin Wan was already sitting at the dining table, phone in hand, with a half-finished glass of milk in front of her.

”Morning,” Mu Xue greeted, walking toward the kitchen.

”It’s not early anymore,” Lin Wan said without looking up. ”Twelve-oh-seven.”

Mu Xue paused and looked back at her.

Lin Wan put her phone down and looked up, her gaze meeting Mu Xue’s calmly. ”Su Bai didn’t come back last night.”

”I know.”

”Do you know where he is?”

Mu Xue didn’t answer. She took a carton of milk from the fridge, poured it into a cup, and put it in the microwave.

After the beep, she brought the warmed milk over and sat down opposite Lin Wan.

”You didn’t call him?” Mu Xue asked.

”I did,” Lin Wan said. ”No one picked up.”

Mu Xue glanced at her phone; the screen was empty. She tried calling as well, and likewise, no one answered.

The two women looked at each other across the table.

”What about Uncle Fu?” Mu Xue asked.

”Didn’t ask.”

”Why didn’t you ask?”

Lin Wan took a sip of milk, set the cup down, and looked at Mu Xue. ”Why didn’t you?”

Mu Xue was stunned for a moment, then understood her meaning—neither had asked because neither wanted to seem more concerned than the other.

Childish.

But it had happened nonetheless.

Mu Xue looked down, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup.

She remembered Su Bai’s appearance when he left last night, that hurried back, as if something was up.

Later, as she lay in bed listening to the movements outside, she never heard him return.

She hadn’t called him.

It wasn’t because she didn’t want to, but because Lin Wan was also living here. She didn’t want Lin Wan to think she was ”competing.”

Now it seemed Lin Wan had the same thought.

Both had held back, and as a result, neither knew where Su Bai had gone.

Mu Xue suddenly felt like laughing.

”What are you laughing at?” Lin Wan asked.

”Nothing.” Mu Xue put down her milk cup and stood up. ”I’m going out for a bit.”

”Where to?”

”The Club.”

Lin Wan looked at her without speaking.

When Mu Xue reached the door and was changing her shoes, she heard the sound of a chair moving behind her. She turned and saw Lin Wan had also stood up.

”I’ll go with you,” Lin Wan said.

Mu Xue glanced at her but didn’t refuse.

The two of them left the house one after the other.

At the entrance of the Club.

Chu Ci was checking the accounts when she received the call. Hearing that the two young mistresses of the Su Family had arrived at the same time, she was stunned for a moment before realizing who they were.

She set down her work and hurried out to greet them.

Mu Xue and Lin Wan stood at the door, one in a light gray trench coat and the other in a black knit jacket. Standing together, their aura was so subtle it made one unsure how to even start a conversation.

”Did Young Master Su come by last night?” Mu Xue got straight to the point.

Chu Ci’s heart skipped a beat, but she remained composed.

She looked at the two of them, her mind racing—Su Bai had indeed come last night, then gone to the basement, and after that... he hadn’t seemed to come out.

But could she say that?

If she did, would these two charge straight down there?

If they saw the woman being held there, would there be trouble?

But if she didn’t say anything...

”He did,” Chu Ci finally chose to tell the truth—she couldn’t afford to offend people from the Su Family.

”Is he still here?”

”Yes.” Chu Ci paused. ”In the basement.”

Mu Xue and Lin Wan exchanged a look.

The basement.

Those two words combined didn’t sound like a good place at all.

As they were speaking, footsteps approached from behind.

Su Bai walked over from the other end of the corridor. Seeing the two women standing there, he paused, a look of surprise appearing on his face.

”What are you two doing here?”

Lin Wan looked at him and spoke: ”You didn’t come back all night, so we came to see you.”

Su Bai was taken aback. Before he could say anything, he noticed Chu Ci standing aside, peeking over.

He gave her a look, and Chu Ci immediately understood. She nodded and quietly withdrew.