She's a Passerby, But Can See the Protagonist's Halo-Chapter 114

Zheng Yi’s voice was calm, her tone as nondescript as her appearance, extending the invitation casually.

He Xing pressed her lips together, then nodded.

Inside ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‍the convenience store, Zheng Yi asked what she wanted. He Xing scanned the options at the counter—grilled sausages, steamed buns, oden—and chose only seaweed knots, daikon, and konjac strips, all vegetarian.

Zheng Yi, on the other hand, piled her tray high—a cup of oden paired with a juicy grilled sausage. They sat on high stools by the window, the theater entrance visible through the glass.

"Your self-control is impressive," Zheng Yi remarked, eyeing He Xing’s all-vegetable oden.

He Xing paused, the bamboo skewer hovering over her konjac. She wondered if there was more to the comment.

"Occupational requirement," she replied flatly.

As she ate quietly, countless thoughts flickered through her mind.

She waited for the officer’s probing questions, for the conversation to take a turn—but Zheng Yi simply ate, her gaze drifting outside. She devoured her food quickly, polishing off the oden before slurping the broth with unceremonious gusto, then crunching into the sausage.

Noticing He Xing’s stare, Zheng Yi turned. "What’s up?"

She wiggled the nearly finished sausage on her skewer. "Want some? I can grab another."

"No, thank you," He Xing answered stiffly, looking away.

She had assumed the officer brought her here to talk—had even prepared responses. Yet Zheng Yi seemed genuinely interested only in eating, stuffing herself contentedly.

He Xing finished her meager oden in silence before Zheng Yi spoke again.

"Miss He, mind adding me on WeChat?"

Every instinct told her to refuse, yet somehow, meeting Zheng Yi’s gaze, she pulled up her QR code.

She didn’t understand herself.

This was a stranger she’d just met. She wanted nothing to do with the police. Yet something about this officer’s peculiar aura compelled her, resistance warring with inexplicable hesitation.

Her phone chimed—a new contact notification.

He Xing saw the WeChat name: "Zheng Yi." So that was the character for "Yi." Her eyes flickered.

Zheng Yi—Justice. Was there a connection?

Was she overthinking it? Or not thinking enough?

"Yan and the others are almost here. I’ll grab more food." Zheng Yi hopped off the stool, disposing of her trash.

When she returned with another round of snacks, she handed He Xing a small, ugly, deep-blue hand warmer.

He Xing blinked. "What’s this?"

"For you." Zheng Yi’s words were clipped.

"Your hands are cold. This’ll help."

Noticing He Xing’s hesitation, she added, "It’s new."

The price tag still dangled from the scorching-hot warmer, clearly just purchased.

"How much? I’ll transfer you," He Xing said.

She hated owing favors—especially unexplained, seemingly purposeless kindness.

"Nah, I bought it. No reason for you to pay," Zheng Yi dismissed.

"You’re right," He Xing said suddenly, locking eyes with her.

"My parents taught me early—handle your own business."

Zheng Yi studied the storm of emotions in her gaze, like flames raging behind glass.

She preferred directness, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t navigate subtleties.

"I want to see you onstage, Miss He."

"Dancer He Xing," she emphasized.

Don’t let scum stain your hands with blood.

She deserved a bright future, a spotlight onstage.

He Xing turned away. She’d already died once.

Her fingers clenched around the hand warmer.

After enduring countless worlds, she’d thought herself numb—yet the memories of suffering still carved hatred into her bones.

She’d lived through every agony in tragic tales—heartbreak, betrayal, torment. Day after night, night after day, it was hatred that kept her going.

This officer’s words wouldn’t sway her from vengeance. She refused.

She’d long accepted bloody hands—so what?

A life for a life. Justice demanded it.

Three lives—her parents’, her own.

Alone in this world, what did she have left to fear?

And with her methods, what could this world’s laws possibly uncover?

"Have you heard about the Xie family case?" Zheng Yi continued, though He Xing neither looked at her nor responded.

She noted the slight twitch of He Xing’s ear and smiled faintly.

"It’s my case," she said evenly.

"High-profile to the public, but to me, just another solvable file."

He Xing’s grip tightened. Zheng Yi—Justice. It really was her.

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"I’m not bragging."

"Just telling you—I have the ability."

"And I’ll see it through."

Zheng Yi knew this wasn’t a monologue.

Every micro-expression of He Xing’s had already betrayed her.

"We’re here!" Yan’s voice cut through as she and Jue Jue rushed into the store, spotting them through the window.

Taking in He Xing’s tense expression, they hurried over—clearly, things between her and Zheng Yi weren’t exactly warm.

Zheng Yi waved. "Come on, got you some food."

"Thanks! Starving," Yan said, plopping down with Zhu Jue as they dug in.

"It’s only six now. Gotta last till nine—no way without snacks," Yan mumbled through a mouthful of shiitake oden.

"This sausage is pretty good, just the kind you like." Zhu Jue took a bite, confirming it matched Yan's preferred texture and flavor.

"Really?" Yan chewed enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up. The outside was crispy, and there were crunchy bits inside—a fragrant black pepper flavor.

"Senior, are you going back to school tonight?" Yan asked between bites, her words slightly muffled.

The performance of The Goddess of the Luo River ran for 120 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission. Adding the curtain call, it would likely end around 9:20 PM.

If they took the subway back to Bin University, they could just barely make it before the 11 PM curfew.

But tomorrow was the weekend—otherwise, she and Jue Jue wouldn’t have gone out. Tonight, Yan and Jue Jue had already booked a hotel downtown near the theater.

"No, I’m staying in the city for the weekend. I booked a hotel," He Xing replied, shaking her head.

Including tonight’s show, she had tickets for five performances this weekend. Staying nearby was just more convenient.

Yan and her boyfriend’s appearance had only made the tangled thoughts in her heart even more complicated.

"Mmm, they’ve started letting people in," Yan noted as the crowd outside the theater visibly thinned, filing inside. She and Jue Jue quickly picked up their pace with the food.

"The cast list is out," Zhu Jue said, checking his phone. The theater had only announced the cast an hour before the show. Luckily, they hadn’t bought these tickets themselves—otherwise, gambling on the cast would’ve been nerve-wracking, always fearing last-minute replacements.

"All A-cast?" Yan asked.

"All A-cast."

That meant Fu Yao wasn’t performing tonight—she was the understudy.

Yan suddenly felt at ease. It seemed nothing unexpected would happen tonight. She stole glances at Officer Zheng Yi and Senior He Xing.

She just wondered what had happened between them before she and Jue Jue arrived. Had Zheng Yi already made a move?

At 6:20 PM, they entered the theater together, first stopping by the restrooms.

The official merchandise booth was packed. When Yan came out of the restroom, she saw He Xing already flipping through a program book she’d picked up.

Yan’s eyelids twitched. The four of them took their seats together—middle of the fifth row, her usual preferred spot.

For plays, she liked the front rows; for dance dramas, rows 5 to 8 in the center. The first few rows strained the neck, while the back required binoculars. Large-scale scenes were best viewed from the balcony.

Before Yan could decide whether to nudge He Xing and Zheng Yi together or keep them apart, the two had already taken their seats.

Well, they were sitting next to each other. That left Yan and Jue Jue to He Xing’s right.

Yan glanced around. The orchestra seats were still filling up, some spots empty. A few audience members looked older, their gazes giving off an air of authority—like department heads or deans.

The balcony, however, seemed full. She spotted people already holding binoculars.

Yan pulled out two small binoculars from Jue Jue’s backpack—her just-in-case backup—and fiddled with them.

Before the show started, Zheng Yi, who’d never seen this kind of performance, asked He Xing several beginner-level questions.

He Xing patiently answered each one, and soon, even nearby audience members began chiming in, cramming last-minute knowledge.

The dance drama The Goddess of the Luo River began. The credits rolled on the screen, applause followed, and then silence fell as the performance officially started.

The next two hours were immersive. The dance drama didn’t focus on the love triangle from Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River but instead depicted the mythical water goddess herself.

During intermission, even more audience members turned to He Xing with questions about parts they didn’t understand. She patiently explained everything.

Yan and Zheng Yi both watched her. Despite her plain makeup and simple outfit, He Xing seemed to glow as she spoke with such passion.

This was completely different from her usual demeanor at school or in the dorm. Here, immersed in her beloved field, she illuminated every question with patience.

For those two hours, seated to He Xing’s right, Yan stole glances at her. But He Xing never seemed to notice—her eyes remained fixed on the stage, on the dancers.

During brief pauses, she never clapped along with the audience. Only at the very end, during the five curtain calls, did Yan hear her thunderous applause.

At 9:30 PM, many audience members rushed out, but they weren’t in a hurry.

Yan and Jue Jue walked ahead, while Zheng Yi and He Xing lingered behind.

Yan glanced back. The front rows had already emptied, but He Xing stood by her seat, staring at the stage.

Beside her, Zheng Yi simply stood there, as if keeping her company.

They were among the last to leave, avoiding the crowd. By the time the four of them stepped out of the theater, the people ahead were already far away.

"What should we do tomorrow?" Yan skipped along, texting Bing Bing her thoughts on the dance drama to share the excitement.

"Lu Chen hasn’t shown up this month," Zhu Jue suddenly remarked. Yan paused.

She fiddled with her fingers. "Oh, right… It’s been over a month. Did our VIP status delay his arrival?"

"Maybe he hasn’t returned yet? I hope nothing’s wrong," Zhu Jue mused.

Who knew which dimension Lu Chen had wandered off to this time? According to the pattern of the dimensional convenience store’s appearances, the monthly portal should’ve opened by now.

After a brief moment of concern for Lu Chen, they turned to find Zheng Yi and He Xing still walking slowly, deep in conversation.

Zheng Yi walked on He Xing’s left. The night breeze carried her voice closer to He Xing’s ear.

"Ms. He, my colleagues often tease me."

"It’s because I’m a bit lazy—I hate work, and I especially hate meetings. I’m always a few minutes late."

"So they say this about me: Justice may be delayed, but it never fails to arrive."

Tonight, Bin City’s sky was studded with stars, the moonlight bright.

They walked under streetlamps, the white light casting elongated shadows that twisted as they moved forward.

At this moment, Zheng Yi reached out her right hand to He Xing once more.

He Xing looked down to find that hand grasping her left.

She stared at Zheng Yi in shock.

But that warm, slightly rough hand slid between her fingers, locking them together in an unbreakable grip.

He Xing looked up to see her smiling.

"Justice has found you, He Xing."

"It’s right here in your palm."

The cold streetlight bathed her like the radiance of righteousness itself.