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

157: Chapter 157 Luck(Got into a car accident, almost died. Woke up in the hospital yesterday, didn’t update, didn’t even ask for leave.)

The night was already deep.

The place where Ran Shu was being held was in the deepest part of the Club. Passing through several corridors and descending a flight of stairs, they finally reached that iron door.

When Su Bai pushed the door open, Butler Fu was already waiting inside.

It was a small compartment, only about ten square meters, with cement walls and no windows. Only two palm-sized ventilation openings were near the ceiling, letting in a sliver of moonlight that cast two small, pale patches of light on the floor.

The furnishings were simple—a single bed, a table, a chair, and a simple sink in the corner.

Ran Shu was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall, her head tilted back as she stared blankly at the two ventilation openings.

She had changed out of her training clothes from the day, wearing a thin gray jacket instead. Her hair was down, covering half of her face.

Hearing the door open, she turned her head to glance over. Her gaze lingered on Su Bai’s face for a moment before shifting away. Her expression was unreadable, but her lips tightened slightly, as if suppressing something.

Su Bai scanned the room—there were no ropes, handcuffs, or anything like that in sight, and Ran Shu herself was not restrained in any way. This was consistent with Butler Fu’s usual approach; he never resorted to harsh methods with women and children.

”How was your rest?”

Su Bai casually pulled over the chair and sat down opposite Ran Shu. The legs of the chair scraped lightly against the floor, a sound that seemed especially clear in the quiet room.

”...It was alright.”

Ran Shu spoke, her voice somewhat dry. Her gaze moved past Su Bai and landed on Butler Fu standing behind him.

Butler Fu was just as he always was, standing ramrod straight, his face expressionless. But his eyes were different from earlier in the day—there was less scrutiny, and something more that was hard to define. Ran Shu knew what it was.

Ten years ago, when she was just a little girl, Butler Fu had taught her a few martial arts moves.

Back then, she was just a little girl trailing behind Su Bai. Butler Fu thought she had decent talent and taught her some self-defense skills. Those skills had later saved her life and helped her gain a foothold in the Dragon King Hall.

She didn’t know if Butler Fu still remembered those times. But judging from where he stood, the way he looked at her, and this cell without restraints—he remembered.

”I just found those two people,” Su Bai said, crossing his legs and speaking casually, as if chatting about everyday matters. ”The ones who roughed up Brother Bufan.”

Ran Shu raised her eyes to look at him.

”It’s quite a coincidence, actually,” Su Bai smiled. ”Do you know who those two were? They were the two clowns Brother Bufan hired to deal with me back then. One bald, one balding, a pair of fools.”

Ran Shu didn’t respond, just kept staring at him.

She was genuinely curious—ever since that phone call this afternoon, she had noticed that Su Bai seemed completely unaware of Brother Bufan’s kidnapping.

The surprise in his tone when he asked Chu Ci on the phone didn’t sound feigned.

If Su Bai hadn’t ordered Brother Bufan’s kidnapping, then who exactly was behind it?

Why was the Dragon King so certain the Su Family was responsible?

”Those two didn’t manage to kidnap me,” Su Bai continued on his own, ”but they ended up kidnapping your Dragon King instead. Isn’t that hilarious?”

As he spoke, a slight smile actually appeared on his face, as if reminiscing about something amusing.

Ran Shu didn’t smile.

She just looked at Su Bai, something else flickering in her eyes.

”But to be honest,” Su Bai’s smile faded as he leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed directly on her face, ”I never provoked your Dragon King at all. Why on earth did he have to send someone to deal with me?”

Ran Shu’s pupils contracted slightly.

”You know the Dragon King?”

Her voice was lower and slower than before, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between her teeth.

The identity of Brother Bufan as the Dragon King was the highest-level secret within the Dragon King Hall.

Apart from core members, no one knew his true identity. Within the country, there were almost no people who knew—not just ’knowing there is such a person,’ but ’knowing Brother Bufan is the Dragon King.’ These were two completely different concepts.

Yet Su Bai’s words just now clearly indicated: he knew Brother Bufan was the Dragon King.

Su Bai didn’t answer, just leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

That gaze was unnervingly calm.

Ran Shu suddenly felt a chill in this ten-square-meter room.

”What’s so hard to know about that?”

Su Bai leaned back in his chair, his crossed leg swaying slightly, his tone carrying that inscrutable casualness.

He even had a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, as if discussing some trivial matter.

”Your Dragon King Hall might be quite intimidating abroad, with titles like the number one organization, top of the assassination rankings, and such,” he said, waving a hand vaguely in the air. ”But domestically, it’s really quite low-tier. Know why? Because basically no one has heard of it. Things like Dragon King Hall, Phoenix King Hall—within the country, they’re not even believable enough to be flyers posted on the street.”

Ran Shu stared at him, her brows slightly furrowed.

The words sounded harsh, but she couldn’t refute them.

The Dragon King Hall truly had little fame within the country.

Over the years on missions, her footsteps had spanned over a dozen countries. She had seen the faces of politicians and tycoons instantly pale upon hearing the words ’Dragon King Hall.’

But in China, that name was like a stone dropped into a deep pond, not even a ripple.

It wasn’t a lack of capability; it was that no one knew at all.

What Su Bai said was indeed the truth.

But precisely because he spoke the truth, the confusion in Ran Shu’s heart deepened.

He knew about the Dragon King Hall’s situation abroad—knew this organization was ’somewhat famous.’ But did he know what the Dragon King Hall actually did? Did he know the scale of this organization’s power?

And the more important question: How exactly did he know Brother Bufan was the Dragon King?

After Brother Bufan came to China, his public identity had always been a bodyguard for the Nangong Family.

This cover identity was seamless. Unless you were inside the Dragon King Hall, it was impossible to connect the names ’Brother Bufan’ and ’Dragon King.’

How did Su Bai know?

And then there was Su Bai and Mu Xue...

Ran Shu recalled the information she had investigated.

Su Bai, the Young Master of the Su Family, A City’s top-tier rich second-generation heir, had a past with Mu Xue, the Nangong Family’s young lady.

They had broken up for some unknown reason, but recently they were entangled again.

After the Dragon King came to China, he had also set his sights on Mu Xue.

In Ran Shu’s view, this was just a clichéd love triangle.

The Dragon King liked Mu Xue. Mu Xue liked Su Bai—no, Mu Xue and Su Bai already had a history; it should be a rekindled old flame. The Dragon King, coming later, could only watch helplessly.

So the Dragon King had to act.

So the Dragon King sent her to kill Su Bai.

It was truly disgusting.

Ran Shu lowered her eyes, her lips pressed into a tight line.

She had been in the Dragon King Hall for so many years, carried out countless missions, and never questioned an order.

But this time was different. The target this time was someone she knew from childhood, the one who had given her steamed buns and let her feel a bit of warmth in her bleak childhood.

And what was even more disgusting was that, to this day, she still couldn’t understand why the Dragon King was so determined to target Su Bai.

Just because of a woman?

Just because of that ridiculous ’love triangle’?

Ran Shu raised her eyes, her gaze settling on Su Bai’s face again. He was still that same nonchalant figure, leaning back in the chair, his fingers tapping idly on his knee, as if waiting for something.

This face overlapped with the face of that youth in her memory, then separated.

She wanted to ask many things.

She wanted to ask how you knew Brother Bufan’s identity, wanted to ask what exactly your relationship with Mu Xue was, wanted to ask why you were fine after drinking that poisoned drink that day, wanted to ask if you had known all along who I was.

But in the end, she asked nothing.

She just remained silent, meeting his gaze amidst the interwoven light of the two moonlight patches and the cold fluorescent lamp.

”I remember the you from back then wasn’t very talkative either. During class, you’d just quietly sit beside me,” Su Bai’s voice sounded in the quiet compartment, unhurried, as if speaking of the most ordinary little thing. ”How come after all these years, you’re still like this?”

Ran Shu’s body stiffened.

She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the cold wall. The two patches of moonlight leaking from the ventilation openings fell precisely on the floor in front of her feet.

Su Bai’s words were like a stone, silently dropped into the long-dried-up well in her heart, producing a faint echo.

She slowly turned her head, her eyes fixed on Su Bai.

His face wasn’t very clear in the dim light, only his contour was distinct—still that careless expression, even a hint of a half-smile at the corner of his mouth, as if those words just now were merely an offhand remark.

But he had clearly said ’back then.’

He had clearly said ’all these years.’

Ran Shu felt her heart skip a beat.

She turned her head away, facing the grayish-white wall. Her voice was pressed very low, so low it seemed spoken to herself: ”...You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

The compartment was quiet for a few seconds.

Su Bai didn’t speak, didn’t move. Ran Shu could feel his gaze on her, like a gentle yet impossible-to-ignore light.

He didn’t refute it.

But precisely because he didn’t refute it, Ran Shu realized even more clearly—

He recognized me.

This thought was like a bolt of lightning, cleaving through the layers of disguise and defenses in her heart, shining directly into the deepest part.

All those things she thought were well-hidden, things that would never be discovered, were now laid bare before him.

She remembered her childhood self. Chubby, not talkative, always sitting beside him.

Stealing glances at him during class, secretly slipping candy into his backpack during nap time.

She never dared speak too much to him, just stayed silently by his side, like a little mushroom in the corner.

Later, her home was gone, and people were gone.

Later still, she became Dragon Two, learned to kill, learned to hide, learned to bury all her weaknesses in the deepest corners.

She thought that chubby girl had long since died—died in that upheaval, died on the ship to a foreign land, died in countless life-or-death missions.

But with one sentence, Su Bai had dug her out from that corner.

Ran Shu stared at the wall, her fingers unconsciously clenching the bedsheet beneath her. She wanted to turn and look at him again, wanted to ask when he recognized her, wanted to ask how much he remembered from their childhood.

But she didn’t.

She just sat there, motionless, like a sculpture suddenly drained of life.

The gaze from behind still rested on her.

Gentle.

Waiting.

Like many years ago, that youth standing before her, holding a steaming hot bun, waiting for her to reach out and take it.

”Mistaken you for someone else?”

Su Bai rolled those three words in his mouth, as if chewing on a tasteless piece of candy.

He stood up from the chair, walked over beneath the two palm-sized ventilation openings, and looked up and out.

Outside was dark, nothing visible. Only a bit of night wind squeezed through the gaps, chilly.

”Maybe,” he said.

Ran Shu didn’t respond.

Her back was still ramrod straight, her face towards the wall, but that wall gave her nothing. She heard Su Bai’s footsteps lightly sound twice on the floor, then stop again.

”Little Fullness.”

Those three words came from behind, light as a feather, yet like a stone dropped into still water.

Ran Shu’s shoulders trembled.

She didn’t turn around, but the hand clutching the bedsheet showed white at the knuckles.

”Kindergarten,” Su Bai’s voice continued, unhurried, as if telling a very old story. ”You sat beside me. Every day after nap time, you’d slip candy into my backpack. Back then you were chubby, didn’t talk much. You’d blush whenever someone spoke to you.”

Ran Shu closed her eyes.

Those images surged up like a tide—the shadows of parasol trees, the old electric fan in the classroom, that little hand slipping into the backpack.

She thought these had long since died—died in some night in a foreign land, died the first time she killed.

But they were still alive.

Alive and well, just waiting for someone to wake them.

”Then you suddenly stopped coming,” Su Bai said. ”The teacher said something happened in your family, that you transferred schools. I wondered for a few days, thinking where that little chubby girl had gone.”

Ran Shu’s throat tightened.

She wanted to say ’It wasn’t me,’ wanted to say ’You’ve mistaken me for someone else.’ Those words clogged her throat, but not a single one could be squeezed out.

Because she knew he wasn’t wrong.

Su Bai turned around, leaning against the wall, looking at her stiff back.

”When Butler Fu recognized you earlier, I wasn’t entirely sure,” he said. ”After all, it’s been so many years; the change is huge. Then I remembered your birthmark—the one on your collarbone. It showed when you wore dresses as a kid. I asked you if you bumped it, and you said no, you’ve had it since you were little.”

Ran Shu instinctively raised her hand, pressing it against her collarbone.

That action betrayed her.

Su Bai saw it, didn’t speak.

The compartment was quiet for a long time.

So long that Ran Shu thought he wouldn’t speak again, so long she thought this conversation would just end unresolved—then she heard the sound of chair legs scraping the floor, footsteps, then the soft sound of the door being pulled open.

”You can stay here,” Su Bai said without looking back. ”We’ll talk when you’ve figured things out.”

”Why?”

Ran Shu’s voice chased after him from behind, a bit hoarse, a bit urgent, as if unable to hold back.

Su Bai stopped walking.

”You recognized me,” Ran Shu finally turned her head, looking at his back standing in the doorway. ”You know I came to kill you. Why... not kill me?”

Su Bai didn’t turn around.

He just stood there in the doorway, half his body in the light, half in shadow.

”Little Fullness,” he said, his tone still that lazy drawl. ”The candy you slipped into my backpack back then... it was pretty sweet.”

The door closed.

Footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Ran Shu sat alone on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door for a long time.

Those two patches of moonlight were still there, cast on the floor, motionless.