CR CH47

Chapter 47: Mental Domain

On the top floor, muffled voices drifted from the Chief’s office. Steam rose from the teacups, the faint mist curling lazily in the air. One stood while the other sat, the atmosphere between them distinctly tense.

“Did you hear a single word I just said?” Irene leaned forward, tapping the desk with a furrowed brow.

Ling Kongmiao rested his forehead against his hand, his tone placating. “Dr. Gordon, everyone else has already gone to lunch, and there’s still work to do later.”

Irene Gordon’s expression soured. “Listen to me, patient. If you don’t want to be lectured, then take some responsibility for your own body.”

“Setting aside your terrible sleep schedule for a moment, can you manage to eat even one of your three daily meals on time?”

“Furthermore, I know you dislike reverting to your beast form, but your energy levels are currently too high. Relying solely on your sleep cycle to vent that energy isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

“You’re completely exhausted lately. I have to admit, deciding to take a vacation was the right call, but your current workload is still way over the limit. Hand off the less critical tasks to You Li and Tang Min—they’d be more than happy to lighten your load.”

Scanning the medical report, the crease between Irene’s brows deepened. “Eat regular meals. Today it’s just stomach discomfort, but these charts are telling me more issues will crop up over the next few days. Stop taking the suppressants for now. You must rest.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Ling Kongmiao replied, casting a casual glance over his own numbers. “I know my limits.”

The sound of approaching footsteps nearby made Irene swallow the rest of her lecture. As Jiang Tianji walked into the office area, he faintly caught the sound of voices. The door to the Chief’s office was wide open. Reaching the threshold just in time to hear the last remark, he raised a hand and rapped on the doorframe.

“Chief.”

Both of them looked over simultaneously. Irene’s gaze darted between the two of them.

“Alright, I won’t disturb you two then.” She didn’t linger, giving Ling Kongmiao one final, stern reminder to stay away from suppressants before turning to leave. As she passed Jiang Tianji, she slowed her pace and offered him a warm smile.

Jiang Tianji bowed politely. “Ma’am.”

“Mm, thank you for your hard work,” Irene replied. Her eyes flicked down to the takeout container he was carrying, and she gave his shoulder a friendly pat as she passed.

He wondered if it was just his imagination, but Director Irene’s gaze always seemed a bit… nuanced whenever she looked at him. It was a faint cocktail of unprompted familiarity, curiosity, and playful amusement. If he had to describe it, it felt as though she were looking at an old friend she had known for years. Pressing his lips together, he got lost in his thoughts for a moment.

“Did she steal your soul away?”

Ling Kongmiao’s voice drifted over. Jiang Tianji looked up and noticed the Chief was just pulling his hand away from his stomach.

Recalling the conversation he had just overheard, Jiang Tianji hesitated for a second before walking over. He set the food container on the desk, opened it up, snapped the disposable chopsticks apart, and handed them over. The entire sequence was incredibly fluid, making one wonder if the Grand Commander back home frequently put his kids through this exact same routine.

Ling Kongmiao raised an eyebrow, pointing his finger toward the nearby sofa. “Take a seat first.”

“Chief, you gave me way too much,” Jiang Tianji said, staying on his feet as he brought up the money transfer again.

“I’m usually busy and often need someone to run errands. You’re just convenient to have around.”

“But…”

“That settles it.”

Ling Kongmiao casually tied up his hair and tossed over a bag of snacks he had swiped from Tang Min. “Go amuse yourself for a bit. There’s water on the table if you’re thirsty.”

“…Thank you, Chief.”

The snack packet hit him dead in the chest. Jiang Tianji looked down and realized it was actually his favorite lemon-flavored potato chips. He had meant to say more, but catching the deep exhaustion in Ling Kongmiao’s eyes as the man rubbed his temples, he swallowed his words and headed over to the sofa by the window.

The silence in the room was palpable, and the environment wasn’t exactly one where he could completely let his guard down. After browsing his device’s group chats for a bit, Jiang Tianji tilted his head back to stretch his neck. In that brief interim, his gaze drifted up, catching sight of Ling Kongmiao picking at his food. The Chief was eating while scrolling through a virtual interface, his brow slightly furrowed.

Most of Ling Kongmiao’s focus was glued to the files; his other movements were so practiced they looked entirely instinctual. He moved his favorite foods to the center, pushed the dishes he disliked but could tolerate to the side, and meticulously picked out the things he absolutely loathed, placing them on the container’s lid—neatly lined up by type and color.

“…”

Jiang Tianji’s gaze froze. He slowly sat up straighter as a strange sensation welled up in his chest. First impressions often dictate how people interact for a long time afterward. Most people he encountered were completely transparent, as clear and simple as fresh water.

If Ling Kongmiao were to be compared to “water,” he would be the churning, pitch-black depths of a forbidden sea—treacherous, complex, and ready to swallow anyone into a whirlpool at the slightest misstep. Yet, with every step closer, Jiang Tianji saw a bit more, and that intimidating, abstract illusion began to crumble.

It felt bizarre. These tiny, idiosyncratic habits kept shattering the icy, unapproachable facade he had built up around Ling Kongmiao. Logically speaking… why would someone like him do something like this?

His dark green eyes flickered. Jiang Tianji raised a hand to lightly tap the tip of his nose. Looking at Ling Kongmiao again, his teammates’ nonsensical theories suddenly popped into his head, and his thoughts drifted off.

If a pair of round, stubby mouse ears suddenly poked out from that silver-white hair… it might actually be pretty cute.

He was so lost in thought that he failed to notice the man across the room abruptly freezing in place.

Ling Kongmiao set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth with a napkin. When his gaze swept toward the window, the young man was already looking outside as if nothing had happened. However, the emotional energy he radiated couldn’t lie. Compared to the hazardous, swamp-like energy from not too long ago, his mental power had stabilized significantly over the past few days.

Ling Kongmiao was an S-class Mentalist, his abilities leaning toward mental manipulation and perception, though very few knew about his hidden sub-abilities. Ever since he had detected anomalies in Jiang Tianji’s mental domain a few days ago, he had been using his powers to keep an eye on him. The condition was much worse than he had anticipated; the “domain” constructed by Jiang Tianji’s mental strength was highly unstable, teetering on the brink of collapse at any second.

His domain was incomplete; it had likely collapsed once before, probably a long time ago. The contours of the domain were immature, revealing raw, youthful energy. An unknown entity, resembling an energy vortex, had manifested within it—acting as the source of all negative energy, slowly devouring the power that could have otherwise been used to rebuild the domain. Consequently, his mental domain had ceased growing years ago. This exposed a fatal flaw: against high-level mental interference, he had virtually no way to fight back.

During their guiding sessions, Ling Kongmiao had sensed nothing but a wasteland—a blurry, apocalyptic expanse painted in a bleak, twilight yellow. The sun hadn’t been entirely swallowed up, its light struggling weakly through the heavy fog. While he couldn’t literally read Jiang Tianji’s inner thoughts, he could vividly feel certain emotions: resentment, blame… a desperate yearning to see the light of day again, juxtaposed with a deep reluctance to face the ruins beneath his feet.

Yet, beneath the pain, there was an even greater sense of profound confusion. It wasn’t superficial bewilderment about his current circumstances, but a deep-seated doubt regarding everything about himself. Ling Kongmiao could almost hear a physical echo crying out: “Why?”

When Ling Kongmiao guided him, he had used his own mental energy to weave a temporary picture within that broken domain. Blue fireflies spun together to form a towering spire where a young boy lay peacefully on a balcony hammock, fast asleep under the watchful eye of a bright moon. For an S-class Mentalist, this was their unique version of a “bedtime story.” The recipient couldn’t actually see the imagery, but it guaranteed they would sleep soundly for at least a few days.

He had originally called Jiang Tianji over today for another routine guidance session, but the young man’s recovery speed was astonishingly fast. From the moment he walked in, Ling Kongmiao had kept his powers active to observe him. Just as he was satisfied that everything was normal and prepared to retract his energy, he noticed a stray, unfamiliar emotion wafting off the young man.

Focusing his mind, he slipped halfway into Jiang Tianji’s domain and was instantly hit by a wave of… affection. It was a chaotic blend of fondness, curiosity, and a few other indistinguishable emotions.

Ling Kongmiao was absolutely certain there were only two living souls in this room. Furthermore, when the kid radiated these feelings, his eyes had been glued straight to him—or more precisely, to the top of his head.

“…What are you thinking about?”

Unable to decipher the bizarre train of thought, the Chief fell silent for a beat before raising his eyelids to look over at the window.

Jiang Tianji smoothly pulled his gaze back from the window and flashed a faint, flawlessly polite smile. “Nothing, Chief. I just thought the view out there was quite nice.”

Ling Kongmiao locked eyes with him. Jiang Tianji’s expression was text-book perfect, completely natural without a single flaw. Yet, in Ling Kongmiao’s vision, the young man was radiating a dark green aura that bled into pitch black the deeper it went.

And that emotional energy told a clear story: he was lying.

“Liar,” Ling Kongmiao chuckled softly under his breath. He lowered his head to clean up the takeout boxes, the rustling of the plastic bag perfectly masking his whisper.

Jiang Tianji stood up, walked over to the desk, and took the empty containers from his hands. “Did you say something, Chief?”

Ling Kongmiao looked up with a casual, faint smile.

“Nothing. Just thinking that the cafeteria food is pretty mediocre.”