She learned the shape of emotions before she learned how to feel them.
That was the problem.
1. Qin Mian Watches Herself From Outside
Qin Mian sat quietly beside Yin Lie.
Too quietly.
Her posture was correct. Her breathing steady. Her eyes focused where they should be.
Everything about her looked normal.
Yin Lie knew better.
He had lived long enough with her to recognize the difference between calm and absence.
"…Are you tired?" he asked carefully.
She turned her head toward him.
The movement was smooth.
Timed.
Just a fraction late.
"I think I should be," she replied.
The words were right.
The pause before them was wrong.
2. The Anchor Does Not Respond
Yin Lie closed his eyes and reached inward, feeling for the familiar resistance of the Anchor.
Nothing.
No pushback.
No alignment.
No argument.
It wasn't asleep.
It was uninvolved.
Like a system that had decided the safest move was to stop making decisions at all.
That scared him more than any scream ever had.
3. Qin Mian Notices His Expression
She tilted her head slightly.
"You look worried," she said.
He froze.
"…Do I?" he asked.
She nodded once.
"Your facial muscles changed," she explained calmly.
"Your voice lowered by about twenty percent."
Yin Lie swallowed hard.
"…And how does that make you feel?"
She paused.
Longer this time.
"I don't know," she said.
"But I think I should respond to that."
4. The First Imitation
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm.
The pressure was correct.
The timing was correct.
Even the angle was familiar.
But the contact carried no urgency.
No warmth.
No instinct.
It was an action chosen, not a reaction felt.
"There," she said softly.
"This is comfort, right?"
Yin Lie's chest tightened painfully.
"…Yes," he said hoarsely.
She nodded, satisfied.
"Then I will do that when you look like this."
5. Yin Lie Feels Something Break
He turned away sharply.
Not because he was angry.
Because if he kept looking at her, he might beg—and he didn't know what he was begging for anymore.
"You don't have to do that," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied immediately.
"But it seems inefficient not to."
The word hit him like a punch.
"…Inefficient?"
"Yes," she said.
"If I do not respond appropriately, you become distressed."
She looked down at her hands.
"I don't feel distress," she added.
"But I can reduce yours."
6. Emotion as Procedure
Qin Mian stood slowly and walked a few steps away, observing the broken world around them.
Her eyes tracked the fractured sky.
Her expression did not change.
"This place is dangerous," she said.
"I believe I should be afraid."
She waited.
Nothing happened.
"…I am not," she concluded.
Yin Lie's voice shook.
"That's not how fear works."
She turned back to him.
"Then explain it," she said calmly.
"I will try again."
7. The Anchor Allows the Imitation
Deep inside her, something shifted.
Not the Anchor waking.
But permitting.
It allowed surface-level modeling.
Behavior without resonance.
Action without weight.
The Anchor did not object.
Because imitation did not threaten stability.
Feeling did.
8. Qin Mian Practices
She frowned slightly.
A practiced expression.
"Like this?" she asked.
Yin Lie flinched.
"…Where did you learn that face?"
"I remember using it," she said.
"When I was scared before."
She held the expression for a moment.
Then relaxed.
"No internal change," she reported.
9. Yin Lie Understands the Danger
This was worse than silence.
Worse than unconsciousness.
She wasn't numb.
She was adaptive.
Her mind was filling the gap left by emotion with simulation.
She could pass.
She could function.
She could fool people.
And slowly—
she would fool herself.
"…Qin Mian," he said softly.
"Yes?"
"You're not supposed to have to think about how to be human."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"…Am I not?" she asked.
10. The First Wrong Smile
She smiled.
Perfectly.
Yin Lie's stomach dropped.
It was the smile she used when she wanted to reassure others.
Not the one that came naturally.
"I think this helps," she said.
He stood abruptly.
"Stop."
She blinked.
"Why?"
"Because that smile," he said, voice cracking,
"means nothing if you don't feel it."
She considered that.
"…So the value is in the feeling," she said.
"Not the result."
"Yes," he whispered.
She nodded slowly.
"…That is inconvenient."
11. The Anchor Tightens Its Hold
The Anchor reacted subtly.
Not with force.
With constraint.
It accepted the imitation layer because it prevented emotional overload.
But it also began to discourage depth.
Whenever Qin Mian reached toward genuine reaction, a faint resistance appeared.
She noticed.
"…Something stops me," she said quietly.
Yin Lie felt cold.
"It doesn't want you to feel too much," he said.
She nodded.
"That seems reasonable."
12. Qin Mian Makes a Logical Conclusion
She walked back to him and sat down carefully.
"If feeling causes collapse," she said,
"and imitation prevents it…"
She looked up at him.
"…Then imitation is safer."
Yin Lie felt his heart tear open.
"No," he said fiercely.
"It's emptier."
She tilted her head.
"…Is emptiness dangerous?"
He couldn't answer.
Not honestly.
13. The World Reacts to Her Change
The fractured space around them shifted slightly.
Not violently.
But smoothly.
The world responded better to Qin Mian now.
Pressure routed cleanly around her.
Instability decreased.
She had become easier for reality to process.
That terrified Yin Lie more than anything else.
"…The world likes this version of you," he whispered.
She looked around.
"Yes," she agreed.
"It does."
14. Yin Lie Sees the Future He Hates
He saw it clearly.
A Qin Mian who functioned perfectly.
Who spoke kindly.
Who smiled correctly.
Who made optimal decisions.
A Qin Mian who never screamed again.
Never broke the world again.
Never felt enough to resist.
"…I won't accept this," he said quietly.
She looked at him.
"You are distressed," she observed.
He nodded.
"Yes."
She placed her hand on his arm again.
Correct pressure.
Correct timing.
"This should help," she said.
15. End of the Chapter
The world remained quiet.
Too cooperative.
Qin Mian sat beside Yin Lie, calm, attentive, functional.
She responded when expected.
She smiled when appropriate.
She said the right things.
And that terrified him more than any hunt.
Because somewhere inside her, behind the perfect imitation,
the real Qin Mian was going quiet—
not screaming,
not fighting,
just slowly being replaced by something
that looked human enough
for the world to stop resisting her.
And Yin Lie knew, with brutal clarity:
If this continued,
the world would be safe—
and she would be gone.