Chapter 613 Midnight Roots

Yunice couldn’t sleep. Restless and bored, she wandered to the university’s herb greenhouse.

“Let me pull some weeds. Clear my head.” That was her excuse.

The plastic greenhouse wasn’t exactly secure–anyone could walk in. A dim nightlight kept the place faintly illuminated.

But as soon as she stepped inside, she noticed someone was already there.

In college, finding people lurking in odd corners wasn’t exactly rare. Still, Yunice’s instincts kicked in.

She called out sharply, “Wyatt, what are you doing to my herbs?”

The crouched figure froze, clearly startled. After a pause, he slowly turned around.

Wearing a school uniform and a mask, backlit by the glow, his face was hard to make out.

Yunice walked straight up and tugged his hair. “New parting? And in my school uniform?”

Then she casually tugged the mask off his face.

Wyatt quickly tried to cover his nose, clearly flustered–but her expression didn’t change at all.

She twirled the mask in her hand, looking unimpressed. Wyatt groaned. “How could you tell it was me?”

Yunice didn’t even blink. “I just could.”

Then she crouched down to examine the damage. “You’re weeding?”

Wyatt’s brows twitched. “This school’s ridiculous. You got in with top scores just to spend your nights pulling weeds?”

Yunice dug through the freshly disturbed soil. “When did you get here?”

“I got in around 10:30,” Wyatt said. “The girls’ dorm was locked already. I didn’t want to call you down.”

“So you came here to mess with my plot and tank my grade?” Yunice deadpanned.

Wyatt scowled. “I was pulling weeds.”

Yunice picked up a few of the casualties. “Blue vervain. Black cohosh. Plantain leaf, Motherwort…”

One by one, she named each precious herb she’d painstakingly cultivated.

“Did you really think I came here to pull weeds?”

Wyatt stared at the damning lineup and fell silent for a good ten seconds.

“…Can I replant them and save them?” he finally asked.

Yunice didn’t respond. She simply started re-digging the holes and burying each herb gently, carefully.

Wyatt studied her profile in the low light. “You look… upset.”

College not living up to her expectations? Or maybe she just had a rough day?

Wyatt sighed, frustrated with himself. “I won’t touch your stuff again.”

He really had just wanted to help–but clearly, he’d only made things worse.

Yunice was out here in the middle of the night tending to her herbs. That alone showed how much it mattered to her.

“I’m sorry,” he added. “I just thought I could help.”

Yunice’s voice came soft and even. “It’s fine. Nine out of ten people here are going to fail this class. One more won’t make a difference.”

Then she looked up at him, a faint glint in her eyes. “You came all this way just to impersonate Rumpelstiltskin. That was… touching.”

If she hadn’t come tonight, she might’ve shown up tomorrow to find her entire plot wiped out.

Wyatt wasn’t sure if she was serious or roasting him.

He watched her replant in silence. Just as he was about to speak again, Yunice suddenly stiffened.

“Someone’s coming.”

She yanked him behind a pile of farm tools.

“It’s a college,” he whispered. “They don’t bust people for sneaking around.”

Yunice shot him a glare and shoved him into position before crouching down beside him.

They peered through a narrow gap. A shadowed figure entered the greenhouse.

The man checked over his shoulder, scanned the area, then pulled out a phone and flicked on the flashlight.

He began checking the herb beds one by one, reading each name carefully.

Finally, he stopped at Yunice’s plot.

He studied the labels, then dialed someone.

“She’s here. I found Yunice’s test plot,” the man said quietly.

He paused. “Alright. I’ll keep watch on her.”

Yunice’s brows furrowed. Who the hell is that? Who wanted to spy on her?

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, his gaze turning dark.

The man hung up, crouched down, and began inspecting the soil. He seemed puzzled as he pinched a bit between his fingers. “Why’s it still wet…?”

Yunice’s heart nearly stopped.

In this warm greenhouse, turned soil dried out quickly. Anything flipped more than two hours ago would look dry and white.

But this… this was fresh.

He tossed the sprig down and stood up fast, flashlight swinging wildly across the greenhouse.

It swept over the corner where they were hiding–highlighting two unmistakable silhouettes.

He froze.

Then bolted.