The moment that voice shouted out, it was like poking a hornet’s nest.
First, Xu Huifeng came out of the kitchen, her wet hands wiping down her apron, her face dark. “Why couldn’t we get through to you on the phone?”
He Xueqi politely explained, “The battery died, it shut down automatically.”
“Shut down? You didn’t realize it got dark and you were out for so long?”
Xu Huifeng opened her mouth to say more, but a rapid “tap-tap” sound rang out. At the same time, a sharp female voice cut in:
“Out of battery? What a convenient coincidence.”
The bedroom door opened, and a woman in pajamas with her hair loose stepped out of the master bedroom.
It was the little aunt who hadn’t shown her face all afternoon, Xu Huidan.
Xu Huifeng quickly said, “Dandan, why are you up?”
The little aunt lifted the corners of her mouth. “How could I sleep? A missing person graces us with their presence—I had to come out to greet him, didn’t I?”
Although the two were sisters, there was a ten-year age gap, and Xu Huidan looked much younger than Xu Huifeng. Standing together, their faint resemblance made them almost look like mother and daughter.
He Xueqi didn’t move or greet her, not even glancing in her direction.
It was the little aunt who first crossed her arms, letting out a cold snort. Half-smiling, half-sneering, she bent down to tousle the little boy’s hair. “Rui Rui, don’t you think so? Every time your brother does something for you, some accident happens. It’s uncanny—sometimes he forgets the time, sometimes his phone dies…”
Even without He Xueqi speaking, she continued her solo performance, her mouth sagging at the corners like two weights pulling downward, giving her an extra edge of ferocity.
“You tell me, what kind of accident will happen next time he comes to pick you up? Will he fall in a well and die?”
Xu Jiarui was too young to understand sarcasm, but hearing the words “fall in a well and die” made him jump for joy. He echoed enthusiastically: “Kill him! Kill him! Kick him out!”
Xu Huifeng’s face fell. “Rui Rui, don’t repeat what your mom says… Good kids don’t say things like that.”
She was a Buddhist and strictly avoided speaking of life and death so casually.
“Nonsense?” The little aunt waved a hand, pointing at He Xueqi’s nose, sneering. “Is it not a fact that he left my child waiting at kindergarten for over half an hour?”
Under her loud voice and the sense of guilt, Xu Huifeng fell silent.
The little aunt hugged Xu Jiarui and her tone turned mournful. “Sister, you don’t know… When the teacher called me, Rui Rui had already been crying for over ten minutes, asking on the phone, ‘Mommy, why didn’t my brother come get me?’ ‘Mommy, I’m so scared. I’m the only one left at kindergarten. Where did my brother go?’…”
Before she could finish, He Xueqi suddenly laughed.
The laugh hit like a splash of water into a hot oil pan, and the little aunt’s throat seemed about to burst: “You’re laughing?”
He Xueqi finally looked her in the eye, his tone still calm: “How did he know I was the one picking him up today?”
Normally, that task was Xu Huifeng’s responsibility.
The little aunt was momentarily speechless, unable to explain. Furious, she grabbed Xu Jiarui tightly: “Rui Rui, tell him yourself—did you cry?”
The little boy straightened up and shouted, “I cried!”
“You hear that, He Xueqi?” The aunt turned to Xu Huifeng again. “Sister, tell me yourself—he’s the older brother and he left such a young child waiting so long. Wasn’t it intentional?”
He Xueqi didn’t respond.
The cinnabar bracelet that had been wrapped around his wrist was now in his hand. Like clockwork gears, it slowly began to turn.
One bead… two beads… three beads…
Like a mechanical timer, the deep red beads moved steadily and evenly.
The little aunt grew more agitated. “He’s been sent to school all the way through high school, and he won’t even do something as simple as picking up his little brother? All that studying and what’s it for? Ungrateful brat!”
Nine… ten… eleven…
Xu Huifeng’s head buzzed from the shouting. She could only say, “Yes, yes… okay, Qiqi did do wrong.”
She gestured to He Xueqi. “Qiqi, come over and apologize to your little brother…”
In her heart, she didn’t see it as a big deal. Even though He Xueqi hadn’t picked him up, Xu Jiarui was fine, wasn’t he?
She was slightly annoyed by her sister’s overreaction but knew that if she didn’t go along, tonight the household wouldn’t have any peace.
She had gotten up early, cooked a nutritious breakfast for Rui Rui, sent him to school, then returned to nonstop chores—cooking, sweeping, laundry—and by evening, had to coax him to eat.
Today, Xu Jiarui was stubborn and refused to eat. She coaxed him for over an hour and a half, reheating the rice three times, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to keep the peace.
Forty-seven… forty-eight… forty-nine…
Seeing her son silent, her frustration rose. Xu Huifeng scolded him: “Mom is talking to you! Go apologize to your little brother!”
Sixty-three… sixty-four… sixty-five…
He Xueqi raised his head and said coldly what his mother would never want to hear:
“I won’t apologize.”
…
In the bleak night wind of the neighborhood, Zhu Shuiwen walked with her head down, dejected.
“System, maybe you should pick a different host.”
Anyone else could probably do better than her.
The system agreed: [Then I’ll switch to tomorrow’s you.]
Zhu Shuiwen sighed. “But… I really don’t understand what he’s thinking.”
She stepped along the grout lines of the floor tiles, hopping one square at a time, dragging her feet.
She didn’t understand why his favor increased or decreased.
Even the phrase “consider going to the temple for a prayer” puzzled her.
It seemed casual, but it left her extremely uneasy.
…Could it be that he thought she was unlucky?
She was terrible at reading “subtext.” Even if someone insulted her, as long as they smiled, she’d take it as gentle praise.
But He Xueqi… he didn’t seem like the type to be sarcastic or passive-aggressive.
[You seem to have a very good impression of the villain?]
The girl corrected herself: “He is genuinely a good person.”
She jumped two squares before speaking: “Honestly, I still don’t understand how he ended up becoming the villain.”
After several hours, she had almost forgotten the fear from the dream.
The boy’s tone was calm and measured, his composed demeanor strangely reassuring, completely at odds with how he had been in the dream.
The system said something quite mystical: [Most people become that way because of what they experience, which is why they turn out like that.]
“So what about the ones who aren’t ‘most people’?”
[Born that way. Cannot change.]
“Then which kind is he?”
System: *[…] *
She had only asked casually, never expecting an answer.
Her eyes caught the unchanging offset value, and her chest tightened again.
For some reason, the mission still hasn’t been marked as completed. It was like she was a fish hooked on a line, being tightly held by that value that neither went up nor down.
“Why hasn’t it failed yet?”
She had assumed that once she said goodbye to the villain, the mission would be over.
After all, the villain back then didn’t seem like he intended to continue talking to her.
That alone puzzled her.
At the shop, she could still sense that he might have been deliberately stalling.
But after the knife was sharpened, it was as if he had verified something and effortlessly let her go.
Zhu Shuiwen thought the word “let go” felt a little strange, yet it was the first thing that came to mind.
Speaking of… sharpening the knife.
She drifted off for a moment, inexplicably reminded of that news story.
Armed robbery with a knife.
Rescue failed—death.
She had previously assumed the knife was carried by Su Qiming himself. Turns out, it had been in the bag all along.
…Huh?
Her steps suddenly halted.
In the bag all along? That means… He had brought it over?
He had brought the knife when meeting Su Qiming?
The mismatched sheath, the fragile plastic bag, the gang of small-time thugs just happened to show up.
In the struggle, the knife, along with the money, would spill out like quicksand through the torn opening.
Clang.
The blade slipped from its sheath midair, hitting the ground with a terrifyingly crisp sound, drawing everyone’s attention.
Then came the image from the news—blood splattered across the floor tiles, seeping into the seams, turning into black-and-white silence.
She slowly turned toward the stairwell where He Xueqi had disappeared.
Bright light spilled through the window, the same warm yellow glow as the fried chicken shop.
No… way.
Under the quiet streetlights, she heard her heart hammering violently.
Three seconds later, the girl’s black-and-orange sneakers lifted off the ground.
She sprinted toward that light, full speed.