The bike ride to the northern district took about ten minutes.
Calming my nerves, I parked my bike by the front gate.
Walking into Mo Fan’s house today felt like stepping into a war zone filled with landmines.
Mo Jiaxing’s small, modest house was now the temporary residence of Ye Chang, the Red Cardinal of the Black Vatican.
Gripping the small, neatly wrapped gift box under my arm like a physical shield, I took a deep, shuddering breath, walked up to the front door, and knocked.
“I’ll get it!” Mo Fan’s loud voice echoed from inside.
The door swung open to reveal Mo Fan, already covered in a thin layer of dust despite it being only 11 AM.
“Monkey!
You made it.
Come on in, Wang Sanpang and Mu Bai are already playing in the living room.”
“Hey, Mo Fan,” I said, stepping over the threshold.
“Ah, Xiaohou is here!” Mo Jiaxing boomed from the kitchen area.
The burly, honest driver walked out, wiping his hands on a towel, a massive, genuine smile on his face.
“Welcome, welcome.
Make yourself at home, kid.”
“Thank you, Uncle Mo,” I chirped, plastering on the brightest, most innocent smile my facial muscles could physically manage.
Then, she stepped out from the hallway.
Ye Chang was wearing a simple, elegant beige sweater and a dark skirt.
Her dark hair was pinned up neatly, and she was holding a small plate of freshly sliced apples.
She looked like the absolute epitome of a warm, loving mother.
But to me, the air around her felt impossibly thick, suffocating, and heavy with the phantom scent of blood.
“You must be Zhang Xiaohou,” she said.
Her voice was melodic, smooth, and utterly terrifying.
“Mo Fan has told us so much about you.
You’re the smart one of the group, aren’t you?”
If I didn’t know she was the Red Cardinal of the Black Vatican, I would have given a big thumbs up to Mo Jiaxing for marrying such a beauty.
Smile.
Be a child.
Be completely insignificant.
“Hello, Auntie Ye!” I bowed politely, perfectly executing the manners my mother had drilled into me.
“It’s very nice to meet you.
And I’m not that smart, I just read a lot of books!”
Ye Chang smiled a flawless, beautiful curve of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes.
“How polite.”
I nodded.
But when I turned to go to the living room, something happened that made my blood run cold.
Ye Chang reached out, started pinching my cheeks, and said, “How cute.
Why do you look familiar?”
Using the willpower of my Level 3 [Spiritual Strength], I mustered my courage and squeaked, “I don’t know, Auntie,” in the cutest, most clueless voice I could manage.
After a few agonizing seconds of playing with my cheeks, she finally let go.
“Go on and play, Xiaohou.
There are apples on the table.”
With those words, I practically sprinted into the living room, escaping the immediate blast radius of her aura.
At that moment, I noticed a faint notification in the corner of my vision: my [The Good Boy] title was actively taking effect.
I never thought I would actually feel the goodwill of Salan directed at me just because of a System title.
Before checking the System any further, I took stock of the living room.
Mo Fan and Mu Bai were currently arguing over a cheap plastic action figure, while a group of children surrounded them, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of childish screeching.
But my eyes bypassed them entirely and landed on the corner of the room.
Sitting in her wheelchair, quietly observing the chaos with wide, slightly overwhelmed dark eyes, was Ye Xinxia.
She looked fragile, her small hands resting in her lap, completely isolated from the boisterous energy of the boys.
In the novel, Xinxia was notoriously shy, and being suddenly thrust into a house with a loud stepbrother and his equally loud friends was clearly taking its toll on her.
I took a deep breath, adjusted my grip on the gift box, and walked past the arguing group.
I didn’t give her the look of patronizing pity that most adults gave her, nor did I ignore her like the other kids were currently doing.
I just walked up, pulled up a small wooden stool, and sat down right next to her wheelchair.
“They’re really loud, aren’t they?” I said casually, keeping my voice low and calm.
Xinxia blinked, surprised by the sudden, gentle interaction.
She looked at Mo Fan, who was currently trying to put Mu Bai into a headlock, and gave a tiny, hesitant nod.
“Yes…”
“I’m Xiaohou,” I said, offering a warm smile.
“I brought you a welcome gift.
My mom helped me wrap it.”
I placed the box in her lap, saying, “Mo Fan said he had a sister who is four, so I brought some of my toys for you to play with.”
Xinxia looked down at it, her dark eyes widening in astonishment.
It was probably the first time someone outside her immediate family had just treated her like a normal person, let alone brought her a present.
“For…
me?” she whispered, her voice incredibly soft.
“Go ahead, open it.
They’re all yours from now on,” I encouraged.
With delicate, trembling fingers, she peeled back the wrapping paper.
Inside was a beautiful, gently used set of intricately carved wooden puzzle blocks and a beautifully illustrated pop-up book about ancient myths.
They were quiet toys.
Toys you didn’t need to run around to enjoy.
Toys that required thought and patience.
A radiant, genuinely breathtaking smile broke across her face, melting away the timid anxiety that had been plaguing her.
“It’s beautiful.
Thank you, Xiaohou gege.”
Gege.
Older brother…
for now.
Score, I thought, mentally patting myself on the back.
“I can show you how the puzzle blocks work if you want,” I offered, leaning closer.
“I’ve solved it, like, a hundred times, so I’m basically a master at it.”
She let out a soft, melodic giggle and said, “Okay.”
For the next fifteen minutes, I completely ignored the childish brawl happening in the center of the room.
Instead, I sat with the future Goddess of the Parthenon, helping her piece together wooden blocks.
I maintained a steady, calm, and reliable presence.
I wasn’t just being nice; I was laying the foundation for a bond that would survive for the rest of my life.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ye Chang standing by the kitchen doorway, silently watching us, me specifically.
I didn’t freeze.
I didn’t let my smile falter.
I just continued explaining how the wooden dragon puzzle fit together, projecting the aura of a completely harmless, slightly nerdy kid who just wanted to play quietly.
After a long, agonizing minute, Ye Chang turned and walked back into the kitchen.
I quietly exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
After some time, Mo Fan and the group joined in to play with her.
I stayed right beside them so I could intervene if anyone said something stupid that might hurt Xinxia regarding her disability.
After an hour, we were called for lunch.
There were six extra adults at the table, all relatives of Uncle Mo.
After eating, we continued to play for another hour with Xinxia.
At 4 PM, I said my goodbyes to Xinxia and the group, grabbed my bike, and headed home.
POV: Before Lunch
Ye Chang stood by the kitchen sink, the cool water running over the edge of a porcelain plate.
From the living room, the grating, obnoxious shrieks of her new stepson and his little friends echoed down the hall.
Livestock, she thought, her dark eyes entirely devoid of the maternal warmth she had so carefully projected moments ago.
Noisy, ignorant livestock fattening themselves up for the slaughter.
It took every ounce of her prodigious self control not to release a fraction of her oppressive aura and snap their fragile little necks.
She methodically dried her hands on a towel and leaned against the doorframe, her cold gaze sweeping over the room to ensure her civilian cover remained flawless.
Her eyes bypassed the brawling idiots in the center of the room and landed on the quiet corner.
There, sitting beside Xinxia’s wheelchair, was the Zhang boy.
Xiaohou.
As she locked eyes on the back of his head, a strange, entirely foreign sensation washed over her mind.
It was a subtle, invisible wave that momentarily disrupted her endless, paranoid calculations.
Where she normally saw potential threats, hidden daggers, or future corpses, looking at this particular six year old only yielded an odd sense of…
peace.
‘What an unusually pleasant child,’ she thought, the realization surprising even her.
It wasn’t a profound, life altering love Salan was incapable of such a thing, but for the Red Cardinal of the Black Vatican, feeling anything other than homicidal apathy was practically a miracle.
She watched him gently hand a wooden puzzle piece to Xinxia.
He wasn’t loud.
He wasn’t demanding.
He possessed a docile, harmless obedience that she found remarkably soothing.
Her mind, subtly warped by the invisible weight of his [The Good Boy] title, immediately began rationalizing this unnatural burst of goodwill, the dark void of her heart softening by a fraction of a millimeter.
He is well behaved, polite, and doesn’t require my attention.
‘In a world full of chaotic, useless filth, a genuinely good boy is a rare, useful commodity.’
A genuine, albeit chilling, smile touched the corners of her lips.
She had already mentally condemned everyone in this house and this entire city to a gruesome, agonizing end.
But as she watched Zhang Xiaohou patiently turn the page of a pop-up book, making her disabled daughter laugh, she made a rare, arbitrary concession.
When the freezing rain finally fell, and the Dark Beast Monsters descended upon Bo City, perhaps she would instruct her deacons to grant this specific child a quick, painless death.
For a creature like Salan, that was the absolute highest form of affection she could possibly bestow.
To be continued…