The beds had already been set up with everyone’s backpacks. Xia Yubing came down from upstairs, though no one knew why she had gone up there.
Her footsteps paused at the corner of the stairs as she brushed the dust off her pant leg. Invisible specks of dust fluttered down.
Her gaze swept over the backpacks on the beds. Each one corresponded to a person, and now only one spot was empty—right next to the corner, which was hers.
From the backpacks, it was clear that Xia Zhengyun’s spot was in the middle, with Lu Nan and Tang Qi on either side of her.
Xia Yubing froze for a moment. She had clearly told the production team that anything else was fine, but at night, she had only one request: the two of them had to sleep side by side.
They couldn’t even handle something this simple, despite all the money she had invested.
The thought of Xia Zhengyun sleeping right next to Lu Nan at night ignited a strange impulse in Xia Yubing’s heart. No matter what, that couldn’t happen.
“I’ll swap beds with you,” Xia Yubing said, her brows furrowed in clear displeasure.
There were only two people in the room. Even though Xia Yubing didn’t look her way, Lu Nan knew exactly why she wanted to swap.
Lu Nan was sandwiched between Song Wenwei and Xia Zhengyun. Deep down, she felt that Xia Yubing harbored an indescribable affection for her nominal half-sister.
“No swap.”
“Swap… swap beds…”
“No.”
Lu Nan had no intention of giving up her cozy spot next to her wife, only to be inexplicably pushed aside by someone else.
Not a chance.
Xia Yubing wanted to say more, but she turned and walked away instead, a stifled frustration lodged in her chest. She couldn’t go up, couldn’t go down.
That out-of-control feeling was awful—it reminded her of two years ago, when she had returned to the hospital after work…
As usual, she would visit the hospital after her shift to keep her sister company and check with the doctors about her condition, whether it had stabilized, and if she had taken her medicine properly that day.
When Xia Zhengyun would recover was the most important thing in Xia Yubing’s life during those years.
That day, she had just returned from a two-day business trip. It had been a while since they had seen each other, and she wondered if her sister had adjusted. She opened the door to the ward.
“Sis, I’m back from my trip.”
Her words didn’t sound like a visit to a patient; they were more like returning home from a work trip, ready to kick off her shoes the next second.
Xia Yubing straightened her suit jacket and smoothed her hair. In the middle of the ward entrance was a long partition wall for the bathroom; past that, she could see the entire room.
She was just one wall away from the person she had been thinking about nonstop for the past two days.
The ward was silent, save for the hum of machines and the ticking of the electronic clock.
“Sis?”
Normally, Xia Zhengyun would have woken up by then.
The distant, hurtful words from her memories didn’t come.
Even if Xia Zhengyun didn’t tell her to get out, she would at least pat the blanket in response. But now, there was nothing.
Xia Yubing stepped further into the ward. With nothing blocking her view, she could see everything clearly.
The room was empty.
Not only that—both beds were unoccupied.
Xia Yubing slowly approached the bedside. There was an extra bed there, one she had placed in the hospital ward. It had been taken apart from Xia Zhengyun’s room, complete with the dolls and bedding she hadn’t changed. She slept on it every day.
At that moment, the blanket dipped in a human shape, as if someone were lying on their side beneath it. Xia Yubing lifted the blanket, and it fell away in a gray heap.
On the bed was only the big-eyed doll staring back at her. Nothing else.
No one.
Xia Yubing’s heart sank. She turned and checked every possible hiding spot—under the blankets, behind the curtains, in the cabinets. Nothing.
“Sis, stop playing hide-and-seek with me.”
Xia Yubing scanned the surroundings and rushed to the window. This was the sixth floor; if she had run, this was the only way out.
Was she clever or foolish? With Xia Zhengyun’s bedridden body, climbing down from the sixth floor would take effort, let alone actually leaving.
Xia Zhengyun spent most of her time bedridden, with rehab training only a few days a week. She rarely walked otherwise.
Xia Yubing approached the window and pushed it open.
“I’ve already seen you.”
She looked down. By the window, her gaze met that of a bird. Its wings were plump, its feathers shimmering in the sunlight like polished jewels.
Beautiful, just like her sister.
The bird chirped at the intruder and flapped its wings.
It soared into the blue sky, vanishing before she could take another look.
“Sis…”
In the silent ward, only her voice echoed, without even extra breaths.
No response. She had no choice but to keep searching, practically turning the place upside down.
“Sis?”
“Xia Zhengyun?!”
“Where did you go? Where on earth… Didn’t you say you’d stay with me?”
“You’re lying to me again, aren’t you, Sis!”
She was nowhere—vanished into thin air, without a trace.
Xia Zhengyun had disappeared just like that bird by the window.
She was gone…
Xia Yubing held her breath as she faced the surveillance cameras dotted around the ward.
Right—cameras.
There were cameras.
Xia Yubing murmured to herself, “There’s an answer. There is. It’ll tell me where you went, Xia Zhengyun… Zhengyun…”
She hurried out of the ward, shoved open the door, and ran to the security office.
The dozing security guard snapped upright at the sight of her. He recognized her immediately—the second daughter of the hospital’s biggest shareholder, Xia Group. She visited her sister daily, sometimes even bringing midnight snacks for the staff. Everyone knew her.
“Pull up the hidden surveillance footage. I need to see it,” Xia Yubing demanded.
The security guard quickly switched screens. The hospital had only one ward with full-coverage cameras: Xia Zhengyun’s room.
She would occasionally go berserk, smashing windows and cabinets uncontrollably when alone. One night, just two minutes after the caregiver’s shift change, she had destroyed everything smashable—even the new smart toilet and bathtub in the bathroom.
Despite her mental illness, the Xia family refused to send her to a psychiatric hospital. Instead, they kept her in regular treatment here.
To monitor her condition in real time, multiple cameras had been installed in her room.
The security guard pulled up the footage, but the screen was pitch black. Nothing.
“What… what’s going on?” the guard muttered in confusion, beyond his understanding.
He had no authority over the hidden cameras—only doctors and the Xia family did. And this blackout hadn’t been noticed or fixed.
He turned to Xia Yubing. “Miss Xia, this…”
Xia Yubing had anticipated this. With the person gone, the footage was likely compromised too.
“Can you pull up the earlier footage?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, the previous recordings are on the cloud. I’ll send them to you,” the guard replied.
Xia Yubing nodded. She had to know where she went. That morning, the cameras had shown her sleeping peacefully in bed. How could she vanish just hours later?
She especially wanted to see what Xia Zhengyun had been up to before her return—and how she had escaped.
“Miss Xia, it’s ready.”
Xia Yubing leaned in to watch.
The video was from early morning, about eight hours earlier.
The woman on the bed suddenly opened her eyes. She grabbed the teacup from the table and smashed the overhead camera first. With a bang, it shattered, glass shards scattering everywhere.
She sat up. Out of cups, she turned to other things—like the supplements from the family nutritionist that Xia Yubing had sent. Xia Zhengyun had barely touched them, leaving plenty behind.
She picked up the bowl and smashed it on the floor, flinging the stainless-steel thermal container too. Soup splattered everywhere.
Next was another camera—even the micro ones didn’t survive. After venting, she stood in the center of the ward. The last remaining feed was the one she was watching now.
Xia Zhengyun tilted her head and mouthed words, though no sound came. The cameras had audio; even birdsong outside was clear.
It was clearly deliberate, lip-synced just for her.
Xia Yubing’s lips moved as she silently repeated it.
Goodbye, you disgusting thing.
She then grabbed the crutch by the bed and smashed this camera too, her breaths audible.
The screen went black, reflecting Xia Yubing’s face, cold as frost.
All an act.
She could walk just fine; the crutch was a prop. All of it was fake.
She had faked it all along—four whole years of playing dumb, amnesia, helplessness. Even fooling the doctors, suppressing every reflex, putting on a perfect show.
To let her let her guard down… then strike fatally.
Xia Yubing didn’t get angry; she laughed. Good, very good. This was her clever sister.
Why stop pretending now?
Xia Yubing wanted to know more—especially how Xia Zhengyun had escaped the hospital.
Someone unfamiliar must have helped her. The building was crawling with bodyguards she had arranged to prevent her from wandering off during episodes.
Originally, they were there to restrain her if she went berserk—a group couldn’t even hold her then; she’d ignore all commands and had to be tied down.
But the thought of those rough hands touching her sister made Xia Yubing’s skin crawl, so the guards only stood at both ends of the floor.
Clearly, someone had helped Xia Zhengyun escape…
It was afternoon now; her sister hadn’t taken her meds yet. She would have an episode soon. How could she recover like this?
Xia Yubing clenched her fists. She grabbed the keyboard and smashed the computer to pieces. Unable to contain her rage any longer, she punched the screen repeatedly—sparks flew. The guard cut the power but didn’t dare intervene. Blood dripped into the machine, staining it red in patches.
Moments later, she snapped out of it. Her hands were mangled, the computer in ruins.
Her lips trembled. She realized her impulsiveness—how could she use it now if it was smashed?
She still needed to find her. Without leads, she had counted on this footage to get through the next few days.
Xia Yubing shook her hands and ordered the terrified security guard, “Pull everything—every bit of footage from Room 407 you can get.”
The guard nodded frantically, fearing a fist to his face. “Yes, yes, right away.”
She searched like this for two days, tracking down everyone she could. Who had Xia Zhengyun left with?
“You must have friends I don’t know about,” Xia Yubing said with a twisted smile. “Fine, very good. I’d like to meet that good friend of yours.”
—–
Xia Yubing closed her eyes and exhaled the frustration pent up in her chest. That loss of control felt just like today.
“The beds are fixed. If you swap, someone else has to swap too,” Lu Nan said.
“Who?” Xia Yubing suppressed her rising anger and asked.
“You swap, and Song Wenwei has to swap too.”
Xia Yubing let out a light laugh. “You know quite a bit, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll find a way to swap.”
“Will you?”
Footsteps halted at the door. The person stopped outside.
“What’s going on with you two?” Tang Qi poked her head in.
The air was thick with tension, like swords drawn.
It couldn’t be a fight between them, right? Lu Nan had a sour face but had helped her up when she fell earlier—she seemed nice. Xia Yubing was less familiar; they hadn’t spoken much.
Their faces were identically grim—one sullen, one icy. Weren’t they on the same wavelength? Or did like repel like?
Tang Qi shivered. The air in here was freezing.
Neither backed down. Tang Qi didn’t want to stand there; it was their drama, not hers. She wanted no part in it.
Too awkward.
If she stayed another minute, she’d claw a three-bedroom apartment out of the floorboards with her toes—no need for her descendants to buy property.
No way. Her toes would cramp like this.
With that thought, she straightened her posture, rose onto her tiptoes with her body swaying, turned around, and walked away. She looked just like the perfectly synchronized steps during military training at school.
“Don’t go.”
A female voice called out to her from inside, ice-cold and sending a chill through Tang Qi, as if an invisible snake had coiled around her body.
“Tang Qi, ignore her. You go ahead.”
Xia Yubing glanced at the person beside her. Sure enough, everything that annoying woman said or did was equally infuriating.
She took a step forward toward Tang Qi. “Wait. I have something to say to you.”
Lu Nan stepped forward as well, positioning herself right in her way.
Tang Qi froze in place, swaying left and right. She couldn’t leave, but she couldn’t stay either.
Lu Nan had told her to go, and she wanted to, but Xia Yubing’s tone didn’t sound like she wanted to talk—it sounded like she wanted to fight. It was downright scary.
Should she go or not?
Help…
What kind of mess was this?
She was just a fragile little girl. Who had she provoked?
