Chapter 101: Imperial Summons

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, leaping down from the 10th floor—anyone could tell Qiao Qian’s chances of survival were zero, with no room for doubt.

Even though the onlookers called the police at the first possible moment, it was already too late.

After that, the police rushed to the scene, cleared out the bystanders, and Chu Susu was taken back to the station.

Everyone had seen with their own eyes that Qiao Qian had jumped of her own accord, and there was no one else on the rooftop, so it was undoubtedly suicide.

But Qiao Qian’s last phone call had been to Chu Susu, so the police had no choice but to question her about the deceased’s final words.

“We understand that you two were friends and had known each other for several years.” The police officer sat across from her, pen and paper in hand as he took notes. “Her final call wasn’t to her parents or family, but to you. What did you talk about?”

From the moment she saw Qiao Qian jump, Chu Susu had been utterly distraught, as if she’d lost the ability to speak.

Faced with the question, her lips trembled, but she couldn’t answer right away.

It was normal for an ordinary person to need time to recover after witnessing something like that, especially when it involved a friend. The officer had seen it all before, so he didn’t press her.

After a long while, Chu Susu finally said softly, “She hoped I could forgive her.”

“Forgive her?” The police officer keenly picked up on the implication. “Why?”

“Qiao Qian… she owed a lot of money…”

Chu Susu slowly laid out the whole story, but when it came to the reason Qiao Qian wanted her forgiveness, she paused.

In the end, she didn’t mention Han Xuan’s name, only saying that Qiao Qian had wanted to borrow money from her and Li Le’er.

For one thing, it had no direct relation to Qiao Qian’s death, so there was no need to reveal Han Xuan’s secret to the police. For another, even if she did tell them, who would believe in the existence of “superpowers”? They’d just think Chu Susu was crazy.

“Yu Zize.” Chu Susu’s lips moved. “Qiao Qian also told me about this person at the end. She’s the one suspected of luring Qiao Qian into illegal loans…”

What she said was very helpful to the police. Although they could investigate these matters themselves, most of Qiao Qian’s high-interest loans were off the books and not in the credit system, making them time-consuming to track down one by one.

“Got it. We’ll verify what you’ve said.”

To rule out suspicion, they quickly ran background checks on the people around Chu Susu and found no motive for murder. Once the notes were done, they could let her go.

The officer across from her finished up, his expression turning heavy as well.

Overwhelmed by massive debts she couldn’t repay, ending up on the path to suicide. This loss of life was truly regrettable, especially since Qiao Qian was only 26— so young.

He patted the shoulder of the girl in front of him comfortingly, about to escort her out, only to widen his eyes in shock the next moment and instinctively reach out to support her.

“Ah…”

As she stood up, Chu Susu’s eyes suddenly rolled back, and she collapsed heavily to the floor, unconscious.

“She’s fainted! Call 120!”

“Susu?”

“…When will this kid wake up?”

The familiar voice calling her name by her ear made Chu Susu stir groggily, though she still didn’t open her eyes.

Just from those few words, she recognized who was by her side.

After a long time, Chu Susu finally managed to squeeze a syllable from her throat: “Sis.”

“You’re awake?”

She could hear Chu Qingyang pouring water nearby, then supporting her back as she brought the cup to her lips, feeding her bit by bit.

Chu Susu finally came to fully, and the first thing she saw was Chu Qingyang’s slightly fatigued face—she didn’t know how long she’d been watching over her here.

“The incident wasn’t in my jurisdiction. Yuanxi called me, that’s how I found out something happened to you.” She rubbed her brow. “How are you feeling now?”

Chu Susu glanced out the window; it was pitch black outside, and the clock in the ward showed 2 a.m.

It had only been 1 p.m. when she left Han Yao’s place—unbeknownst to her, over ten hours had passed.

“I don’t feel much right now.” She asked in confusion, “But why am I in the hospital? I remember being taken back to the station…”

“You suddenly fainted and scared the heck out of everyone at the station. The doctor said your concussion from before hasn’t fully healed, and the shock triggered it.”

Right, she’d been hit on the back of the head by the guys Jack sent, but she hadn’t expected the aftereffects to be this severe, still causing her to pass out even now.

After Chu Qingyang finished explaining, she thought of what happened that afternoon and gently patted the back of her hand.

“I heard about your friend’s situation,” she said. “Don’t be too sad. The police are investigating the loan fraud angle, and there will be more education on this in the future to prevent more tragedies.”

Chu Susu didn’t speak, just nodded silently.

They all probably thought Qiao Qian had committed suicide because she couldn’t bear the burden anymore, but only she knew that wasn’t the case.

Even in her darkest moments, Qiao Qian had never thought of dying—she’d tried every possible way just to pay off the debt.

In desperation, she’d even considered using Chu Susu to threaten Han Xuan. It wasn’t exactly honorable, but it proved her desire and determination to live.

When Chu Susu and Li Le’er had helped her find a lawyer, they’d learned a lot—like how Qiao Qian, unable to find steady work, had taken the lowest-paying hourly jobs, working three or four shifts back-to-back every day…

It was the matter with Yu Zize that had crushed her.

No one could have imagined that the truth behind it all was even crueler than it appeared on the surface.

In a way, Yu Zize was the real killer of Qiao Qian.

Seeing her close her eyes in pain without a word, Chu Qingyang knew she must be feeling down. After all, no one could smile through something like this.

“I’ve already called in sick for you at work. Take this time to rest well at home.”

With that, she handed over a soft bun stuffed with sausage. It was a bit cold now, but the aroma lingered.

Just like every time before, whenever Chu Susu cried alone in her room, there would always be one of these buns waiting outside the door.

Looking at her sister, Chu Susu suddenly couldn’t hold back the tears welling up.

Chu Qingyang had a serious and stern personality; she wasn’t great with words, and even now, she couldn’t say anything truly comforting.

But to Chu Susu, she was like an unyielding pillar holding up the sky.

As long as Chu Qingyang was there, the sky wouldn’t fall.

“Sis.” Chu Susu bit her lip, forcing the tears back down, not wanting her to see her crying and worry even more. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

Her heart felt weighed down by a heavy stone; the burden was too much, and she really wanted to confide in someone.

And Chu Qingyang was the person she trusted most in this world, bar none.

“Go ahead.”

Before speaking, Chu Susu wiped her face and suddenly realized something was off.

“Wait.” She asked, “Sis, did you wash my face for me?”

She’d been wearing makeup when she went to the class reunion at noon.

She’d cried several times during it, so she’d thought her face would be a sticky, messy wreck right now, but it actually felt clean and refreshed, without a trace of makeup.

It even felt moisturized, like she’d applied skincare products.

“No.” Chu Qingyang said, “I only just got here a little while ago.”

“Was I like this when you arrived?”

Chu Qingyang gave her a look, not understanding. “Like this? Aren’t you just like normal now?”

“…Oh.” Something suddenly clicked in Chu Susu’s mind.

“What were you about to tell me earlier?”

“Nothing, it’s not important.” Chu Susu forced a smile, trying not to let on that anything was wrong. “Are you tired? Go sleep first. I’ll rest some more too.”

“Mm, I’ll stay at the hospital with you tonight. I’m in the next-door attendant room—call me if you need anything.”

Chu Qingyang gave her a few more reminders, left some newly bought toiletries, and departed.

Among them was a small tube of facial cleanser, still unopened and brand new, proving she was telling the truth. Besides, Chu Qingyang had no reason to lie about something so trivial.

So who had washed Chu Susu’s face?

In the now-empty ward, with only her alone, even her quickened breathing seemed to echo.

Chu Susu leaned against the bed and said calmly, “Come out.”

She knew that person was definitely here.

Maybe even while she and Chu Qingyang were talking earlier, that person had been standing right there listening.

After she said it, there was no reaction in the ward at all—just the wind suddenly picking up, scraping harshly against the window frame.

“Come out, Han Xuan. Or should I say, Xingxing?”

She repeated indifferently, “Didn’t you say that as long as I call your name, you’ll appear by my side?”

Before her words even finished, the pitch-black night sky seemed to tear open a rift, and that star hidden in the darkness suddenly bloomed with an extraordinary light.

In the blink of an eye, a girl in a black skirt appeared at the door.

Moonlight from who-knows-where illuminated her face, making her already snow-white skin even more ethereal and pale, nearly transparent, while her lips remained a vivid crimson.

Han Xuan didn’t speak, her glassy eyes unmoving, like a porcelain doll displayed in a shop cabinet.

Chu Susu gritted her teeth and called her name: “Han Xuan.”

The other finally responded.

Her voice was still soft and barely audible, yet filled with concern: “Does your head still hurt?”

Chu Susu stared at her with a pale face.

“You washed my face, and you heard what I said to my sister.”

It wasn’t a question, but an affirmation.

Han Xuan silently nodded without refuting, and softly said: “Do you want to eat something? I’ll make it for you.”

She knew.

Since Han Xuan could foresee the future, how could she fail to guess that Chu Susu had already uncovered those past events?

Yet she acted as if nothing had happened, deftly changing the subject.

Chu Susu only felt her breathing quicken as her fingers dug harshly into her palm: “I have something to ask you.”

Her heart already harbored the most unwilling-to-admit suspicion—one concerning Qiao Qian.

Though Chu Susu desperately wanted to recover her lost high school memories, she couldn’t ignore this terrifying possibility.

Without waiting for Han Xuan’s reply, she pressed on.

“Back then, I told you not to get involved in Qiao Qian’s affairs, but you said you wanted to help her.”

“Qiao Qian chose suicide after learning the truth of Yu Zize’s deception. But she had no money and hadn’t spent at the bar for a long time—how did she suddenly discover all this?”

“When she jumped from the building, I saw you in the crowd.”

“I couldn’t reach you all day—where did you go? Why were you right there at the scene of Qiao Qian’s suicide?”

By now, she was nearly sobbing, but she forced herself to lock eyes with the girl in the black skirt, refusing to look away.

“Han Xuan, tell me—what did you do?”

“Does Qiao Qian’s suicide have anything to do with you?”

Chu Susu’s questions bombarded Han Xuan like a string of cannon fire.

Yet even under such harsh interrogation, her expression remained unchanged, still holding that faint smile—gentle and serene.

No anger, no irritation, not even a defense.

Everything was exactly as Li Le’er had described—

A “pure and harmless” little lamb.