Chapter 54: One of a Kind Part 2

Scalding water splashed across Xie Yingnian’s neck and collarbone, turning the skin bright red.

She didn’t bother wiping it off or checking the damage. She reached out and pulled her distraught sister into her arms, apologizing over and over.

The fire was man-made, caused by a person—Xie Yingnian.

But the one who treated her well was also Xie Yingnian.

It had taken Shi Cainran years to shift the equation between them from equal to approximately equal. Time eroded so much. Their distance had grown from close to far, then slowly closed again—only for another accident to strike that year.

She had listed her education on her resume as an undergraduate degree from a music conservatory—half true, half false.

She had attended classes there, but only the kind you paid through the nose for. She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed; she hadn’t scraped together enough points on her academic subjects, couldn’t stomach the grind of repeating a year, and even though the coursework wasn’t anywhere near as demanding as a proper program, she still hadn’t made it to the finish line.

Because…

Shi Cainran clutched the legs of her pants with white-knuckled hands. The harder she tried to forget, the more deeply the memory took root. Even now, she dreaded rainy days. When thunder rolled overhead, that man’s face shadowed her mind like a storm cloud. His status as a teacher had made it all too easy to win her trust, but beneath his respectable clothes lurked a heart rotten to the core.

The man’s hands were dry and bony, yet they slithered over her skin with a sickening clamminess. He wasn’t even all that interested in going all the way; instead, he caressed her legs in rapture, murmuring over and over how beautiful they were.

Xie Yingnian had arrived just in time. The case was ruled as molestation. The man who should have faced justice bolted instead, ran a red light, and ended up a ghost under the wheels of a car.

At the police station, giving her statement, she had to recount the details again and again. Shi Cainran was freezing cold and scared out of her wits, trembling from head to toe. When she overheard the murmurs of “disabled fetish,” nausea hit her like a tidal wave, and she vomited until her stomach heaved inside out.

All those grievances circled back to square one. If there hadn’t been that fire, if she hadn’t been scarred with burns, would any of this have happened?

That year, Shi Cainran took a leave of absence from school. Later, she dropped out for good. Naturally, she never got her diploma.

The man was dead, case closed—at least in everyone else’s eyes. Not hers. She scoured online spirit medium forums for ways to get revenge, even reaching out to some of the posters. They warned her it would only deepen her own sins. She let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t even do evil, and heaven still screws me over. Every debt has a debtor—why doesn’t heaven ask who sinned first, him or me?”

Roughly half a year later, Shi Cainran learned about the man’s family’s misfortunes. Her curse had worked; they were all suffering.

But she paid a price for it too. Her body wasted away day by day, her constitution grew weaker, and trips to the hospital turned up nothing.

Netizens loved to joke that Qinggua Video’s post-production was million-dollar quality, and the reaction videos were packed with clever bits. Shi Cainran watched as the clip deliberately cut to Xie Yingnian. She scoffed. “The editor’s got skills.”

Xie Yingnian hadn’t even been looking at her back then, let alone wearing that expression.

She hit pause, her gaze landing on Xie Yingnian’s wrist. She hadn’t worn those prayer beads since wrapping up her shoot and returning to the capital.

Who had gone to Wonderful Cloud Temple? Shi Cainran tugged at the corner of her mouth in a smirk. Should she be happy about it? It felt like this person had sliced through the last thread tying her to Xie Yingnian.

Her wrist was bare, the prayer beads tucked in her pocket. Xie Yingnian climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor. The house was pin-drop quiet, the lights tuned to a warm amber glow. The faint blue light from the projector’s home screen bathed Zhong Jia in a soft hue.

Just minutes earlier, the girl had wrapped up her livestream with an a cappella song, and now her sleeping face was serene. Xie Yingnian lightened her steps but quickened her pace all the same.

Hadn’t her cold cleared up? So sleepy without even taking medicine?

The thought crossed her mind, but it didn’t slow her stride for a second. The floors were cold, and it was an air-conditioned room. Xie Yingnian had been through it herself, so she knew Zhong Jia couldn’t afford to mistreat her body like this.

She bent down, sliding one arm behind Zhong Jia’s waist and the other under her knees, ready to scoop her up. But suddenly, her collar was grabbed.

Xie Yingnian’s reflexes were sharp; she could have pulled away in an instant. Instead, she allowed it. Lips met a familiar warmth, and Zhong Jia’s laughter tickled her ear. “Gotcha with a kiss.”

“You can kiss me anytime you want.”

“…Can’t we have a little romance?”

Xie Yingnian glanced at her, then at the floor beneath her. Her eyes said everything.

“Ahem, I only lay down for a bit. A tiny bit. Five minutes tops.” Seeing no give in Xie Yingnian’s expression, Zhong Jia sighed in frustration. She propped herself up on her elbows and nudged Xie Yingnian’s chin with her head, dragging out her words in a whine. “Let me be on top this time, okay? Don’t be mad.”

The hand supporting her lower back slid downward, brushing near her buttock.

Meeting Zhong Jia’s wary gaze, Xie Yingnian withdrew her hand quickly to clear her name. She bent one leg, resting her hand on the knee of the other, and said flatly, “I wasn’t planning to hit you. Or take advantage.”

“Then what were you…”

“Checking which animal this tail belongs to. Dreaming with your eyes wide open.”

Xie Yingnian propped her cheek on her hand and pretended to search it up on her phone with grave seriousness. Zhong Jia couldn’t resist her curiosity—fatal cat trait—and leaned over to peek, even though the screen had a privacy filter. “Find anything?”

She acted like she’d forgotten whether she even had a tail.

“Yep, got it.” Xie Yingnian nodded and handed her the phone.

Then she stood, scanned the room’s layout, and headed in the right direction. Sure enough, she spotted the silhouette of the range hood in the light. “What’s in the fridge?”

Her memo app held a vividly illustrated copy of Lying Zero Strategy, published by some xxx press, authored by Zhong Jia, with “documentary literature” stamped on the spine. Zhong Jia figured if she were an animal, she’d be a dumb monkey. She huffed and yelled, “Xie Yingnian!”

The scheming woman turned around, arms crossed. “Any orders from Teacher Zhong?”

“…Don’t call me Teacher Zhong.”

“Especially… when we’re doing it.”

Xie Yingnian arched a brow. “Oh? I thought you loved it.”

“When have I ever?” Zhong Jia stomped her foot.

“Fountain.” Xie Yingnian summed up her evidence in one word.

The air felt chilly, but her ears burned. Zhong Jia bolted toward her in a hundred-meter sprint, desperate to sew that mouth shut.

Xie Yingnian spread her arms and caught the girl hurling herself into her embrace. Her lip was bitten hard; she drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. “Easy.”

“No.” Zhong Jia grumbled petulantly. She was riding high on the indulgence now. After breaking up and getting back together, she could feel how much more Xie Yingnian cared about her than before. In turn, she was even less willing to let this woman go.

“You’ve got a magazine shoot tomorrow.”

Zhong Jia finally let up and trailed after her into the kitchen. “Making me a midnight snack?”

“Did you see my livestream? How else would you know I’m hungry?”

“Just a guess.” Xie Yingnian tossed it out casually, pretending not to notice the disappointment on her face.

They stood in front of the double-door fridge. Xie Yingnian reached over Zhong Jia’s head for two eggs, then rummaged through the crisper for a head of Shanghai cabbage, a ham sausage, and half a bag of frozen lean pork.

She dumped the meat into a bowl and popped it in the microwave to defrost.

“Fried noodles sound good?”

“Sure.” Zhong Jia nodded. “I’ve never tried your cooking, so anything works. As long as it’s from you.”

As she spoke, she coughed a few times. She’d sat on the floor for two hours during the livestream, and her frail body still wasn’t used to it. A lot of her old habits—harmless back in the day—were tough to shake now.

Her eyes darted away, avoiding Xie Yingnian’s gaze.

Xie Yingnian set aside the ingredients for a moment and leaned against the edge of the black stone countertop. She took Zhong Jia’s hand in hers, letting the prayer beads slide from her fingertips to Zhong Jia’s, then down to her wrist bone.

“A few days ago, you asked what I’d been busy with. I went to Wonderful Cloud Temple and found it a new owner.”

The string of beads had been consecrated by Mengcan himself; they could absorb some disasters on behalf of their wearer.

Xie Yingnian had originally meant to ask if there was a way to transfer them again. The monk, over seventy, simply chanted a Buddha’s name and chuckled. “Foolish child. Let fate decide.”

Feeling the gentle, smooth touch, Zhong Jia looked down at the red agate beads, no longer quite so vibrant. She asked Xie Yingnian, “Why didn’t the master give them to me last time?”

“He was waiting for me.”

“Have you two known each other long?”

“Not really. Just fate brought us together.”

Zhong Jia smiled softly. “I love hearing you talk about your past.”

“There’s one more thing I haven’t told you.”

She looked up. “What?”

Xie Yingnian brushed the hair from Zhong Jia’s forehead and pressed a kiss to the spot between her brows. “I joined the show for you.”