Chapter 110: Assimilation

She opened her eyes and finally understood why she felt Jiang Zhique resembled that little mongrel.

It was the eyes.

They had the same eyes, dark and deep, slightly timid, yet forcefully feigning composure… It was a feeling. Qi Ran felt that if she pushed her away now, it would be truly over. Nothing would remain. Jiang Zhique would simply disappear, just like that little mongrel.

Jiang Zhique might go on to have a better life, but she would be gone.

Just like that little mongrel. Maybe if it hadn’t followed her, a child better suited to be its owner would have picked it up and taken it home. In that home, it wouldn’t need to be hidden away. It would have its own bed and eat better food… it just wouldn’t be there anymore.

So she reached out, drew Jiang Zhique closer, pulling her in very, very slowly.

“Close your eyes,” Jiang Zhique said in a low voice. Qi Ran could tell her words weren’t calm; the ends of her sentences trembled slightly. Deep down, she probably wasn’t confident either. “You have to trust me completely. If you don’t trust me, it will fail.”

“Although I know what to do, I’ve never done it before. I don’t know what will happen if you don’t truly trust me,” she murmured. “Don’t do something stupid just to save face. If you push me away now, I won’t be angry.”

Every word she spoke was a denial, a refusal, yet Qi Ran knew that between the lines, every single word was a plea, a test… A silent laugh suddenly escaped her. She realized that Jiang Zhique was feeling exactly the same way she was. They both spoke of trusting each other, of being companions, but in their hearts, neither truly believed it yet. Because neither of them had ever experienced what true trust and reliance felt like. That’s why they had to keep testing, testing, and testing again. Only that could bring a sliver of peace to their hearts.

Qi Ran didn’t speak. She simply closed her eyes obediently and pulled the girl who smelled of camphor wood closer. Because she was sitting in the chair, Jiang Zhique had no choice but to place her left knee on the chair. She truly couldn’t bear the awkwardness of sitting on Qi Ran’s lap, so this was her only alternative.

“Will you do something bad to me?” Qi Ran’s voice was faint, like a sleep-talk. “Can I trust you?”

Jiang Zhique looked down at Qi Ran, whose eyes were now closed. Her left knee was resting beside Qi Ran’s leg. Only now did she notice that Qi Ran’s features were actually very soft, or perhaps gentle would be a better word. The reason this was often overlooked was because her daily actions always gave off a sharp, forceful impression. Like a hedgehog, its quills are so conspicuous that people overlook the fact that its face is actually quite similar to a pet hamster.

Just like herself. Wearing a shirt and trousers, piercing her ears and lip, as if doing so made her stronger, made her no longer need to rely on anyone… Thinking about that logic now was truly laughable. It was like a child throwing a tantrum, sitting in a chair and brooding over how she would make all those people regret until they died. But in reality, that was utterly impossible. Only that child sat there alone, gnashing her teeth, childishly believing that simply tormenting her body could change something.

Too childish. Too laughable.

“I won’t do anything bad to you,” her words came very, very slowly. “No matter what happens, I promise. Can you trust me?”

She placed her hands on either side of Qi Ran’s cheeks and subconsciously rubbed them. The touch was warm and smooth. Qi Ran obediently let Jiang Zhique lift her hair. Then came a cool sensation. The moist touch was like a snake, landing on the center of her brow. It made her hair stand on end, goosebumps involuntarily rising. Yet she still forced herself to sit rigid in the chair, motionless.

Jiang Zhique’s hands remained placed on either side of her face. On one side was a comforting, warm heat. On the other, a chilling, moist coldness. These two sharply contrasting sensations merged and poured into her Mind Lake. What followed was a feeling beyond words. Not quite pain, but certainly not pleasant.

Her taut body trembled slightly, like a sprout convulsing in the cold winds of late autumn. Deep purple, delicate veins gradually surfaced on her originally fair cheeks. The veins twitched, almost visibly to the naked eye. Even with her teeth clenched tight, fragmented, subtle sounds still seeped from between her lips. Her hands gripped tightly around Jiang Zhique’s waist, with a force strong enough to seemingly snap her in two.

Jiang Zhique knew exactly what she was experiencing now, because she had gone through it herself. It was an overwhelming, surging tide of profound sorrow. The anger, regret, grief, and despair of each Snake Tattoo would be fully accepted by her Mind Lake. And all Qi Ran had to do was open her heart and accept these turbulent emotions.

She had seen the Jiang family’s past. Every generation of Snake Mark Bearers were outsider children of the same background. They were mostly girls with tragic lives and hearts full of resentment. Only girls from such backgrounds could withstand these extremely Yin and evil things. These girls with snake tattoos were mostly short-lived, the oldest living no more than thirty. In the last stages of their lives, they would constantly dream the same illusion: a place of utter, lightless darkness. Nothing could be seen, only the sound of snake scales rubbing together beside their ears. They called that place ‘home’—the shared final destination of all Snake Mark Bearers. There they would sleep, finding peace and redemption.

The Jiang family had risen to prominence precisely through these Snake Mark Bearers, profiting immensely, filling their pockets, their faces slick with grease from gluttonous feasts. The pale corpses of those girls were piled on the floor beneath the dining tables. Guests stepped on them, toasting and mingling, loudly discussing interests and prospects. The cups were filled not with fine wine, but the blood of those girls.

After gaining the Tao family’s protection, the Jiang family became even more unrestrained. Every historically recorded disaster was an opportunity for them. The more suffering there was in the world, the more common and cheap it was to find girls with broken homes and tragic fates. After aligning with the Tao family, they reached their zenith. At that time, the Jiang family was immensely prominent. During one transaction, they even sold a sixteen-year-old Snake Mark Bearer for an astronomical price of two million dollars. At that time, that sum could have bought twenty T-34 Medium Tanks.

This lasted until the emergence of the Executor strategy. The Tao family made a mistake. They were too arrogant, and arrogance means destruction. The Jiang family, clinging to a sliver of hope, resisted stubbornly. What awaited them were Thermite Incendiaries. None of the Executors who participated in that eradication would forget that sight. It was truly beautiful, like brilliant raindrops falling in extreme slow motion, like pear blossoms swept away by the bleak autumn wind.

It incinerated all the filth hidden in the crevices and ravines, like a world-cleansing flame, leaving only scorched, black earth behind.

Jiang Zhique lowered her eyelids, focusing intently. Blood from the tip of her tongue etched a symbol on the center of Qi Ran’s brow.

Qi Ran’s pupils sometimes scattered, sometimes shifted into eerie, dark yellow vertical slits, like those of a snake. The eyes swirled, the sight looking somewhat strange, like two fake glass marbles. Her originally strained body gradually relaxed, collapsing limp as if the bones had been removed. The deep purple veins on her cheeks slowly receded, replaced by light cyan, fine scales. The scales spread from her lower eyelids all the way down to her slender neck. Jiang Zhique stroked the scales repeatedly, feeling Qi Ran’s slight tremor with each touch. This helped Qi Ran maintain a clear consciousness.

This state lasted for a very long time. Slowly, Qi Ran stopped trembling, sitting motionless in the chair. The speed at which her pupils changed grew faster and faster. Her expression also shifted through different emotions: sometimes angry, sometimes sorrowful, sometimes pained, sometimes ferocious. Jiang Zhique simply continued to rub the gradually fading, smooth scales with her soft fingertips, quietly waiting for it all to stop.

Finally, the changes ceased. Qi Ran’s expression calmed. Her pupils returned to their original state, staring somewhat blankly at the balcony ceiling. Jiang Zhique waited for her to speak, her heart filled with unease.

She had never done this before. She didn’t know if there would be any accidents or other problems. Although she had followed every step, Qi Ran’s intense reaction still made her subconsciously uneasy.

After waiting a little longer, she simply couldn’t bear the anxiety anymore and asked softly, “Qi Ran?”

Qi Ran was silent for a moment, then smiled soundlessly. Her voice was somewhat weak. “I don’t mind you sitting on me like this, but I’m a little worried the chair might not hold up. Can you get down first?”