The Van slowly made its way forward. It was clear this old junker was considerably aged, possibly even older than Jiang Zhique herself. It creaked and groaned as it drove, the surface of the seats covered in many stains, mostly scraped by cargo. Visible dust and grit filled the cracks. Jiang Zhique couldn’t be bothered to replace or clean it—even if she made it look brand new, it would still end up hauling goods. Strictly speaking, she had “borrowed” this van from a Construction Site.
She drove aimlessly, the window rolled down. A slightly cool evening breeze gently caressed her face. Many people strolled along the riverbank digesting their meals, walking dogs or children. It looked very warm and pleasant.
She glanced again at the girl sitting in the passenger seat. The girl was still staring blankly at the phone, her finger slowly scrolling the screen. She had been staring at this post for two hours, having read it meticulously at least six times. Eventually, her gaze would always settle on the image pinned to the top of the post, her two fingers zooming in and out, constantly lost in thought.
Her gaze was calm, without a single ripple in the water, like stagnant water.
Jiang Zhique herself had looked at that picture many times. Not for any particular reason, just curiosity. After all, this was the original Ghost Birth Infant—these twin Ghost Birth Infant sisters looked nothing like artificially created beings. They wore long braids, slightly loose military-style civilian clothes one size too big. Green army caps, red armbands, yellow satchels… complete in every detail, they looked no different from ordinary female students of that era. The two held hands tightly, standing close together, even possessing a strangely eerie warmth.
—As if they were not some Ghost Birth Infant, just a pair of utterly ordinary twin sisters, the elder steady and the younger lively. Nothing more.
The post was made in 1996, so many of the joking comments within carried a strong flavor of that era. The Executor System had only been born for about ten years back then, and the younger generation within The Circle were very united. Many replies added more stories and history about the Ghost Birth Infant, mostly from people in Northern China. After the Tao Family fell, they had all become the primary beneficiaries, so those accounts were quite credible. Among them, a person with a solid black avatar and the ID “Marquise de Montespan” was very active. The two follow-up posts they made generated high discussion. One was a Medical Examination Report of the Ghost Birth Infant, the other compiled all developments of the Ghost Birth Incident, even listing the Warlords who had died at the Ghost Birth Infant’s hands—one name among them was blacked out, likely the important figure whose name could not be spoken.
That Medical Examination Report of the Ghost Birth Infant was a black-and-white image, clearly originating from the Tao Family’s hand. There were two Physical Examination reports, one of which was blank except for the identity information section. According to that “Marquise” or whatever, this blank report was forcibly demanded by the Ghost Birth Infant. To curry favor with her, the Tao Family could only play along with this game of house—for example, preparing two pillows and two blankets in a room, two sets of toiletries, even daily meals and drinking water had to be provided in duplicate. The same went for the Medical Examination Report; those doctors could only fumble through the motions on empty air, then draw Ghostly Talismans on the report with a pen holding no cartridge… They said the Ghost Birth Infant’s mental state was extremely poor at that time, nearing the brink of madness. Only by acting out this charade could they get her to cooperate smoothly with their research.
“The Ghost Birth Infant’s common sense for living was practically zero. So, when the Tao Family dealt with her, they used the emotional bond card. Looking back now, that strategy probably didn’t succeed; otherwise, when the Tao Family was destroyed, the Ghost Birth Infant wouldn’t have just stood by watching without helping. But it’s hard to say for sure. After all, the Tao Family’s materials didn’t state the Ghost Birth Infant’s lifespan. It’s generally said that such creations of evil methods can’t exist for very long.”
That was the last post from that “Marquise” person. Below, there were guesses about which family they belonged to. The most upvoted theory suggested it might be the North China Zuo Family. After all, before the Tao Family’s destruction, their closest relations were with the Jiang Family and the Zuo Family. The Jiang Family chose to follow the Tao Family, while the Zuo Family chose to stand alone and look after themselves, thus becoming the ultimate biggest winner in Northern China afterwards.
Qi Ran’s fingertip lingered on the name fields of the two Physical Examination reports, transfixed. The names on the two images were “Xiao” and “Qiao” respectively—the expressionless older sister who tightly held onto the younger was named Xiao. The younger sister, brimming with laughter as if she might disappear at any moment, was named Qiao.
No wonder Miss Ah Qiao liked to use Tao Xiao’s appearance. So that was it. Because… that was her own appearance to begin with. Even with amnesia, she would still feel familiarity and closeness to her own face. And no wonder Tao Xiao never returned to that home after Miss Ah Qiao appeared. There was no need. Her, Qi Ran’s, last shred of value had been fully expended. It was that simple.
From beginning to end, the only one Tao Xiao ever cared about was her younger sister, Miss Ah Qiao. So, in those past two years, what had she, Qi Ran, been in Tao Xiao’s eyes? A body compatible with her little sister? Or something else entirely? Qi Ran didn’t know, and she didn’t want to wildly guess. But no matter how many times she looked through this post, she eventually stopped on that very first photo. In the photo, Tao Xiao quietly gazed towards the camera’s direction. Even without expression, those eyes remained as gentle as always, like the last illusion of a spring day as summer approached. Even knowing it was false, one couldn’t help but be drawn to it, moth to flame.
She gazed at the picture, her sightline as if crossing sixty long years, silently meeting the gaze of that single-character-named girl, Xiao. Both were silent, saying nothing.
“Do you have time now?”
She suddenly spoke. Jiang Zhique, who was driving, paused, then nodded. “What is it?”
“I need to go to this place,” Qi Ran entered an address into the phone’s map. “It’s best to turn on the bug, or maintain direct contact with Li Siwen. I think it might be unsafe there.”
Jiang Zhique nodded and handed a black box to Qi Ran. Qi Ran opened it to find a Communicator, though its design was somewhat strange. It looked more like a black clip, with a dark, spiral Communicator cable hanging from it, resembling the coiled cords of older-generation telephones.
Seeing her slightly puzzled look, Jiang Zhique said, “I’ll teach you how to wear it once we arrive.”
“I’ve never seen this kind of Communicator,” Qi Ran nodded. “Looks really strange.”
“Executor equipment,” Jiang Zhique said. “Isolates external interference, highly secure. It won’t leak sound even in extremely quiet situations. And this wearing method ensures it won’t come off your ear during movement… I don’t know much else, just these basic effects.”
As Jiang Zhique spoke, the van’s speed gradually decreased. She frowned slightly. Qi Ran was surprised: “So soon?”
“No, we’re still at least twenty minutes away. But ahead is the Old City; we can’t drive in there,” Jiang Zhique said in a low voice. “The roads are too narrow. Once we drive in, it might be very hard to drive back out… the best way is to go in on foot.”
Qi Ran looked towards the tall iron gate ahead marked with the location’s name. She immediately understood why Jiang Zhique was frowning. Beyond that gate was the Old City District. The widest road could only fit a single vehicle. Because the sky had already turned to evening, the pale white light from the street lamps barely illuminated the road surface. The dark glass windows of the buildings of varying heights on both sides were frighteningly dark. There was absolute silence, not a single sound.
Looking further inside, one could see that street at a glance, with its strangely protruding tall buildings. It was utterly out of place amidst the surrounding old houses that resembled a village. Lit up in a riot of colors all night long, it looked like a glaring tumor.
Just as she was staring ahead, a warm touch suddenly came at her earlobe, making one’s heart crawl slightly with unease.
“What’s wrong?” Suppressing the urge to turn her head, she asked in a calm tone.
“Putting the Communicator on you,” Jiang Zhique said quietly. “Don’t move. Tell me if it feels uncomfortable and I’ll adjust it.”
Qi Ran gave an “Mhm” and endured the discomfort. The Communicator felt slightly intrusive when first put on—its presence was much stronger than typical in-ear earphones. But once she got used to it, it was just barely tolerable. After Jiang Zhique had put her own on, she cleared her throat lightly and said, “Can you hear my voice? Any static?”
“Very clear,” Qi Ran said softly. “What about mine?”
“Equally clear.”
