Chapter 74: Disparity

Qi Ran stepped over a pool of stagnant water. The murky, dark-brown puddle was likely older than she was. The uneven path was full of potholes. The girl called Greasepaint led the way. The roads in the Old City District were far more complex than they had imagined, twisting and turning with no real landmarks. Jiang Zhique was quickly lost, completely unable to remember which fork to take. Qi Ran fared slightly better. She silently catalogued every turn in her mind, a rough map of the paths slowly taking form in her Mind Lake.

In truth, the roads weren’t impossibly complex. The reason newcomers got so hopelessly lost was that the Old City District was a chaotic mess, but a uniformly chaotic mess. Regardless of the height of the buildings, it was the exact same kind of disorder: electrical wires tangled into black knots, iron gates caked in dust, clothes drying on poles still dripping water, long, tightly packed rows of electric scooters and bicycles, overflowing trash bins reeking of something foul. The garbage that couldn’t be stuffed inside was simply piled next to the bins. Old people stood beside them, rummaging through the refuse. It was like they had been copied and pasted by every single trash can.

The girl called Greasepaint navigated these back alleys with practiced ease. Some of the elderly greeted her in a thick Pingjiang accent as she passed. Greasepaint forced a smile in return. It was clear the locals of the Old City District all knew each other. Qi Ran checked the time. It was just past five in the morning since they’d left the Su Family’s nightclub. The sky was a hazy, iron-gray, heavy and cold.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Qi Ran felt the sky hung lower than usual, a crushing weight pressing down on everyone, as if to squeeze more value out of them.

Jiang Zhique walked forward, staring blankly at the scene before her. She had never imagined such a place could exist in Pingjiang, the city where she’d lived her whole life. Even harder to imagine was that the girl her own age had grown up here. It suddenly reminded her of the scenes she’d witnessed inside Qi Ran’s home, leaving her momentarily unsure which environment was worse.

After passing through a low alleyway, Qi Ran saw a tall wall. Red bricks were exposed, and the top was lined with shards of broken glass. It seemed to enclose a rather large courtyard. Seeing such a courtyard in the Old City District was genuinely surprising. When they reached the main gate, Qi Ran understood why. A sign hung beside the gate with a row of characters: Pingjiang Old Town Orphan’s Paradise.

“This is… a church?” Jiang Zhique murmured, her tone confused. She couldn’t fathom seeing a church in the Old City District; it was too surreal.

“The building was a church, originally,” Greasepaint nodded, her voice low. “They say Catholic missionaries built a foundling hospital here around 1930. Most of it was destroyed during the war. It was bought later to rebuild the church, but that was never finished. It sat abandoned… until it was finally completed in 1980 and turned into an orphanage. It still counts as a church, though. There are two masses on Sundays.”

“You’re Catholic?” Jiang Zhique asked, surprised. Religion was a distant concept to her. The only impressions she had were negative ones of fanaticism and ignorance.

Greasepaint nodded. Her reason was simple: “The nuns took us in. Besides, if you believe, you get eggs.”

As if guessing what Jiang Zhique was thinking, she hesitated before offering a tactful explanation: “The nuns know we only believe for the eggs. She’s a very good person. She was even willing to take in children like us, children whose parents have criminal records…”

Her voice trailed off at the end. Her expression was full of shame as she hung her head, like a scolded child. She seemed unsure how to explain that she was the only one coming back.

Jiang Zhique fell silent, then nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Greasepaint shook her head, pushed open the iron gate, and led Jiang Zhique and Qi Ran into the courtyard. There was a two-story building. A neatly divided patch of land on the open ground was actually a small vegetable garden, dotted with green sprouts Qi Ran couldn’t identify. Further away, there was a swing set, two ping-pong tables, and a few rows of wooden benches. Ivy climbed the pale yellow walls that stood out sharply from the surrounding buildings. The pointed spire on top was distinct. The heavily worn bricks bore the marks of passing years, with crayon and oil-pen scribbles visible in many places.

Noticing Qi Ran’s gaze, Greasepaint explained softly, “I drew those when I first arrived. Unlike the other children, I came here when I was thirteen. I was very naive back then… or maybe I just didn’t fully understand my situation. I hated the other kids here. I thought they had no manners, that they were rustic and unsophisticated. I was different. I was only here temporarily. In a few days, the important adults who were friends with my father would come for me… But no one ever came. It was much later that I understood nobody was coming. But by then, none of the children wanted to be my friend anymore.”

“So I was always alone. I drew on the walls. I’ve always loved drawing. If nothing had happened at home, I planned to study art. But things changed, and you can’t change them back,” Greasepaint said. “As I was drawing, a child suddenly came to talk to me. The other kids called him Green Spider. He was the oldest here. He complimented my drawings, said they were beautiful, and brought the other children over, asking if I could teach everyone to draw… I think he noticed I was always alone, so he did it on purpose.”

“He was always like that. He’d say none of us were orphans, we all had family, and this place was our home… He really was like an older brother, the best at everything. The nuns told us to learn from him. He said being good at school was cool, so even the kids who refused to go to school started going… He was just that good a person.”

“But he killed someone,” Qi Ran stated. “I believe what you’re saying is true. So there must be a reason. What was the reason?”

Greasepaint was silent for a moment before speaking. “It’s complicated. Do you want to hear it? I can tell you, but it’s a bit long.”

“It’s still so early. Wouldn’t it be rude to go in and disturb them?” Qi Ran sat down on one of the wooden benches in the courtyard. “Ever since I was in the archives room, I’ve wanted to ask one question… Why didn’t you just explain everything clearly to that Executor named Li?”

“What would be the point?” Greasepaint smiled a silent, mirthless smile. “Even if she had the time to hear us out, guess what she’d say? At best, ‘That’s no excuse for murder.’ Or maybe, ‘I sympathize, but you’ve already done something wrong and must pay the price.’ Her stance is set. In her eyes, kids like us only fall into three categories: future Executors, criminals, and potential criminals… If we’re not future Executors, whatever we do is wrong.”

“We have to obey laws that don’t even recognize us as people, while others can do anything to us without being punished by those laws. The moment we fight back, we become lawbreakers…” Greasepaint’s voice was quiet. “Why should that be the rule? Just because we have different Talents? That’s utterly ridiculous.”

Li Yuan closed the door and stretched her back with a long sigh.

“What, still refusing to talk?”

Fang Qi, who had been waiting outside for a long time, tossed a bottle of water. Li Yuan reached out and caught it. She unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and said helplessly, “This kid is ten times more stubborn than the others. No matter what we say, he won’t speak a single word. We have to let him sleep in six hours, and he’s already gone forty-two hours without rest.”

“What’s his name again?” Fang Qi asked, a little surprised.

“He calls himself Hyena, but his real name should be Fang Ke. His Syndrome is quite interesting. If he hadn’t gone down the wrong path, he would have been an excellent Executor. What a pity,” Li Yuan sighed. “None of these kids were probably involved in the murder case from back then. The arson case is also unrelated to them. They likely just heard through some channel that something was going to happen, got an impulsive idea, and decided to take advantage of the chaos. Even the cement incident—they were used and manipulated by someone else. It’s the classic case of being made a pawn, you know how it goes.”

“They’re the same age, but the difference between them is staggering,” Fang Qi remarked.

Li Yuan paused slightly. “What is Qi Xin doing?”

“Reviewing. Reading. Doing practice problems over and over. Now I see where her grades come from. It makes sense,” Fang Qi said, somewhat bemused. “I remember when I was in school, I did practice problems to get more points. She does them to avoid losing points. She’s aiming for a perfect score. You should take her out more, let her rest. I’m a bit worried her eyesight will suffer if she keeps this up.”