Chapter 76: Blood Is Thicker Than Water

“She’s asleep.”

Li Yuan closed the door and turned to Qi Xin, who was standing in the corridor. “Tian Xi says her current mental state isn’t good enough. Forcing entry into her mind lake might harm her physically, so we’ll let her sleep first. The tests can wait until she wakes up.”

Qi Xin nodded. “That’s fine, then.”

“To be honest, I was still a little worried before,” Li Yuan said with a smile. “Looking at it now, I see I was overthinking things.”

Although she had never mentioned it to anyone, she had previously been rather concerned about the relationship between these twin sisters. Even though Fang Qi had explained the reason they couldn’t have contact, Li Yuan still felt it would be a tragedy—a crime against fortune itself—if a pair of biological sisters, who should have relied on each other, were driven to mutual hatred by so-called outsiders. But now, clearly, that wasn’t the case. Qi Xin’s attitude toward Qi Ran was far more caring and gentle than she had imagined. At the very least, they were certainly not “strangers bound by blood ties.”

Qi Xin could easily guess the words Li Yuan had left unspoken. She simply shook her head gently. “Does Sister Li Yuan have any siblings?”

Li Yuan shook her head. “I’m an only child. But if I had to say, my relationship with Yu Mi is no different from that of real siblings.”

“Suppose, one day, you suddenly learned something. Senior Yu Mi had hidden a very important matter from you, something that might threaten your life…” Qi Xin nodded and spoke slowly. “What would you think?”

“What would I think?” Li Yuan paused briefly, pondering the question before replying. “If something like that really happened, I’d be very angry about being deceived. And knowing Yu Mi’s personality, if he did such a thing, there must have been some reason forcing his hand… So I’d also be a little worried about his situation. But, of course, the greater part would still be anger.”

She imagined the scenario Qi Xin described and voiced her true inner thoughts. In truth, that anger would likely be less about the deception itself and more about why the other person hadn’t simply confessed the hidden truth to her. Family affection is a strange thing like that—even knowing full well the other person has done something absolutely unforgivable, deep within the mind lake, one still instinctively worries about them… The thought just surfaces naturally, without any process of deliberation.

It’s like an elder brother who suddenly learns his younger brother stole from someone. His first reaction would certainly be fury. He might be so angry he gives his brother a severe beating. But after that beating, he would still think about how to get his brother back on the right path, how to apologize and seek forgiveness from the victims, how to prevent this incident from affecting his brother’s future as much as possible… The thought of things being “too troublesome” or “not his business” wouldn’t even cross his mind. Because they are bound by blood, thicker than water. A bond where even broken bones remain connected by the sinew.

“Would you suspect that he intended to kill you from the very start?” Qi Xin asked.

“Of course not,” Li Yuan said, her tone matter-of-fact. “He’d have no reason to do that.”

Qi Xin nodded. “This is probably what affection between blood kin is like. It’s not so much about the blood relation itself, but the bond that matters. My relationship with Qi Ran isn’t good, but if you asked me whether I think Qi Ran would want to kill me, my answer would be just as simple: of course Qi Ran wouldn’t want to kill me. If she really intended to do that, it would surely be because some unavoidable reason was forcing her hand… On that point, I think Qi Ran feels the same way.”

“The same way?” Li Yuan asked softly.

“No matter what Qi Ran does to me, even if she tried to kill me, I would forgive her once. But only once. That’s what I think. And I imagine Qi Ran thinks the same way, too.” Qi Xin’s speech was very slow, uncharacteristically losing its usual calm.

Li Yuan froze, a flicker of daze passing through her eyes.

Because she had once said something similar to Yu Mi.

That was a long time ago, when she was still very young. It was the first time Yu Mi followed Tang Ci on a mission. When he returned, he talked to her about the mission’s target: an Executor who had gone mad. As he drank, he slowly recounted the mission’s process, telling her how the Executor no longer understood what he was doing—his mind was completely broken. So Tang Ci had no choice but to bury him in cement and sink him to the bottom of the Pingjiang River… The two of them had stood silently on the bank, neither speaking, just quietly watching the barrel slowly sink into the water. On the drive back, Tang Ci was at the wheel. Yu Mi, sitting in the passenger seat, had fallen asleep from exhaustion. In his dream, he felt himself lying inside that barrel, water flooding in through his mouth and nose, suffocation everywhere.

He told Li Yuan that if, one day, for some inexplicable reason, he became a target himself, he hoped she would be the one to kill him… Li Yuan, still in school back then, agreed. But she added that she would let Yu Mi go once. No matter what he did, she would spare him one time, and one time only.

Yu Mi listened and then laughed, saying she must never let anyone else hear those words—it would be far too severe a dereliction of duty. Li Yuan thought Yu Mi was right. That statement was too selfish, too great a violation of her duty. Sparing a criminal once meant at least one new innocent victim would be created. But those words were her truest, innermost thoughts. No matter how unforgivable an error Yu Mi committed, she would let him go once. Only after that would she hunt him down and finish it. It was selfish and utterly wrong, but that was simply how it was.

That kind of feeling originates from the softest place in the heart. It throbs with pain. Cutting it out would be like carving away the most vital part of oneself, leaving one incomplete.

She looked at Qi Xin. The girl’s expression was calm, as though she hadn’t just been pouring out her heart, but merely mentioning some trivial, utterly unimportant little matter. Gazing at that expression, Li Yuan suddenly felt a very subtle pain stir in her mind lake. It wasn’t like a needle, more like a tiny splinter… A pain you could ignore if you chose to, one that wouldn’t cause anyone else the slightest trouble.

Their relationship had been this way since they were very young. The two of them were fated to be set apart for comparison. Now, it had merely changed from being raised in captivity by their mother, Li Wanying, to being raised in captivity by the Executors. The elder sister’s sole value was to serve as a contrast to the younger sister, to prove that the Executors were better than the Insiders… Just as it had been to prove that Mother was better than Father.

It was like two farm owners wanting to compete over who raised livestock better, separating two newborn animals to raise them apart. They were put on television, packaged exquisitely, fed the best feed, dressed in beautiful clothes. Yet nothing changed. The backdrop merely shifted from filthy, dilapidated farms to gleaming, immaculate white porcelain plates. That was all… These two girls should have been inseparable twin sisters.

(——————)

Qi Ran sat on a small stool, a trash can placed in front of her. On the ground sat a large basin full of washed potatoes awaiting peeling. As the peeler scraped, potato skins fell into the trash can, quickly accumulating. Cooking breakfast for dozens of children was this difficult. The few young volunteers were all frazzled and overwhelmed. A volunteer aunt, who looked nearly forty, commanded them with robust energy. Her accent sounded like she was from Northeast China, her bold, heroic demeanor like she was conducting an orchestra—only her instruments were pots, pans, and ladles, and the cleaver chopping vegetables was her baton.

Jiang Zhique sat on another stool on the opposite side of the trash can. The first few times she’d helped, her movements had been clumsy, clearly showing she’d never set foot in a kitchen before. But gradually, she’d become much more practiced and less awkward.

As time passed, the potato skins quickly filled the entire trash can. Just when Jiang Zhique felt her wrists were unbearably sore, that large basin of potatoes was finally all peeled, lying in the water within the basin. Qi Ran carried the basin to the sink. After a simple rinse, the volunteer aunt skillfully shredded them with practiced movements. Their assigned part of the work was finally complete.

They had been here for almost four days now. Qi Ran couldn’t help but regret her initial politeness, asking if they needed any help. That volunteer aunt with the Northeastern accent was practically a superwoman. She never stood on ceremony with them, waving Qi Ran over to tutor the children with their homework. Although Qi Ran’s grades weren’t exactly top-tier, tutoring some elementary and middle school problems was still more than enough for her.

While Qi Ran tutored, Jiang Zhique could only stand by and watch. It was only then that a somewhat embarrassing fact struck her: without being able to reveal her Insider identity, someone who had only completed compulsory education seemed to have no skills whatsoever. She couldn’t teach the children how to pick locks, could she? For the past few days, she’d kept her sleeves buttoned up tightly, not daring to expose the black serpentine markings on her wrist for even a moment.

“How do you think those people who work in professional kitchens manage to stick with it?” Sitting on a stool in the courtyard, Jiang Zhique asked Qi Ran in a low voice. She slowly rubbed her wrist, watching the volunteer aunt stir-frying shredded potatoes in the kitchen. What kind of iron wrists does that woman have?

“I think it’s a matter of scale,” Qi Ran sighed. “No ordinary family eats over a hundred potatoes for breakfast.”

“Probably because they’re growing and eat a lot, right?”

Jiang Zhique was about to answer when she suddenly heard a male volunteer’s voice from behind. She turned her head, and her expression immediately stiffened. It wasn’t for any particular reason—just that the man behind her looked, to be frank, nothing like a good person. He wore a dark blue outdoor jacket, his cheeks slightly sunken. His thick, dark eyebrows were dense and neatly trimmed. His buzz cut was brutally short and neat. He had fierce, three-white eyes, stubble covering his chin. No matter how you looked at him, he looked like he’d just been released from prison.

Qi Ran was slightly puzzled, not understanding why the man’s expression seemed as if he recognized her.

The man carried four crates of milk into the kitchen. As if noticing their expressions, another volunteer, who looked like a university student, smiled and said, “Don’t worry. Brother Fang Qi might look scary, but he’s a good guy through and through. He works as a police officer for the people, and he comes by to help every weekend.”

“Police?” Qi Ran paused slightly, a bad premonition rising in her heart.

The male university student stroked his chin, pondering. “Yeah, I remember he’s not just an ordinary cop either. Something like a criminal police officer?”