Chapter 80: Symbolization

“In my opinion, things probably won’t end well for them.”

Qi Ran spoke flatly. She held a broom in her hands, meticulously sweeping the dust from the staircase. To an outsider, it simply looked like three girls cleaning while chatting idly.

Qi Ran knew the girl before her was suffering and struggling, and she also knew there were likely hidden truths behind that old case in the Old City District. But she was honestly fed up with the other girl’s naivety. If she didn’t give her a hard shove from behind, this girl could easily spend her entire life tangled in self-doubt and inner turmoil. Time was the one thing they lacked most now; there was no time left to waste on her. Qi Ran had already mentally prepared herself. If the girl in front of her kept hemming and hawing, unable to make a decision, she would have to be decisive and simply abandon this line of choice.

The only shame was that these youngsters had absolutely no idea how absurdly powerful the Talents—or Syndromes—they carried truly were.

Greasepaint’s Talent allowed her to disguise herself. That mask even seemed to force the wearer to display emotions, making it something of a half-baked lie detector. The Parrot could mimic voices, a match made in heaven with Greasepaint’s Talent. Paper Cutter could imbue folded paper with lethal force, at virtually no visible cost—a paper figure she folded in under two minutes could be used as a crude fragmentation grenade. Dry Wood’s Talent was even more outrageous. She had personally witnessed Greasepaint being shot—twice in the chest, once in the head. Yet, under the influence of Dry Wood’s Talent, apart from the pain, she was practically unharmed. As for the last boy, the one called Hyena, she didn’t know the specifics of his Talent, but judging by the cautious way the others treated him, it must be something equally exaggerated.

These Talents, these people, gathered together—it was like drawing a perfect hand of cards, only to play them wildly at random. It was like having a mortar, but their only idea for using it was to prop it on a doorframe, calling it a trap, and waiting for an Executor to open the door so the heavy mortar would fall and knock them out.

It was truly a colossal waste of potential.

After a long silence, Greasepaint spoke with some difficulty, “If I agree to go, what will you do? Break them out?”

“A correction: not break them out. They would be released,” Qi Ran shook her head. “Remember what we told you before? Their situation is complicated. It could be as minor as underage kids being goaded into petty theft, or as severe as deliberate arson, endangering public safety, and attempted murder. The outcome depends on their own attitude. And your presence at this banquet is a demonstration of that attitude. You can understand it as an act. You must act out a sense of reconciliation. You represent the children of all criminals. The Executors represent law enforcement. Your reconciliation symbolizes just that.”

Greasepaint’s expression had soured considerably by the final sentence, but she still nodded slightly.

“The Executors will ensure this birthday banquet draws the attention of Zhongnan’s entire Circle,” Qi Ran glanced at Greasepaint, who had lowered her head, and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. She added a few more words. “Let me ask you something. Is your ultimate goal to see every last Executor dead, or to ensure that no one like you appears here ever again?”

“I…” Greasepaint opened her mouth. “The latter, I suppose.”

Qi Ran nodded. “Then the answer is clear. You attend this banquet and let those people you call high and mighty understand the reasons why so-called ‘Disease Supremacists’ like you are born. If those people can’t even understand, how can they possibly solve the problem?”

“Impossible,” Greasepaint lowered her voice. “They don’t care at all. They could never be willing to solve it. They won’t even let us leave the Old City District.”

Her hands trembled slightly. Her mind flashed again to that torn acceptance letter… with the glaring, greasy stain in its top left corner.

“Then make them have to care. Or at least, act like they care,” Qi Ran said calmly, entirely unruffled by the faint anger lacing the girl’s words. “You attend this banquet. The higher-ups take notice. Even if it’s just to protect their own interests and avoid being held accountable afterward, those people will be forced to immediately start improving conditions for children like you. Don’t always count on moral conscience to move others. Use self-interest to inspire them. That’s the key that can truly unlock people.”

Greasepaint remained silent for a moment, then finally nodded.

After they finished sweeping the stairs, Qi Ran put her broom back in the corner. As they reached the first floor and stepped into the courtyard, Jiang Zhique finally spoke. “Do you really think that way?”

“No,” Qi Ran sighed. “That’s what she likes to hear. Only by saying it that way will she be genuinely willing to go.”

“What she likes to hear?” Jiang Zhique pulled a cigarette case from her pocket. Her addiction was heavier than Qi Ran had imagined, likely to suppress the serpent tattoos on her body. In the courtyard, she had to smoke carefully, hiding herself, to avoid being seen by the other kids.

“Yeah. What if I told her not to treat ‘the Executors’ as a single entity? That there are many complex people inside, with many complex thoughts and ideas. Some are compassionate, willing to sacrifice themselves for justice. Some only care about their paycheck and coast through the day. Some are just looking for a reasonable excuse to kill criminals and vent their rage… And her attendance at this banquet could attract the attention of those good people willing to sacrifice for justice, making them aware of people like her, thus improving the current situation,” Qi Ran leaned against the wall, her fingertips tracing the rough surface. There was a simple drawing on it—hard to tell if it was a mushroom or a house. She spoke very slowly. “Do you think she’d like that kind of talk? She wouldn’t. Her life has been too bitter. She needs a focus to live by. Many people are like that. Her focus is despising the Executors. Telling her not to despise them is no different from killing her.”

“In other words, she’s turned the Executors into a symbol,” Jiang Zhique mused, taking another drag of her cigarette.

Qi Ran nodded. “Yes, symbolization. It’s quite common. She needs to believe in a hostile symbol existing in this world that she must eventually conquer. This symbol can be any group she’s encountered. She can’t accept that her current life of oppression and suffering is incredibly difficult to change. So she has to simplify it, to avoid confronting that truth. She imagines that if she can just eliminate the Executors, trample them all underfoot, or, more extremely, kill them all, she can welcome a glorious future and build a perfect world.”

“But the problem is, even if she actually achieved that, even if all Executors disappeared, life would only get worse,” Jiang Zhique said quietly. “Even if they went to further extremes and the larger framework collapsed too, it would be useless. Those families who have long been plotting would quickly step in and become the new rulers. That would be the worst possible future.”

Qi Ran gave a soundless laugh. “This way of thinking is the easiest. Why not indulge it? Besides, she’s just thinking about it. If you really tied that Executor named Li in front of her, gave her a knife, and told her to stab them, she wouldn’t actually do it. Like I said before, having too high a moral bottom line is a serious psychological flaw.”

“And you?” Jiang Zhique looked directly into Qi Ran’s eyes, smoke curling up from her fingertips. “Do you have a focus? What is it?”

“Me? I don’t feel my life is bitter. It’s more like, plenty of people have it worse than me,” Qi Ran sighed, avoiding Jiang Zhique’s gaze. “The Ghost Birth Infant was my foster mother for over two years. Who could have lived a more comfortable life than me?”

“Qi Ran,” Jiang Zhique said softly. “You don’t want to tell me? That’s fine. Just say you don’t want to, and I won’t ask again.”

Qi Ran paused. She fell silent for a moment, glancing at Jiang Zhique. The girl was simply staring straight at her—pale cheeks, slightly sunken, a somewhat sharp chin, her slender eyebrows tightly knitted together, waiting for an answer.

This girl is really dense, Qi Ran thought. Does she have zero emotional intelligence? Well, no wonder. Li Siwen basically raised her with total neglect. Finding someone her age to chat with at a construction site would be a miracle. Dropped out after middle school. In a sense, isn’t she just a little delinquent? Master of lock-picking and tattoos. That heavy street-smart tone when we first met—she probably learned that at the construction site. She’s probably never had a birthday party either. Li Siwen couldn’t possibly remember her birthday. No friends, no family. No wonder her EQ is almost non-existent…

Her thoughts were a mess. Jiang Zhique’s gaze was sharp as a needle, piercing straight through that chaotic jumble, leaving absolutely no place to hide or dodge. It was like the harsh afternoon sun, passing through dense branches and green leaves, through a tightly shut window and thick curtains, finally landing on closed eyelids during a nap, stinging painfully.

Enough. Stop playing this companion game, she wanted to say that. But in the end, the words wouldn’t come out. Jiang Zhique didn’t look too bright. If she said it, the girl might actually take it seriously.